Perfectly Bad: a bad boy romance

by May Ball, Alice

  “That’s some handful of tit there, Boxer. Does it feel all sweet and doughy?” The vibration of his voice rumbled against her back. The one in front looked in her eye as he said, “they could do with a lashing of cream.” He slid a hand up her thigh and said, “I found the fish course,” as his fat fingers climbed to the top of her thigh and shoved at the side of her panties.

  Using the grip of the big man behind to hold her steady, Gypsy snapped her knee up hard into the short biker’s chin. Heard a loud crack as his teeth slammed together and she rammed her other leg up hard, driving her shin into his balls. He groaned and snarled as he doubled over.

  Balancing to swing a foot back and drive a stiletto into the man holding me, she felt herself lifted high and then flung onto the ground. Her arm hit the shale and she rolled. She heard the big guy say, “This one’s on fire. We’re going to have some real fun with you, sweetbutt.” He leaned over and his hand grabbed at the back of her head. He started to pull her up by the hair. He dragged her face towards his groin. With his other hand he began unbuttoning his fly. Then Gypsy saw his legs buckle as he sank hard onto his knees.

  Hacker stood behind him, nursing his fist. He said, “You boys have had enough fun for now. We going to make an issue of this, or are you going to slip away quietly?” The big one kneeling lifted his head, thinking about it. He looked over at his pal Boxer. Boxer shook his head once. Hacker watched as the big biker climbed to his feet, and Gypsy saw a narrow look of hatred in Boxer’s eyes at Hacker.

  The big one dusted himself off as he got up and said, “Okay, Hacks. No biggie, no beef, alright?”

  Hacker said... Right... And he watched the two bikers shambled away. Hacker went over to Gypsy. He said... Imagine, you all alone minding your business and a fight starts up... He shook his head... You look alright... and she told him, sure she was.

  “The arm of my shirt’s torn though.”

  He said, “Yeah. You got a little gravel rash on your arm, too.” She put a hand up to her shoulder. There was a small gash, a little blood and it was sore, but not nearly as sore as her pride. Hacker helped her up and touched her shoulder. Moved it back and forth gently with his hand. He said,

  “Not dislocated, nothing broken.”

  She looked up into his face and said, “‘Hacks’?” and he gave her a wry smile. That was the most expression she’d seen from him yet. He lifted her chin and looked into her face. She thought he was going to kiss her and she fought the instinct to close her eyes like a schoolgirl. That wasn’t like her. Maybe she was still shaken up.

  He said, “If you still want that ride,” he said, “you need to know that there will be a price.” She told him she understood that. He looked at her and said, “Same spoiled brat. You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into.” She put out her lower lip and told him that she knew exactly what she was in for. But he was right, she had no idea.

  The pain in her arm throbbed a little, but it wasn’t enough to blunt the thrill of riding on the back of Hacker’s lowrider, his unbelievable ass wedged between her thighs. She clung on as the motor shook itself awake and thumped a relentless beat that Gypsy felt though the saddle and right into her crotch. After the first mile or two of slicing through the cool evening and air, her panties were damp and her clit was buzzing. All the while, her hands slid along Hacker’s rippling ribs and his tight abs. She wanted to dive her hands into his pants right there on the bike. Haul out that armadillo.

  She tried to think of a way that she might be able to lean around him, slide her head into his lap. Get it into her mouth and suck on him while they rode. Just the thought of it was almost enough to get her off. She figured she’d better get a hold of herself before they got to wherever it was that he was taking her, or she could just slide off the bike. She could end up as a quivering heap on the ground and that would not be a good look.

  They left the highway on a side road, headed uphill in the dusk for a mile or two until they reached a turning with a heavy metal gate across it. Hacker stopped the bike, got off to open the gate, rode them in, then got off again to close the gate behind them. He took them on up for a couple of hundred yards more, until they came to what looked like a big old gas station with garage buildings and a couple of pumps out front. The gas station and garage buildings were was set out on a flat plateau, with scrub and trees behind, and good views of the hills and valleys all around.

