I strutted slowly to the jukebox. I put on George Thorogood and the Destroyers Get a Haircut and Get a Real Job. The room was full of nobody caring, even though every other man’s eyes slid down the length of my throat, over the sliver chains and inside my shirt, around my black bra and then up my thighs. Every other man except Mr Hacker. The jukebox had John the Revelator, but only the Curtis Stigers version. If it had Son House I would have played that. I was going to cue up Bad Company, the original by Bad Company, but I saw the live version of Mr Big by Free, so I lined it up with Hendrix If Six Were Nine. Ignore that, motherfuckers.
I crossed back to the bar, figuring I’d have to buy my own damn drink, but a clean shot glass was waiting for me with a bourbon. I looked up in Hacker’s direction, but it was Grinder who returned my smile. Good guy, Grinder. Ah well.
As I carefully didn’t watch their conversation, I saw both of them make gestures toward the back of the bar. The corridor led to the payphone, the men’s room and the back rooms. I decided to head him off at the pass.
I stood waiting in the corridor, rolling the remains of my bourbon around the glass. He loped along from the barroom like he was in slow motion. When he got to where I was standing, I was blocking his way. He looked in my eye as he waited for me to move aside. No expression, no greeting, no, “Hi, nice to see you,” nothing. Like he didn’t even recognize me. So, I decided I’d have to do the talking, “Hacker, right? We were at high school together.”
“We were at the same high school. Wasn’t anything ‘together’ about it. Now, would you stand aside.” When I didn’t move he put his hands on my upper arms to move me to the passageway wall, but as he moved me I know that he caught my perfume. I don’t just mean the scent from a bottle I wore that smells like patchouli and cum. As his fingers contacted with my skin, a shock ran through me. His bottom lip tightened and that was how I knew that he registered it, too.
He moved me, his hands gripping my arms, moved me to the side. Our lips were close enough that we could taste each other’s breath. His was like the Old Crow Reserve bourbon that he’d been drinking, but it still carried a whiff of the mannish boy.
As our mouths came close together, he paused. Only for a moment, but long enough that he couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen. His voice was thick as he said, “You were always trouble, Gypsy. Looks like you still are.”
I put out my bottom lip. He could still have reached it with his teeth. I know that the thought crossed his mind. I said, “Enough trouble to scare you away, Hacker? I am dissapoint.”
His thumb dragged on his bottom lip, “It isn’t the amount of trouble, it’s the kind. You’re just spoiled rich-girl trouble. Look-what-I-can-do, spit-in-your-eye trouble that your daddy’s money always comes along and mops up afterwards. I wasn’t interested in high school, and I’m not interested now.”
“No?” I lifted an eyebrow and tilted my hips at him, “Seems like there’s an armadillo in the front of your pants who is very interested. He is with you, right?” I watched his jaw muscles work as I told him, “He’s followed me round the room pointing at me like the Mona Lisa’s eyes. Well, like one of the Mona Lisa’s eyes. Did you not notice?” I could feel his heat right in front of my crotch. My own heat was rising, too.
He was about to pull away. I said, “So what, have you got some ol’ lady keeping you on the straight? Or maybe you got an eightball patch?” His eyes narrowed at that.
“Alright,” he said, “have it your way. I’m here for a reason, and that’s what I’m headed for right now. If you can figure out which hog to stand by outside, then after I’m done here maybe, just maybe I’ll take you for a ride. You probably think you’d like that, little girl.”
I chewed the inside of my lip. As he left he said over his shoulder, “At your own risk if you don’t have a brain bucket.” I knew that he meant a helmet, and he knew that I wasn’t carrying one.
Outside in the dusk, a row of about fifteen bikes, most of them Harley Davidsons, leaned by the entrance like horses outside the saloon in an old western. It was a safe bet that Hacker’s wasn’t going to be in a line with all the rest of them. Far across the lot, away from the lights I saw a matt black bike. Low seat, high bars, no dressing at all. I thought, that’s him.
