This has a rather lengthy opening scene before actually getting to the sex, so skip over this story if you want to jump directly into hardcore fucking, or jump to the end of the story.
Misadventures of a College Youth
Victoria arrived in Chicago about two weeks ago and is only now settling into her dorm on campus. Coming from a small town in Iowa, she is shocked at the vastness of the big city. Though shy, in the first couple of weeks of classes she manages to make a small group of girlfriends. It is this group of three other girls, two of them native Chicagoans, that Victoria accompanies out tonight.
The Swollen Susie, a cramped, cheap punk club that admits 18andups but still serves alcohol is where the quartet of giggling girls heads. Crammed in Sylvia’s 1990 Honda, the girls drive out into the chilly night air, leaving the safety of the dorms and their studies behind. On the way to the club they all laugh and sing to bad music blaring from the radio while nitpicking over one another’s makeup and adding last minute accessories.
“The Sooz is NOT a great place to pick up guys, Vickie, BUT the bartender is a pushover. If you just flash him a little peak at your tits, he forgets to ask for ID. Or, at least, he did last semester” chums Sylvia as she checks the rearview mirror before changing lanes. Vickie returns the girl’s smile and feels the nervousness of going out on the town flitter in her stomach. She hasn’t eaten anything today because she only escaped her chemistry lab at 4PM and was desperate to get herself fully ready for the excursion.
Without any compunction about it at all, Claudia leans over toward Victoria and checks out her breasts before announcing: “You’re not going to get a beer at that rate, Iowa. Pull that sweater thing off...I’ve got a ripped up t-shirt that’ll be better for the Sooz anyway—then you can change back later.”
Self-consciously Victoria slips out of her cashmere sweater and folds it in her lap before receiving the wrinkled and tattered Misfits shirt from Claudia. After pulling it down over her head and plentiful breasts, Victoria realizes this is not much of a shirt at all—Claudia has made large cuts into it, and the front is cut deep into the Misfits leering skull logo. The tops of her creamy breasts are plainly on display, as is much of the satin material of her bra. Uncertain, she looks to Claudia: “Are you sure I can where this in there?” Claudia and Sylvia laugh together before recounting the story of the goth chicks that they saw at Swollen Susie last term—one had a painted on latex top and the other just a couple of pieces of black electrical tape covering up her nipples.
Once in one of the sandlots peopled in the late hours by those seeking the amusements of the club districts, the girls pile out of the car, shifting to pull down their tight mini skirts and straighten their stockings. Samantha’s nearly translucent-from-overuse wife beater is rolled up on her stomach, showing off her tanned, washboard abs. Of the four girls the native Californian is both the most masculine in demeanor and dress and the best tanned—her parents had a beachfront house that she had only relinquished two weeks ago with the start of fall semester. Claudia throws her long trenchcoat on over the tight corset she blew her summer job money on after buying books for the fall—it cinches her waist to a seemingly impossible width while assisting her modest B-cup breasts to look like fully respectable Cs beneath their light coating of lavender glitter. Sylvia removes herself from the driver’s seat, joking about how no drunk jerk better damage her paintjob. Rust sifts down from the driver side rocker panel when she slams the door shut before adjusting the neckline of her dress a little lower and smirking wryly at her compatriots.
The walk to the club is fortunately quite short for the girls—Victoria especially—since she didn’t need a coat with her previous wardrobe, but is now freezing beneath the ripped and torn fabric of the faded black t-shirt Claudia has loaned her. She can feel her nipples stiffen against the fabric of her bra as they walk, and so is not overly surprised—though still perturbed by—the lingering stare the bald doorman with the snake tattoo that wraps around his head gives her chest instead of checking her ID.
Inside Victoria is pleased with the change in her attire—it’s warm and people are pressed up against one another at the bar, calling out orders, shouting over the raucous house band that is destroying its instruments on stage while the “singer” screams about anarchy and fucking. The dance floor is a tangle of bodies that the girls—drinks in hand—thankfully do not have to fight their way across in order to find seats. They luck out and get a small circular booth in the corner across from the bar. Claudia and Sylvia smoosh Victoria into the middle and Sam sits at the edge of the booth, drumming her fingers on the tabletop as she sips her beer, nodding her head to the rhythmic cacophony of the band on stage—Lecherous Taint. They’re a great deal better than the thrashier band that had been up when they first came in. Giddy with the excitement and press of the club, Victoria takes a sip of her beer, smiling at the other girls.
