Brittany Loves Bikers: Motorcycle Gang Gangbang (6 page)

"Shhhh," was all the mummy said as he turned use
back around to face the other two. The Monster turned out my porch
light and locked the door. The werewolf lurched forward, dropping
the candy bag, and fell to his knees in front of me, nuzzling my
crotch with his nose and making sniffing, grunting noises. I pushed
at his head instinctively--it was all happening so fast I felt
overwhelmed--and struggled against the mummy's hand by trying to
turn my head. He had me tight, though, and the Monster stomped over
and grabbed my wrists. He easily moved them together, though I
tried to struggle, and clasped them in one big hand. He held them
up above my head and put a hand on my tit.

The werewolf's fingers were between my legs now,
pushing up and rubbing even though I wore jeans. I was drenched by
that point, and throbbing with an ache I'd never felt before. The
mummy's arm around my waist tightened. I could feel his hard cock
pressing against me from behind. I moaned then and the Monster
grunted. God, I loved that. No conversation--monsters usually
couldn't talk, after all. Just action and animal sounds, and
fucking me good and hard--I hoped.

I thought he was going to unbutton my blouse, but he
grunted again and ripped it open, the buttons clattering onto the
floor. He grabbed the front of my bra and tugged a little, then
yanked it up so the elastic was on top of my tits. It dug into me a
little, but that only added to the thrill of the whole thing.

He tilted his head as if he really didn't know what
he was looking at, then pulled and pinched my nipples with his big
fingers, just enough to hurt. Every time I whimpered, he did
something a little differently or switched nipples. When he leaned
over and sucked one between his black lips, my whole body
shuddered.

The werewolf growled and tugged my jeans down enough
to nuzzle my panties, then made a desperate animal sound before
pulling my jeans all the way off. He licked me, poking in with his
tongue, right through my panties. I shouted against the mummy's
hand at the jolt it sent through me. He ripped my panties down my
legs and I almost came just from the excitement of it all. I
whimpered when his hot tongue lapped at my clit . . . .

Jesus, Sara was at it again.

I rubbed my hand down my face and turned away from
the window. I knew I shouldn't be watching this. She was only
eighteen, for God's sake, and probably had no idea that our bedroom
window was directly across from hers. On the second floor, who
really worries about someone seeing in?

Not her, apparently.

I never meant to be a Peeping Tom. I walked into my
bedroom one night to strip off my suit and throw some sweats on to
prepare for a night of TV and relaxation, and I didn't bother
turning the light on. My eye caught some movement, and it turned
out I could see directly into her bedroom, where she was dancing
around in a bra and panties that barely covered anything. I knew I
should have closed the curtains and gone in the other room.

But my God, she was hot. Her young, taut body
jiggled just right as she bounced. Before she turned the light off,
she took off her bra and tossed it in a hamper. Those young
tits--how could I not
look
? If she'd been really young, I
know I would have turned away and truly felt awful. But she's
eighteen. What was the harm in me getting a delicious little
glimpse?

Still, I vowed to talk to her dad the next day and
just let him know that we have a direct view into her bedroom and
that he might want to let her know to close her blinds, all without
hinting that I saw her lean, beautiful body. By the next morning, I
was so focused on work that I forgot all about it. That is, I
forgot until I went to change that night, even later than before
thanks to a meeting that went on forever.

There she was again, dancing and jiggling around in
a little lace bra and a G-string. She was curvy in all the right
places, not too skinny--I think women are supposed to have a little
meat on their bones--and so incredibly gorgeous that I couldn't
help myself. I reached into my pants as I watched her and brought
myself off just before she finally turned out her light.

