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Old abandoned warehouse

I called Marcy, gave her the address of my old, abandoned warehouse in Queens, New York, and asked her to meet me there. The click of her boot heels echoing off the concrete walls is the only sound as she enters the warehouse and walks down the long building looking for me. She stopped. Yellowish-green fluorescent lamps irritate your eyes. The ground is damp, wet in places, with black puddles of water, and the peeling concrete walls are crumbling in places. This warehouse is a dump, run down, depressing and disorienting. It smells of gasoline and diesel fuel, wet cement and mold, and she feels out of place in her beautiful gray wool skirt, white blouse, black leather coat and gloves. Your good shoes are already dirty. Where

John? She wonders.

Somewhere in the distance, a car's engine starts, but the echoes in the cave make it impossible to tell exactly where. The camp was open forever. She's not sure where the exit is now, so she walks until she finds a passage and turns right, her steps quickening. No cars drive past there. The place is deserted, although occasional bangs or bangs can be heard in the distance.

Finally a wall and a passage. She lets him through and goes to another part of the warehouse. She returns to the sidewalk and approaches another blank wall with a door in it. It read “Sections 20-A through 22-D” and had an arrow pointing downward. That is absurd. She stops and looks around confused. She puts on her right glove and takes it off to reach for her phone. Will it work down here? She will call me.

She feels fear and then anger. As she approaches the doorway again, she notices a flashing light, a yellow light streaking across the concrete walls - a tow truck or some security vehicle, perhaps one of those golf carts the security guards were driving. She ran to get him and her purse. collided with her. It is a large van usually used to deliver goods. It is painted in the official city blue and has a flashing yellow dome on the roof. It's barely low enough to clear the concrete spandrels of the warehouse's concrete columns.

" Thank God!" - she breathes and waves her hand to stop him. The van stops in front of her and she looks inside. The passenger door was removed and replaced with an outward-facing tool cabinet. She looks down at the driver, even though my face is in shadow. “Listen, can you help me? I am lost! Can you just walk me to the exit?”

I don't say anything for a moment and she looks at my big hand on the steering wheel, at the muscles in my forearm where my sleeve is rolled up, at the grease mark on my wrist. “I can’t,” I said. "Against the rules." I put the car in gear and the truck moves forward. She reaches for the door. " Please!" The desperation in her voice scares her. "No one will know. I will pay you. I'm really lost!”

Silence again. She tilts her head slightly, trying to see my face in the shadows. "Fine. However, you have to sit in the back and stay out of sight."

"Thank you very much! Yes of course!" She ran to the back of the truck, opened the door, climbed in, and closed it behind her. The interior is filled with movable quilts and bungee cords hang from the ceiling. Behind the front seat are toolboxes, spray paint and other service equipment.

Marcy leaned forward and came behind me. The engine sits right in the middle of the truck, forming a big hump next to my seat. She leans over it and looks out the windshield as she drives. “I really appreciate it.” she says. The van rolls slowly and she notices that the section numbers don't make sense. 13-D, 14-B, 13-E, 14-F. I turn the truck around a few times, then turn off the yellow light, take the spiral ramp and reach the lower level, which is darker and more deserted.

“I really believe the way out is on another level,” she said. I did not say anything. I drive through a maze of abandoned halls and vast empty rooms, lit by dim, flickering fluorescent lamps, some of which don't light at all. It seems to be a completely different part of the warehouse, probably a shortcut or route to headquarters, and then I pull the truck into a dark, secluded corner, opposite a dead end, and put it in gear, she assumes I took a wrong turn and was about to put the car in reverse and turn around.

I turn in my seat as if I wanted to see the back door and she turns around too, then I grab her coat and stand up suddenly, roughly pulling her back through the crankcase and catching her with it. "What you?"

I push her onto her back, holding her there, and quickly move around her and into the back of the truck so that I'm hovering over her in complete control, her hands clutching the front of her coat. Fear overcame her, battling complete disbelief. She feels the strength in my hands and the heat of my body. She can't fully accept itWhat's up. The only light in the van is a thin, watery light that filters through the windshield, so my face is still in shadow, although she can now see my white T-shirt and the hair on my chest peeking out from under my overalls.

“I strongly advise you to remain calm,” I said in a quiet voice. "I don't want you to get hurt." Feeling nervous and scared, she tries to push me away, I quickly rip the top of her coat halfway down her arms, binding her in her own clothes. The strength and experience of my movements instinctively told her that she was dealing with a professional, someone who had done this before.

