“What the fuck?” I swore, huddled under my pillow which I’d pulled over my head, scant protection from bullets, but reassuring all the same.
A second shot sounded, and then a third, each followed by an impossibly loud crunch as a pair of bullets tore through my bedroom wall and embedded themselves less than a foot above my head, showering me with plaster dust.
“Fucking assholes.” I swore, refusing to admit, even to myself, that I was scared senseless. Yeah, it was easy to write off my shivers and shakes to the cold, rather than fear. After all, I’d grown up in the hood. Not much scared me, or so I’d claimed to the friends and family who’d passed judgment on me renting a first floor apartment in one of the worst sections of Oaktown.
Yeah, I was back. After what seemed like a lifetime of living it up in The City on the Bay, I’d found myself drawn back like a moth to the flame, needing the strangely reassuring craziness of my childhood home after my life had gone off the rails in a spectacular fashion. I was too broke to afford much, but then, I didn’t need much. A bedroom big enough to throw a mattress down, a bathroom that had just enough room for a shower stall, sink, and toilet, and one very small sized girl. The living room and kitchen weren’t much bigger. So yeah, it was a dump, but it was my dump. Oh, I should mention that it was directly across the street from a crack house and some nights things got kind of interesting and drive bys were enough to test even my nerves. Gunfire I’d grown used to, but live bullets were somewhat unwelcome guests.
“Blondie! You okay in there?”
The loud voice was accompanied by a series of meaty thumps on my door, scaring the piss (almost literally) out of me. Once my heart had stopped trying to crash through my ribs and on to the floor, I placed a name to the voice. El Diablo, the guy I shared a wall with. No, I didn’t really live next door to the devil. His name was actually Dave, but I think only his mom ever called him that. To the rest of us, he was El Diablo, one of the most dangerous men I’d ever met. Thankfully, he had a fondness for home baked cookies, so I took advantage of the fact, and made sure that he got paid off every Sunday with a fresh batch. No, he wasn’t a nice guy. He’d done time in Folsom for beating a man to death with a baseball bat. He’d have done more, but that was the only time the DA had been able to get a witness to testify. People seem to clam up when they realize that the suspect was a member of the Hell’s Angels motorcycle club.
Yeah, so I was friendly with an ex-con. Hey, we all make mistakes, and what really mattered was that he was nice to me and, more importantly, he looked out for me at times like this.
“Damn.” I muttered under my breath. Ok, to be honest, it sounded more like ‘Goddamn motherfucking what the fuck is fucking wrong with fucking people’…. I’d been trying to clean up my language, but you try to keep the filters on when someone almost puts a couple of bullets through your brain pan.
“Blondie?” This time, his voice was tinged with panic. Apparently, It had just hit him that If I bit it, there went his supply of double fudge chocolate chip cookies. That’s what doing fifteen years in the hole will do to you.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I yelled back, untangling myself from cocoon of blankets and sheets. “What the fuck, hang on one second, Goddammit!”
That last was shouted in a panic as I heard the door frame straining. Made me re-think just how safe I was in here if a concerned friend could put that kind of pressure on as many deadbolts and chains as I’d had installed. Of course, we are talking about 350 pounds of anxious biker here, but still…
“You okay?” He asked, his voice a concerned growl as I fumbled with the locks and let him in, still shivering (this time, it really was the cold. Did I mention that I was too broke to afford to heat the place? Yeah, being poor sucks).
I didn’t bother to answer. After all, he could see for himself now that he was filling the door way.
“What the fuck was that all about?” I grumbled, keeping my temper in check as he patted me on the head with his huge paw and made himself at home.
“Think that was a hit. I might have gotten someone a little pissed at me the other night,” He admitted, doing his best to sound sheepish. Quite honestly, it came off as kind of menacing, so I didn’t ask for details.
“So, they can’t read addresses?” I slumped down in the space where a couch would be, if I could have afforded a couch, my elbows on my knees, chin resting on my fists, looking incredibly fetching in the pair of sweats I wore over my thermal underwear and the faded orange wool cap I had jammed down over my head.