Before long Sam’s drumming fingers prompt her to wade into the sea of churning bodies on the dance floor—taller and more well-muscled than the other three girls—she is the only one of the quartet ballsy enough to try standing up against burly pit punks. She disappears into the swell of the bodies just as a fraternity boy approaches the table, smiling at Sylvia in her low-cut dress. He smiles, sits down at the table, and leans into Sylvia, whispering something into her ear that makes Sylvia smile viciously and lean across Victoria to talk to Claudia. “This guy’s got some X, wanna?” Claudia eagerly nods her head, and the two turn to Victoria, telling her to save the booth and that they’ll be back in about twenty minutes. Nervous, Victoria nonetheless forces a small, shy smile to indicate she will be okay alone.
Sylvia and Claudia are gone for maybe five minutes before Victoria begins to feel awkward taking up a whole booth by herself. Looking about anxiously, she palms her beer, and kneels up on the booth’s circular seat, her back to the bar and the club entrance, so she can peer out at the dance floor, hoping to make eye contact with Sam.
“Well, well, well, … it looks like we’ve got a little intruder in our booth, boys,” Victoria hears intoned menacingly behind her back. Having kneeled up in the booth to look out for Sam, she did not notice the group of four older men approaching the booth. As she turns, she sees the leader of this ragtag pack standing closest to her. He is tall, well-muscled, and scowling beneath a messy Mohawk of rusty brown hair. Victoria leans back against the booth to steady herself, the beer suddenly getting to her head, as she tries to step from the booth with a mumbled apology. This guy looks like nothing she wants to mess with—he smells of road grit, sweat, and testosterone. The men leering at her from behind him, one terribly good-looking but rather swaggering and the others non-committal but looking quite capable of violence also make her acutely aware of the danger of her situation—alone in a city she doesn’t know well without her friends, largely drunk off three-quarters of a beer, and in a shirt that reveals far too much of her barely legal breasts.
Tyrus, as the leader is called, has no patience for Victoria’s attempted escape. “Oh no love, you’ll stay where you’re at” he says as he pushes her back into the booth, knocking her off balance into the arms of one of the other men who has moved into the booth from the other side. Tyrus maneuvers himself around to the middle of the table with Victoria sat next to him and sandwiched in on the other side by one of the gruffer of his companions. Confused, Victoria tries to explain that she was just waiting for some friends and that they didn’t know this booth belonged to anyone and that she would go, but Tyrus’s friend grips her shoulders tightly while he inhales the scent of her clean, shampooed hair—filling his nostrils with the floral, feminine scent of her locks. “She smells good, Tyrus,” the man says in a husky voice that panics Victoria all the more. Tyrus leans in to her, saying, “Don’t worry girl, no harm. You’ll just be my date tonight, that’ll settle the score. I promise you’ll have fun. Relax on the poor girl’s shoulders there, Brick—she’s not going anywhere.” At the word of the more dominant male, Brick’s large, powerful hands release Victoria’s shoulders, and she immediately runs her fingers over the places he was holding her while Tyrus sends one of his boys to the bar for drinks.
“Finish your beer sweetheart, I’ve ordered another for you,” says Tyrus. “I’m okay thanks,” Victoria stammers, not wanting to make eye contact with the hulking form giving her orders.
“It’s rude not to accept a man’s offer to buy you a drink, love. You don’t want to be rude, do you? What’s your name?”
Her silence is met by a gruff hand grasping her chin and lifting it until her eyes make contact with the steely grey eyes of her mohawked interrogator. She realizes for the second time how much bigger than her he is, and for the first that he has a number of scars littering his torso and neck which are left exposed by the open shirt he wears beneath a battered leather jacket. That torso is also dusted with a fine smattering of hair that narrows and descends beneath the barrier of the dirty jeans that block the rest of her view. Smirking at her gaze, Tyrus squeezes her cheeks together a bit roughly and says, “Answer me and maybe I’ll take them off for you. You’d like to see it wouldn’t you?” He pushes her back against Brick with a rough shove of her face and a chuckle before saying, “Well, speak up, what’s your name?” Startled and close to tears, Victoria stutters her name as she reaches in her purse for a tissue, again refusing to look at the men surrounding her or the new beer on the table.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard, and that’s a right pretty name, Miss Vickie,” says Tyrus. “Ain’t as pretty as her tits,” quips the leering Brick—prompting laughter from the other men around the table. Tyrus though, is not amused. Apparently he is the one to insult Victoria, not anyone else, and Brick’s unwise joke is rewarded with a quick and savage punch delivered across Victoria’s lap. Pushing back against the booth, she prays silently both that this will be a fight that will get the men thrown out and that it somehow won’t get her hurt even though she is seated between the two combatants. This is until she realizes that Brick is not about to challenge Tyrus, who with a still quite angry gleam in his eye turns his attention to her.
