..."White bitch can't do it," she heard Mahmoud rumble to someone. "It's jammin' at de back o' her froat. She fightin' me." Aahhh, make de cunt do it,... the voice of Rashid replied, seemingly unconcerned. "Le's move her onto de table." Nikki felt her hand and leg restraints being unfastened, and although she made a grab at the rock-hard cock as it slid from her mouth, she was unsuccessful. Her licker reluctantly allowed her to be peeled from her face, and walked offstage, swinging her hips. The lights of town were slowly coming into view as the Mustang roared down into the valley. My headlights picked up on the reflecting railroad crossing sign, and then it died. My Mustang, chugged a few times, sputtered, and went quiet. I was almost downtown too. I coasted to a stop just a few blocks away from Donavan’s Speed Shop. “Shit, that’s a break.” I rolled up my windows, locked the doors and got out. Donavan’s is where everyone goes to get the hottest hop-ups. Clyde Donavan, the owner. More

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