Sin In Skin
an excerpt

WARNING: contains scenes of a mature nature not recommended for children. I am a parent and even I wouldn't let my kids read this. So adults only. Reader's discretion is advised.

In the back of Mr. Sex Battery’s blue Mack truck the black-haired girl was taking off her skin tight shirt. The support taken way from her breasts, they fell slightly, the slightest tremble in the flesh, giving evidence to any movement. The balls on the end of the captive ball rings dangling from her nipples glint from the fake diamonds embedded in the metal, the light filtering in from the front compartment giving the only light in the back cabin.

Mr. Sex Battery actually has a decent set up with a mini-bar fridge against one side and a bed along the back wall. He has already pulled a half-finished Mickey from the fridge and has downed two shots. He offered his guest a shot, which she refused, which he was surprised by. A girl like this one normally needed a couple of drinks or a snort of coke to do the nasty with a guy like him. His ego was inflated like a blow up doll by the fact that she would be fucking him sober. He on the other hand couldn’t get it up without the help of Jack Daniels. He thought about trying Viagra, but he had heard the little diamond shaped blue pill could give you a heart-attack, so he stayed with what he knew worked. Besides he liked the taste.

He sitting on the bed and making a mess of taking off his stained shirt and nearly fell over his own feet when he stood up to undo the big metal buckle and unzip his fly. The teeth of the battered thing jammed in his equally abused jeans and he started to cuss the damnable clothing. With a little rip the jeans finally gave and the zipper came undone. They crumpled down around his bony ankles, the buckle making a hollow thud against the metal floor with the lump of turquoise fitted into the cast iron, to reveal his chicken thin and hairy legs. His sweat stained boxers followed.

The buckle at the front of the girl’s skirt was considerably smaller than Mr. Sex Battery’s, the rhinestones along the pleather strap not much bigger than the diamond in Mr. Sex Battery’s wedding band actually. Belt undone, the zipper at the back of the skirt sliding down smoothly, the little black skirt, looked like no more than a discarded scrap of fabric as it slid down her long toned legs to rest at her feet. Mr. Sex Battery fell backwards to the bed as she released first one ankle cut high heel boot and then another from the loop of material. She stood in front of him with nothing on except her boots and a black silk thong.

“Turn around Baby, let me see your ass!” Spittle flew from his lips, broken off from the stream of drool drooping to his chin.

She slowly turned around as he took himself in hand, massaging the miserable wilted instrument he envisioned her playing music with, as her cheeks came into full view his strokes became fervent and the little pecker started to show some signs of life.

From the top of her back down to the curve of one ass cheek a black tribal dragon tattoo twisted and curled over her mostly naked body. She leaned forward and grasped her hands around her ankles so her cheeks separated just enough to show the strip of fabric from her thong. Between the smooth round cheeks wrinkled pink skin could be barely seen on either side of the strip. From the “V” of her legs she smiled at him.

Not without serious effort, Mr. Sex Battery managed to push himself up from the bed one handed; his other hand still busily stroking, wedding band cool against the not too tight skin. The friction made his penis hurt in a sweet way that only spurred on his excitement and nearly made him pop when the head rested between her asscheeks.

“Man you are one hot bitch!” Sweat poured down his face in tiny streams, which dipped in and out of the pock marked acne scars on his cheeks and chin. The sweat only added to the fog of body odor permeating the cramped space. “I can’t wait to get inside of that tight little ass of yours, girl.”

He held his penis in one hand rubbing it up and down the silk fabric of the garment while he grabbed a handful of firm flesh in the other.

“Well… what are you waiting for?” She wiggled her hips, to tease him. He couldn’t believe his ears; she was giving him an open invitation! He horked a big gob of spit into the palm of his hand and hastened, in case she changed her mind, and pulled aside her underwear and rubbed it into her.

Slowly he pushed himself in with slow easy strokes at first until he was almost all the way inside of her. The wrinkled skin contrasted to the slick smoothness of her snug grip. The sensation was mind blowing, his knees were shaking and it took nearly every ounce of will power to keep it from ending right there and then. From the other end of him, she grunted and he sped up his strokes until they became thrusts and the thrusts increased with speed and eagerness. She clenched her cheeks together holding him in a vice, squeezing him, his eyes fixated on the tattoo, the tail curling under the cleft of a cheek, riding her back to her shoulder and the long tongue that licked the nape of her neck. Black ink beneath the trail of soft black hairs fading down from her scalp, tresses swung in front of a shoulder to leave the skin open and uncovered, unhindered. With each deep plunge she tightened and he had to push harder, the wet spit drying and the heat brining him to that unbearable edge. The muscles of her back started to ripple as he watched. His hands were full of her soft hips, the bones sharp handles under the skin, not yet splayed by childbearing, tender with youth. He was so near orgasm and the sensations increased every time she flexed. The skin around the tattoo quivered and puckered with goose-flesh with each hard slam of his body against hers. She moaned, hungry mewlings escaping her mouth past off-white teeth and between luscious lips. He thrust back and forth inside of her, a splinter trying to break a sapling. The tattoo on her back was starting to move. He thought it was the force of their fucking at first, until it was lifting and pulling from her skin. The head detached from her shoulder and the skin it had been attached to snap back into place. Even as he watched the ink come to life his orgasm was overtaking him in a pent up flood.