He had a black kerchief knotted around his head, and a heavy leather bike jacket with lots of zippers and tassels on all of them. It had its own belt and, like his boots, it jingled when he moved.
He sat on a trunk by the door with a big, shiny pump-action shotgun by his side. Lola, naturally, bottle-blonde, big-eyed Lola of the push-up and stilettos slid onto the trunk by his side.
She was whispering in his ear in no time, then she had her hand on his thigh, then sliding up and down his stomach. Up under the heavy motorcycle jacket. Before long her hand got lost behind the huge, jingling buckle on his wide leather belt and down the front of the biker’s jeans.
As the truck bumped on the road, Angelica’s cousin Raimunda told her that uncle Cesar had paid more than a thousand US dollars for each of them, to get them across the border. Given the money in cash to the American biker gang. She said, “Cesar’s no fool, you know that,” And that was certainly true.
But why would he want to spend money, and so much money, to get all of them into the US? And why only the girls? And why were his two daughters not in the truck? Raimunda said, “I had been thinking about that. Maybe he wants to see that it all works out before he sends Ana and Paola.”
“Maybe.” Angelica said. Lola by now was sitting real close to the ginger-haired biker. Her hand was way down his pants and his hands were in the low scoop of her top. She was giggling and batting her eyelids and a major performance was due pretty soon. “Poor little Lola,” Angelica told Raimunda, “Hasn’t got a clue.”
“Always thinking of herself,” said Raimunda. Most girls resented Lola to some extent. Understandably, but Angelica thought it was a shame.
“She’s just trying to protect herself, as always, but that guy? She’s wasting her time.”
Raimunda asked, “Why do you say that?”
Lola was working the guy’s zipper down. She would be sticking his cock in her throat soon. Angelica said,
“Two reasons. One, we’re going to see that biker’s happy face in about four minutes.”
“Yeah. So?”
“He’s not like the boys in our village. Guy like that, his happy face is the display that says, ‘system reset. Memory purge.’ By the time his eyes open again, he’ll have forgotten who she is.”
Raimunda didn’t look convinced. “Look at him,” said Angelica, “A blowjob is like a free beer to him. He won’t ever turn it down, but it’s hardly a life-changing moment.”
Raimunda’s eyebrows rose. Lola was giving the biker a naughty girl, ooh, do I dare giggle as her arm was slowly sliding up and down into his pants. The biker’s hips were starting to roll.
Angelica said, “If you want to fix an idea in a guy’s head, especially a hard man like that biker, you better get the thought well nailed in before you get him all hot and humping.”
His hand was finding its way up her short, plaid skirt and into her white panties, and her hips bucked.
Raimunda couldn’t help licking her lips. In spite of herself, neither could Angelica. Raimunda said, “What’s the other reason? You said there were two reasons.”
“Oh, she’s wasting a good blowjob. These are just delivery boys, I doubt we’ll see them again after the border.”
Sure enough, out came the biker’s cock, with some wiry ginger pubes. Short, fat, hard cock with an upward curve. First Lola licked around the head. Then she blew down the length of the underside. She cupped his balls and squeezed gently a few times and the guy couldn’t keep still.
She stroked the bottom of his balls and along to the very back of his sack and the biker’s head was rolling back. He was tilting his hips and writhing, he went to grab Lola’s hair, but she brushed his hand away gently.
She made a ring of her hand to hold his balls and his cock from the very hilt, and she licked slowly and real softly along both sides.
She kept it up, gently touching, blowing and teasing, then she slowly slipped her lips over the head of it. Her head went down and then up, sucking as she plucked her lips all the way off. She paused for a moment before her head slipped down again and then up.
She waited a little longer this time, then gently slipped over his shaft again, holding his balls from behind as she did. Lola did this slowly and gently, stroking him with her hand, gently squeezing his balls, blowing her hot, damp breath on the length of his cock.
