College Co-Eds of the Corn Pt. 05

Finally, after they'd both caught their breaths, Rachel sat up and shook Vicky lightly, saying, "We have to move. I don't know if they might have heard us."

Vicky nodded, sitting up and asking, "Where do we go?"

"There's a storm shelter a couple of yards over. I've been hiding there. Come on." Rachel led Vicky out into the narrow allow behind the backyard and they hurried towards the storm shelter.

As they slunk towards their hideaway, Vicky whispered, "So what happened to Joanna? How did she end up so far away from town?"

Rachel sighed and said, "Something was going wrong with her for weeks. It was the conversion. It broke poor Joanna's mind. Or maybe... I guess maybe, at least as far as Rebecca's concerned, the conversion perfected her mind. She's now a creature of absolute sexual abandon, a mortal mirror image of She Who Loves Behind the Rows. From what I could tell as everything was going on, something happened so that Joanna feeds on sexual energy the same way I think She Who Loves Behind the Rows does. She's a prize for Rebecca, a Daughter of God who is very capable of spreading Rebecca's word without even seeming to realize or care. She's going around having relations with people the way you and I are breathing right now."

So having her between my legs isn't harming her, it's basically life support, Vicky thought, pleased with the prospects of that. If I can just get my hands on her before we escape....

As they were reaching the door to the storm shelter, however, Vicky's thoughts were interrupted by an echoing shout from the center of town:

"Outlander! We have your man, Outlander! He lives, and he still lusts for you! Come to us and we'll let you fuck him to your heart's content! Hurry, Outlander! We wait for you!"

* * *

Brett regained consciousness slowly at first, registering only pain and darkness before he opened his eyes and registered the woman sucking on his cock.

"What the--fuck?" Brett mumbled, lifting his head painfully on his shoulders even as he tried to focus on the hot, eager mouth bouncing on his lap. Despite trying to focus on the pleasure, though, he could feel the growing ache of his prolonged lack of satisfaction, his balls sorely full of all the jizz that had been brewed by... how many women now? This woman, her light brown hair draped over her shoulders, was as far as he knew the fourth he had been inside of in some capacity that day, and his load still remained trapped in his balls.

He did not beg to have the leather straps tying him to the wooden pole removed. He did not beg for something more comfortable to sit on than the hard wooden seat beneath him. He did not ask for water. He did not even ask about the dozens of other men tied to similar poles, several of whom were receiving similar attentions as him, some getting blown, some getting jerked, some getting ridden, but so many of them with dead eyes, slack jaws, and hard dicks. Instead, he begged, "Please, please finish me. I need it. I need it so bad! Please!"

The brunette carried on for another minute or so before she slid her lips off of the head of his cock and stood up. "No, no, no, please! Please, I need more!"

She said nothing, instead stepping onto the stool on which he had been left, gripping the top of the wooden pole to which he was attached, wrapping one of her legs around it, and pressing her pussy against his face.

On any other day he would have been overjoyed.

On that day, he nearly cried as he felt his unrelenting erection go dry while this nubile stranger soaked his face with her juices.

But then he nearly laughed, a laugh that would have been as sad as tears, when he thought to himself, Pussy, pussy, everywhere, but not a drop of cum!