Gang Heat: The Bundle (Unprotected Force)

by Nadia Nightside

  She knew the student's eyes were on her and she enjoyed every second of it. It was arousing for men to watch her hot body. That was why when she went to the gym, she wore such tiny skimpy outfits and her sports bras almost always were a little too small in the bust. As a result, her thick tits looked like they were ready to pop out of the outfit at any given moment and spill out into the world.

  As the law student continued to watch Stella, a soft moist spot developed in her panties from where her arousal was overtaking her senses and her pussy had started to juice. Once she finally saw his cock stiffening through his pants, she decided she was done. She flashed him a wink and went on her way—she had a date with a football stud in the cafeteria.

  Nathaniel was on defense—a linebacker, and a heck of a one. He would have to be great with Luke Maxon on offense. Luke scored so quickly that he barely gave the defense any time at all to rest, constantly putting them back on the field, and so it was with great pleasure and anticipation that Stella approached Nathaniel now.

  To stay in the game as long as he did, the fifth-year senior would have to spend a lot of time on cardio. He would be able to fuck Stella for hours, and keep up a furious pace while he did. That thought excited her even more than the law student’s eyes on her in the library.

  As she entered the cafeteria, she took a moment to slide her skirt up her waist just slightly, showing even more thigh than before. A slight breeze would have revealed her panties in their entirety. As an extra precaution against rejection, she also unzipped the big, fat gold zipper on her sweater halfway down, so the glorious half-globes of her tits were on full display. Her cleavage was spectacular, a magnificent valley that promised endless erotic pleasures for any man who dared to venture inside.

  Everything about her appearance advertised youth, sexiness, and candid desire. She was, she hoped, irresistible.

  The corner of the cafeteria where he sat was overtly empty, which Stella took as a sign—she should act, and now.

  She waved merrily, catching his attention, and strutted to his solitary position. Her hips swayed from side to side, feet crossing just slightly in a long model’s walk. Nathaniel was tall and black, and she was excited about the prospect of such a man's cock driving inside of her.

  “Shit,” he said, half under his breath. “Hey, Stella.”

  “Hi Nathan. Eating lunch?”

  He made a gesture. “Yup.”

  “You need a lot of food to maintain that hot bod of yours, huh? A lot of protein?”

  She slid up on the bench next to him with just one leg, her knee resting against his hip. Her skirt rode up high on her thighs—she flashed her wet panties at him, soaked with desire from the thought of his cock driving inside of her.

  “Y-yeah...” he said, eyes wide. He licked his lips. “Protein.”

  “I could really, really use some protein in my body,” she said. “I’ve got this...this hot cheerleading body, and I just need the sort of protein that only a man can provide me with. Do you know what I mean?”

  Clearly he did. He shook his head though, sweating suddenly. “Listen, Stella, maybe, you ought to, I don’t know...I mean maybe you can go someplace else?”

  “You mean like on your lap?”

  Not wasting any time, she sat down right on Nathan’s lap.

  “Now,” she said. “Isn’t this more comfortable?”

  If it was, he was denying it. “N-no.”

  She stroked his forehead, smiling and giggling at his handsome face and the peril he thought he was in. What was with these football hunks? She thought they were studs. Alphas. She thought they were the cream of the crop, the leaders of the pack. Why weren’t they all creaming their pants at the chance to be with her?

  Her thighs squeezed against his. Both sets of legs were powerful, though of course for different purposes. Hers were supple and long, flexible. His muscles were hard and dense, made for twitch-action spurts of energy that needed to last for minutes at a time. She squeezed down harder, her heated pussy sliding against the top of his jeans.

  “Can’t you feel how comfortable I am, Nathan?”

  Her thigh and his stiffening cock finally met. She could feel its turgidity pushing against the softness of her skin.

  “I can feel how comfortable you’re getting...” she said softly, stroking his chest.