Not ten seconds later, Barb walked in and asked what
I was doing. I said I thought I'd seen something in the yard. She
thought maybe it was a stray cat that had been hanging around, and
that maybe we should feed the poor thing. To say that I felt
incredibly guilty and about two inches tall is an understatement.
We've been married for about ten years, and I've never been
unfaithful. Never even seriously considered it. I love Barb, and it
just so happens that my wife is gorgeous and sexy. I don't need to
go elsewhere, even if our sex life had been pretty predictable for
a while. These things happen when you're busy as hell. I felt like
a cheater, though, just for looking as much as I had. Even so, I
couldn't get the sight of that young, voluptuous body out of my
mind.

I made love to Barb that night in a way I hadn't in
a while. She was impressed, and frankly so was I. I decided that
maybe this little discovery wasn't such a bad thing. I started
watching every night, and the girl started taking her bra off a
little earlier before going to bed. There's nothing quite like
eighteen-year-old titties bouncing as a young girl dances. It
should be considered some kind of art form.

Almost every night I'd get so hard watching her, I'd
have to stroke myself. And even after getting off that way, I'd
make love to my wife who kept teasing me and asking me if I'd been
slipping hard-on pills and not telling her about it. I'd tell her I
just feel a little younger, and it's not entirely a lie. I gave up
thinking I'd tell the neighbor to remind his daughter to close her
blinds. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and was awfully
good for my sex life.

Then, just as I was getting used to my nightly peep
show and jerk off, Sara's routine changed a little. She still
danced around, and sometimes did a few exercises like jumping jacks
or touching her toes, all right in line with her window so I have a
perfect view. But then she started turning her main light off and
going to bed, but turning on the bedside lamp. I didn't have a
perfect view, but her bare knees moved, and her back arched so that
I could see her tits rise up, and her arm moving faster and faster
. . . .

I stopped bringing myself off while she'd dance. I
started waiting until she was in her bed fingering herself, and I
imagined it was me doing to it to her, her young body arching
beneath me, her soft little gasps prompting me to lean down and
kiss her pink mouth. Maybe it tasted like candy.

Step-Daddy's
Sex Slave #1

Amber was my step-daughter. Technically, I guess she
still is, since her mother and I haven't officially divorced yet. I
married her mother when Amber was a junior in high school. She
immediately hated me, or at least the idea of me, so much that she
went to live with her father and managed to avoid me as much as
possible when she came to visit her mom. When she did have to speak
to me, she did it in a smart-assed little tone.

I never expected her to call me Dad--she had a
father. But it would have been nice if, just once, she didn't say
my name with a snarl as if it tasted bad in her mouth, making it
two syllables instead of one:
Gray
-egg.

I wanted to grab her and say, "It's Greg. Just
fucking Greg!" But that would have only caused more problems, and
her mother and I had enough problems from day one without me adding
to them. Two years into the marriage, I found out she'd cheated on
me with Amber's dad shortly after we'd tied the knot--how rich was
that, fucking the man she'd divorced right after getting a new
husband? So I filed for divorce. Amber was overjoyed, both that her
parents had gotten closer again and that I was out of the picture.
In fact, she gleefully pointed out to me how she'd done everything
she could to get them back together, even telling her mother that
I'd been looking at her "funny," like I wanted to rip her clothes
off.

Don't get me wrong. Amber was a pretty girl, but she
was a high school student. Sixteen. My step-daughter. I
never
looked at her in the way she claimed.

In fact, I was disappointed that I didn't have time
to win Amber over and make her see I wasn't the bastard she thought
I was. I didn't break up her parents, and I wasn't trying to ruin
her family. I'll admit I thought of her as a little bitch more than
once, and that was probably immature of me, but I'm only human.

Amber called me up several months after her mom and
I split. Shocked doesn't begin to describe how I felt. She had
nothing but spite for me for two years, but now that her mom and I
were truly finished she wanted to see me about something? Of course
I agreed, if only out of curiosity.

Her mom had squandered her college savings, and she
was having trouble covering the tuition for her freshman year at
the university because apparently her father wasn't responsible
with money either. That's really a shame. Every kid should get to
go to college, and each kid's parents should do what they can to
see to that. But I'm not her parent--she made that abundantly clear
to me every single day.