“Give us a kiss” he whispers rather harshly through clenched teeth as he seizes Victoria by the waist with one hand and yanks her toward him by the hair with the other. In a great deal of pain from his grip on her waist and unable to pull away from his oral caress because of the tightness of his grip on her long, silken black hair, she is stuck and forced to submit. As he presses his face against her delicate skin she feels the roughness of his stubbled cheeks scratching the soft flesh of her face and the firmness of his mouth, seizing her lips, sucking on them like they were fresh fruit. Still, she keeps her teeth clenched shut, refusing his tongue entrance into her mouth until slowly she realizes that Brick, from behind her, has worked his hand around inside the front of her shirt and is pressing into the large globe of her left breast so as not to be openly in view to the rest of the club. The temerity of this forced feeling up provokes her to action, not just resistance, and she opens her mouth to yell “No!” but is instead greeted with the muscular thrust of Tyrus’s tongue lunging into her mouth. Once he has gained admittance to her mouth, he refuses to relinquish that access, probing her mouth deeply with his tongue with long, slow thrusts and more delicate, quick flicks that send shudders down Victoria’s spine despite her active distaste for these older men—one tongue-fucking her mouth, the other kneading her breast, trying to pinch the nipple he has made erect and swollen beneath the layered fabric of her bra. As Tyrus’s tongue plunges into her mouth repeatedly, Victoria realizes that despite his disheveled appearance, he does not taste bad. There is a hint of beer on his breath, but that is not unpleasant and the rhythmic movements of his tongue slowly begin a process of her unconscious yielding of her mouth to him so that his tongue can dart in whatever corner of it he desires to probe.
Finally his hands and mouth release her, leaving her panting, confused—excited and aroused but also quite scared and aswim in the scent of his masculine musk. None of the boys she has ever kissed before have kissed her like that, and she has certainly never had any kind of contact with a guy as old as Tyrus, who she guesses must be somewhere in his late twenties at the youngest. Brick, not realizing his privileges are timed with his better’s, receives another smack for his continued massage of Victoria’s breast. Victoria can do little but lean back, feeling with great embarrassment the wetness that is slowly seeping into her panties from her damp little pussy. Cleanly shaven, because that’s what the coterie of girls decided they should all do late one night in the dorm bathroom, her delicate little pink lips are plump and aroused, her clitoris quite erect and throbbing in time with the memory of Brick’s manipulation of her nipple. A deep shame and blush crawl across Victoria’s visage as she sees Sylvia and Claudia approaching from the back of the club—their makeup looking a bit smeared, their clothes a bit disheveled. As they approach, they look a bit concerned, but nonetheless walk up to the table with the fraternity boy from before in tow—a second lagging slightly behind and wearing the same smirk of satisfaction as his ‘brother.’ Before Sylvia can even get a word out, Tyrus’s boys—the handsome one and the other brute—have pounced, shoving Sylvia back into her X dealers. “Fuck off” intones Tyrus from the security of the booth. “Look man, that’s our friend—let her out of the booth and we will fuck off” says Claudia, who then looks to Victoria and says “Get out here, Iowa. We’re grabbing Sam and bolting with these Beta Kapps—there’s a party back on campus and we won’t have to stay sober to drive.”
Claudia and Sylvia, already feeling the effects of the X, have trouble focusing on the lout with Iowa and are easily pulled away by their own male companions who are temporarily sated—not stupid—and much more sober than either girl. Minimal prompting and tugging of the two natives gets them away from the table with the older men and their friend. With the drift of her friends towards the door, Victoria feels a profound sense of worry and foreboding slip into place around her, just as Tyrus’s hand settles on her thigh, below her short skirt—“Don’t worry Victoria, we wouldn’t let a couple little fuckwads like those bother you.”
“But those girls are my friends, and I came here with them and with Samantha, and I have to leave with them because I can’t get back to campus without them” Victoria blurts out in a bright burst of hope that maybe if she explains the reality of the situation, Tyrus will let her run after her friends.
