ENSLAVED BY SHIFTERS

by Astrid Lee Donovan

  Her tongue swirled around Rogan’s cock while he thrust into her fast and deep, making her take all of him without mercy. Emma reached up to cup his balls in her hand and felt his scrotum tighten. The head of his cock was thrusting deep into her throat and her nose was hitting his pelvic bone while his wife increased her tempo and wrung a final orgasm from Emma.

  Then Rogan steadied himself for a few seconds as he took a few deep breaths. “Not yet,” he groaned as he pulled away from Emma. “You want to come again, Benjamin?” Rogan asked huskily as he pulled Emma away from Samantha’s heavenly mouth and turned her around. Samantha took his lead and pulled her pussy away from Benjamin’s attentive lips and tongue. She grabbed his hand and led him to the other bed where Emma could see that his cock was still hard despite having cum already.

  “What are you-” Emma began to spoke when the tip of Rogan’s penis swirled around her pussy. Then he pushed into her deeply and she didn’t care that he wasn’t wearing a condom. She was on birth control and knew that he had been tested. His cock pounded into her and he reached around to swirl his finger around her clit, ringing a loud moan from her and causing her to buck against him.

  Rogan took control of her frenzied movements with his hand in her hair and pulled her head back to make her arch. Emma gasped as she felt another orgasm coming on and cried out in vain when he pulled out of her just before she was able to milk her pleasure from him. Then she could feel his cock probing around her anus and felt relief when he thrust into her without waiting for her to relax. The sharp pain was replaced with ecstasy when he reached around with one hand to play with her nub and the other kept hold of her nipple tightly.

  His grip reminded her of the nipple clamps her husband had used only a few days prior and just thinking about him was bringing her around again. Just as she felt his hot cum streaming into her anus, Emma’s body surprised her and pulsated around his cock. She could feel his balls against her pussy and felt how they contracted as he came. Emma looked over at the last second to see her husband’s tense body as he thrust deep into Samantha in the same position and smiled when she saw him cum.

  Each couple showered and cleaned up gently, lovingly before they said their goodbyes to the other couple. “Call me when you’re back in town again,” Emma told Samantha before they parted.

  “Oh, I will,” Samantha said before she gave Emma a full kiss on the lips. Her body was sore, but it was with pleasure and not pain.

  Benjamin put his hand on the small of her back and she leaned into him as they walked down the steps to their vehicle. When they slid into their respective sides, Emma fiddled with the strap of her purse and fought back a smile. “What is it?” Benjamin asked her as he reached over to take her hand.

  “Well, it’s just that I had a lot of fun, and I didn’t expect to like watching you cum into her, but I did. It was just so-” she paused as she tried to find the right word, “hot.” Emma finished as she looked up at her husband.

  “I know,” Benjamin told her as he leaned across the console and kissed her on the cheek. “I saw Rogan pounding into you and I thought it was the hottest thing in the world. Seeing you lost in so much pleasure, it made me cum, baby,” Benjamin admitted to her.

  They drove home listening to the music from their youth and holding hands. Then Benjamin opened the passenger side door for her and helped her up the steps. He swung her into his arms just before he opened the door and carried her over the threshold like they were just married again.

  “What are you doing?” Emma giggled as she swatted at him and made him put her down.

  “I’m bringing my wife home,” Benjamin answered her seriously. Emma stepped toward him and let him wrap her in his arms tightly before they removed their coats and went upstairs.

  Emma snuggled into Benjamin’s side as she grew sleepy and was thankful that he was the one she ultimately slept with every evening. “I love you,” she whispered to him just before she drifted off to sleep.

  “I love you, too,” Benjamin told her sweetly. He kissed her forehead and marveled at how lucky he was to have a wife that had agreed to go swinging with him. She even let him tie her up and use toys on her, and that was the ultimate sign of trust to him.

  The next morning, they went about their daily business with little, secretive smiles on their faces. Emma poured her husband a cup of coffee and sat down across from him with her own.

  “So, I had fun last night,” she told him in a small voice.

  “Me, too,” Benjamin replied as he sipped his coffee and looked her in the eyes. Emma felt warm all over with the knowledge that her husband had no regrets about their alternative lifestyle.