“Well, yeah. I mean, if they were smart, they’d probably not be in the business of putting hits out, Blondie.
I had to admit, he had a point.
Long story short, El Diablo was actually concerned enough to get me some protection in the form of one very hunky piece of man-meat named Red. Never did ask why he was named Red, seeing as he was more bronze then red. When a guy’s got ‘Evil Fuck’ tattooed on his knuckles, you don’t ask too many personal questions. Or even make eye contact.
“Red’s going to be staying with you until this shit blows over, Blondie,.” Dave announced in a tone that didn’t make me too comfortable about arguing. Instead, I simply shrugged, and pointed out that he was sure as fuck not going to be sleeping with me, and that, he’d better be using El Diablo’s baño if, and when, he needed to take a piss.
Oh, if only he’d been ugly. In my defense, the nights did get cold, and it had been a while since I’d shacked up with a regular guy, and dammit, Red was fucking hot in a kind of rough and tumble way. Just the right amount of tats and a couple of scars that kind of added to his appeal. Yeah, I know. The classic bad boy, but seriously, did I mention he was kind of hot and I’d been kind of lonely lately?
The sex was good. I take that back. The sex was great. He had stamina like you wouldn’t believe. No, he wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t rougher than I could take, and he didn’t hit me, not once. In his own way, he was a gentleman…
Yeah, I know, you want details, but really, most of you know how it works. The male of the species puts his penis in the woman’s vagina and they get into a rhythm until fireworks go off in the night sky and God comes down and smacks you upside the head and tells you to stop screaming his name if it’s not a fucking emergency.
So yeah, two weeks go by and I’m already playing house with my bodyguard, babysitter, whatever, and I’ve never been happier. I’m starting to think to myself, ok, I could do this. I’m starting to put out an extra towel in the bath room. His toothbrush migrates to the cup on the sink, he takes over one side of one drawer in my Ikea dresser, and there’s an extra pillow on my bed. God, it was so nice not to be cold anymore, you know and it was nice to play house, even if I knew it wouldn’t last. I mean, seriously, he was my rebound guy. Not to mention, he was a thug.
Eventually, things cooled down for El Diablo. Why, I never found out. Could be someone just got bored of trying to put bullets in his ass. Could be that his friends got tired of someone trying to put bullets in his ass. I never asked and he and Red never volunteered the information. Everyone got kind of relaxed and Red just sort of moved in in a kind of permanent way. It didn’t last, though. Nothing good ever does in this shit hole of a town. Still, we went out with a bang, that’s for goddamn sure…
It was a crazy night and I was ready to get wild again. Really fucking wild and Red, my own personal ‘evil fuck’, was the perfect man to feed my need. It stated out with him dusting my nipples with coke and then sucking them clean while I was sprawled out on the coffee table, trying to wrap my legs around his waist in a sexual frenzy, begging him to fuck me, giggling madly. Yeah, I was high too. Not as high as I could have been, but high enough to lay out lines on my smoothly shaved pussy for him before suggesting he dust his cock so I could do a little catching up. God, we wrecked the place, no lie. He had a raging hard on. A coke hard on. He would have fucked me raw if I didn’t have a drawer full of lube for just such occasions.
He slammed me up against the wall, his hands around my waist, egged on by my cries of passion, growling like a dangerous animal as he impaled me, my tongue shoved down his throat, our moans mingling until I came with a silent scream.
“You fucking greedy little bitch,” he chided me when I crawled into the kitchen, wiggling my ass suggestively, my thighs spread for him so he’d get a good look at both my holes, not caring which one he fucked.
Fucker knew me too well, too, dusting his sticky cock with more coke (did I mention how plentiful that shit was while he was around?) before sticking it up my ass, his iron fingers gripping my hips as he slammed into me hard enough to move me across the tiled floor half a foot at a time until I bumped my head into the fridge. I used it to push back, grunting every time he drove his throbbing cock into my tight ass. If I’d been straight, I’d have probably been whimpering for him to stop. Instead I egged him on, swearing at him if I even thought he was slowing down the assault on my brown star-shaped pucker. I was a bitch in heat, my lust fueled by blow, my brain screaming for endless orgasm, even after I convulsed for what seemed like forever, my cunt gushing all over the kitchen floor before I collapsed, semi-aware that he’d done the same inside my ass
We lay entwined in our own fluids on the cheap yellowing linoleum, breathing loudly, moaning meaningless words to each other, the need to touch overwhelming, my mind racing with possibilities. My apartment suddenly seemed too small; a trap that I’d let myself be caged in. I needed to be set free.