  The lights of the whole of the town twinkled in the nearest valley, looking like a map spread out below them. In the evening light, the whole place would have looked romantic, like a western ranch, if the fence had been made of wood poles instead of steel and chain link. And apart from the bikes. About a dozen Harleys, mostly black leaned in a line in front.

  As they passed the rusting pumps Gypsy saw that where they would have had signs on the top for an oil company, they had the Savage MC colors instead. Over the entrance was a red neon sign that said, Hell’s Kitchen, Bar & Grill. Hacker parked up at the end of the line of bikes and led her inside.

  In the downstairs room, the scent of weed came from four bikers who lounged with beers and a huge blunt. The biker with the spliff and a long beard looked lazily up at Hacker through blue smoke and lifted a hand in greeting. Hacker said, “Mo. Hey, bro.” He sniffed the air, “That’s the Oregon bud.”

  The biker replied, “Righteous weed, bro,” the top half of his body rocking in a slow nod. Hacker said,

  “I shall relieve you of that.” The biker handed up the blunt, saying,

  “Partake. Be mellow, fellow.” Hacker took the joint and said,

  “Anyone sees Bogart, let him know I’d like words.”

  The biker was already building a fresh joint. He said, “That will be conveyed upon his return, brother, be assured,”

  From the far side of the smoky haze, a bearded biker with a round belly peered over his shades at me. He said... Is that some ’tainment, Hacker?” another one said,

  “Something for us to enter?” and Hacker looked at her as he said,

  “Clear the table, boys, and put on a nice cloth. We got a spread coming.”

  Hacker looked into her eyes. Now she began to realize what the price of the ride was going to be. He was expecting her to back out, she could see it, and he was offering her this last chance. Looking around the room, there were four bikers plus Hacker, all with looks of raw, animal lust igniting in their eyes.

  The urge to shout NO! and to run for the door was strong, but with her stomach quaking Gypsy held her ground. Nobody was going to bail her out of this, she had made her choice and she wanted to see it through. For once, maybe the first time, Gypsy was going to finish what she started.

  As she dragged the tails of her white shirt out of her leather skirt and undid the shirt buttons, one by one she looked at each of the five bikers. They were all big guys, and she was still afraid. But she was very excited, too. Being the center of all of that testosterone, that lust, the thought stirred her deep in the pit of her stomach. And lower. The thought of those bikers all reaching for her, clawing for her, their cocks standing, hardening for her, coming for her. Cumming for her. Cumming in her. And cumming on her. Fear thumped in her stomach still, but the thrill beat in her crotch. Gypsy’s little panties were soaking.

  Time to get them off. She lifted her skirt to slip them down, and a hand cupped the cheek of her ass. She dropped her waistcoat as she leaned into the hand, and two more hands slid along her legs. She moved her legs farther apart as she shrugged out of her shirt, her big, round breasts bouncing. Fingers found the lips of her pussy and hands slid into her bra, rolled and pulled and tweaked her nipples.

  Her dark hair hung and her breasts swung as she slipped out of the bra. Hands were at the tops of her thighs, on her neck, squeezing her breasts, pressing and twanging her clit, spreading the lips of her pussy, squeezing the cheeks of her ass.

  The bikers stood in a circle and Gypsy leaned back against one, stroking his jeans with her fingers behind her and looking in t
he eyes of the others across the circle. Then she turned, rolling sideways to the next hairy biker. She squeezed his cock through his jeans as she rolled on, till her pert, bare little ass pressed against the groin of the next biker. She looked in the eyes of the bikers opposite as she reached back to the denim behind her, unbuttoned the fly and found the fat, hot cock inside.

  Her fingers wrapped tight around the cock. Gripped it. Pulled the skin down. Pressed it against her ass, between her cheeks. Between the tops of her thighs. All the time she watched as the men on the other side of the circle drew closer, reached for her breasts, put their hands on her pussy.

