1. Christal Persuasion: Ch 3_Where are the Clowns?


    Date: 10/28/2014, Categories: Group Sex, Hardcore, Interracial Sex, Author: edintx99, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    If you haven’t already, I would suggest reading Chapters 1 and 2 of Christal Perusasion.http://xhamster.com/user/edintx99/posts/334817.htmlhttp://xhamster.com/user/edintx99/posts/343575.html I didn’t do it right away, had to swap shifts at the ER, claim a fami1y emergency to get time off. Then it’d taken another few days trolling the places “prick filet” had recommended. But we did discover the older man’s home base. During the hunt, Alex had told me more about Petra. Her life had been even harder than Alex’s growing up on the streets. Yet even after so many years of abuse and hardship, Petra had also managed to turn her life around, had just gotten her first straight job. That night out with us was supposed to have been her last hurrah. Even so, my will for revenge had foundered. I had decided not to go through with my plan, no matter our r4pe and Petra’s possible abdvction. It was just too dangerous and I’d told Alex no. Then I’d gotten a text from Alex. “Gonna meet him tonight.” That had been thirty-six hours ago and no response. Not one of Alex’s friends had seen her. Her apartment was untouched. I called all the hospitals and shelters. I even logged an official report at the station for all that was worth. Alex’s disappearance was what finally pushed me over the edge. *** The place my target spent most of his time was a pretty up-class establishment. One of those bars you might expect lawyers or money managers to hang out, all mahogany and brass and crystal. Quiet ...
    jazzy music, not the pounding beat of the clubs, was playing. Alex had dragged me to a bunch of boutiques for clothes a couple weeks ago for our night on the town. Good thing, as nothing else in my wardrobe would have been appropriate. “Hey, a white wine please.” The big black barman, named Jake, nodded and went away to fill my order. The man I wanted was at the other end of the bar. If I didn’t know what an evil bastard he was, I’d have found him attractive: tall, built like a heavy-weight boxer, short blonde hair. Then he turned and the lights behind the bar lit up his eyes: dead, the shiny-grey look of steel ball bearings. I didn’t want to be too obvious. Fat chance that: low-cut white silk blouse, tight black skirt, come-fuck-me shoes. Not obvious at all. I undid another bottom to let more cleavage show and crossed my legs, real silk stockings making that shissing sound. “You come here often?” I almost jumped out of my garter straps and looked to my left. “What?” was all that I managed as I recognized him. He was the middle-aged guy that had pulled me off the police detective in the precinct. I hissed, “What, the police finally interested?” and showed him my back. Out of the corner of my eye I could see he hadn’t moved off the adjacent stool. So I turned, put a hand on his thigh, and said quietly, “You’re going to blow this for me. Will you get the fuck out of here?” He just smiled in return, “I’m not a cop. I’m a reporter doing a story on sex trafficking. Question is, ‘what ...
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