“Take me away,” I whispered, my tongue in his ear, massaging his cock until it was hard as a rock for me.
“Anywhere. Let’s just get on your hog and ride.”
Oh, how I am tempted to spice this story up a bit, tell you how I clung to him on the back of his Harley stark naked, my hair streaming out behind me like pale gold. Truth is, it was too damn cold. That didn’t mean I didn’t look like the inner porn star he’d released that night. He liked leather, and I’d done my best to please him, letting him buy me things. The pants were so tight that I couldn’t wear panties under them. The boots zipped up to the knee, their heel lifting me a good four inched above the earth, and the jacket looked tough; a real bikers Jacket. I’d told him I wanted his name across the back in crimson. It hadn’t happened yet, but I hadn’t forgotten. Yeah, it was just warm enough, or maybe I was high enough, that I didn’t bother to but on a bra or a shirt. Just the jacket, hanging open so that the night air kissed my tits, making me shiver, my nipples rock solid. I felt totally bad ass perhaps because I was.
We didn’t have a destination in mind. Not even sure if we planned on getting out of that shit hole of a city, but we knew what we were looking for; escape. Roaring through the night, the big engine purring like a tiger on meth between my legs, I clung to Red. Before we even hit the end of the street I was grinding myself on the seat, sinking my teeth into the leather of his jacket, my arms around his waist. I’d let one hand wander between his spread thighs and begin stroking the bulge in his jeans, distracting him as he opened up the throttle and went faster and faster. Soon we hit the open spaces of the hills, taking turns at a dangerous pace, our laughter ringing out behind us, giving death the middle finger every time we survived another one.
“Where you wanta go, babe?” he asked, pausing at a pullout, his crazed grin bright in the moonlight.
“Mexico,” I giggled, not really caring as I unzipped him and coaxed his thick meaty prick out from its hiding place, pleased at the groan of pure animal lust he let loose.
“Not yet, Blondie. Not here, not yet.”
“I need it so bad, Red,” I breathed, spitting in my palm until my hand was slick before wrapping my fingers around him and slowly jerking him off.
“Don’t stop,” he hissed, gunning the engine again and skidding out of the gravel back onto the road, on the verge of losing control as I kept up the hand job, the skin tight leather of my pants soaking up my fragrant juices.
When we skidded to a halt the next time, my hand was sticky with his cum. He shut the engine off and manhandled my roughly, grabbing me around the waist and lifting me off the beast. Not that I complained. My pants zipped from the back, something I should have mentioned before, zipped from back to front for “his pleasure”, or so he liked to joke. It wasn’t a joke that night. He nearly tore the zipper off so that he could get access to my pussy. He was a big man, outweighing me by a good 120 pounds, none of it fat.
He skewered me, lowering me down on his thick cock, my back to him so that I could grip the handle bars as he fucked me hard, cumming inside with a wordless cry, his hands circling my waist, trapping me on his lap so that his cum leaked all over his thighs and the gas tank. Shivering, more with lust than with chill, I rode him still, amazed at how quickly he grew hard again, the coke giving him inhuman stamina, adding my own cum to his with my own girlish howl.
Fuck, thing is, orgasming only made me want to cum more. It was an endless loop of lust.
“I don’t think we’re going to make Mexico,” I gasped breathlessly.
“I know a place. It’s close.”
“Here is good, Red.”
“Trust me, you’ll like this better,” he grinned as the bike roared to life once again.
This time, I rode on his lap, his cock still buried in my drenched pussy, the vibrations nearly tearing me apart until I came again. And again. And almost again, not paying any attention to the route, barely realizing we’d come to a stop at a gate blocking a gravel drive.
