The sensation of a red hot gun barrel against his temple might have encouraged him to be good. I could smell his burned hair from where my gun barrel ...urned against his neck at the hair line. It was easy to see that he understood how close he was to dying.Once I had his undivided attention, I ordered him to take me back home. He tried to pretend he didn’t understand, but I clipped him once, very hard, on the top of his shoulder with the pistol and he immediately remembered he understood English. My eyes a bit wet with tears, but my cunt growing even more wet, not knowing what will come next."Aaaw, poor little girl. Did that make you cry? What a worthless little bitch you are."He lets go of my hair long enough to remove his pants and turn me to the side so the outside world can watch as he plunges his cock straight down my throat, grabbing my hair again and holding my head still as I gag and struggle to breathe."Now you have a reason to cry, slut."And I do, fat tears rolling down my. More

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