  They all crowded close. Hands were all over her. They lifted her onto the table, and she knelt, legs apart, bare ass up, hungry wet mouth open. Breasts swinging. Now she wore only stockings, shoes and the silver chains, bangles and earrings. As she kicked off the shoes, Gypsy felt a hand on the lips of her pussy, holding her little wings apart, entering her wet opening. A hot, hard cock nosed from behind her, up under her stomach, against her mound.

  In front of her, cocks were emerging from behind denim, springing out like hot, anxious puppies eagerly reaching towards her. She reached for the two left and right, and put her lips on the one in front. The cock behind her was rubbing its underside against the swollen lips of her wet pussy, and she wriggled her hips to press against it. Finally, it slipped into the waiting mouth of her dripping pussy and she gasped as she sucked deeper on the hot, hardening hunk of pulsing flesh in her mouth.

  Hands were squeezing her breasts and someone slapped her ass, making her go harder and faster on the cocks in her hands. And the cock in her mouth. And the cock reaming and filling her hot, wet, stretched pussy. As they all crowded in, the scents of men and her own juices and all of their hot breath together was like a sauna of lust. Her ass pumped hard and swung and bucked against the hips of the biker fucking her as her mouth made a deeper wet tunnel around the thick, throbbing cock that reached to the back of her throat.

  Gypsy sucked on it as it pulsed and it swelled as it pumped and it came. Hot bursts of slick biker cum filled her mouth and her throat. She dragged her lips along it, back over and around the hard flesh to get every drop of that cum. Some still dribbled around her lips, though.

  She turned to lay on her back. Either side of her were big, hard cocks and she eagerly grabbed both of them. She pulled and sucked on them alternately, shoving them as far into her wet throat as she could. Her legs were lifted and between her thighs a cock was rubbing and rearing up against her mound. The biker beat her tidy little bush with his weapon and slapped her ass as he did. The cocks in her hands were heating up and she tasted more tangy precum.

  Cool lube on a finger pressed around her ass and then it pried its way in. The cocks in Gypsy’s hands started to go off and she tried to get both of them to cum in her mouth, but some of the salty, sticky jizz sprayed out onto her face and over her tits. Meanwhile her ass was invaded by the bulbous head of another cock and as it burrowed in, she saw Hacker standing over me, the mean curve of his thick, hard cock waving above her face.

  Hungrily she pulled Hacker’s cock into her mouth, dragged it along her tongue, and saliva gushed into her mouth as she slid the velvety shaft into the top of her throat. Gypsy couldn’t concentrate on sucking Hacker’s cock the way that she wanted to, because of the reaming her ass was taking. The thighs and hairy stomach of a biker slapped noisily into the cheeks of her butt and Hacker held her head in his hands as he skull fucked her, with long, deep strokes. His balls slapped at her nose as the head of his shaft plowed into her neck. She sucked on him, eager to taste his cum in her throat.

  Hacker came and his slick, salty jizz blasted into her throat, slathering on her tongue, foaming up hot in her mouth and bubbling out of her lips. At the same time, her ass was pumped with hot sticky cum from the thick rod slamming hard into her raw, sore butt.

  All five bikers breathed hard, whooping and panting. Sprawled across the table, ripped and laddered stockings hanging off her legs, her heaving tits, her hair and her face all glistened and were sticky with wet cum.

  A joint was lit and passed and Hacker took Gypsy upstairs. She mounted the steps watching Hacker’s rolling ass and he took her into a long room with large windows, like a loft. A rectangular black couch and chairs were round a low, black table in the middle of the room. Between two doors, a massive black stereo and TV filled the far wall, and an even more massive bed was by a big window and against the near wall.

  The room was white and light, and perhaps even more surprisingly, the bed was made up and neat with a soft pale cover and scattered with big dark pillows. Hacker showed her to the farthest of the two doors, which led to a bathroom with a shower.

