He found a table of bikers playing poker and, for some reason, Larry thought they would be an easy pond to fish. I don’t know why he didn’t want to try out his game on the half-dozen too-rich, drunk and entitled college kids wearing soggy and stained cashmere in ridiculous colors. I didn’t think to ask him.
So, Larry’s chip stack went south at speed and he got to putting up markers on things he didn’t even own. Even behind their shades, I could tell that the bikers had seen clear through Larry.
They knew they weren’t going to take the keys of an Eldorado from him, nor would they go with him to his box in the casino vault. Both things were obviously figments of Larry’s imagination.
Across the table they saw something they did want, though. Larry had no idea how lucky he was that they were sufficiently inspired by the sight of me, squeezed into a spangly boob-tube and a tiny leather skirt, to offer him a deal.
I didn’t like the looks of those three huge men, nor the razor’s edge on their laughs. I could see the kinds of things they had in mind. They didn’t involve any soft music, sweet words or sensual massage.
I could see that they were looking forward something hard, forceful and loud. Something with violence. They were considering how much of a fight I’d be likely to put up. The hard glint of menace in their eyes said they hoped it would be a lot. I really didn’t want to do it.
I didn’t want to be alone in a sketchy hotel room with those three big, fierce bikers. I could see they weren’t playing at being tough guys. Not like Larry was. They were the real deal.
Monkey, Donkey and Gat. Monkey was big and slow. He had thick, wiry red hair and a taste for fat, acrid cigars. Gat was less heavy-set, with wide shoulders and a soft, slow drawl. Donkey was the short one with little, fast eyes.
When it shook out that Larry was going to be in the room with us, I couldn’t decide whether that was worse or way worse. There was no way that Larry was going to be my knight in shining armor.
If things got too rough for me, Larry wasn’t going to dive in with his arms out, shouting “Stand aside!” and drag these three bulls off me. So watching Larry’s reaction wasn’t going to make the situation any easier for me. Still, it was what it was.
I don’t know what made me agree to it in the end, some stupid idea I still had about Larry, I guess, but agree I did, and pretty soon the five of us were in a hotel suite that was surprisingly nice.
High up with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the pylons stretching back to Boulder. Spacious, though. Lots of thick, cream-colored rugs and a really big, soft bed.
The shortest of the bikers was a stocky guy they called ‘Donkey.’ Donkey asked how I felt about being the winnings in a poker game. I couldn’t tell if he was after some banter or if he wanted to degrade me, showing me that I was being passed around.
Maybe getting me used to the idea. Since their plan was to pass me around. At least, that was what I expected. It turned out, their plan was more to throw me around.
“Drink, honeylips?” Donkey held out a can. I stepped towards him and he grabbed my chin, pinching my cheeks with his hand. “Maybe some sausage first.”
He pulled my face close to his. “Go on, sweetheart,” He swung a wide grin round at his buddies, “take out my cock and get it down your throat.”
He pulled my face southwards, past the bulge of his barrel-chest and his overfed gut. In the front of his denims, a very fat cock was straining to get out. As I bent towards it, a big paw came from behind and up my skirt.
“Aww, she’s wet!” My dripping panties were ripped out and Monkey’s voice grated behind me with an evil chuckle, “I think she’s pleased to see us, boys!” His fingers parted my lips and dragged into my canal.
My hips bucked as he rolled his fingers hard around the inside of my hood. The quake in my knees made it hard to stand. Monkey’s thumb rubbed along the crack in my ass and pressed on my little star.
I was still struggling to get Donkey’s fly buttons open and Gat’s hands slid me out of the boob tube. My stomach rolled as he pulled on my nipples.
There was a crack as Monkey slapped my ass. A burning sting blossomed on my cheek and it must have raised up red real fast. That was a slap. That was more like one of Daddy’s ‘hand-outs.’
My skirt and the boob-tube both hung and swung around my waist now. My big, round tits hung and jiggled free as Gat pinched and squeezed them and yanked on my nipples.
I learned to take pleasure in pain long ago, but I figured that these bikers wanted to see me suffer some, so when I squealed and wailed and cried out, I played it up some.
I couldn’t tell whether they really got off on making me hurt, or whether it was just a way for them to torture Larry. Either way, it worked out. Larry looked like he was in more pain than I was.
Poor Larry, everything’s always all about him. Asshole. It didn’t hurt too much to see him squirm. Not like it hurt when Monkey jammed his cock in my ass with nothing but spit to lubricate it.
My ass felt like it was on fire. Like Monkey’s cock was a baseball bat wrapped in glasspaper. My thighs and my buttocks stretched to try and accommodate him, but however I twisted it felt like I was being ripped in two.
