Boned in Blasphemy

Helga felt the scream pushed from her with his thurst.

He, allegedly, was Donald. Could have picked the name from a cartoon duck, for all Helga knew, but that was his claimed monicker. Driving past, he had found her masturbating on the curb. As any horny dude would, he had circled back and picked her up.

Helga was not a hooker. Although it seemed, now that her clutch held twenty-five crisp twenty dollar bills that Donald had given her, that title was up for debate.

“You look like a brunette Madonna,” he said as he pulled into the motor inn parking lot earlier. The sun glistened off his bottle-black hair that matched his Thomas Magnum mustache.

The street sign had said ‘hourly rates available’. Helga was hoping for multiples. She had lifted her frilly skirt and continued her masturbation in the car to give him a show.

Between driving and watching, it seemed he had multitasking skills.

The rosary that Carlos had given her…

Was his name Carlos?eye-716008_1280, erotica

…still swayed across the tight corset. Her stockings, still perfect, were spread apart.

When he first pulled up to her he had asked if she was okay. She had answered she was fine. This was followed by a question of what her rates were.

Helga never answered that question and, still without any further words, had accepted the cash upon entering the tiny motor inn room.

“What’s with the necklace?” he asked. Reaching down, his hand brushed her left breast as he lifted the cross into his palm. “You’re not religious doing this, I hope?”

She offered a shy grin.

“I always find sex workers wearing crosses funny.” He lifted it off, over her head. “They pick and choose their Bible verses to believe in, then question those of us that believe in none of it.”

She allowed a slight nod and was startled by the sound of her own voice finally coming back. “It was given to me last night. I’m not sure why. I’m not religious.”

He shook it at her lightly and the cross swayed. “Good. Then we can use this.” His hands settled on her shoulders firmly and turned her around. “Let’s do something completely blasphemous, shall we?”

Now, as he thrust in hard again, her clothes were still on. She moved with him on her knees and with her face planted on the bed in a pillow. The rosary bound her wrists behind her back.


His hand landed solidly on her ass. There would definitely be a mark left.

What would she tell Oscar?

Her pussy was already raw from the fuck pornstar party the night before and, now, a red ass were going to make that discussion with her husband very interesting. That she hadn’t told him she was staying out was going to be hard enough.


Donald’s hand landed again followed by another deep powerful thrust.

Her pussy gripped his cock and began to quiver with another orgasm.

“Do you mind if a friend of mine joins us?”

She flipped her head to look back over his shoulder at him. “What?”

Donald pulled out and left her on the bed. He walked to the door and opened it.

Turning back to watch, her mouth fell open upon seeing Oscar walk in.

He smiled down at her. His navy shirt and white pants suggested he had just left the golf course.

“Oscar? I…I…”

He crouched and put a finger to her lips. “It’s okay. It’s all good.”

Crawling back onto the bed behind her, Donald slid back inside. His thrusts, this time, were much lighter.

“All good?”

“About time you had some fun.” He kissed her lightly. Standing up, he unzipped and pulled his cock out.


“I’ve always known where you were, my love.” The tip of his cock brushed against her lips.

She opened her mouth, accepted it, and began to work it to get harder.

“You have always been my beautiful slut,” he said stroking her hair, “you just didn’t realize it yet.”

Wicked Wednesday


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