Baby Batter

by Alexis Angel

  I hold my position for a few seconds, all three cocks buried inside my body, and then Parker and the man in the white mask start sliding their cocks out. That, of course, only so that they can start thrusting, which they do slowly at first, but it doesn’t take long for their rhythm to grow into a wild and unbridled dance.

  Closing my eyes again, I let all these lustful sensations wash over me and, regaining a slice of focus, I start bobbing my head back and forth as fast as I can, devouring the cock in front of me with unrepentant hunger.

  The sound of their cocks sliding in and out of my body is a wet one, primal and maddening in its nature, and it makes the fire inside my belly grow into a raging furnace of pleasure.

  My whole body is burning up, and I don’t think it’ll take long for my skin to start turning into ashes. Which I wouldn’t mind—after all, there’s a price to pay for pleasure. Perhaps wanting me to pay that price quickly, the man in the white mask grabs me by the head and, holding it, he starts thrusting. In that exact moment, the three men start pistoning into me at the same time, their rhythm one and the same.

  I arch my back even more, electricity snapping at my nerve endings with vibrant jaws, and I shut my eyelids so tightly that my eyeballs start to hurt. I feel a numbness taking over my toes and, slowly, it spreads all over my body, finally taking over my brain and turning it into a processing plant for lust.

  “OH FUCK, FUCK!” I scream out loud, pushing my head back and forcing the cock inside my mouth to slide out. The moment the words leave my mouth, my body responds in kind and every single muscle in my body starts spasming hard, almost as if someone had tied a string to them and was now pulling on it with no rhythm or kindness.

  I let my head fall down, pressing my forehead against the chest of the man in the white mask, and I don’t move until the last kisses of climax stop caressing my body. I lay there as if I‘m dead, beads of sweat dripping down my back, and the only thing I manage to do once pleasure washes over me is whimper.

  “That was…” I start to say, but I don’t finish my sentence. I just take a deep breath and watch as the man in the black mask turns around and unties both my wrists; I place my hands on the mattress then, allowing the muscles in my arm a few seconds of rest, and then my brain allows a sinful whisper to take over my body.

  They started it, you finished it, that whisper goes, and I know exactly what I have to do. Moving my body forward in a flowing motion, I let the cocks inside my pussy and ass slide out of me, and then I roll to the side, sliding down the bed and going straight to my knees.

  “What are you waiting for?” I ask the three of them, looking at them with narrowed eyes and a wide grin.

  Moving as if they’re in a trance, they get out of the bed and stand in a line right in front of me, just like they did before. And, exactly as I did before, I grab the masked men’s cock and dive forward, opening my mouth and gobbling up Parker’s shaft.

  My hands move as fast as humanly possible, stroking the two cocks I’m holding, and I bob my head back and forth at that same frantic pace. For a second I stop existing, my sense of self is dissolving in the movements of my body.

  I’m only brought down to Earth when a sudden strand of cum hits me straight in the face.

  And then another.

  And another.

  Before I know it, my face is covered in cum, and it’s only then that a violent spasm runs through Parker’s cock. In a heartbeat, his cock starts gushing a river of cum into my mouth, filling me up to the brink before I can do anything about it. Cum drips down from my mouth, joining the masked men’s semen, and all that wet gooey mess slides down over my skin. It goes down my neck and over the rising curve of my breasts, wetting my nipples and making my skin prickle.

  I move my body back and let go of all three cocks, throwing my head back and squeezing my breasts while Parker and the masked men unleash their never ending load over my exhausted body.

  I keep frozen in place as they finish off, and by the time that happens I’m completely covered in their seed. I let a wild smile take over my lips and, almost as if that turned a switch inside Parker’s head, his knees buckle under his weight and he kneels right in front of me.

  “So? How did you like Python?” he asks me, taking his hand to the nape of my neck and grabbing at my hair, forcing me to look straight into his eyes.

  “Loved it,” I tell him, but then I reach for his still hard cock and give it a squeeze. “But I’ll always prefer your python.”

  “Thought so,” he laughs, leaning into me and pressing his lips on mine, a thick barrier of cum between our bodies.

  I close my eyes as the masked men turn on their heels and get out of the bedroom, leaving Parker and I alone, and that’s when I surrender completely to his kiss, my tongue dancing around his own.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “For what?”

  “For this, for everything… For being you.”

  He just smiles at me, and that’s the only reaction I need from him.

  Sometimes a smile is worth more than a thousand words.

  Amy

  Stretching, I let out one big yawn. I stare down at the clock on my laptop, which tells me I’ve been working for almost twelve hours straight, and then close the lid. My days are now a retreading of what came before—work, work, and then some more work. Thankfully, I make sure to keep my spirits up by taking a hefty dose of Parker’s naked body. It seems that’s all I do nowadays, work and fuck. Hey, work hard; play hard. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

  But Parker has been busy the whole day, meeting with some of the big names of New York politics, and I’ve spent the whole day holed up in my apartment, reading through a mountain of legal briefings and strategy documents for his campaign. Seriously, you’d say half of the Amazonian rainforest has been cut down in order to create this much paper. But I’m done now; it’s already 10 pm, and I have to meet Parker’s staff early in the morning.

