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The Storm on 22-03-2020 16:15:00

Hours had turned to days and rain still fell outside.

The power hadn’t returned. They had run out of wood, but until now all Alison ate was body fluids — that Alison desperately tried to avoid exchanging with him.

Faint bruises covered her breasts where he had pinched them and her buttocks where he had spanked her.

She was an arrogant, high-class white bitch who grew less inclined to ever seek help with each orgasm he gave to her, George thought. She was the type of white woman he enjoyed bringing down by making her fuck big black Muslim dick repeatedly, instilling in her an insidious appetite for well-hung dark meat.

She felt dirty and ashamed when they finally finished fucking.

George rose and went to his backpack to retrieve both her keys and phone.

“Here you go,” he said with a confident smile handing her phone and keys back. “You can have them now.”

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