I thought it would be fun to really surprise him. Jump in the saddle and wait for him, ready on the hog. But I knew that if he saw someone on his bike, he’d probably shoot them before he even wondered who it might be, so I stood waiting by the side of the bike like a little groupie.
About fifteen minutes standing around and I was starting to wonder if this was all worth it, when two drunken bikers lumbered towards me. One was tall and wide, with mean black shades, a mass of frizzy hair and a big, bushy mousey beard. The other was short and fat with a bandana and a face covered in ugly ink. Looked like prison ink from the quality of the art.
The tall one said, “Hey, sweetbutt, I got something here needs a cleaning. Get your tongue ready for work.” The other one laughed and moved to step behind me. I said,
I said to the first one, “Ooh, I bet you got a cock that tastes of, let me see I’m guessing,” I narrowed my eyes and made my lips purse like a wine snob on a TV show, “don’t tell me, warm runny cheese and mmm, I’m guessing… beer farts?” and I licked my lips. He moved towards me and I had to step back to keep the other one in sight. The first one said,
“You’ll be able to give me tasting notes, because my cock is about to be part of your balanced and calorie controlled diet for today, with a hosing of cum for afters.” They both laughed and the short one said, “I got a special seating arrangement for you to try while you savor the big sausage,”
I said, “You know whose hog this is, right?” as I turned to keep the short, fat guy with the bandana in view. The first one said,
“Yeah, but also I know that you ain’t sitting on it, so I don’t think you got any protection there.”
I was still turning, but I couldn’t keep facing both of them. I said, “You sure you want to make that bet, soldier?” but right then the tall one grabbed me from behind. He was as strong as he was big, and there wasn’t much I could do to get out of his grip. I thought I’d better bide my time. As he held me the other one came up close in front. Put out a finger to pull my shirt forwards. Peered down into my rising hot cleavage. I tried to keep my breathing steady as he leaned his head down to sniff. Then he slipped his hand inside my bra. Grabbed my breast. Started to squeeze. I heard to the first one say,
“That’s some handful of tit there, Boxer. Does it feel all sweet and doughy?” The vibration of his voice rumbled against my back. The one in front looked in my eye as he said, “they could do with a lashing of cream.” He slid a hand up my thigh and said, “I found the fish course,” as his fat fingers climbed to the top of my thigh and shoved at the side of my panties.
Using the grip of the big man behind to hold me steady, I snapped my knee up hard into the short biker’s chin. Heard a loud crack as his teeth slammed together and I rammed my other leg up hard, driving my shin into his balls. He groaned and snarled as he doubled over.
Balancing to swing a foot back and drive a stiletto into the man holding me, I felt myself lifted high and then flung onto the ground. My arm hit the shail and I rolled. I heard the big guy say, “This one’s on fire. We’re going to have some real fun with you, sweetbutt.” He leaned over me and his hand grabbed my hair at the back of my head. He started to pull me up by my hair. He dragged my face towards his groin. With his other hand he began unbuttoning his fly. Then I saw his legs buckle as he sank hard onto his knees.
Hacker stood behind him, nursing his fist. He said, “You boys have had enough fun for now. We going to make an issue of this, or are you going to slip away quietly?” The big one kneeling lifted his head, thinking about it. He looked over at his pal Boxer. Boxer shook his head once. As Hacker watched as the big biker climbed to his feet, and I saw a narrow look of hatred in Boxer’s eyes at Hacker.
The big
one dusted himself off as he got up and said, “Okay, Hacks. No biggie, no beef, alright?”
Hacker said, “Right.” And he watched the two bikers shambled away. Hacker came over to me. He said, “Imagine, you all alone minding your business and a fight starts up.” He shook his head, “You look alright,” and I told him, sure I was.
“The arm of my shirt’s torn though.”
He said, “Yeah. You got a little gravel rash on your arm, too.” I put my hand up to my shoulder. There was a small gash, a little blood and it was sore, but not nearly as sore as my pride. Hacker helped me up and touched my shoulder. Moved it back and forth gently with his hand. He said,
“Not dislocated, nothing broken.”