“Get it open,” he grinned, giving my ass a solid smack with the flat of his hand to get me to rise up off his cock, unlatch the gate and push it open.
The house at the end of the rocky drive wasn’t anything spectacular. Typical two story house. Nice yard with a couple of oak tree, a fenced in back yard. There were houses on either side too, but far enough away that it gave the place a feeling of privacy, if not isolation.
“Who?” I asked, my heart pumping like crazy, feeling like I might hyperventilate with lust.
“Friends,” was all he’d say, but his crazy grin told me so much more as he pulled me by the hand up to the front door and rang the bell.
“What the fuck? You got any idea how late it is, motherfucker?”
The woman at the door was not what I was expecting. Some greasy aging biker, perhaps, with a beer gut. Or maybe some nervous nerdy guy, wired up to his eyeballs from cooking meth all day. Instead, we were greeted by a curvy, dark haired woman dressed in a fuzzy maroon robe looking like she was about to put a bullet through Red’s skull, something I felt justified thinking, seeing as she was holding a scary looking gun and pointing it at him like she knew how to use it.
“Must be your ex,” I quipped, the coke giving me a sense of courage. Besides, it wasn’t me she was aiming at.
“Gail,” Red murmured, standing as perfectly still as someone flying high on snow could. I’d been right, not that he’d ever mentioned her name, but there was a tat on his bicep with her name on it.
“What is wrong with you, Red?”
I took it as a good sign that she lowered the gun so that it was no longer pointing at his head, less so as I realized it was now pointing at his crotch.
“I’m kind of high?”
She only shook her head at that, but she did manage a smile as she lowered the barrel of her gun the rest of the way, this time giving me the once over. Yeah, me in my skin tight leather pants and naked from the waist up, my pupils filling most of my eyes.
“Me too,” I offered helpfully before breaking into an uncomfortable giggle.
“And you decided to drop by, because…?”
“We’re going to Mexico.” Me, once again, trying to be helpful.
Gail, it turned out, wasn’t the only one put out by our sudden appearance. Her old man wasn’t too thrilled to see Red, although he wasn’t too upset having a topless blonde girl traipsing through the house. There was another roomie living there, too, a girl about my age with auburn hair and a bright smile who seemed as interested in checking out Red’s physic as Cal did mine. When she ended up in the Jacuzzi with Red and me, I can’t say I was either surprised or disappointed.
No one bothered with a swimsuit. Really, what was the point? While Cal and Gail disappeared somewhere in the house, Lena treated us to shots of Jack and a nice view of her large tits. Really, it didn’t surprise anyone that Red ended up sucking on one of her nipples while I sucked on the other one. After that, all bets were off.
“Fuck me,” she groaned, sitting in the hot tub between us, legs spread, one over each of ours, head lulling back as Red and I explored her body with our hands and mouths and tongues. There was no long drawn out seduction involved. I got the impression that she’d been wanting to fuck Red for a long time now.
“God, yes,” he groaned, climbing on top of her, trying to shove his cock up her snatch with my help, all of us drunk, some of us still high, not caring about anything but slaking our lust. We started in the hot tub, Red screwing her brains out while I fingered his ass, something I’d never tried with him before. Seeing as how he never protested, I figured he must like it. When he came, he must have lifted her half a foot off the bench. Fucked up as I was, I thought it incredibly romantic that it was my name he called out, even though he was fucking Lena. I might have even been a little in love with him at that point.
The water was hot, too hot. I needed to cool down. I climbed out of the tub and left them going at it a second time, this time much slower, more of a simmer than a boil. Yeah, I wanted to fuck her too, but I figured the night was young. Right now I needed to maintain my high and my drug muddled brain knew, without a doubt, that there was a stash somewhere inside the house. All I had to do was find someone who knew where it might be and convince them of my need.
Cal was in the kitchen, his head inside the fridge, presumably mentally weighing his options for a late night snack.
“Hey,” I chirped, pausing, suddenly aware that I had left a trail of wet footprints and was currently dripping all over the kitchen floor, never mind being stark naked.
“Hey… Jesus H. Christ!”