The biker’s head moved from side to side as Lola sucked his balls one at a time before she took his cock into her mouth again, slowly and gently. This time she went deeper. His fingers shoved her panties aside and pressed up into the wet crevice between her swelling lips.
Her mouth was going much farther down his cock, and her tongue was out, sliding down the underside, reaching to flick at his balls. Down she went and up. Down again, each time more slowly but a little deeper, then up.
The biker’s feet stamped and his groans were rhythmic and loud. Then Lola plunged her head all the way down, got him into her throat, gagged herself and slammed her head down and down and down. His hips sprang upwards into her face. His hand grabbed her hair.
He shoved his cock in and out of her throat so hard it looked like he might choke her. Then she grabbed his buttocks to pull him in and hold him. His shades fell off and his eyes were wild as he came in her mouth. She stayed down, sucking and slurping and lip-smacking every little drop of that biker’s cum.
Raimunda and Angelica looked at each other open mouthed. They collapsed into giggles when Angelica said, “Okay, he might remember that one.”
Uncle Cesar’s little girls weren’t with them when they climbed down from the back of the truck. They weren’t given plastic boxes to carry, two each, and sent down the long, deep tunnel, crawling one by one through wet muck on their hands and knees.
Cesar’s lovely daughters Ana and Paola didn’t drag themselves up a ladder, wet, frightened and cold into a foreign desert at night. They weren’t herded into an echoing shipping container on the back of a big freight rig.
Locked in for thirty-six hours or more. A cage in the back where the plastic boxes the girls had carried were locked up. When the rattling truck finally came to a stop, bikers came in to get the boxes before they let any of the girls out of the back of the container.
And, at the end in that dusty nowhere, who knew where, in a big wooden one-story shed with what sounded like a barroom at the far end, Ana and Paola were not there with Angelica, Raimunda, Lola, Inez and the others to be told that now they were going to have to ‘work their passage.’
The big biker drew his thumb down over his bottom lip. Looked at Angelica for a long time. He said, “I’m not going to force you. I don’t need that. I’ll say to Jake that I did, it’ll be okay. Tell me what you want me to say that I did. I’ll square Jake.”
Angelica stood her ground and said, “You can tell him that you forced me. Grabbed a hold of me. Tore my shirt,” she balled the front of the tee tight in her hand. Pulled downwards. Hard. The cotton made a slow rasp as she tore it. Tore a strip out of the front. Now her breasts swung bare. She grabbed his hand. Put it on her breast. Pressed it there. Hard.
“Say that you squeezed my tits. Felt the warmth and heft. Twisted my nipples till they stung. Till they got good and hard.” She reached up and hung her arms around his neck. Looked down as she ground her hips against his leg. Felt the muscles of his leg as she gripped it between the tops of her thighs.
She said, “Why not tell Jake that you pulled my pants open and pushed your fingers inside me.” Angelica rubbed and rocked her mound hard up and down on his leg. Hard. Then ground her hips into his. Hard. Round and round.
“Say you pushed your fingers inside me. That even though I struggled and fought, I was swollen and wet.” The bulge in his pants stirred and swelled. Angelica felt it with her clit. Rubbed along it, over it. Felt the bulge hardening.
“Why don’t you say you made me open your pants.” She undid his heavy silver buckle. Popped his fly buttons.
She reached into the opening at the fr
ont of his pants. “Say you made me put my hand in,” she gripped the girth of his big, hot cock. Pulled along the length of it. Put his hand in the back of her long, dark brown hair. “You can tell him that you forced me down.”
She bent her knees to kneel in front of him. Hauled out his hot cock. “Tell him you beat it on my face. Banged it on my tongue. Shoved it in my mouth. Pushed it all the way into my throat.” She peered up into his eyes, “Tell him that you made me gag on it.”
Her lips slid over his bulb, tasted the sweet precum. Her hot, wet mouth pressed down along the length of it. Swallowed his long, fat shaft.
Felt her tongue forced down under the hot ridges of it. Felt it glide through the soft, wet space of her mouth until it met the back of her throat. Her head filled with the dark taste of his musk.
