Arcturus Syndrome Ch. 13

Jasmine's mouth was open, but not in fear, not with protest, not with outrage... she was stunned open.

Ruth held her. "Look at me. Stay here."

Carl began to slow-fuck Jasmine, long strokes all the way out; long strokes back in.

Ruth could tell right where Carl was by her expression: There were moments she was afraid he was going to go away, and reached for him, her pussy yearning to be filled again. She would make a little "Oh!" Or a "No!" But now, it was a "No don't go!"

And at fullness she would tense a little, moan, her eyelids trembling.

Ruth held her and watched her and kept her present while Carl slowly pressed himself a little deeper with each slow thrust.

"Oh my God!" Jasmine cried out. "I'm cumming!"

It was sudden, out of nowhere. "All the way in," Ruth said to Carl. "Hold her there."

Jasmine thrashed, her eyes rolling back, her head flipping from side to side, bucking her hips, arching her back. Ruth held her down; Carl kept hear steadily pinned, fully speared, until she began gasping for air and moaning like an animal.

Ruth swung herself back up, pressing her pussy back to Jasmine's mouth as Carl began to move again.

She leaned forward to Carl.

"I want to keep this one," she said.

Carl grunted, nodded.

* * *

Chrissie couldn't believe it. She didn't know whether to be insulted, furious at Jasmine, furious at these strangers, or worried. She remembered saying: "Nobody's going to sex traffic me." But Jasmine? Jasmine could be a different story.

She picked up her phone to dial 911, but what would they do? What would they say? What would they think?

But the late news was on TV, the usual local garbage, and that's where she saw the grainy drone shot of a couple in a car. Wanted and dangerous, possibly armed.

She picked up her phone again, with conviction.