I couldn’t help but giggle as he stared at me, an unopened bottle of Dos Equis in one hand and a slice of left over pizza in the other.
“Cal, right? Yeah, Cal. Hi. Umm… I was hoping you could get me high?”
Stoner diplomacy at its peak, thank you very much.
“Shit, put some clothes on, would you?”
“Why?” I asked. It seemed a logical question in my state of mind.
“Cause you’re giving me a fucking hard on, babe.”
“Give you more than that for a couple of lines.”
He simply groaned at that, moving, not towards me, but away from me, much to my disappointment.
“Gail would kill me.”
I could be very persuasive when properly motivated. In this case, that meant promising to wait for him in the kitchen until he returned with a plain white tee shirt. It was long enough to cover all the bits he couldn’t help but stare at and thin enough that it really didn’t do much to protect my modesty once it got damp. It gave him a false sense of security, I think as he laid out a couple of lines in a cutting board and chopped them up nice and fine, sharing an etched metal tube with me as we sucked the powdery substance into oblivion after which, he was mine.
I’m not unaware of the irony that, while Red was fucking Lena out on the porch, I was contemplating sucking cock in the kitchen. It seemed a natural progression, once we were both flying high, for me to start playing with myself, rubbing my pussy against one of the smooth brass knobs on a cupboard as I leaned over the counter and did another line, carelessly hiking the hem of my borrowed tee so that I could get close and personal with the ball shaped handle. I dusted the inside of my other nostril, the rush crashing through me suddenly, an indication of how pure Cal’s stash was, moaning like a cheap whore as my lust became too great to contain.
“Fuck,” I breathed, my heart pounding in my head as I licked the fine white powder from the cutting board, making sure I didn’t waste any which, apparently, created too great a target for Cal to resist. One moment I’m leaning over the tiled counter on tip-toe, the next he’s lifting me by the hips, running the head of his cock up and down my slit until I’m dripping with lust and then shoving it to the hilt, his balls slapping against the backs of my thighs.
“Fucking little tease,” he growled, grabbing hold of my hair and pulling my head back. Another girl might have begged him to stop, screaming rape at the top of her lungs. I wasn’t another girl. Spreading my legs I began pushing back, matching his rhythm, loving every minute of being impaled on his cock. While not as thick as Red’s, Cal’s prick was still impressive enough for me to enjoy the ride. Gasping for air as he slammed into me over and over, his belly against my nicely rounded ass, I frantically laid out another line. After all, it was there.
“Fucking nasty little bitch.”
“That’s right, fuck that tight pussy for me, baby. Fuck it hard,” I moaned seconds before obliterating another line of coke, fighting his grip on my hair long enough to get that shit into my blood stream.
Coke hard-ons last forever, or at least this one did. He kept pounding me until I knew I’d be black and blue and still he kept going. I did my best to hold my climax off, keeping myself on the edge of ecstasy for what must have been decades before finally succumbing, a shuddering wave rolling through me until I was thrashing on the end of his dick, screaming out whatever came to mind; fuck, shit, God, Red, hell, even the name of some of my exes, until finally he spent himself, pulling out at the last minute and spraying my naked ass with rope after rope of pearly cum until rivulets of it ran down the globes of my ass.
“Mother fucker,” he groaned, leaning against me, getting his cum all over the front of his shirt.
“Son of a bitch!”
It took a while to register that, the last declaration wasn’t mine or Cal’s. It was Gail’s.
That was mine and Cal’s simultaneous exclamation.
“You little fucking whore.”
Giggling was probably a bad choice, but I couldn’t help it. After all, technically, I was a slut. Money had never been exchanged. Gail never gave me a chance to point that out, though. She was on me before I could get the words out, but not in the way I’d expected.
“Little fucking whore like you will probably do just about anything,” she hissed, grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me away from the counter, her face in mine, her lips… god, she had plump lips.
That was all I could really think about as I leaned into her and kissed her, watching as her eyes widened with surprise. I thought she was going to slap me. Instead, she forced me to my knees and grabbed a hunk of my hair, tugging hard enough that I cried out in pain as she untied her robe, letting it part, revealing her neatly trimmed bush.