Leaning close to her, forcing her to recline somewhat against the large form of Brick, Tyrus whispers, “You shouldn’t hang out with such whores. They’re bound to get you into trouble. I can tell you’re pretty innocent. But believe me, Victoria, when we’ve done, they’re won’t be much you don’t know.” With the last of these words echoing in Victoria’s head, Tyrus pushes his tongue back into her mouth while simultaneously plunging his hand beneath her skirt. Terrified he will find out how aroused she is and not realizing the wetness of her cunt has been wafting up to his nostrils from her damp satin panties already, Victoria mounts a small physical protest against this new violation. She tries to close her legs, but his superior strength easily pries them apart, his left leg keeping them separate so that he can locate the dampness of her panties. He withdraws from her mouth long enough to say, “Maybe you aren’t so innocent, little girl.” As he sinks back onto her mouth, drawing what she feels like is an insane amount of desire out of her body and centering it in her lips and tongue, she feels the at first reluctant grasp of Brick’s hand, though this time upon both her tits. He is less concerned, as is Tyrus, of not making a scene in the club this time. More people have crowded in and the view of their table is more readily blocked both from the door and the eye of the bartender. Victoria’s mind reels when she opens her eyes to see the two other men in Tyrus’s group staring on at the rape of her mouth and the constant, rhythmic kneading of her tits, and as she looks away from their eyes, she is even more horrified to realize both that they are not the only ones in the club forming a silent audience for the debauch and that she is even more intensely aroused by being watched while she is worked steadily toward an uncontrollable arousal more profound than her own self-explorations have ever heretofore provided her.
This sense of shame and arousal doubles over yet again when Victoria hears Sam’s voice yelling at some asshole to get out of her way as she approaches the table again. In Tyrus’s grasp Victoria manages to shake him off with her rather sudden physical objection to his presence in her mouth and between her legs. Brick’s contact with her breasts, however, remains unimpeded and his breathing quickens with her struggles. Tyrus is just about to scold young Vickie for interrupting his pleasures when Sam steps confidently to the table and asks Brick rather pointedly, “Why the fuck are you fondling my girl’s tits, you stupid piece of shit? Iowa, get out here now.” Tyrus turns his gaze to Sam and says, “Sorry sweetheart, Vickie here”—turning to Victoria slightly he interrupts himself to ask her “Why the fuck do your friends call you Iowa?”—“has decided she prefers cock to little girl puss tonight, so darling, why don’t you fuck off with the rest of the sluts you came here with. They left about thirty minutes ago with some piece of shit frats that boned and stoned them.” Victoria is unsettled by the clear leveling of gazes between her friend and Tyrus and is not at all comforted by the fact that Sam leans forward across the table, maintaining eye contact with Tyrus before she says, “I call her Iowa because that’s where she’s from. I’m only going to tell you once—let her out from behind the table; I’m sure you can intimidate some skank here into sucking your dick or sticking her little pinky up your shithole, but Iowa is my friend, and I’m not leaving her here to be felt up and fondled by that troglodyte you’ve dressed up in leather to be your bodyguard, got it, fuckface?”
At this point one of the gruff men sitting on the outer edge of the table whistles slowly while Tyrus leans back in the booth, settling his arm around Vickie’s waist and patting her thigh with the other. This whistling man turns to Sam, looks slightly up at her—she is only a few inches taller standing than his seated form—and says, “You sure do have a dirty mouth, dyke. How about I give you a nice creamy rinse to help you out with that?” Confidently smirking, he lifts his beer and drains it before leaning back in the booth’s seat, letting his self-satisfied grin return as he takes in the tanned and toned skin of Samantha’s stomach. He knows as hard as this bitch pretends to be, he’s a lifetime harder and one fuck of a lot stronger. In fact, it’s smiles all around the table—aside from Victoria’s nervous, wide-eyed stare—that face Sam’s bravado. “Fine. I’m getting the bouncer” is out before she can stop herself, and just as quickly, before she can more than turn to look for one of the yellow-shirted, large staff members, the fourth smiling man—the good looking one—grabs her wrist, tugs her into the booth face first across his lap, declaring, “Why would you want to do that, you cheeky little bitch.” It’s laughter all around this time as this fourth man rather easily wrestles poor Samantha upright into the booth between himself and Brick.
Suddenly the attention turns back to Victoria when Tyrus says, “Well Iowa, Vickie, whatever-the-fuck-you’re- called, aren’t you going to introduce us to your carpet-munching, potty-mouthed little friend?”