I looked up into his face and said, “‘Hacks’?” and he gave me a wry smile. That was the most expression I’d seen from him yet. He lifted my chin and looked into my face. I thought he was going to kiss me and I fought the instinct to close my eyes like a schoolgirl. That wasn’t like me, maybe I was still shaken up.
He said, “If you still want that ride,” he said, “you need to know that there will be a price.” I told him I understood that. He looked at me and said, “Same spoiled brat. You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into.” I put out my lower lip and I told him that I knew exactly what I was in for. But he was right, I had no idea.
The pain in my arm throbbed a little, but it wasn’t enough to blunt the thrill of riding on the back of Hacker’s lowrider, his unbelievable ass wedged between my thighs. I clung on as the motor shook itself awake and thumped a relentless beat that I felt though the saddle and right into my crotch. After the first mile or two of slicing through the cool evening and air, my clit was buzzing and my panties were damp. All the while, my hands slid along Hacker’s rippling ribs and his tight abs. I wanted to dive my hands into his pants right there on the bike. Haul out that armadillo.
I tried to think of a way that I might be able to lean around him, slide my head into his lap. Get it in my mouth and suck on him while we rode. Just the thought of it was almost enough to get me off. I figured I’d better get a hold of myself before we got wherever it was that he was taking me, or I could just slide off the bike. I could end up as a quivering heap on the floor and that would not look good.
We left the highway on a side road, headed uphill in the dusk for a mile or two until we came to a turning with a heavy metal gate across it. Hacker stopped the bike, got off to open the gate, rode us in, then got off again to close the gate behind us. We went on up for a couple of hundred yards more, and we came to what looked like a big old gas station with garage buildings and a couple of pumps out front. The gas station and garage buildings were was set out on a flat plateau, with scrub and trees behind, and good views of the hills and valleys all around.
The lights of the whole of the town twinkled in the nearest valley, looking like a map spread out below us. In the evening light, the whole place would have looked romantic, like a western ranch, if the fence had been made of wood poles instead of steel and chain link. And apart from the bikes. About a dozen Harleys, mostly black leaned in a line in front.
As we passed the rusting pumps I saw that where they would have had signs on the top for an oil company, they had the Savage MC colors instead. Hacker parked up at the end of the line of bikes and led me inside.
In the downstairs room, the scent of weed came from four bikers who lounged with beers and a huge blunt. The biker with the spliff and a long beard looked lazily up at Hacker through blue smoke and lifted a hand in greeting. Hacker said, “Mo. Hey, bro.” He sniffed the air, “That’s the Oregon bud.”
The biker replied, “Righteous weed, brother,” the top half of his body rocking in a slow nod. Hacker said,
“I shall relieve you of that.” The biker handed up the blunt, saying,
“Partake. Be mellow, fellow.” Hacker took the joint and said,
“Anyone sees Bogart, let him know I’d like words.”
The biker was already building a fresh joint. He said, “That will be conveyed upon his return, brother, be assured,”
From the far side of the smoky haze, a bearded biker with a round belly peered over his shades at me. He said, “Is that ’tainment, Hacker?” another one said,
“something for us to enter?” and Hacker looked at me as he said,
“Clear the table, boys, and put on a nice cloth. We got a spread coming.”
Hacker looked in my eyes. Now I realized what the price of the ride was going to be. He was expecting me to back out, I could see it, and he was offering me a last chance. Looking around the room, there were four bikers plus Hacker, all with looks of raw, animal lust igniting in their eyes.
The urge to shout NO! and to run for the door was strong, but with my stomach quaking I held my ground. Nobody was going to bail me out of this. I had made my choice and I wanted to see it through. For once, I was going to finish what I started.
I looked at each of the five bikers in turn as I dragged the tails of my white shirt out of my leather skirt and I undid the buttons, one by one. They were all big guys, and I was still afraid. I was very excited, too. Me being the center of all of that testosterone, that lust, the thought stirred me of them all reaching for me, clawing for me, their cocks standing, hardening for me, coming for me. Cumming for me. Cumming in me. And cumming on me. Fear thumped in my stomach still, but the thrill beat in my crotch. My panties were soaking.