" Wait wait!" She cries. "Do you want money? I'll give you money! There's money in my wallet!" I think that got me thinking and she took it as an encouraging sign. She froze and didn't move. "Really. Take it. Take what you want. If that's not enough, I can get you more." There was another brief silence and then I said, "I don't need money." What kind of person do you think I am? I tied her arms tightly to her sides, rendering her helpless. She is deep underground, hundreds of meters away from everyone, and when my hand went to her throat, she knew she had no choice but to lie still, even though she knew full well I had enough strength in one hand had to strangle her. you right here.

She watches as my hand moves to the buttons of her blouse, unbuttoning them, and she feels the material give way, settling against her skin as if defeated. There is a pause and I slowly unbutton the soft silk of her blouse as if I were unzipping food, exposing her breasts and bra. My whole head is still in shadow, she feels my gaze on her as he hugs her, and then my hand appears again and squeezes her breasts, first one, then the other. She feels the strength in my fingers, the tension as I fight the urge to crush her in my hands, the perverse tenderness, and it makes her brave.

She gathers all her strength and tries to free her hands again. Now I hold her with surprising ease and continue to work on her breasts, unaware of her struggle. I am a big man, strong and determined, and she can tell from my touch that I mean no harm to her. I almost adore it. My hand leaves her breast and slides back to her neck, and I gently push her face up and to the side, as if I were examining her face. I gently caress her cheek, my touch sending her into a panic as she realizes the gravity of her predicament: she's lying on her back in an abandoned warehouse, hands clasped and blouse unbuttoned, being groped.

She can't control her breathing, her chest starts heaving, she starts choking and hyperventilating, and she can't do anything about it.

“Quiet,” I whisper, my lips next to her ear. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”

I press my hand lightly over her mouth, not so hard that she can't breathe, she calms down immediately. I remove my hand and my fingers slide from her breast to her chest. I run the edge of her bra over her mounds and she lies still, her attention drawn to the gentle touch of my fingers on her skin. I repeat the movement, this time sliding my finger into the cups and diving between them and into the warm, wet space between her body and the bra.

She closes her eyes in denial. Her breasts are unusually sensitive and erotically charged and she finds it pleasurable. She relaxes and makes it feel good. I dip my finger deeper into her bra like a lover going deep and as I slowly move forward my nail touches the girth of her areola and she is surprised by the sudden surge of interest she feels.

I grab the top of the cup and slowly slide it over her breast as if I were pulling a piece of fruit from the bowl, enjoying the slow uncovering. She tries to control herself, the material stretches her nipple, it drives her crazy. I stopped her efforts with humiliating ease, pulled her coat tighter to restrain her arms, and pushed her legs to the side. All my attention is now focused on her body, even though she herself is just a minor irritation that is easy to get rid of.

Marcie moans in impotent rage and fear. She lifts her head like a witness to her own rape and watches as I lower the second cup to expose both breasts. Then she closes her eyes as my head drops and my tongue touches her nipple.

My breath caresses her body, my tongue circles her nipple in slow, wet circles and despite herself, Marcie feels a wave of lewd pleasure between her legs. My lips form a ring around her areola and suck, she feels the breath from my nostrils on her skin. It's dirty and disgusting and she rests her head on the engine cover as if she can deny the pleasure she's feeling. She couldn't allow herself to feel it, she couldn't deny it, and what choice did she have? HerShe leaned over the engine casing, her hands clenched in her coat, and I leaned over her like a vampire over his victim, slowly taking in the warmth and tenderness of her breast.

She didn't know what to feel. It is an attack - a rape - but her shock and disorientation are too great and my physical strength and desire are overwhelming, as if some physical force or wave is holding her back. I had an uncanny sense of where and how to touch her, as if I could read her mind or know all her secrets - a strange kind of physical intimacy that spoke directly to her body and didn't care what her mind thought . The way I lingered on her breasts - sucking, licking, teasing, holding her nipples between my teeth - was far more than necessary if I just wanted to rape her. I think I knew what she liked and how she behaved. I seemed to know instinctively how erotically charged her breasts were and how she liked to handle them, how she squeezed them and where she touched them.