She reached up to take his hand, put his on the back of her head. Pressed. Hard. Sweet saliva gushed in her mouth as the hot, slick head of his cock breached into her throat. His other hand came round to the back of her head then. Yes, she thought, YES. He grabbed her hair. Hard.
Her hands felt the knots of his strong, clenching thighs. Slid around to his hard round ass as it drove his cock hard, deep into her throat. In an out. Hot. Pulsing. Christ, she thought, what a gorgeous ass. She sucked. She was raging hot between her legs. And wet. She wanted her hands on her pussy. Or him. But now she was too busy. Sucking on his throbbing cock.
His long shaft plowed into her mouth, reamed down her throat, slid back to her lips, then drove in again. Again and again. Harder. Deeper. Till her nose reached his pubes and his balls slapped on her chin. Faster now.
His hips thrust and his ass clenched hard as he fucked her face. The hard cock began to swell and pulse rhythmically and his cum exploded into her wet, hungry mouth. He pumped hot, salty spunk into her mouth and her throat. Pumped until it dribbled out of her lips.
With her face wet and sticky, she stood to face him. Looked in his eye as she pushed the little dribble of cum with her finger. Pushed it up onto her tongue. Lapped it up and then licked her lips. Swallowed. Slowly.
He reached down and lifted her. Put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her onto the table. Yanked down the zipper of her denim cut-offs and pulled her little black panties aside. Angelica saw that he smelled her perfume the same time as it hit her nose.
His lip curled as he bowed his head towards her lap. As she watched his mouth draw nearer to the scent of her hot crotch she fidgeted her ass towards him. Her nipples pointed and swelled out of the torn rags of her tee.
He looked up as he said, “Shall I tell Jake that I licked and sucked on the nub of your clit?”
She looked down into his eyes. “No.”
He said, “Or that I pushed my tongue up between your thick, soft lips, deep into your pussy?”
“No,”
“That I dragged my fingers inside you, my wrist between your clenching thighs? Pulled my fingers forward, grazed the fold in there, found the spot that makes you spring?”
“No,” she gasped, as his lips pressed into the hood of her clit, “No. Don’t tell Jake that.”
Her thighs were over his wide shoulders. His huge hands squeezed her butt cheeks as his hard, mobile tongue snaked inside her. She leaned back on her elbows. Looked down over her bouncing breasts at his head, deep between her tightening thighs. Angelica’s back stretched. Her fingers grasped. Her ass felt tiny, childish in his hands.
Angelica panted and her voice was thick as she said, “You have any lube, American?”
His head shook slowly, pulling his lips across her clit.
“Good.” her stomach still rippled with the last orgasm, “Don’t tell him that you reamed and burned my soft little ass raw, either.” She squeezed his head with her thighs as her fingers clawed in his hair, feeling his wiry curls scrape inside her thighs as she shook and her juices gushed into his mouth.
Soon after the bikers had hurried us out of the truck and into the back of the shed, they fed them some tasteless Yankee fast-food shit, cheap ground-up meat waste in weightless bread. Before they finished it the floor of the shed shook with the sound of the approaching bikes. A big enough roar that no-one could say how many there were, but it sounded like a lot.
Loud voices followed and the beat of heavy boots made the wood flooring vibrate. A biker with a red bandana and shades came in and looked around. Picked out two of the youngest girls, Perla and Jazmin. Said, “I bet you two can dance. Here, put these on.”
He handed them a couple of silver bikini bottoms. Waited while the girls stripped off and wriggled the things on. Perla had tears streaming down her face. The biker seemed to like that. “Oh, you gonna be good,” he said, “They gonna like you.” He laughed as he took the girls by their bare arms and led them away and kicked the door shut behind them.
Then bikers took the rest of the girls into separate rooms. Small, bare, wood rooms. No windows. Inez looked at Angelica, pleading as she was shoved into a tiny room. She saw a bed against one wall but she didn’t acknowledge her, and they both knew why.