  I get up from the desk I’ve set up in my living room and start dragging my feet toward the bedroom when there’s a loud knock at my door. I glance at my cellphone, still sitting by the side of my laptop, but Parker hasn’t called or texted me. He’s still in a meeting, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he had gotten out earlier and decided to drop in as a surprise.

  I smile, remembering how he surprised me last time, and then saunter over to the door. Already expecting to see Parker on the other side, I turn the handle and open the door. Except it isn’t Parker standing in the doorway—it’s my mother.

  High heels, a formal pencil skirt, a blouse more expensive than my whole furniture collection put together, and, of course, a smile that I can only translate as trouble. Hi, mom.

  “What are you --” I start, not even knowing what to say, but she just cuts me short and walks past me and inside my apartment, her shoulder bumping harshly against mine.

  Without saying a word, she walks with her sure step toward the drink cabinet I have on the corner and she grabs two short glasses of whisky. She takes the cork out of a bottle of aged malt and then pours the whisky onto the glasses.

  “Here, drink this,” she says, pushing one glass into my hands.

  “What are you doing?” I finally manage to say, wrapping both my hands around the cold glass of whisky.

  “You’ve done your job, Amy,” she tells me, looking straight into my eyes with an icy expression, and then drinking half of her whisky in one single gulp. “And you’ve done it perfectly.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, not quite sure of what’s going on. “Did you come for these?” I continue, waving my hand at the stack of documents piled up on my desk. “Because there’s nothing in there that --”

  “Oh, for a smart girl, you can be pretty dumb sometimes, Amy,” she whispers, finishing off her drink and then pouring some more whisky. She’s in a celebratory mood, which isn’t really good—for me and for Parker.

  “Then what? What are you talking about?”

  “D
o you think I care about Parker’s strategies or whatever documents his staff passes back and forth? Believe me, if I wanted to go down that route, I wouldn’t need you. What I wanted was for you to give Parker’s life an air of… indecency. Impropriety. Which you’ve done wonderfully,” she smiles, raising her glass at me as if she were giving a toast.

  So this was her game all along. And, just like a fool, I played straight into her hand. How could I have not seen this coming?

  “Your bid for the senate is in ruins… After that veteran thing it’s going to be impossible for you to --”

  “Don’t be a fool. Do you think people are going to care about some stupid thing like that? Once the world knows about what Parker has been up to, that situation is going to disappear as fast as it came up. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Amy. You were dying to get into his pants, and now you finally did it. I don’t care that the two of you are sleeping with each other, you know? It’s all the same to me.”

  “I’m your daughter…” I whisper, curling my fingers tightly around my whisky glass. I’m struggling against the sudden urge to simply throw the glass against her head.

  “So? And I’m your mother. And, from what I’m seeing, you prefer to side with Parker than with me.”

  “You’re a monster, that’s what you are!” I hiss, rage boiling inside my veins.

  “I’m not a monster. I’m a realist. Not a wide-eyed dreamer like you and your friend Parker. And don’t act like you’re a saint either, Amy. You helped me do this, remember? And you’ve done exactly what I needed… Now I just need one final thing from you.”

  I stare her down in complete silence, ready to refuse whatever she asks of me. I don’t care about what happens. I’m done with his bullshit.

  “You need to leave him,” she finally says, smiling as if the words feel like honey in her mouth.

  “No,” I reply, placing my glass on the desk and balling both of my hands into fists. “I’m done with you.”

  Still with that smile on her face, she sighs heavily and then takes one step toward me.

  “You will leave him. I’m going to hit him fast and hard, Amy, and I need him as demoralized as possible. You don’t have a choice in this, you should know by now. Or haven’t you learned anything?”

  “Yeah, I’ve learned something,” I whisper, closing the distance between us with one sure step and then hitting her across the face with the back of my hand. “I’ve learned you’re a bitch. And now I want you to get the fuck out of my apartment.”

  Moving slowly, she sets her glass on the desk and looks to me, her smile turning into a grin of pure savagery.

  “I’ll go, Amy. But if I were you, I’d be as far away from Parker as possible. Because, rest assured, I’m going to crush him… And if you’re standing by his side, I’ll happily crush you as well.”

  “Fuck off,” I growl, and then I stare at her as she grabs her purse and walks out of my apartment, leaving the door open behind her.

  This is it. Whatever she has in store for Parker, it’s clear what’s going to happen next.

  We’re officially going to war.

  Parker

  I'm sitting behind my large, mahogany desk. My top staff officials are standing behind me, poised and smiling. This is a big moment. I have a stack of documents splayed out over the desk, and a heavy pen resting between my fingers.

  I'm signing my way through documents as reporters snap pictures.

  I'm hoping this action sets my campaign back on track. It's recently gone off the rails since Kate Meelios showed up unexpectedly at Amy's apartment.

  This is city legislation I'm signing today that will make it illegal for sex offenders to work in our public school system, and I'm proud of this. It's about time it's happening.

  "This legislation is long overdue," I say proudly, looking up from the documents. "I'm fulfilling a campaign promise that I've made to the citizens of New York City. This is a historic moment for all of us."