I knew when to emphasize the delicious sweetness of my tongue teasing her nipple with the sharp bite of my teeth. One nipple, then the other - slow circles, fluttering tongue, long, lewd licks, and finally the pulling of her breast into my mouth, the biting and sucking, my insistent animal noises of pleasure, my insistent, massaging hand. I release her throat, teasing one breast with my mouth, pinching and rolling the other nipple with my hand, smearing saliva on the areola and running my nails over the fleshy dome until she's covered in goosebumps and shaking with need. Just when she thought she couldn't handle nipple stimulation anymore, I started kissing and licking her breasts from armpit to sternum, gently nibbling on the full lower parts or my rough, unshaven face on her upper ones Hanging rubbed while I held her hands. back, letting her fight the urge to press her mouth harder against my mouth, drowning in the softness of her tits until she completely forgot her promise not to let herself be felt.

“Uh oh!” She looks up. The stimulation of her breasts becomes unbearable. Her nipples are hard and sore and her breasts feel full and swollen. She looks down at me, trying to gauge my attention, but she still only sees my head and my strong hands holding hers, hands that no longer offer any resistance. She can't just give up, so she keeps trying to wriggle on the engine cover, instinctively trying to avoid the frenzied licking and sucking of her bare breasts, but all she can do is move her legs, and that's all she managed. This caused her skirt to ride up her thighs. I notice this and release one of her hands, slip my hand under her skirt and slide up the inside of her thigh, as if to show her that there are many ways to break through her defenses.

This assault on her pussy is too much, takes everything to another level, and she begins to fight, it's a strangely intense and silent fight - her panting, her trying to breathe, and her moaning every now and then against resistance; the quiet creak and rustle of her leather coat; the lewd touch of my mouth on her body or my hot, animalistic growl of pleasure giving her an obscene shiver as if she were watching herself being devoured.

The fight got me no further, I suddenly stopped and straightened up. I kneel next to the engine casing where her legs can't reach me, one hand still holding the back of her coat, but lightly, and as I straightened up, my face disappeared back into the shadows. She thought that maybe I would stop now, that maybe I had pushed her far enough to get her hot and break her spirit, and that was what I wanted. Maybe I would stop now and think I had taught her a lesson and humiliated her, told her to get dressed and take her to the car, but I show no signs of letting her go.

She lay there nervously, embarrassed and ashamed at the sudden feeling of disappointment. Her clothes are in disarray, her blouse is unbuttoned, her bra is down, her breasts are red and chafed from my beard, her nipples are painfully erect, her skirt is pulled up to her hips. However, she understands that I had no intention of quitting. I stopped to admire her and let her sense my helplessness. My hand slides up her thigh, under her skirt, touching the soft skin near her pussy and she screams with a sudden and new sense of outrage. As I stood up, she managed to free her right hand and tried to push me away with it, but I shifted my weight back onto her, reached behind her head with my left hand, grabbed her right wrist, held it lightly, and released them back defenseless.

I had one hand free to plunder her body and my mouth returned to her bare tits as if my work wasn't finished.

“Now relax,” I said. "Just relax..." Now with my weight on her, she can't escape the feeling of the rock hard shaft of my cock cutting through her thigh like a cold chisel, and she didn't know why she was so surprised.Marcie is very scared.

" No no!" She's crying, she tries to get away from me again, but I hold her so tightly with one hand that I pull her other hand out from under her skirt and casually unbutton her blouse to her waist, taking my time and being confident in her has absolutely no way to stop me or leave. Despite her resistance, I begin to sensually caress her bare stomach, running my fingers over the sensitive flesh and tensing the muscles. I ran my hands over her hips, then found the button on the side of her skirt, undid it and pulled the zipper down. I unbutton her skirt, then part it and slide it down until it's under her panties, then my hand begins to slide teasingly over the bare skin of her thighs and her panty-covered mound, caressing her, tickling her and to excite her. It was like I had all the time in the world.

The feel of my fingers on her mound, the lightness with which I touch her, and the loose way my hands play at the junction of fabric and flesh make her begin to throb with physical desire. She pushes and lifts and shakes her hips, I'm like a piece of iron - too strong, too heavy - and she knows her movements are sexy and very suggestive. They just make her look more impatient and hungrier. Finally she stops and gives up. She saves her strength for when she really needs it when I try to put my cock in her. Maybe then she could raise her knees to push me away, or knee me in the balls. Meanwhile, I never stopped kissing and sucking on her breasts, but her focus shifted to her pussy, where she is even hungrier and more demanding and the feelings become deeper and harder to control.

She throbs with unbearable desire. Although I'm in no hurry to fuck her. I play with her stomach and her thighs, slip my fingers under the waist of her panties, tease her, play with her clean-shaven pubic area, tease her until her pussy demands my touch, until she wants to feel my hand on her empty spot. . Hunger. She closes her eyes in frustration and anger, and finally my hand leaves her panties, slips under her skirt and touches the bottom of her aching pussy.