“I’m sure Jackal will get to know her a little bit better later on tonight, but it wouldn’t hurt to know the bitch’s proper name first. That way he knows what to yell before he shoots in her mouth,” Tyrus says chuckling and winking at the man to his right who had whistled and offered to rinse out Sam’s mouth earlier. A little stunned by the predicament she (and now Sam) are in, Victoria stumbles out an introduction, telling the others her friend’s name is Samantha and that they all call her Sam. With a grunt as he stands, Jackal announces to the table that “Sam is easy enough to say while cumming.” Jackal disappears into the crowd, moving in the direction of the bar, leaving the girls to the men in the booth. Sam remains stiff and non-compliant her back firmly jutting away from the man who has wrestled her into the booth, his arms holding her balled up fists down at her sides; the man leans slowly into her since she seems hell bent upon avoiding contact with him and says—loud enough for Victoria and the rest of the table to hear—“My name’s easy to say when you cum too; you can just call out, Trig later tonight, baby. It’s short for Trigger.” His introduction complete, he abandons words to lick the outer rim of Sam’s left ear before sucking her earlobe into his mouth and gently nibbling it.
Ready to elbow Trigger in his concave gut, Sam pauses and looks back up over her shoulder as Jackal returns to the table, setting down another 6 beers and two mixed drinks for the girls. Trigger turns to Jackal and says, “Good thing you got here; this one needs to be calmed down” before he pulls Sam fully into his lap and wraps one greasy and well-muscled arm quickly around her torso while his other large, meaty hand rises to her neck and pulls her head back, forcing her to look up at the ceiling. Quickly Jackal steps directly behind Trigger while Brick shifts to block the view inside the booth further. Jackal pinches Sam’s nostrils closed and says, “Open wide, potty mouth. This should make you more cooperative.” Eventually, after about 45 seconds of intense but fruitless struggling, Sam has to open her mouth to breath, and Jackal takes expert and quick advantage, pouring the sticky sweet mixed drink into her mouth, which Trigger then quickly clamps closed by moving his hand to her jaw. When she has swallowed the liquid, Trigger releases his grip on her and Jackal resumes his seat while Brick shifts a bit more back toward Victoria, whose eyes remain fixed on the other mixed drink, obviously meant for her.
“Well Miss Vickie,” Tyrus begins, “you’re not going to be as ungrateful for our hospitality as your little friend is, hmm? You’ll drink yours like a good girl, right my sweet?” Silently, Victoria nods, her eyes still large, frightened, and her mind awhirl with what will become of herself and Sam. While Sam seems to have calmed considerably, becoming almost lethargic and listlessly leaning against Trigger, Victoria herself doesn’t feel the effects of the alcohol so keenly; her buzz simply returns as she nurses the drink between bouts of renewed kissing that Tyrus demands. During one of these kisses Victoria feels her eyes slip shut, and guiltily she forces them open again if only to try to maintain eye contact with Sam, who seems to drift in and out of being capable of lifting her head and keeping her eyes open. Eventually Victoria lets her eyes stay closed because Sam is not opening her eyes anymore and Trigger has his own tongue buried in her mouth, his hand massaging her smallish tits through her thin, white tank top. Brick remains beside himself, turning between Victoria’s breasts, which he kneads through the t-shirt and bra, and Sam’s pussy, which he massages through the thin cotton panties that cover it beneath her short, flared mini skirt.
Victoria is unaware of the source of Brick’s divided attentions until Tyrus breaks off his kisses with her, and then she sees what Brick is touching when he is not feeling her up. Tyrus leans her back against his chest and picks up rubbing her tits where Brick has stopped. “Let’s see Victoria taste a bit of Sam from your fingers, Brick.”
Smiling, Brick returns his hand beneath Sam’s skirt, and for the first time, he actually pushes aside the thin barrier of her small panties and runs his rather calloused and large-jointed finger along the slit of her pussy. Watching, Victoria can see the slow movement of Sam’s open-mouthed kisses with Trigger quickening, her chest heaving a little more while the stimulation of her pussy is added to that of her nipples, which Trigger freely plays with through the fabric of her tank. Beneath Sam’s skirt, Brick’s finger finds the increasing wetness of Sam’s cunt and lathers his finger in it well before inserting his pointer to the second knuckle, which causes Sam to moan out slightly into Trigger’s mouth. Slowly, Brick finger fucks Sam, shifting in the booth and lifting the thin girl’s skirt so that Victoria can see his finger entering slowly into and withdrawing from her friend’s pussy. “Have you ever seen a girl finger fucked, Victoria?” asks Tyrus in Vickie’s ear. She gently shakes her head no as she feels a slow heat spreading and defusing over her stomach and abdomen, a slow heat rising in her own body in response to seeing Sam’s so treated. Ashamed, she wonders how much different and how much better a man’s finger might feel than her own inserted into her pussy.
