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Her blonde hair. He leaned his head back against his headrest, "Just get in the back, Claire, please," he said, stressing the 'please'. Claire wasn't a fighter. That was one of the reason's he'd chosen her. His boy rape one had been a fighter. They sometimes wore him out. Claire tried to open the door. Not desperately, but hopefully. The handle gave way, but the desired effect was missing. She looked back at Mr. Shale, a liquid fear floating in.
Her erotic pale blue eyes. Was she caught? "Just climb back between the seats," Mr. Shale said softly, willing to pretend that he truly believed that had she opened that door she would have obediently stepped around to the back and gotten back into his car. Claire managed to squeeze herself into the little space between the front seats. Mr. Shale watched her in his rearview mirror. As she climbed, her small white skirt lifted up, revealing cute pink panties. "Claire, you've done a good job so far," he assured her. "I think you know that you don't have to get hurt tonight. When we're done I can take you home and you can just never think about this night again. Or I can leave you on the side of the road, severely injured, and without your tongue or your hands. I'm willing and prepared to follow through wi.
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Th both of these options tonight, Claire. All I need to know is which one you prefer. The answer is in whether, in the next fifteen seconds, I see your clothes up here in the front seat. All of them, except your socks. If that happens, you can go home tonight with all your body parts intact." Mr. Shale closed his eyes and counted to fifteen. "One . . . two . . ." He heard rustling in the backseat. "Three . . . four . . ." Grunte.
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D and hurried movements. Something being flung past his right shoulder. "Five . . . six . . . seven . . ." "Okay!" "Eight . . ." "Mr. Shale! I'm done. Please." Mr. Shale opened his eyes and looked at the clothes in his front seat: shoes, skirt, blouse, pink panties, white bra. "Please, just don't hurt me," Claire's soft voice floated up to the front like clouds from Heaven. Jack Shale slid his seat back a few inches to make more room to turn around. Claire was on the seat behind th.
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E passenger seat, her knees were bent up to her chin, her arms tightly holding them to her. Jack climbed into the backseat, vividly recalling another mistake learned the hard way. He had taken his clothes off in the front seat, and in the awkward move from front to back, a fighter had taken the opportunity to kick his erect cock. It had been a good kick. He had to smash her face into the window and hold her down against the seat for twenty minutes while the pain subsided. That had been a difficult night. His dick was tender, so shoving it into her dry cunt was out of the question. But he'd proven boy rape he make her cum even as she cried and held her broken nose. Her pussy juice even tasted frightened. But she was wet, and so he wa.
S able to fuck her softly, enjoying her sobs since he couldn't enjoy the screeches some girls made when he fucked them very hard. He'd cum on her broken nose and in her already tearing eyes. It wasn't his favorite place to cum, but the pain and blindness made it easier for him to take her into the woods. His anger hadn't been sated by then, however, so he had to make use of some thick tree branches on her unlubricated asshole. He'd have preferred it was his cock, but that night it was impossible. But Mr. Shale did learn from his mistakes. He climbed into the backseat with Claire fully dressed. His black jeans were no real protection from such a kick, but without the obv.
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Ious erection dangling in their faces, most girls wouldn't think to try such a move. Besides, Claire wasn't a fighter. He could see that by the way she had curled herself up in a ball and simply stared at him with those gentle blue eyes. Now settled in the back, Mr. Shale pushed his seat up as far as it would go, giving him only a little more space. He kicked off his shoes and made quick work of slipping from his pants. His black turtleneck sh.
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Irt came off next, and the three items were placed in the front seat. Claire was looking at his erection. Seven inches. Nothing to brag about, but not bad. Anyway, thought Mr. Shale, it's not the size that matters, it's how you use it. He wondered what Claire might think of that. "Do you know what I want, Claire?" Jack asked. She took a moment to respond. "Not exactly," her voice cracked. Her eyes.
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