  BAD BOY BIKERS ON THE ROAD

  1

  I pressed my foot into the pedal, letting the feeling of speed and movement wash over me. This is what I needed. This is what I had needed for months.

  I think it’s quite tough to explain precisely what it is about getting a divorce that’s so stressful. There’s the literal side of it, of course - the one where you have to turn up to lawyer’s offices, and do things like splitting up your belongings and figuring out who gets what. But then there are the less tangible things, the stuff like splitting up your friends, and seeing the person you were once so in love with you wanted to spend your entire life with them. It’s odd, seeing your ex after a divorce, in that strange limbo space where the relationship has officially been called off but you still have to see each other on a semi-regular basis. Everyone has those moments where the temptation to sink back into what’s familiar and known is almost overwhelming, but you have to fight it because you’ve signed a piece of paper saying that you don’t want to be together any more. And that’s tough. That’s really tough.

  Having to let go of Oliver was the toughest part of the divorce, no doubt. And we both knew that things had gone long beyond the point of no return by the time we decided to split. It wasn’t as if we had any screaming rows, or arguments that shook the foundations of our relationship - no-one cheated (at least, not to my knowledge), we just slowly and irritatingly fell out of love with each other, and didn’t bother to do anything about it before it was too late. And that sucks, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.

  Oliver and I had been together twelve years when we agreed that a divorce was the only way to go. We’d met in our last year of college, and that had been that - we’d fallen in love, moved in together, and got a cat and an apartment and a ring. It felt right. It felt like everything I’d been told about the way my life should pan out was happening, and there was something very satisfying and comforting about that. Looking back, there were warning signs peppered all over the relationship. We didn’t fuck as often as I would have liked, we didn’t have a huge amount in common, and we tended to just sort of rely on each other to be our emotional safe houses. We fell into a routine, not in love, and that routine felt safe and comfortable, until it suddenly wasn’t and a profound, awful unhappiness had begun to rock our marriage to the core.

  Yes, I get that we could have stood up and fought for our marriage, and that there are people who would criticize me for not doing that. But there comes a point where you’re just exhausted- exhausted by the monotony and the monogamy, the sterile sex and the constant questions of kids we both knew we didn’t want to have. I felt strangely numb after we’d made the decision, as if I couldn’t quite imagine my life without him after all that time together, but it didn’t take long for me to work out that we’d made the right choice. And yes, we were both hurting, and yes, it was horrible to cut myself off from his family and his friends, the people I’d become close to and considered part of my life, but those are sacrifices you have to make if you want to be happy.

  Happy - yes, it was an odd thing to consider, but I was a lot happier now. I felt raw, as if someone had been rubbing onions up on my soul, but also free. I didn’t have to deal with those late nights awake, next to him, wondering if I should just wake him up and tell him that we shouldn’t be together any more. I
didn’t have to masturbate every night just to get some kind of release, because Oliver couldn’t give it to me. That felt profoundly strange and strangely profound. I could go fuck whomever I wanted now, in theory, and I had every intention of exploiting that to the max. A little frisson of energy passed through me as I considered it - I was only thirty-two, and my libido had far from dropped off. I still looked good - curvier than I had been, sure, but I liked myself with a little extra weight. My legs looked strong and toned, and my arms were lightly muscled-hours spent at the gym working off pent-up sexual energy will do that to a person. And I wanted to show off this body to the fullest.

  I guess part of taking this trip away was about getting out of a town where everyone knew me and had preconceptions about me. For years, in that little Michigan town, everyone had known me as his wife - I wasn’t my own person any more, but rather melded into him, an accessory for Oliver to take with him to prove his success. Getting out of town would give me the chance to explore what I was like when no-one knew who I was, or what I had been. And yes, I wanted to open up my romantic options as well. I wasn’t looking for another long-term relationship, but a good date and a screw would probably go a long way to fixing up my long-ignored libido.