Time to get them off. I lifted my skirt to slip them down, and a hand cupped the cheek of my ass. I dropped my waistcoat as I leaned into the hand, and two more slid along my legs. I moved my legs farther apart as I shrugged out of my shirt, my big, round breasts bouncing as I did. Fingers found the lips of my pussy and hands slid into my bra, rolled and tweaked my nipples.
My dark hair hung and my breasts swung as I slipped off the bra. Hands were at the tops of my thighs, on my neck, squeezing my breasts, pressing and twanging my clit, spreading the lips of my pussy, squeezing the cheeks of my ass.
The bikers stood in a circle. I leaned back against one, stroking his jeans with my fingers and looking in the eyes of the others across the circle. Then I turned, rolling sideways to the next hairy biker. I squeezed his cock through his jeans as I rolled on, till my pert, bare little ass pressed against the groin of the next biker. I looked in the eyes of the bikers opposite as I reached back to the denim behind me, unbuttoned the fly and found the fat, hot cock inside.
My fingers wrapped around the cock. Gripped it. Pulled the skin down. Pressed it against my ass, between my cheeks. Between the tops of my thighs. All the time I watched as the men on the other side of the circle drew closer, reached for my breasts, put their hands on my pussy.
They all crowded close. Hands were all over me. They lifted me onto the table, and I knelt, legs apart, bare ass up, wet mouth open. Breasts swinging. Now I wore only stockings, shoes and the silver chains, bangles and earrings. As I kicked off the shoes, I felt a hand on the lips of my pussy, holding my little wings apart, entering my wet opening. A cock nosed from behind me, up under my stomach, against my mound.
In front of me, cocks were emerging from denim, springing out like hot, anxious puppies eagerly reaching towards me. I reached my hands for the two left and right, and my lips for the one in front. The cock behind me was rubbing its underside against the swollen lips of my pussy, and I wriggled my hips to press against it. Finally, it slipped into the waiting mouth of my wet pussy and I gasped as I sucked deeper on the hot, hardening hunk of pulsing flesh in my mouth.
Hands were squeezing my breasts and someone slapped my ass, making me go harder and faster on the cocks in my hands. And the cock in my mouth. And the cock reaming and filling my hot, wet, stretched pussy. As they all crowded in, the scent of men and me and all our hot breath was like a sauna of lust. My ass pumped and swung and bucked against the hips of the biker fucking me as my mouth made a deeper wet tunnel around the thick, throbbing cock that reached to the back of my throat.
I
sucked on it as it pulsed and it swelled as it pumped and it came. Hot bursts of slick biker cum filled my mouth and my throat. I dragged my lips along, back over and around the hard flesh to get every drop of that cum. Some still dribbled around my lips, though.
I turned to lay on my back. Either side of me were big, hard cocks and I eagerly grabbed both of them. I pulled and sucked on them alternately, shoving them as far into my wet throat as I could. My legs were lifted and between my thighs a cock was rubbing and rearing up against my mound. The biker beat my tidy little bush with his weapon and slapped my ass as he did. The cocks in my hands were heating up and I tasted tangy precum.
I felt cool lube on a finger, pressing around my ass and then it pries its way in. The cocks in my hands started to go off and I tried to get both of them to cum in my mouth, but some of the salty jizz sprayed out onto my face and over my tits. Meanwhile my ass was invaded by the bulbous head of another cock and as it burrowed in, I saw Hacker standing over me, the mean curve of his thick, hard cock waving above my face.
Hungrily I pulled Hacker’s cock into my mouth, dragged it along my tongue and saliva gushed into my mouth as I slid it into the top of my throat. I couldn’t concentrate on sucking Hacker’s cock the way I wanted to, because of the reaming my ass was taking. The thighs and hairy stomach of a biker slapped noisily into the cheeks of my butt and Hacker held my head in his hands as he skull fucked me, with long, deep strokes. His balls slapped at my nose as the head of his shaft plowed into my neck. I sucked on him, eager to taste his cum in my throat.
Two Hitmen: A Double Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 1) Page 65