“Oh, fuuuuck,” the big biker’s knees nearly buckled, as he felt the divine warmth and wetness of Christi’s mouth on his straining dick.
Even from up here on the dias, I could see how well she worked. That beautiful, slender girl was swirling her tongue around the head of Rooker’s cock, and swallowing inch after inch of it down her bulging throat, and all the while using the fingers of her hand to knead and massage the biker’s swollen balls.
“Daaaamn, she can suck,” Rooker was practically losing his mind. “Where did you find this girl, Coyle?”
Up on the ‘throne’ in front of me, Coyle watched the action unfold, and snorted good naturedly.
“I trained that little slut myself,” he purred proudly. “Me and Bertha did, anyway.” The leader of the bikers reached over, and curled a big hand around Bertha’s muscular waist. “See your girl doin’ well down there, momma?”
I felt my hands ball into fists as I heard that.
How fucked up was this situation? I mean, in my years in the army I’d seen some crazy things – shore leave in Bangkok stood in mind – but nothing like this.
And it was just getting more and more intense.
As Rooker stood there, swaying, as Christi slurped and sucked his cock, Bowser shuffled up and offered his own thick, throbbing shaft.
“Let me get some of that, girl,” he purred, reaching down to stroke Christi’s cock-stuffed cheek.
Christi mumbled something affirmative, and there was a ‘smack’ as Rooker’s straining cock popped from her mouth.
Long strands of saliva stretched from her swollen lips to the gleaming flesh of Rooker’s dick – and more had dripped down to splatter her bare breasts. I didn’t know if it was sexy or disgusting – and simply had to conclude that it was both.
…in my own jeans, my cock was painfully hard.
As I watched, Christi turned her head and swallowed the head of Bowser’s cock – all the while using her free hand to jerk off Rooker – using her own saliva to slickly piston her tiny hand up and down his shaft.
There was a collective gasp for the room as we all watched this slender girl lovingly service these two bikers. For a while, it was Bowser whose cock was keeping sucked, and slurped, and licked and teased by Christi’s eager mouth….
…then she’d switch, and jerk Bowser off as Rooker’s straining shaft disappeared inch-after-inch between her lips.
All the while, Christi’s other hand was between her own legs – rubbing her pussy furiously, with wetness clearly running down her thighs.
God, you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. I don’t think there was a single man in the room who wasn’t hard as steel – and as I glanced down at the back of Coyle’s head, I could see his own pants were tenting.
Five minutes earlier, the room was deafened by the sound of ZZ Top and raucus bikers. Now all you could hear were Rooker and Bowser’s moans, and the inexorable slurp-slurp-slurp of Christi’s eager, talented mouth.
Finally, it became too much.
“Oh, fuck, man,” Rooker looked up, and barked at one of the bikers watching them. “Grab me that table, pal. Pull it on over here.”
And with the scrape of wood-on-floorboards, a couple of the bikers dragged a beer-slick and wobbly barroom table over to the center of the clearing.
As soon as they did, Rooker reached down, and curled his fingers into Christi’s dirty blond girls.
There was a ‘pop’ as he pulled her mouth from his straining shaft, and Christi gasped – tears in her eyes.
“If I don’t get to fuck you, I’m gonna explode,” Rooker growled – and like she weighed nothing, he grabbed the naked girl and threw her onto her back on the rickety table.
Christi gasped as she landed on the hard wood – wet with spilled beer and whiskey.
As she lay there, Rooker stepped forward, and grabbed her ankles.
Bending the slender blond almost in half, the big biker spread her thighs, and stared down at Christi’s bare pussy – glistening with wetness.
I felt my knees buckle as I saw it. This girl was so beautiful, and they were treating her like nothing but a whore. And she seemed willing to take it. Hell, eager to take it.
Her perfect little pink pussy was waxed bare, and above it, just at the line of where her panties would sit, was a little tattoo that read ‘Lucky You.’
“Lucky me indeed,” Rooker grinned, grabbing one of Christi’s knees in each hand, and spreading her thighs wide.