  It was a completely spontaneous decision, this road trip - I had loaded a bunch of my stuff in the car to move down to my sister’s place while I found somewhere to stay, and I just thought “No”. I didn’t want to have to rely on someone else, again, when I had just reclaimed my freedom and it was so exciting and so new and so different. So I grabbed a few clothes from my closet, stuffed my make-up bag and my wallet in the front seat, and took off. I wasn’t sure where I was going, or how long I was going to be there, but at least I would be doing something new. Some women give themselves a new haircut after a big break-up; I had just taken to the roads to see where they would bring me. It felt so good, and I wound down the window to fell the wind in my face. Sure, it was a cliché, but it was a cliché for a reason- it felt so damn good. I wanted to sing along to empowering songs and drink cocktails and have a fling with a gorgeous waiter. Why not? I was finally free from the suffocating sadness that had enveloped me in the last year. I wanted to make the best of it.

  I saw the gas light flash on my dashboard, and cursed to myself. It was just like me to have to quit my feminist-empowerment diatribe to pull over and pick up some gas. I spotted a gas station a few hundred feet in front of me, and smoothly pulled in to the parking lot. As soon as I was done with this, it would just be me, my thoughts, and whatever I could find on the radio on the way. That sounded good. Filling up my tank, I did a little dance on the spot, swaying my hips and humming some jazzy tune that I’d had in my head since I woke up this morning and decided to actually do something today.

  The roar of motorcycles caused me to look up; they were loud, cutting through the cool, quiet Michigan air like knives. There were two of them, a couple of young-ish looking guys who hopped off their bikes and shot me a look. I glanced away, nervous- I hadn’t so much as looked at another man all the time the divorce was going on, and I was freaked out - and excited - by the thought that these two guys might like me. They pulled their helmets off, and I couldn’t help but gape just a tiny little bit- they were both the kind of handsome you usually saw on billboards or in movies, not the kind you spotted filling up their classic bikes in a gas station in Michigan. One had short, tightly curled black hair that fell to his ears, contrasting with his light olive skin and green eyes, and the other was almost Danish-looking, with strikingly pale skin, blonde hair, and ocean-blue eyes that seemed to look right through me.

  Shit, they were both looking over at me again! Looking down, I concentrated on getting my gas. Sure, I could have an ogle, but I didn’t want to be caught eyeing up these two guys lest they think I actually want something out of them. Didn’t I? The thought crossed, unbidden, into my mind, and it took me by surprise- I had never so much as French-kissed a boy in public before, but my mind was throwing me an image of getting railed over the hood of my car by the blonde guy as the dark-haired one looked on. And it was exciting - God, was it exciting. It was strange to feel my sex drive come back in such an instantaneous, certain moment, but there it was - spiking through me, making me squeeze my legs together under the flowing, 1950s style skirt I was wearing. I was glad I had my big, round sunglasses on, so they couldn’t see the nervousness in my eyes.

  And so we carried on with that little dance for a while, with all three of us glancing at each other then glancing away again. It was high-school level flirting - an “I like you, do you like me?” question that I wasn’t sure if I wanted answered. I tried to push it to the back of my mind, convincing myself that all I was doing was having a look - I didn’t have to touch. After all, these guys were probably on their way somewhere, and didn’t have time to - well, actually, that was a good point. What exactly was it that I wanted these guys to do to me? There was no logical way we could do it here in the parking lot, without getting into a hell of a lot of trouble and what - was I going to invite them to the most cramped threesome ever in the back of my tiny Beetle? Yeah, sounded totally hot - bits of gearshift poking at the most inappropriate places. It was fine to enjoy a little fantasy, and even exchange a few dirty looks, but the reality was that there was no way I could actually hook up with these guys. They were cute, yes, and I little part of me was quite sad I wouldn’t get the chance to work out exactly what those smoldering glances meant, but I was an independent woman who didn’t need any man. Well, at least, not two bikers she’d picked up at a gas station. That didn’t seem to scream classy, elegant, independent divorcee. Maybe I was just being too hard on myself. Shaking my head, I snapped myself from my reverie and walked to the gas station shop to pay up, and maybe get an ice cream to enjoy in the unusual Michigan sunshine.