In their part of Mexico, kidnappings were commonplace. Every schoolkid has spent hours of thrilling horror, turning over with their friends, what do you do if... Rule 1: Tell the captors nothing. All knowledge can be power, don’t hand them any.
When he slipped his fingers up between her ass cheeks, held her ass in his other hand, put his thumb against her little ass, he pressed. He hadn’t bothered to take off her panties or the tiny cut-offs. There wasn’t much point, they would hardly get in his way. Then he pressed with his finger, cupping her whole pussy in his palm.
Pressing the mound of his thumb against the mound of her sex. She always thought of her mound as being a great big bulge. In his hand it felt tiny. He pressed her little star, and he moved his finger around it. Slowly burrowed his finger in. Pressed down a little more.
Then he lifted her off the table as he stood. Angelica put her arms over his shoulders and gripped her legs around his ribs. Tilted her pelvis up. The lips of her puss tingled on the hair at the bottom of his stomach.
The curls that led down to his cock. Her buttocks felt the bones of his wide pelvis. Her ass felt the head of his hard cock. He looked at her and said,
“You ain’t done this before.” His lips tightened very slightly as he said, “You ain’t done a whole lot of this before, have you. You sure ain’t no whore.” His eyes looked hard into hers for some time before he said, “No, you ain’t no whore. Lot of men will pay a lot of money to have you act like one, though.” Did his voice soften a little, or did she imagine it?
Maybe she was just dreaming. Catching a stale whiff drifting from one of the damned tele-novellas her Mama and her little sister Inez watch every afternoon. Or if not, if his voice really did soften a little, it was most likely a mixture of jealousy and admiration for the money that Jake was going to make out of her.
She said, “You mean if I act like I’ve been acting with you, American?”
“Mm-hm.”
“And what if I’m not willing to do that? What if I won’t do it with just whoever comes through that door?”
“We’re talking about hardcore MC brothers here. If they know you’re going to put up a fight, they’ll pay even more.”
Angelica’s lips tightened between her teeth. He said, “Well, we’re here,” and she clung on to him. Tight. Pressed her breasts against him through the ripped cotton. But he only pressed gently against her ass.
She tried to relax. That made it easier. But not much. Plus, she couldn’t really relax much. And her ass was tiny. And his cock was huge.
She said, “You want me to put up a fight, American?”
He stopped. Looked at her. His cock was just engaged at the opening to her ass. “Whatever you want. It’ll be okay with me.”
Then he pressed in. He slid into her ass and out, and deeper in, and slowly out, and on. The strokes got faster and harder, and he got harder, and her ass hurt like hell.
She’d be lying if sh
e said she didn’t like it, she did. She liked it a lot. She was getting to like the scent and the velvety skin of this hard American. But she saw no reason to let him know any of that if she could help it.
Gripping on tight to him with her thighs, she stretched back. He put out his hand out along her back. And he rammed harder in. It ached and burned, but through the pain was a thrill that she hadn’t ever felt before.
Something deep. And dark. But strong. It was like an echo of something from long ago. Impossibly long ago.
Then he lifted her off his cock. Lifted her like she was a bag of sugar or a cake. She couldn’t imagine this rough biker with either of those things though. So like a what? A bag of money, probably. Dirty dollars in bundles of thousands.
He pulled out of her ass, and slipped straight in to penetrate her dripping hot puss. She felt like she had exploded. She wrapped her arms tight around him, squeezed with her thighs.
She rode him as hard as she could. She was so ready to cry, and she really didn’t want him to see that. The thought made it harder to hold back. Her hands slid into his shirt. Her fingers snaked around to the ridges of into his back. Dug her nails in. Dragged on his flesh.
Didn’t seem to make any difference to him. She drew back and beat on his chest. Flailed her fists at him as hard as she could. He kept right on, his huge cock filling her up, hard, hot and pounding into her. His thighs slapped against her soft cheeks, still raw from his cock.
Perfectly Bad: a bad boy romance Page 25