Bowser stepped up to grab one of her ankles, and that freed Rooker’s hand to grab his gleaming cock, and position it between Christi’s thighs.
“Huuungh,” the beautiful blond arched her back and gasped, as she felt the head of Rooker’s swollen shaft nuzzle between the lips of her pussy…
…and then he thrust himself inside of her.
The whole room erupted in a cheer, as Rooker sunk his bare cock inch-after-inch into Christi’s eager pussy.
“Oh, daaaamn,” he groaned, eyes rolling upwards. “She’s as warm and wet as apple pie.”
Christi groaned, and gasped, and clawed at the table as Rooker bottomed out inside of her – his muscular hips pressed hard against hers. And then the big biker began to fuck her – the table rocking back and forth as Rooker thrust his big, straining shaft in and out of the slender blond.
“Oh, God,” Christi’s back arched. “Oh, fuuuuck,” she reached up one fist, and sunk her teeth into it. “Jesus!”
And then the beautiful blond came – climaxing loudly on Rooker’s hard, thrusting dick.
My stomach lurched as I watched Christi cum – I didn’t know how to feel about it. She was so beautiful… so sweet… And here she was, being fucked like a whore, and apparently loving it.
“Give it to her!” The room was roaring now. “Fuck that slut!” The crowd was eagerly cheering Rooker on. “Bust your nut in her!”
And as I glanced down at the back of Coyle’s head, I could see that Christi’s ‘owner’ was also eagerly urging them on – and his woman, Bertha, was rubbing his cock through his jeans as they both watched.
Down in the clearing, Rooker continued to fuck Christi – thrusting into her so hard, the entire table rocked.
Meanwhile Bowser had shuffled up to the head of the table, and grabbed Christi’s head in his meaty hands. Turning her to face him, he’d offered the sex-drunk girl his straining cock, and she’d eagerly opened her mouth to accept him.
And, like that, I watched beautiful Christi get roughly fucked from either end – a big, hard cock pistoning in and out of her pussy, while Bowser held her head in his hands, and roughly fucked her mouth.
“Damn, son!” Came one cry from the crowd. “Split her in two!” Another voice called out: “Fuck her in the ass, man! Take her tight little ass!”
Sweat was dripping down Rooker’s sunburned face, and I could tell the big biker was close to climax. But even as he thrust and fucked Christi, the burly biker looked up at Coyle and demanded:
“Can I, boss? Can I fuck her in the ass?”
Even with Bowser’s cock in her mouth, I heard Christi whimper as she heard that suggestion.
Fortunately for her, Coyle shook his huge head.
“Sorry, boys. Ain’t nobody taken her back door yet – and when we finally get round to poppin’ that cherry, you better believe it’s an honor that’ll fall on me.”
There was a disappointed sigh from the crowd, but down on the floor, Rooker didn’t seem to mind.
I mean, why would he? Either way, he was still balls-deep in the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
As if the question had never been asked, Rooker turned back to Christi, and hooked his elbows under her knees.
Like that, he could bend the slender girl practically in half – and sink his massive cock so deeply inside of her, I thought he’d split her in two.
At the same time, Bowser continued to fuck Christi’s mouth – reaching down to curl his meaty fingers around her throat, and squeeze while he wa
s doing so.
Christi’s eyes shot open as she felt Bowser’s fingers tighten around her throat – but the more he squeezed, she more she arched her back.
“Mmmmpgh,” she mumbled, around the big cock pistoning back and forth between her lips. “Mmmmph!”
I stood on the stage, and watched as this macabre and sexy show reached its climax… literally.
Rooker was thrusting so hard now, I thought the table was going to collapse. His big, throbbing cock was stretching Christi as he fucked her, and the way she was grinding her hips back against him, I knew she loved it.
At the same time, eyes rolling upwards into her head, Christi eagerly accepted Bowser’s big cock into her mouth, even as the biker squeezed her throat.
The three of them were grunting, and gasping… and finally.
“Oh, fuuuuck,” Rooker groaned, and thrust himself as deeply into Christi’s tight little pussy as he could.