  His eyes, frantic, kept shifting from side to side. Looking for others. Looking for witnesses.

  “Maybe you should cool it, all right?” he asked. “Anybody could walk in here. You know? He could walk in here, and then we’d be in deep shit.”

  “'He?'” she laughed. “'He' who? Don’t tell me the big bad linebacker is scared of someone.”

  “You’re damn right I am. And you should be too. I—oh, fuck.”

  Her hand had landed on his cock through his jeans. Clearly, she was being too subtle.

  She let out long, pleased sigh. The first cock she had ever touched properly, even if it was through his pants. “I’m going to be very upfront with you, Nathaniel.”

  “Okay.” His voice had taken on a restricted calm. The pleasure from her hands was working hard against his need to fight her off.

  It was so very fun, she realized, taking a hold of a man’s cock. This was as close as she had ever been to actually feeling a man’s bare cock in her hands. Her excitement grew at the promise of this touch—that soon, she would unzip his pants and take him into her soft hands and stroke him long and hard, encouraging him to come to his full hardness.

  Then she would slide her eager, wet lips over the head and shaft and have a cock in her mouth for the first time. And then—after he came, because you were supposed to have men cum in your mouth, spilling all down your throat, that was just like, a law—then she would slide over his cock and have him fuck her virgin cunt wild for hours.

  He could do it. She knew he could. She had heard rumors all over campus about his staying power—and it excited her.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she said, stroking still. “I want your cock deep, deep inside me. In my pussy. My virgin pussy. Do you understand? You’ll be the first one there. The only one. Why, you could fight off all comers. You could make sure it belonged to you from now on. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  As she spoke, she continued to gently squeeze and stroke, treating his cock to a cornucopia of digit-based delights.

  “Stella, you have...have to...Jesus, that feels so good...”

  “Mmhmm,” she intoned. “And just imagine how much better it will feel if you let me feel the whole cock. Won’t that be fun? All you have to do is let me unzip those pants...” she slid her finger across the zipper, toying with the head. “...and then you and I will get to have all the fun in the world, Nathaniel.”

  She leaned in and slid her pretty face against his chin, kissing him gently on the side of his neck. Her voice was a breathy whisper, loaded with all the aching eroticism that the nineteen year-old could muster.

  “Please?”

  He was tempted. She could tell he was tempted.

  That was what made it all so damnably frustrating when he sat up and scooped her off his hard body.

  Nathaniel was a strong young man and so it was easy for him to move her buck twenty to one side with his thick muscles. The feel of his hands on her body excited her. Her waist felt so small in his grip.

  For a moment she thought that he was going to lose control and pounce her then and there—pin her underneath his thick weight and fuck her right there in public, right in the middle of the cafeteria. Her cunt flooded with moisture at the notion.

  But no—no. He stood up, his cock clearly bulging in his pants, and wiped his hands.

  “You gotta leave me alone,” he said. “You’re hot as hell, but you’re dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Stella was incredulous. “There’s nothing dangerous about me.”

  “There sure as shit is, and if you haven’t figured it out yet, then you will soon enough. But I can’t wait around until I get my ass beat
for you talking to me like this. Jesus, I’ve got a hard-on like a fucking flagpole over here. If anybody saw...”

  “Then what?” Stella stood up too. “What would happen? What’s the big deal?”

  His face twisted. “I’ve already said more than I should. Look, just leave me alone, okay? Leave the football players alone. If you have to fuck someone, I don’t know...maybe try a cop or a lawyer or something. Someone with some way to protect themselves afterward.”

  She had no idea what to make of that statement. Some way to protect themselves?

  “But I want to fuck a football player.” She put a hand on his chest. “A football stud. Like you.”

  He swatted her hand away. “I said to cut that shit out. You’re gonna get me in deep shit.”

  “With who?”

  But he wouldn’t say. He gathered his items and left the cafeteria, and Stella was more turned on—and more confused—than she was when she had arrived.

