Chapter 12: Moving
The air in the truck was thick enough to chew. Hot, stagnant, and reeking of diesel fumes, sweat, and the sweet, cloying decay of old cardboard. Flickering striplights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly pallor over the crowded cargo hold. They were packed in among the detritus of the old hideout: crates marked ‘Fragile’ in Vesper’s sharp handwriting, a dented mini-fridge humming uselessly in the corner, the leather couch shoved against the wall, its stains glowing a lurid purple under the light.
Jasmine was a slick, feverish anchor in the center of it all. On her knees, facing Val who was propped on a crate, her back against the cold metal wall of the truck. Val’s cock, a thick, veined obscenity, was buried to the hilt inside her, a rough, steady piston driving up into her guts with the jolting rhythm of the van hitting potholes on the interstate.
“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” Val grunted, her fingers tangled in the short, sweaty bristle of Jasmine’s buzzed scalp. Her other hand was palming one of Jasmine’s massive tits, thumb cruelly circling a nipple.
Jasmine couldn’t speak. Each deep thrust knocked the breath from her lungs, replacing it with a grunt, a gasp. Her vision blurred at the edges, the flickering lights smearing into trails. Her own drool slicked her chin, mingling with the sweat pouring down her neck and between her breasts. She was aware of the others around them in the swaying, shadowy space. Raker, her thick arms crossed, watching with a flat, appraising stare. Nyx, running a hand possessively up Jasmine’s trembling thigh. Someone else—Jasmine couldn’t see who—pinched the fat of her ass hard, making her jump and clench around Val, which earned a sharp slap on the flank.
“She’s taking it all,” Nyx murmured, her voice blending with the engine’s drone.
“Course she is,” Val said, her breath hot against Jasmine’s ear. Her thrusts became slower, more deliberate, a claiming rather than a fuck. “She’s our little sponge. Soaks up everything we give her.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing the shell of Jasmine’s ear. “You could take more, though. Look at these.”
Val squeezed the hefty breast in her hand, kneading the soft flesh. “Nice. Plump. But they’re just… natural. Cops-and-robbers natural.” She twisted the nipple, sending a sharp, bright spark through Jasmine’s fog. “We get set up proper at the new spot… I’m thinking we get you a proper upgrade. Fake. Bigger. Silicone balloons so round and hard you’ll knock shit