I felt my stomach lurch, as I watched this big biker skewer the beautiful girl with his dick… and then groan as he spurted deep inside her. Rooker was emptying his balls into Christi’s cunt – and she arched her back as he did so.
The feeling of Rooker cumming inside of her must have tipped Christi over the top. She writhed, and squirmed, and arched her back as she lay naked on the table – and her muffled, mumbled groans and moans tipped Bowser over the edge as well.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned, as his own cock spurted into Christi’s mouth.
Eyes squeezed shut, body contorted in pleasure, Christi eagerly swallowed each of Bowser’s salty spurts – until he pulled his cock from her eagerly sucking mouth, and milked the last few spurts across her beautiful face.
And then, finally, it was over.
Her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave, Christi collapsed onto the table – lying limp, and gasping.
Panting and groaning, Bowser stepped back – his glistening cock growing limp as he tucked it back into his shorts.
And Rooker followed suite. With a ‘slurp’ he pulled his cock from deep inside Christi’s pussy, and with it followed a hot deluge of cum.
As the two men yanked up their jeans, Christi just lay gasping on the table – her body flushed, and glistening with sweat.
Red hand prints were painted across her thighs, and breasts, and throat. Hickeys blossomed on her tits and slender neck. Her face was glistening with Bowser’s cum, while the rest of Rooker’s load was dribbling down the crack of her perfect ass.
She was limp, and gasping, and very thoroughly fucked.
For a few moments the room just stared at the gasping girl… and then somebody kicked the jukebox back into life, and the thumping bass of ZZ Tops ‘The Grange’ started playing again.
“Bertha,” up on stage, Coyle pulled Bertha’s hand from his crotch, and demanded: “Go and clean my little kitten up, okay?”
“Yes, daddy,” Bertha nodded – and then she turned to me.
Throwing me a blanket, the towering blond barked: “Recon – scoop that little slut up and take her to the trailer to get cleaned up. Capiche?”
I caught the blanket she tossed me, and then turned to look down at the clearing, where Christi still lay lifelessly across the table.
My stomach lurched again.
“Get going,” Bertha snapped, jerking her thumb over towards Christi. “Before one of the boys gets the smart idea to run a train on her.”
That lit a fire under my ass.
With a nod, I jumped off the stage, and stepped across the sawdust and peanut shells towards the table.
I threw the blanket over Christi’s trembling, naked body, and scooped her off the table.
And, like that, I carried the comatose girl out of the bar, into the warm, dark night.
Chapter Three
Christi
Shame and satisfaction make for a curious cocktail.
For what seemed like an eternity, I was lost in a sex-drunk fugue. As I’d been fucked by Rooker and Bowser, I’d slipped into a disassociated state where all I was aware of was my body – and how it was inexorably coaxed to two shuddering, squirming orgasms…
But now reality was coming back to the forefront, and I realized I wasn’t lying on the table any more. The two big, burly bikers I’d been fucking were nowhere in sight – and instead of the sweltering heat of the bar, I was breathing the cooler air of a warm, summer evening.
I opened my eyes, and realized I was wrapped in a blanket, being carried out of the bar by that handsome, mysterious stranger, Recon.
Almost as soon as I looked up, and we made eye contact, I turned away.
My cheeks burned. God, how humiliating.
I’d been riding with the Knuckleheads long enough not to care what most of them thought of me. To them, I was just the pretty young slut who got passed around whenever Coyle was feeling generous.
But this new guy? Recon?
He was young, like me – and handsome, and clean-cut. He kept to himself, and didn’t indulge in the vulgarity of the rest of the bikers.
And unlike every other man I’d met in this community of bikers, Recon was the only man who’d never groped me, or pinched me, or told me what disgusting things he’d like to do to me.
He was the only man who hadn’t expressed an interest in fucking me… and that made him the only man who treated me as anything other than a piece of meat.
“I’m taking you to the trailer,” Recon said coldly, as he carried me across the crunching gravel of the parking lot. “You okay? Need some ice, or anything?”