  Handing my money over to the cashier, I stepped outside, holding my chocolate-coated ice cream in my teeth as I fumbled to put my wallet away. As I walked, I noticed a seedy looking bathroom attached to the side of the building - and felt a twinge in my bladder. Urgh, if I didn’t go here, I would just have to stop again later on down the road, and all this stopping and starting was really starting to mess with my vibe. Rolling my eyes, I threw my ice cream in the car, thankful that it had a packet so I didn’t have to ruin the seats, and stepped inside the small, dingy cubicle. I tried the lock, but it didn’t work - oh well, I would just have to do without. No big deal. I doubted anyone would be trying to burst in hear anyway.

  Pulling down my panties and my skirt, I was taken by surprise when the door opened.

  “Someone’s in here!” I cried out, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me. Someone must have arrived while I was fiddling around with my ice cream.

  But then a head poked round the door, and a figure joined me inside the cubicle, I stood up, pulling up my panties, when I realized that it was the blonde biker from outside. My heart was pounding in my throat, and I could already feel my pussy moistening. No! This wasn’t the sort of thing I should be getting turned on by! This guy invaded my personal space in a totally over-the-line way, and-

  Oh.

  That’s when he kissed me. It was difficult not to feel my legs buckle a little bit as he pressed his lips to mine, his tongue firm and warm and reassuring. It was the kind of kiss that convinced me that he couldn’t be up to anything scandalous, because good kissers are always decent people. I loved the way his mouth felt against mine, his teeth catching at my lips, his body firm and hard under his leathers. His gloves were still on, and feeling their stiff strength on my body as he pulled me into him made my pussy ache even more. Damn, this was hot - this was the kind of hot that I usually only dreamed about. It was my first kiss since the divorce, and what a first kiss. I wanted to melt into him, completely forgetting that we were in a gas station toilet cubicle and that I didn’t even know his name, because none of that mattered any more, as long as there was this moment and this kiss.

  He pulled back, using his te
eth to pull off one of his gloves. He was even better-looking now I got a closer look at him - his nose was long and crooked, giving his face some character, and I wondered if he’d hurt it in a motorbike crash. He looked a little older than I thought, too - maybe around my age. Tossing back his head to move his floppy blonde hair from his face, he used his bare hand to pull me towards him, his fingers pressing against my ass through my skirt. I moaned into his mouth, lifting one leg up and placing it on the toilet bowl to give me some leverage to grind against him. I didn’t know how much was going to happen in here, and I wanted to make the most of it if it just turned out to be a kiss. Judging by the way he was fondling my ass cheeks, I doubted it would end here.

  And, sure enough, he soon moved his hand round to my front, hooking his long, deft fingers around my panties and slowly pulling them down. I gasped as the fabric unstuck from my damp pussy, staring at him as he exposed me. Looking at him, I slowly hiked my skirt up so my long legs and shaven pussy were on display; I could have sworn he licked his lips when he got a look at it, his hand still hovering around my thighs. It felt so good to have someone want me like this again, to have someone crave and desire me. And his strong, calloused fingers felt divine on the softness of my legs. I was glad I’d shaved this morning. I knew there’d been a reason.

  Running his fingers across my mound, he elicited a series of little gasps and groans from me, my body shuddering under his touch. I was aching to be feeling his fingers inside me, to feel him gently pushing his digits into my soaked pussy. But he was taking his sweet time, starting by using his thumb to reach down and caress my clitoris. I shuddered, visibly, feeling my legs weaken a little. He wrapped an arm around me and helped me stand, pressing me back into his body as his fingers moved across my cunt. Opening my eyes, I looked at him, and he stared back at me for a moment; both of us lost in that second of blissful mutual pleasure. I had never been more turned on in my life, and I knew that I wouldn’t last long. I could already feel the pressure building deep inside me, growing so it became impossible to ignore. And then his fingers slipped a little lower, pushing into my slit, stretching me a little. He was an expert with his hands, his fingers deftly curving so that they reached my g-spot, an area that Oliver refused to even try to find. My body buckled at the sensation, and I collapsed against him, allowing him to hold me up entirely. It felt good to trust him, to feel that wave of closeness to another person, even if it was only for a few moments.