
"Ohhhhh," she moaned. Her nipples were so sensitive. Each time the biker's dick-head rubbed over the rubbery tips of her tits, it felt as if someone had set fire to them.
"Ohhhh, baby, gonna come if I keep doin' that," he whispered thickly, raising himself up and stopping his fucking motions. He worked his hands greedily over her tits and nipples, pinching the tips until Christina cried out in pain. He laughed, feeling her body jerk and writhe under his groin. The big hairy man raised one hand and knocked off his cap.
"What… are… you doing?"
He backed up, then fell on top of her, catching her head in both hands and cementing his mouth to hers. Christina struggled violently, jerking her knees up, pushing her hands hard against his shoulders while twisting from side to side in the sand. It was foul, filthy! She could smell the stale odor of beer and cigarettes on his breath.
"No, get off me, uhhhghhhhh!" Christina screamed, twisting her head free from his grip.
But Mike was stronger and caught her again, holding her tightly while dropping his head and forcing his tongue between the struggling girl's lips.
Christina fought against the hot, slippery thing snaking its way into her mouth. No boy had ever tried anything like that with her before! Frenching! The word brought up all sorts of forbidden sexual delights her mother and father had expressly forbidden her. It was filthy, something only whores and sluts did.