My cheeks burned even hotter.
I turned away, and saw the trailer in the distance. While most of the Knuckleheads lived off the back of their Harleys, Coyle had himself a ‘palace’ in the form of an old Airstream trailer – and that was where I’d be able to take a shower, and clean up.
“I’m fine,” I hissed at Recon, embarrassed at what this handsome stranger had just witnessed me doing.
He must have thought I was garbage. Some young, dumb slut, letting bikers fuck me like I was a whore.
He didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know why I was living this life; or what made me willing to pay the price of Coyle’s protection.
But even though my heart burned with righteous indignation – how dare he look at me like that – I also felt deeply embarrassed that this handsome stranger, perhaps the only man who’s opinion I cared about – looked at me with such disgust.
I mean, that’s what it was right? Disgust?
I mean, he wasn’t even looking at me. He was just marching on, carrying me in his big, strong arms, like I weighed nothing.
And I figured to him I was nothing.
And if it had been anybody else – any of the other bikers in this gang – I wouldn’t have cared. Hell, that was exactly what I wanted. To be invisible.
But precisely because he’d never looked at me the way they did, I didn’t want Recon to treat me like they did.
We arrived at the Airstream, and I got out of my own head when Recon lowered me to the steps, and I stood there wrapped in the blanket.
The cicadas were strumming tunelessly. The orange moon hung overhead.
I looked up at Recon, and asked: “You want to come in?”
Recon stared back at me, with those intense blue eyes of his.
God, he was handsome. Those high cheekbones, and square jaw. His hair was buzzed close to his beautifully-shaped skull, and his skin was tanned a deep, dark brown.
He could have been a model. But instead he was here, wrapped up in the same chaos of the Knuckleheads as I was.
“Coyle has some whiskey,” I offered, reaching for the door handle of the old trailer. “And I don’t…” I gulped. “I don’t like being alone.”
For a second, Recon just looked at me – and I expected him to dismiss me, and walk off into the night.
The thought of being alone terrified me… but not as much as the thought of him looking at me with the disgust I felt for myself.
But instead, wi
thout a smile, he just nodded.
I felt a tidal wave of relief wash over me.
Reaching for the door handle, I swung open the trailer door, and stepped inside.
Reluctantly, his face a mask, Recon followed.
Chapter Four
Mason
This was a bad idea.
As I stepped into the old Airstream trailer, a voice in my head kept warning me.
Eight years of active duty with the Army Rangers teaches you a thing or two about situational awareness – and every single nerve-ending screamed in protest as I clicked shut the door behind me and looked up and down the length of Coyle’s ‘palace.’
But I was here now – and there was no turning back.
“Make yourself at home,” Christi suggested, as she huddled in the blanket.
She should know better than that. We were on Coyle’s turf. Nobody makes themselves at home anywhere Coyle’s in charge.
Nevertheless, I did take a seat at the breakfast booth, and stared up at the girl I’d just carried from the bar.
Christi with-no-last-name. Wrapped up in a dirty horse blanket, with her dirty blond hair all tangled, and her face glistening with another man’s cum.
If it was anybody else, she’d have looked like a wreck. But just like I felt the first time I’d seen her – sitting behind Coyle, on his ’46 E Knucklehead Harley – I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
She had big, hazel eyes, and a soft innocence to her face that was very much in contrast to the wild, sexual acts I’d just witnessed her perform. She was exactly as I’d described her earlier – an angel, who was sinning like a devil.
“You want some whiskey?” Christi stretched one slender arm out from beneath the blanket, and pointed to a bottle of Bib & Tucker Small Batch Bourbon sitting on the counter. “Coyle won’t mind. He’s feeling generous tonight.”
“Ain’t he just,” I told her – the first words to Christi I’d ever spoken. I reached for the bottle of sour mash, and pulled the cork out with my teeth.
As I sloshed two fingers of the amber liquor into a shot glass, I could feel Christi’s eyes burning into me, and I realized I’d probably offended her.
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