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The two bikers were very, very dirty. Not only with oil and dust, but also, maybe more, with sweat and other organic stinks; they retched disgustingly, but she could do nothing about it, and at midnight she was between the two pigs, necking with the lighter-skinned Puerto Rican, a creep that didn’t even speak American and had all his skin covered in prison-style tattoos. This one was the nastiest man she’d ever met: it was clear he hated her, like he probably hated all the blonde, beautiful white girls who never gave him a chance. Now that she had one of the best at his mercy, he was ready to take his own personal revenge on the helpless prisoner.
Claudia was feeling the man’s hatred, and was scared. Fear made her even more obedient, a listless puppy ready to do anything to please that brute; she moaned softly when the Puerto Rican groped and massaged ruthlessly her large jugs, mauling them continuously and pinching her nipples, and when he had approached his stinking mouth to her, she just let his tongue enter her lips, even forcing her own tongue to react somehow to the obscene intrusion.