Her thoughts confused her, almost made her fearful. She didn't want to ask him and have him say yes. She wanted him to demand it, so she could say no, only to have him violate her.

And when she tried to pull away from that glorious, sweaty crotch, he would kick her down, then maybe tie her up. He would force her to her knees and pump his cock in her mouth while he held her face against him.

"Ohhhh!" she cried out, biting her lower lip until she tasted blood. "Fuck… fuck me in my mouth! Load me up with hot, scalding cum."

The convulsion of raw pleasure that shook her insides was almost too good to believe. It was almost like a clawing mass of talons, biting, scraping into her tender flesh. She bent double, hitting her head on the window sill, then she fell to the floor, writhing in anguish.

"Do it!" she panted. "God, do it to me, you bastard."

After the subsiding ecstasy filled her with dull, empty sensations, she thought it must be over. She could get up and do her housework, then perhaps give that shoe salesman a call. That had been her plan, anyway.

Until last night.

Yet, when she got back to her knees, the itch between her legs was even worse than before. And her fingers just couldn't do the job. She quickly looked about the room, searching for something long and hard. Seeing the hairbrush on the dresser, she crawled over and without a second's delay, stuffed the handle up her pussy until the bristles scraped her cunt lips.

"Yessss," she hissed, squeezing her knees together. Another spasm of building climax ate into her body. "Fuck… fuck me hard!"

Even this wasn't enough. Her throat ached, begged for the feel of something long and hard. She got to her feet, stumbled from the bedroom. After casting a haunted look around the dining room, she grabbed a candle from the centerpiece.

"Mmmmmm," she moaned, pushing the candle between her tits. She closed her eyes, pretending it was a thick, pulsating cock, his cock. She again dropped to her knees, then fell on the floor.