Sacrifice to the Emerald God by Paul Blades Read Free Book Online Page A

of despondency and despair to flow through her. And shame. Shame that all it had taken was the man’s cruel mouth on her tits for her pussy to begin to water, all it had taken was a long, thick finger tracing its way along the edges of her cleft for her it to open hungrily.
          But her dismal thoughts quickly faded as her passion began to overcome her. She was going to climax, she knew it. She felt it. It would happen soon. The cock relentlessly tortured her pussy’s walls and brushed along her tingling, electrified clit. Her body began to quake and shudder. She knew the other men were watching her performance with lustful delight, but she could not help herself. And then it happened. She gave an impassioned shout from behind her gagged lips as she felt her pussy begin to contract and convulse. Her hips involuntarily sought to increase the friction of the meat inside her. Her hands twisted and writhed in their confinement. Her breasts ached with the excited blood that filled them.
          “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” she called out as jolt after jolt of pleasure exploded down below. The man’s efforts had accelerated at the clear evidence of the release of her lusts. He gripped her body tightly with his massive arms and pounded his hips against hers and he too came.
          “Aiyeeeeeee!” the man called out, his voice blood curdling. “Fuck me you gringa puta ! Ahhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhh!” he yelled as he poured his spunk deep within her.
          The man gave out a low, satisfied groan as his thrusts slowed and then came to a halt. Marjorie was crying dolefully even as she could feel the aftershocks of her climax twitch the muscles of her heated canal. She knew that the man would never let her go now. He had taken too much enjoyment from her body.
          Diego, very satisfied at the reactions of his new whore, let his shrinking cock slide from within the girl’s pussy. “You have a hot pussy, conchita ,” he told her as he stroked her dripping slit with his hand. “We’ll have a lot of fun together.”

Chapter Four
    A Sylvan Interlude
    Margie lay despondently on the floor of the raft as it continued its journey upstream. The man had shoved her to her side when he was done with her and she was content to lie in the sloppy water wallowing in her misery. Diego, refreshed by his coitus with her, was singing some ribald Venezuelan drinking song as he went through her purse. He was pleased to find a large wad of bolivars, about 500,000 worth and a little over 500 dollars in American currency. He showed it to his boys and they all grinned with visions of the liquor and pussy they could buy with it. There was her passport, something that could be sold for a valuable return, lipstick, a wallet with her Americano identification. His eyes widened when she saw that she was a professore . Who would have thought? There was a golden compact case with some fine, pink powder in it, a hair brush, some tampons, a few bars of hotel soap, some perfume and a bunch of other stuff that he saw no value in. He took the soap, the compact, the hairbrush, the perfume and put them back in the pocketbook. He put the money and the passport in the pocket of his pants. He threw the rest overboard.
          It was about three hours after they had left the dock back in Cotabaya when the raft slowed and made a turn to the south. The Rio Ciora was fed by over a hundred jungle streams between it and the Brazilian border. Diego and his friends had been looking for a particular one. When they saw it, all their faces lit up. The policia , even if they did launch a pursuit of them, once they found another boat that is, would have to search each and every stream and river for three hundred miles in order to find them. While they were in the open, there was always the chance that a plane could spot their little craft and give away their location, but now that they were diverting from the main river, the thick canopy of growth that covered the