The flesh on my buttocks was raw from the slaps. Still he beat me. The more I yelped, the harder he smacked my bouncing cheeks. His cock reamed into me as I yanked at Donkey’s fly. I pulled the buttons apart and eventually I got his cock free.
I’d guessed why they called him ‘Donkey.’ I guessed right. A great, angry mast the size of a hefty torch swung out at my hot, red face. His dark bulb was slick and pungent with precum. I had to stretch my mouth to get my lips over it.
As soon as he felt the cool, soft wetness of my mouth, Donkey yelled, ‘Alright!’ and plunged the coarse ridges of his cock all the way along my tongue. When he jammed into the back of my throat, his hands seized my hair and gripped on tight.
Donkey’s hips ground his fat shaft into my face, al the way up to the hilt. My lips were buried in his wiry pubes and my mouth dribbled gushes of sweet, thick saliva. His long, hard cock pounded into my neck and he pumped me, hard and fast.
Monkey reamed my butt. His long, thick fingers probed and rubbed my petals and my clit. Gat had his cock out and rubbed it under my swinging tits. He moaned as he squeezed and kneaded my breasts.
Monkey grabbed my thighs and lifted me. My face was wet with drool and my eyes rolled wildly as I faced Donkey. He came nearer, between my thighs as Monkey held them high up and wide apart.
Monkey’s cock was at an easier angle now, and I was getting accustomed to the pain. He had better leverage, too, so he rammed harder and faster into me.
When Donkey forced his rod into my well, my whole insides felt like a bomb detonated underwater. My back stretched and my arms flailed. Tears streamed from my eyes as the heavy girth of his shaft bored into me.
My ass wobbled against Monkey’s wide pelvis and my tits bounced and rippled and slapped on Donkey’s big, round hairy chest. Donkey and Gat pulled on my nipples and Gat sucked on them and bit my tits for good measure.
The two bikers inside me were like steam trains jamming into soft tunnels that were way too small. The men piled their hard meat into me and their rhythm got harder and hotter.
My hands grasped and clawed wildly and my back stretched and arced. Monkey’s legs spread and his knees bent, to make it easier for Donkey to drive his cock even higher up inside me.
My hips rocked back and forth between the two men, taking and receiving, time after time. My body was wet with saliva and perspiration. Pussy dripped and flowed then gushed and my stomach and my thighs quaked as I came.
My pelvis sawed on the two hard cocks, rolling from on to the other. My body seized and relished the pain and the bursts of ecstasy.
Monkey dropped me, quivering, onto my knees. The three men took turns to fill my mouth with their hot cocks. I pulled on each of the others, yanking them, milking them while I sucked hard on whichever one was in my mouth at
the time.
Monkey’s cock twitched and pulsed on my tongue. He hardened and swelled, then bolts of thick, salty, hot biker goo blasted into my throat and my mouth. As it pumped it slathered around the roof of my mouth and around my wet lips, dribbling out around my face.
Monkey pulled out and finished a couple more blasts onto my tits. Gat slid his velvety, throbbing hunk across my tongue and poked it into my throat. I relaxed to fight the gag reflex as he drove downwards, into my upturned face.
His cum almost choked me as it fountained from his thick shaft and straight into my neck. His sticky jizz overflowed around the sides of my mouth. He shouted as he pulled out. A last hot salvo splashed out and stuck to my face and in my hair.
Donkey was working his huge organ between my breasts. My cleavage was red from the friction and wet. His bulb reached my lips and I sucked on it. Right away he flooded my mouth with sticky, smoky cum.
I headed for the bathroom to clean up the sticky mess that spread on my face, my tits and in my hair. I saw the look on Larry’s face, half hidden behind his hand and I stopped.
I wiped gobs of cum off my tits, and I lapped them up. Larry flinched as I scraped the jizz from all over my face, and I wiped it into my mouth. I licked and smacked my lips.
By the time I took the ride on the back Hammer’s pulsing Harley from the diner to the clubhouse, I thought all my innocence was gone.
That ride changed my life forever.
© Alice May Ball, TzR Publishing, 2014
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or to any actual events is purely coincidental.
All the people portrayed in this story are over the age of eighteen, and entirely imaginary. If you think that you know some of them, or that you may be one of them, then you should consider writing fiction yourself.
Cover Design by Signs of Desire for TzR Publishing
ROID RAGE
Knights of the Lost Highway MC
Alice May Ball
For Gat, my rock.
Without you, it wouldn’t mean a thing
Little Carlie’s eyes streamed and she gagged noisily. Beanie’s inked bicep bulged as he shoved the back of her head hard into his lap. He was a tight squeeze for her soft little wet mouth.
