cunt to death tour
The crisp autumn air wrapped around Daniel as he pushed the heavy apartment door open. There was Sara, a mischievous sparkle in her eye, striking a sultry pose in her red silk robe, which was teasingly ajar. “Welcome home, darling,” she said, her voice oozing with temptation.
Daniel’s throat tightened at the sight of Sara’s breasts nearly spilling out of that sinful dress. ‘Fuck,’ he thought, ‘how the hell am I supposed to stay in control tonight?’ Then Sara asked, ‘Honey, what would you like to take first?’
His eyes burned like flames, raking over her body. “For fuck’s sake, Sara...′ - your fucking asshole is showing, that robe...” He pinned her against the wall, voice husky with need, ‘Can. I. Fuck. Your. Sweet. Little. Pussy.?’
She whimpered as his fingers dug possessively into her hips. ‘God, Daniel,’ she breathed, ‘You mean like this?’ She wrapped her legs around him, dress hiking up, ‘Do you want to shove your big, hard cock inside me right here?’ She nuzzled his neck.
He snarled, ‘Fuck, yes.’ In a flash, he had her robe open fully, tearing at her lace panties. “You’re mine, Sara. I’m going to remind you of that.” He unbuckled his belt with trembling hands, freeing his throbbing erection.
He lifted her higher up the wall, his mouth cruel. ‘Spread wider.’ His tip prodded her entrance. ‘Answer me one thing.’ He gritted his teeth. She panted, ‘What?’ He thrust hard, making her cry out. ‘Do you like it rough?’
Suddenly, A shadowy figure stood atop the adjacent building, her cleavage practically spilling over the low-cut gown, hair blown back by the frigid breeze. Through the sniper scope, she admired Daniel fucking Sara raw against the apartment wall - his violent movements, Sara’s desperate moans.
Sara gasped yes as he slammed into her again, nails scratching down his back. ‘Harder,’ she whimpered. The watching figure on the terrace bit her lip, adjusting her scope. Daniel: ‘You want me to fuck you so you can’t walk tomorrow?’ Sara: ’Yes...
Meanwhile, the watching figure on the terrace lost all control, her other hand sneaking between her thighs to rub her own aching pussy through the fabric of her dress. She bit her lip, stroking faster as she watched Daniel brutally fuck Sara against the wall. Sara: ’Oh god... I’m...
Daniel gripped Sara’s hips harder, fucking her so violently the wall shook. The sounds of wet, heated flesh slapping together carried through the dark evening. The watching girl moaned loudly, shoving three fingers into her soaking pussy - ring ring “Fuck!“.
Her hand flew to the phone, barely noticing the wetness sliding down her thighs. ‘Fuck... Uhh,’ she panted, voice ragged from pleasuring herself. The voice on the line was cold. “Execute now?“. “You bastards,” she breathed, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. But then, with a sharp exhale, she replied, “Yes, go ahead as planned.”
The terrace girl’s agents burst into the daniel’s apartment, setting off the fire alarm and disabling the cameras, building’s lights. As Daniel knelt between Sara’s legs, eating her out, that terrace figure shot her through the mirror, the crack splitting the glass as the bullet tore through Sara’s skull. The scene was set, the perfect murder.
The terrace girl’s identity remained a mystery. Sara’s murder was brutal. Daniel’s fate was sealed. Or was it? To be continued...
Note: you can continue this novel from below link....👇🏻
https://thedarkwriter.stck.me/story/724382/STELLA-THAT-FUCKINN-X