  I smile and get up from my desk, preparing to leave now that the documents have been signed, and waving to the press, when one reporter speaks up, stopping me.

  "Mr. Trask," he says, one arm outstretched to slow my exit and capture my attention, "with your stepdaughter facing charges of sex trafficking as her business is being closed down, will her being labeled as a sex offender cause a strain on your family?"

  What the fuck?

  I can hardly believe the words coming from his mouth. My head is fucking spinning.

  "What did you just say to me?" I ask, turning to address him.

  I'm being civil. Hiding frustration and anger that's bubbling to the surface. But honestly, I could wring his neck.

  Is this a blatant question to sabotage me in front of the press? Or is there a nugget of truth to this? Is Amy hiding something from me?

  Your guess is as good as mine.

  The reporter looks at me with a confused look on his face. "You do know about this, don't you?" he says.

  "Excuse me, but I don't understand the question," I say. I can feel my pulse increasing, and the room is beginning to feel twenty degrees hotter. What's going on? I think to myself. Is Kate behind this?

  I'm having a full-body reaction to this reporter's accusations, but before he has a chance to speak again, Megan places her hand on my elbow.

  "Let's go Parker," she whispers, gently guiding me out of the room so that no other exchange of words can transpire. I can tell she's trying to make a strategic exit.

  I raise my shoulders and shake my head. "I really don't know what the fuck is going on Megan," I say to her, leaning in and whispering. And that's the truth.

  "I know, but right now, we need to get out of here," she replies, her face serious and stoic.

  She continues to lead me out of the building, as a few reporters try to follow behind us. I can hear the continued snap of cameras and raised voices, all vying for my attention and for more information. They're clamoring for my thoughts—anything to grab onto and throw into tomorrow's headlines, I'm fucking sure of it.

  "Here we go," she says, pointing to our black limo waiting for us at the curb. The drivers is holding open a rear door of the car and we both slide into the cool leather seats, reporters nipping at our heels. The door slams shut behind us, and we are now completely shielded from the outside world.

  The windows are deeply tinted, and while we can see out, we are safe from the prying eyes of all of the photographers. Even their shouts are muffled, and almost a distant memory at this point.

  I turn to Megan. "What the fuck was that all about?"

  She doesn't say anything, and just shakes her head, her curls bouncing.

  I continue. "I'm serious, Megan. I need to know what in the hell is going on," I say again. "That reporter made one hell of a statement back there."

  I watch as she pulls her cell phone from her purse.

  "I don't know," she says, holding up a finger to silence me, "but I'm going to find out. Just give me a second."

  She's holding her phone to her ear, and I watch as she begins speaking to whoever her source is on the other end of the line.

  And then it hits me. I don't have another second to give.

  I need to see her. I need to see Amy for myself—right now.

  "Mike," I say to the driver, "I want you to turn this motorcade around to 43rd Street and 8th Avenue."

  "Sir?" he asks. "You're redirecting us near Port Authority. Am I understanding that correctly?"

  "That's right," I reply. "And hurry. We need to get there quick."

  "Yes, sir," he says, and I watch as he presses one foot on the brake and turns the steering wheel, making a sharp U-turn. Cars are honking at the sudden maneuver. No doubt he just cut a bunch of people off. Megan and I slide to the right side of the car with the momentum of the turn.

  If Amy's really going out of business, I need to see it for myself. I'm going straight to the source, her place of business—Kinky Amy's.

  "Okay," Megan says, ending her call and
breaking my train of thought. "I just got off the phone with the State Attorney General."

  She stops for a moment and pulls a stick of gum from her purse, carefully peeling off the wrapper and placing it into her mouth.

  Way to leave me hanging, I think.

  "And?" I say. "Don't hold me in suspense. What did he fucking say?"

  "Well, it's true—the State Attorney General has charged Amy as a sex trafficker," Megan says.

  "So, the reporter was right?" I ask, slowly putting everything together in my mind. "Fuck, I can't believe this." My head is spinning.

  "And not only that," Megan continues, "but the state troopers are coming right now. They're on their way to shut her business down."

  Fuck. We have to hurry. I need to be there.

  "Mike," I call out to the driver. "Step on the fucking gas now!”

  Amy

  “No!” I cry out, crossing my arms and standing right in front of the entrance to my office building. The sidewalk is swarming with state troopers in grey uniforms, all of them eager to storm into my office. “This is bullshit, you can’t simply --”

  “I have a court order right here, ma’am,” one of them, the one in charge, says. He steps forward and picks a folded piece of paper out from his jacket. He shoves it toward me and, with a frown, I snag it from his fingers.

  Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on? I think to myself as I glance over the document. I’m being charged with sex trafficking, and the state troopers are here to shut down my business. The document is signed by one Judge Andrew McGill, a name that rings a bell. If I’m not mistaken, he’s one of my mother’s political allies. Which makes perfect sense—since I’m tied with Parker, my ruin will surely mean his ruin.

  “This is bullshit!” I say again, stomping my foot against the floor and standing my ground. If these troopers want to take down my business, they can do it over my dead body. No way I’m going to let them in over some phony charges.