  He left her in the bright, tiled bathroom to shower, and afterwards she found a fluffy towel to dry off with. Still toweling her hair, she came out of the shower to find another biker, big, dark, older and somehow sharper looking than the others she had seen downstairs, sat on the couch with Hacker. They looked up. Hacker said, “Bogart, this was...” and the other man said,

  “I heard.”

  Gypsy could see that Hacker and Bogart had things to talk about, and so she made like a dutiful groupie or whatever. Through the other door she’d seen that Hacker had a little kitchen area, and so she went to fetch beers and fix sandwiches. From there she was able to hear most of their conversation and she was glad, because that was kind of the point.

  They were talking about a deal or a meeting, and it involved Los Muertos MC. That was the club name on the backs of the two bikers who had attacked outside the Meathook.

  Bogart said, “You sure you want to handle this on your own, Hacker? Los Muertos are a treacherous basket of snakes from way back.”

  “I think I know what to expect from them, Bogart.” Hacker said, “I got the straight steer on them from Grinder. You know he’s serving drinks at the Meathook, and he clued me in. I already had a little run-in with Boxer and Shank.”

  “I don’t know about this, Hacker. You’re no expendable prospect, and I don’t want to see you go down. You certain you don’t want backup?”

  “No, I’d sooner take my chances than show up as weak. For the good standing of the club, we need to establish a point here. I’ll be cool. Thing is, either way it goes down, we’ve got a grip on them. If they play straight, we’ve got leverage down the line. If not, then it we’ve got a hammer that we can use right away.” They both pulled on their bourbons and clinked their glasses, like they were saluting each other. As they did, the men looked each other in the eye and said, “Bro,” before they took another pull from the shot glasses.

  After Bogart left, Hacker made a couple of calls on his mobile. While he sat on the couch to talk about ‘consignments,’ a ‘shipment,’ some ‘hardware’ ‘shortfall’ and a meet, Gypsy took out his long, beautiful cock, and stroked it. She blew softly on it. She cradled his balls and took them in her mouth, one at a time, sucking gently before letting them ‘pop’ out of her wet lips. Then she licked the underside of his cock with the tip of her tongue.

  Hacker’s speech slurred a little, and he took to saying, “Mmm,” quite a bit.

  As the shaft began to swell, she blew on the head and stroked the sides lightly with her fingertips. She slid her lips over the head, and grazed the underside with her tongue as her breath heated him up. His hips were beginning to squirm. So she slowed down. That made him squirm more, so her touch became softer. That made him press his pelvis up, shoving his cock deeper into her mouth. She held him behind his balls, pushing them towards her with her thumb and forefinger.

  Then he said quickly into the phone, “Gotta go. Later.” He hung up the phone, grabbed her hair and fucked her face, hard. His cock jammed into her throat, making gurgling noises come out of her and sweet saliva flooded her mouth. Then Gypsy sucked. Each stroke as the head of his cock reached her lips, she sucked harder and lapped him with her wet tongue. He gasped as he came. This time she fastened her mouth and her throa
t on him so well, she didn’t lose a single drop of his gorgeous cum.

  He lay back with a huge sigh and a massive grin. He reached out for a joint from the ashtray and fired it up as his phone beeped.

  Hacker took the call. As soon as he heard the voice at the other end, he was alert and attentive. He turned away, got up, walked to the window. And he spoke in a low voice. But Gypsy heard his side of the conversation.

  “Yup... as agreed... yeah, yes... and you’ll bring the merchandise... yup... yup... Yasgar’s, right? Yup... eleven thirty. See you there. Yup... stay safe, bro.”

  Yasgar’s. That was a disused factory on the far side of town. Miles from anywhere. Gypsy knew it from way back when she went with teenage groups for moonlight drinking and whatever.

  Yasgar’s was a bleak skeleton of an old factory and warehouse complex, like a rectangular mansion of evil from an old black and white movie. The wide tracks around the outside and the parking lots were littered with the shells of vehicles, sheds and broken down outbuildings. Fractured and broken windows on the upper floors glinted in the moonlight. All the ground floor windows and doors were just black gaps with blackened and broken Art Deco curves.