  * * * * *

  Usually, Stella didn’t go to the gym to workout unless she was really, really bored or really, really upset about something. Today, she was upset.

  She did her boxing workouts at a particular boxing gym on the North side of town, and her yoga classes were at a studio on the Northwestern side of town. The college gym, though—or as they called it, the “Fitness Center”—was right on campus.

  For emergencies like this, she kept a change of workout clothes in her locker, which was only one building over from the Fitness Center. Often the official sports teams, including the cheerleaders, used the Fitness Center for their activities.

  The tight spandex outfit showcased her body just as well—if not even even better—than her slutty “fuck me” outfit did. The spandex shorts were tight and bright blue, barely slipping past the bubbly edges of her ass cheeks. Her top was a modified sports bra that had trouble holding in the sheer mass of her over-sized 36E tits. Long straps of fabric criss-crossed in the back, letting plenty of her tanned skin be shown, shining with youth.

  Gathering her thick blond hair in a long ponytail, she strutted through the crowded gym and stepped up onto a treadmill facing the wall. There was a screen on the treadmill that would show satellite television—plenty of sports and movies—but she kept it off. All she had an interest in at that particular moment was running off her frustrations.

  She was determined not to masturbate to deal with her overwhelming horniness. Stella had an involved masturbatory life; no monk, she. After all, as an attractive young woman, she knew her body was essentially built for hard, furious, breeding ruts and she had woken that very day with every intention of living up to that potential.

  Her fantasies were both broad and specific. They were broad because she often absorbed new information, new fiction, with the expressed desire to see how she could apply it to her inner-world of fantasy.

  She read pulpy fantasies and watched goofy science-fiction and dystopian television shows, more interested in the mechanics of the working world and the implications of the settings than any actual need to see how the character arcs played out. This was because it was those mechanics, those settings, that she would internalize and return to late at night when she needed a long masturbatory release. Half-awake and half-dreaming, she would drift with her fingers slipped up into her cunt and a thumb gently circling her clit, make-believing scenarios where she would be fucked in the violent, brutal manner she needed.

  And that was where her fantasies became rather specific.

  She wanted a man to take her against her will. She wanted to be taken, really, by several men, and all of them so strong that she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it one way or the other. Intricate visions filled her thoughts of her fresh young tight hot body being held down by several pairs of strong hands and thick arms, marble-like torsos and bodies cut from solid rock. Each one would have a cock larger than the last, and the very last would be the largest, the biggest-cocked one, of all of them.

  He would be unstoppable, a true warrior. The kind of man who could make panties melt with a wink and who would destroy those who looked at his women with an eager bloodlust. The kind of man who could annihilate whole armies by himself, who deserved a queen as gorgeous as herself kneeling at his side while he delivered out horrible decisions on the populace.

  There was something about the notion of sucking off a man on a throne that appealed to her greatly. And not just sucking off a man who held a throne—though that was hot too. But a man who actually was sitting on a throne and held it at the same time—a king in court. Holding court. Directing the populace while Stella's mouth bobbed obediently up and down his thick, shining meaty rod.

  This only had logical consequences, when she followed the fantasy long enough. Power got her off. Power excited her more than anything else. And what greater power was there than the power of life and death?

  She imagined herself sucking soulfully on the cock of such a king while he metered out executions left and right. Maybe the criminals had merely stared at Stella too long, and his possessive nature wouldn't allow his majesty to do anything else but behead them. Maybe it would happen right there in the court room as Stella sucked, her new King shooting his load down Stella's eager young throat while his underlings disposed of his enemies for him...

  Power was so hot to her.

  The hottest thing about it was that there were infinite variations with which she could imagine that kind of power being exercised.

  So, for example, if she thought of herself in some dystopian future, she might imagine living in a walled commune full of women. Then, heavily muscled barbarian raiders would break through their ramshackle walls, destroying the steel and machinery that had kept them safe, and then she’d be held at gunpoint and forced to give up her virginity.