Hawk’s huge weapon of hard flesh heaved out of the denim and loomed in front of my lips. His hand gripped my hair tight and yanked my head towards him. He was still pumped from the fight and gleaming shards of rage lit his eyes.
I had no choice. Hammer had taken me into work for the night, and now the real work began.
I would be trapped in the clubhouse in the middle desert until I could show him something. Something to earn my money.
I climbed onto the back of the huge bike behind Hammer, conscious that my denim skirt was way too short. My thighs clamped around his heart-stopping ass as the beast shook and throbbed into life. The vibration from the bike was a loud velvet jackhammer, beating through the saddle.
My breath caught as he turned the throttle and the bike lifted. We were pulled up and out of the curb. As my body was dragged forwards, my neck stretched and I clung to the biker’s back. We swept out onto the flat black ribbon of straight highway that cut through the desert scrub.
I’d ridden on bikes before, but the boys in my hometown all rode skinny little Japanese crotch-rockets. This was a whole other kind of a ride. My body shook, and it wasn’t from the cold.
We’d left my little ancient brown Honda parked in front of the diner and I felt like I’d abandoned the last fragment of the life that I knew. Some life. But I was thinking now about the wisdom of accepting the biker’s offer of work in the MC clubhouse.
On the back of Hammer’s jacket was an emblem with a dagger and a death’s head in a wheel. Around it read, Knights of the Lost Highway MC.
A dark orange glow loomed at the horizon beneath the heavy blue-gray Nevada sky. We roared by the parched scrub of nothing much on either side, towards the wide expanse of nothing much else ahead.
How could somewhere so hot seem so cold?
I shivered as I held tight around the strong body of the man I hardly knew. I peered over his shoulder to see the landscape of my future racing at me. The bike growled and thrummed under me, stirring up my body and setting my emotions alight.
I had the clothes I wore, less than ten dollars to my name and no place to go back to. And I had a dead cellphone. Soon I would be a strange girl with big boobs in a flimsy t-shirt and no bra, in a clubhouse bar full of bikers. What could possibly go wrong?
Hammer leaned the bike into a bend and a low, flat wood building poked up ahead, surrounded by scraggy bushes and scrub. As the old covered deck and the gray pitched roof crawled nearer, I saw a bigger building behind it like a barn. The whole place looked like a run-down Wild West saloon.
The motor picked up pace and the bike surged forward like an animal sensing prey. My thighs quivered and inside I shook in waves. Cool air pushed hard around my body. It swept inside my little t-shirt, up around my thighs and up my skirt.
At the tops of my thighs, the contrast between the cool, dry rushing air and my hot, wet panties made me cling tighter to Hammer’s back.
My body still trembled as Hammer stopped the bike by the rail in front of the clubhouse. He waited for me to scramble off before he leaned the cycle onto its stand and swung his leg over the seat to dismount.
Hammer’s dark eyes smoldered over his shades at me. His voice was strong and low, “You ready, Belle?” My knees were weak and unsure.
I made the best smile I could. “Sure,” I said. I tried to sound breezy and light. I made myself act and feel about as ready as I could. The part of me on the inside just wanted to run. My eyes flicked around the horizon. You could run a long, long way in any direction. Most likely you’d be exhausted long before you’d have gotten anywhere.
With a strong hand on the small of my back he ushered me onto the deck. The bass from the heavy metal pumped from inside. The deck shook under my feet. I was excited and terrified in about equal measures. As he pushed open the door, a wash of noise flooded over me.
In the gloom of the colored lights inside, the noise had me expecting more people. There were about a dozen bikers, shouting over the roar and thumping grind of Metallica. Big men, mostly broad and bearded, all wearing denim and black leather.
The light inside was colored and artificial, red and blue mostly. The windows were covered and the slatted wood walls looked old. A number of ragged flags hung on the wall, and an emblem of the colors on Hammer’s back, Knights of the Lost Highway.
Hammer’s return was marked by hands around the room that lifted and heads that made short nods. Looked like everyone made a point to offer him some kind of a greeting. Among these big men, I figured that Hammer was a big man.
As he showed me to the pain wood bar, all the bikers we passed put out a hand to bump fists or touch fingers with his free hand. The fingertips of his other hand stayed on the base of my spine.
As he guided me I felt a connection. Or maybe I imagined it. It happens. Sometimes I read those signals wrong. Seemed like, as my spine moved, his fingers followed the sway. Like a kind of a dance. A secret dance that only he and I knew was happening.
At the bar Hammer introduced me to the bartender, “Belle, this is Grinder. He’ll take care of you tonight.”
Tall and round with a reddish beard and a soft glow in his pale gray eyes, Grinder seemed a little older than the rest of the club members.
Three Hitmen: A Triple Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 2) Page 19