“Eat me, whore.”
Fireworks went off in my brain as I wrapped my arms around her thighs and shoved my face into her cunt, lapping at it like a dog, sucking her fleshy clit past my teeth, my tongue flickering over it at 100 mph, desperate to make her cum.
The sight was too much for Cal to resist. Next thing I know I feel his cock pressing against the back of my skull, humping my head as he’s mauling her ripe tits and shoving his tongue down her throat passionately.
The room was full of whimpering moans, wet slurping, groans of lust, and, finally, her guttural cry as I made her cum, my tongue filling her juicy cunt, Cal holding her up when her knees threatened to buckle.
“You’re so fucking good with your mouth, Blondie,” she heaved, still shaking from the orgasm I’d given her.
“I practice a lot,” I admitted with a glazed smile, my face slick with her juice.
After that, we moved the party upstairs. Cal, Gail, me, and Snow White. I quickly solved the issue of Gail being a little behind by pushing a generous amount of blow past the tight ring of her ass with my tongue. Up the nose wasn’t the only way to get high. And, since I’d just broken that cherry, I proceeded to rim her out while she sucked Cal’s still stiff cock, commenting on how hot it was to taste my pussy all over it.
It was a riot of animal lust fueled by the purest shit I’d ever tasted. Even at the time it was a blur of humping and fucking and sucking and everything imaginable. He fucked me again, this time up the ass while she cleaned more coke out of my cunt with her tongue until my head exploded and my heart burst. After that, we forgot about the drugs or even the party that was going on in the hot tub downstairs which eventually made its to us.
I’m not sure when I realized that I was sucking cum from Lena’s ass, and not Gail’s, or when I noticed Gail’s mouth all over Red’s as he violently rammed his impressive cock deep into her dripping wet cunt while Cal was getting his sucked by Lena. Not that I cared, as long as I was being looked after too, and I was. We kept at it all night, too wired and sex starved to even slow down until the morning sun peeked through the bed room window at last and the party started winding down, all of us soaked with sweat, and spit, and cum…
I slept like the dead through the next day, awakened occasionally by Lena, her head between my legs, eager to drive me to the edge of sanity with yet another orgasm, coaxing me into returning the favor, laying opposite her, slowly lapping and licking and sucking her clit until she surrendered into ecstatic convulsions against me, then we’d both drift off again until next time our carnal lust grew too great to contain…
The day passed, and it grew dark, each of us stirring to use the head or to find sustenance that wasn’t a bodily fluid of some kind. Sadly, the party ended rather abruptly. I never did get a straight story. All I know is that when I heard the gunshot go off, Lena and I were the only ones in the room. There was a lot of yelling after that, some crying, a shit load of swearing, some of it mine as I bounded down the stairs three steps at a time and ran smack into Cal.
“Get that piece of trash the fuck out of my house.” He deadpanned, his eyes slightly glazed. One glance at this suddenly menacing biker standing there in his underwear and holding a gun convinced me that our welcome had worn itself out.
I helped Red get his shirt and jacket on, not an easy feat seeing as how Gail was busy wrapping his shoulder with gauze and wiping the blood from his flesh.
“It went clean through the meat. Just gonna hurt like fuck and probably leave a scar,” she assured me.
After that, there was nothing to say, really. Lena loaned me a pair of her sweats (I never did figure out where my leather trousers ended up, regretfully. I loved those pants!) and I zipped myself into my leather as we were pulling out of the drive.
Never did make it to Mexico. Like Gail said, Red was hurting too much, so we just turned around and went home. After that, we sort of had a falling out. Nothing to do with what had happened, but sometimes, things just run their course. I started getting my shit together and Red started letting his fall through the cracks. Last I heard, he was somewhere in LA doing God knows what, leaving me with some wild memories and three bullet holes in the wall to remember him by.
So Red, if you’re out there reading this, Just wanted you to know I miss you, you crazy ass motherfucker. I had the time of my life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Oh, and yeah, I still got your jacket with the red and white hanging in my closet. Don’t worry, no one’s ever worn it but me and you. Peace out, you evil fucking angel from hell.