My fingers press the wet crotch of her panties against her sensitive skin and Marcy bites her lip to stifle a satisfied cry. Her body arches and shakes in response, she fights it, tries not to move, tries not to give me the pleasure of seeing the effect I have on her, my fingers are so curious, so fascinated by her and the places I touch. so right, the pressure, the punches so perfect.

Despite all the violent passion of my mouth on her breasts, my fingers on her vagina, they are like the fingers of an experienced lover, an adored lover of femininity and one who knows to which points she will respond with a quick movement of her hips or a light one Movement. a moan, a sharp intake of breath, or a slight shudder - a gentle massage of her labia, a teasing finger sliding up and down or probing into her slit, sliding circles over her clitoris or pressing hard and rhythmically against it, or her entire pussy From time to time my hand clenches in an act of male obsession that touches something deep and primitive within her and causes her to press against me. I'm smart, insightful, powerful, patient, and soon she feels the sharp, ringing, adrenaline-charged fear leave her muscles and be replaced by the deep, deep ache of pure sexual tension, a delicious sexual tension that both relaxes and relaxes her makes her harder and harder.

My hands now knew her pussy as well as she knew herself, and she stopped fighting me, surrendering completely. He said dirty things to her pussy. “Will you let me fuck you? Hm? Can I fill you with my hard, thick cock?” The fiery pressure keeps building until suddenly hot ecstasy flows from her vagina through every nerve in her body. She is torn apart once, twice, three times until she is folded again and my lips kiss her body.

At some point I stood up, took off my pants and she felt my smooth, hard cock sliding down her thigh. "I'm going to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll never be able to cum without thinking about me." My cock presses against her pussy as I bite her nipple. My teeth bite her lightly and she flinches. I grin, cupping her ass with one hand and lifting it between my body and the engine cover. “It’ll be good.”

I slide my cock into her with one long, slow stroke. Her eyes widened with every inch I forcefully squeezed. Marcie was breathing heavily as I hit rock bottom, my green eyes closed and filled with quiet joy. I remain silent as I move in and out of her. She sends waves of pleasure through her along the engine cover. I thrust into her with slow, steady, careful movements. She closes her eyes, unable to bear my intense and determined gaze.

Then she feels mineHis mouth closed around her breast and sucked on the sore nipple again. Her eyes widened. "Oh God...Damn, John." I continue to fuck her without saying a word. My hand slides down her body, squeezing her ass, pushing against her stomach and positioning it on her shoulder.

“Please, John,” Marcy begs after a while. She's so close to coming back.

I stood up and pushed her body deeper against the engine cover. Her legs automatically cross over my ass, pulling me harder. I grab her aching breast and thrust harder and deeper into her. The vibrations are sharp and constant, almost unbearable.

My face is tense as I see her approaching again. I moan as her pussy squeezes my cock like a vice, pulling me deeper. Marcy closes her eyes and cannot bear the look of naked lust and barbaric intent on my face.

My hand went to her hair and pulled it tight so she couldn't take her eyes off me. Now Marcy knows it was always meant to be this way. She was destined to fuck me from the moment we saw each other.

A growl escapes my chest and reaches my throat. With my frantic thrusts and primal grunts, it's obvious that I'm close. Her wet pussy gives her another jolt of pleasure she knew I was feeling. She is sure she will die if she comes here. My lips touched her burning kiss. One of many, then it dawned on her. My tongue fights with her wild, wet anger that quickens her pulse.

Finally I gasp, pull my mouth away and bury my face in her neck. I moan passionately and hold her ass with outstretched fingers. My body covered hers as my cock released, pushing loads of cum deep into her with each thrust. I sigh and push away from her. My cock fell out leaving a trail of cream. I brush her hair from her sweaty forehead and kiss her again. It's so arousing that she almost feels like she could orgasm again.

I move away from her and put on my pants. Her fingers let go of the coat. She lies naked on the engine cover and my sperm drips from her pampered pussy. The intimate sound of my fly making her blush, which is weird considering everything we just did.

When I was presentable, I walked up to her and grabbed her chin. “Get dressed, Marcy, I’ll walk you to the entrance. Then I’ll see you at your house so we can continue our time together,” I panted, out of breath from our fucking. Marcy

walked to her car, her body completely filled with pleasureconfused.



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