  Even though, really and truly, that was what she wanted all along.

  Maybe then the head barbarian would lead her down a dark and twisted path. When the big tribe all stopped to fuck her—and of course they would, because she was so much hotter than the other girls in the commune—her friends and sisters would have gotten away. So then the raider king would use Stella to track them down and to lure them in.

  Stella would dress up all innocent to let her friends know that everything was fine, that the raiders were actually quite all right so long as you cooperated...and then she would knock out her girls and tie them up for the raiders to use and abuse at their leisure. Stella would lean on their hips as they drove into their new conquests, cheering them on while they made fuckslaves out of her former compatriots.

  This kink for corruption and power ran deep in Stella, and seemingly had no end point.

  She ran on the treadmill, picking up steam, considering this idea. So many of her fantasies revolved around battle, being the treasured fuckprize of the biggest and strongest. Maybe that's why she loved football and the athletes who played it so much.

  Sweat had started to gather openly on her tight young body. She was dripping from her face to her neck, her neck to her chest, and spatter had begun to land on the treadmill beneath her. She used a towel to wipe herself off from time to time, but in all honesty, she enjoyed the sensation of the sweat on her body. It made her feel good—it was the physical confirmation of her efforts, her powerful need to be better, fitter, hotter.

  Not to mention it was a terrific way to drive eyes onto her body. She had her eyes closed, ears pumped with a playlist full of triumphant workout pop that encouraged her to work harder and never give up. But even with these senses deprived, she knew that men and women watched her. A glistening, wet body was hotter than a dry one.

  This was a scientific fact, and good luck to anyone trying to disprove it.

  Her limbs moved in perfect perpetual motion. Arms up, legs up. Arms back, legs back. But of course the real stars of the show were her tits. Thick, young, round, and vibrantly colored with effortlessly tanned, shiny skin, they were more than eye-catching—they were mind-drowning.

  Her cleavage formed a
tight, perfect v-shape, the tops of her breasts so tightly pressed by the elastic fabric of her sports bra that they appeared even larger than they actually were. Twin golden spheres of delight tantalized eyes of any passers-by.

  With Stella’s eyes closed, she could imagine the entire gym prostrated before her, on their knees, worshiping her mega-hot model-worthy body. That would make her an even bigger prize for whatever man who was actually strong enough to claim her. And so even though she had started this workout with the intent to get rid of her sexual energy and tire herself out, she only ended up magnifying it.

  All these thoughts about her fantasies, about her magnificent body, about the people who wanted to fuck her...all of that just made her more turned on than before.

  A loud boom sounded, loud enough to be heard through the poppy cacophony flooding through her earphones.

  Stella slipped them off and turned to look around—the gym was practically empty except for herself. That was weird. When she had gotten there an hour before, the place had been full. The lights were dim now, as if the gym was closing—but she knew it was open until midnight.

  She looked to the front now and she saw only one figure standing there. A large figure—a male figure. A man larger than any other on campus—maybe any other in the entire fucking city.

  It was Luke Maxon.

  * * * * *

  As intricate as Stella’s fantasies were, they often did not star specific people. When she was fucked by football players in her thoughts, their helmets were left on because she did not want to have to see their faces.

  When she was fucked by raiders, they too had helmets or sometimes bandannas or scarves wrapped over their mouths and noses. Kings would have their crowns resting low, obscuring their features.

  And if all else failed, she could simply be fucked in the dark—a special sort of dream-dark where there was enough light to perfectly make out the lines of every hard muscle on her violator’s body but just not enough to see what his face actually looked like in the darkness.

  There was a reason for this.

  It wasn’t that she couldn’t actually imagine a handsome man’s face. Oh no. She had studied the internet extensively, and had been on plenty of dates with a number of admirably crafted men, any of whom would have “done the trick,” in a pinch—but what she wanted was hardly to be merely satisfied.