She was virginally tight, and sweat soon dotted her forehead as well as mine as we hammered at each other. It was hard work, that endless ditch diggin..., that post holing. She heaved and snorted while I bit at my lower lip and rammed steadily and deeply, sinking it into her with fierce eagerness"Haven't had a man since I was raped," she sighed, wriggling on my barely half-inserted because of our awkward position, always friction-hungry, terribly over-heated spike whose blunt head was battering. .. I... live over there... I... didn't know these were your woods... please let me go... please don't hurt me," she begged the strange man holding the knife under her throat.The man started laughing, Margaret was confused and scared she could feel her knees getting weak. Thoughts of this man slicing her throat and burying her body in the woods filled her mind. Then he spoke to her,"Hi Margaret, my name is Chapel and this is my fucking forest... and I don't like or appreciate cunts like you. More

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