The Feminist Story

He sat back on his heels and he gazed at her spread before him and began to jerk his cock to the sight of her open and raw pussy, still showing spasms from the after-effects of her orgasms and need, her whimpers of want all arousing to his senses. He felt his cum loading and ready to explode, and he shot onto the crack of her ass, spurt after spurt hitting her slit, dripping down off her clit. He rubbed it into her legs as he watched the dripping from her pussy, thoroughly pleased at the mess in front of him.

She laid still, not knowing what was going to happen next. But he rose to his feet and pulled up his jeans. He helped her stand and he zipped her dress back up. She could only stare at the dirty pile of cardboard and the earth beneath it. He had fucked her there. He had violated her completely on this piece of ground and she already wistfully recalled the free falling feeling of being taken and overpowered with her own orgasms that were brought about without her consent. Taking her by the arm, he walked her up to the front of the building. He picked up the sign with the slogans on it and handed it back to her, giving her a little push on out into the chanting crowd. And with that, he turned and headed back to his truck, still parked in traffic on the street.