Obbo Slash Sukhvinder
"Spread your fookin' legs," commanded Obbo as he backhanded the little Paki whore. But Sukhvinder—who had never known the touch of a man—trembled with involuntary gratitude as his throbbing bellend explored the hairy thicket of her groin. Yes, this was what she deserved for coming to the Fields.
"Well fook me—it goes all the way up your belly!" Obbo meant her pubic hair. Sukhvinder knew that like most girls of her race, she looked just like a monkey. But Obbo didn't care about that, or about the strong, musky stank of her ripening nethers.
He stuck his tongue in her mouth, so that he was penetrating her in two places at once. Sukhvinder yielded to a face rough with stubble (Obbo had not brushed his teeth in some time), and to genitalia caked with dirt and dried sweat.
As the blood of her virginity dribbled down his cock and balls, Sukhvinder imagined that her moans were the Ik Oankar, the One Primordial Hum of the Universe, and that his odorous smegma was sacred amrit (nectar) being churned in the ocean between her thighs. In short, Obbo's penis was God. She began to buck. It felt just like rowing.