Can you believe the nerve of her to come and ask me
after the way she'd treated me? And the way she was dressed--black
high-heels, super short skirt, a tight white T-shirt without a bra
beneath it. Amber was 18 now, and very much a beautiful woman. A
fucking
hot
woman. I felt guilty for thinking that at first,
but she
was
18, and she'd never wanted to be my
step-daughter. As I said, I'm human.

I had no doubt she knew exactly what she was doing.
She was hoping I'd see tits and ass and write a check spotted with
my own drool. I'll be honest with you. That might have happened if
she'd come to see me on a different day. As it was, I'd just gotten
a call from her mother who was trying to pry more cash out of me in
the settlement. Two years and you'd think I owed the woman a
fortune. I was planning on fighting that (and winning it, according
to my lawyer), but the aggravation was still getting to me. I also
hadn't had a good date in a while. Then Amber showed up, all supple
and curvy and big-tittied, flipping her long, thick hair and
batting her pretty hazel eyes and acting nice for the first time
ever
.

Here’s how good she was--she looked down after she
asked me for the few thousand dollars she needed, then look up at
me with her head still tilted down, all seductive and sultry. And
then, I swear to God, she sucked her thick, pink bottom lip into
her mouth, biting it as if nervous, in a way that made me want to
feel those lips somewhere on me
right fucking
now
.

"Amber . . . you've been nothing but a little bitch
to me. Why--?"

"Look, I'm sorry about that," she said, and she was
almost convincing. "I was a little . . . jealous and intimidated
that my mom was with someone so completely . . . sexy and together.
You were always a little too good for her. Anyway, if I hadn't
found you so attractive, we'd have probably had a great
relationship. It's completely my fault, and I'm sorry."

I'm sure it was the seductive way she was acting
that made me even think such a thing could be possible. I didn't
believe her flattery, but it was still hot to hear it. When I was
married to her mom I just wanted her to be nice or go back to her
dad's house. Now she was trying to say she'd been a bitch because
she thought I was attractive? In the list of things in my life that
are probably too good to be true, that one ranks pretty high.

But when she chewed her lip and looked up at me, the
only thing I could think of was her looking up at me like that with
my cock right in her face. God, she was sexy--and she knew it.

I could have just given her the money. I probably
should have, or I should have told her no and been done with it.
But I'm a red-blooded man, and there was an 18-year-old temptress
in my living room asking me for a huge favor after treating me like
shit for two years. I decided I'd give her the money, but I was
going to get something out of it, too.

"Sure, I'll help you out," I said. Her whole head
lifted then, and she smiled. I could tell she was surprised.

"Thank you, Greg. You have no idea how much I
appreciate it."

That was the first time she'd said my name in
anything but a hateful sing-song.

"I expect you to show me how much you appreciate
it."

Her smile shifted a little. "I . . . don't know what
you mean."

"I mean that if I give you the money, I expect you
to show your appreciation in return. By doing whatever I want you
to do. Payback for my generosity."

"Oh, I could . . . clean your house once a week, or
do your laundry or something?"

I laughed, though I couldn't tell if she was playing
innocent or really hadn't figured it out yet. "I don't need help
with those things. But I do need someone to suck my cock and spread
her legs when I'm horny." I'd said it as casually as if I'd been
dictating a grocery list. I felt excited and like a sleazeball at
the same time.

Her smile disappeared. "You've got to be
joking."

I just kept looking at her. "How badly do you want
to go to college?"

"I could sell my car and have enough, probably."

"So why didn't you do that before you came here?
Thought I'd be a pushover, didn't you? Go ahead and sell your car,
and deal with walking and public transportation, and relying on
your mother to take you back and forth when you need to come home
for holidays or breaks or something. You know how reliable she is.
Or . . . do what I ask."