But Brick is not one to let Victoria simply watch, and after a few minutes of finger fucking Sam, he pulls his finger out of the Tomboy’s pink pussy, pulls her skirt back into place, and turns to Victoria, pressing his finger to her lips. Aroused but uncertain and not wanting to appear wanton, Victoria tries to escape the thrust of Brick’s musk-scented finger, but Tyrus’s command for her to “Open up” fixes that problem. When she opens her mouth, Brick’s finger enters therein, filling Victoria’s mouth with the scent of another woman’s taste; Victoria does not listen as Tyrus again gives her a single-word command—“Suck.”—because she closes her lips around Brick’s finger quite willingly, curious what Sam tastes like. Often she had sniffed and licked her own fingers after pleasuring herself, but she did not know that another woman’s scent could arouse her as much as Sam’s.
Lost in the flavor of Sam’s pussy, Victoria is startled by the shifting and movement out of the booth as Tyrus pulls her from the booth’s cramped quarters and stands her next to him. “Stay by me, and we’ll take you home, right?” Tyrus leans in to communicate over the reverberating and grinding guitars of Lecherous Taint and the raucous shouts of the crowd. Suddenly slightly sobered and shaken to her senses, Victoria nods, relieved but also somewhat disappointed. She looks around to make sure Sam is with them, and notes that Jackal and Trigger are supporting her weight between them and are heading toward the front of the club with Brick walking in front. She and Tyrus follow hand-in-hand behind the trio. This contact with Tyrus feels oddly innocent and delightful considering the more intimate kissing and petting they had engaged in earlier. Victoria blushes as she thinks of his tongue inside her, and blushes more as she tastes again a hint of Sam’s musk in her own mouth. Naively she thinks that this will be the full range of her sexual escapades for the evening.
Outside the club the cool night air brings goosebumps to Victoria’s skin and her nipples stiffen beneath the torn cloth of her t-shirt and the padding of her bra—her nipples ache slightly, longing to be touched again as they were inside of the Sooz. A little tipsy on her feet, Victoria listens carefully—or tries to listen—to Tyrus’s instruction that she hold him tightly as they climb onto his motorbike. Slowly it dawns on her that this is to be the transport back to campus, and she suddenly gets a little bit worried. Before she can shy away from him, however, he clamps her hands around him, low on his waist, and pulls away from the curb—three more bikes pulling out ahead of him. Belatedly Victoria remembers Sam and can just make her out hunched onto the back of one of the other men’s bikes as she peers over Tyrus’s shoulder. Her friend in sight, Victoria sighs and gives into the combined effects of alcohol, stress, and overstimulation—she slips into a relaxed state, closing her eyes to avoid being scared by riding on the bike, and snuggling into the creased leather jacket in front of her.
Some forty or fifty minutes—much longer than it would have taken to get to the university campus—Victoria feels the slowing of the bike, and she opens her eyes to see that they are turning into a darkened gas station, pulling around to the back where Tyrus turns off the bike behind an opened up garage entrance. There are a number of men—maybe half a dozen—milling around out back of the gas station that had appeared abandoned from the front; back here though there are a number of scattered barrels with low-burning fires in them. Car seats provide seating on the concrete slab that extends behind the station, but beyond that the land slopes downward toward a darkened body of water flanked on the other side with a hilly green slope left undeveloped. There are no other nearby businesses out here—the station is on a lonely bit of road, and the only sounds come from the music inside the garage, the clacking of pool balls on a billiards table set up inside, and the greetings and voices of the men. As Victoria is taking all this in, Brick comes to her side and helps her off Tyrus’s bike so he can dismount and take it into the garage.
Looking around, she notices Sam has been laid out onto one of the car seats, one leg propped up on the seat and the other lolling open and off the seat; her head hangs limply off one end of the seat. Victoria makes for that direction, but Brick holds onto her until, squirming, she cries out, “But Tyrus said he was taking us home.” Brick says to her, whispering kind of close to her ear, “Of course he will, but you are his date tonight, and Tyrus always spends time with his dates before he takes them home, and sometimes we spend time with his dates too, so unless you want to upset him, you’ll quit squirming and wait for him to get out here.” Slowly Victoria tries to bring her breath under control and struggles to achieve composure while her wrists are gripped on either side of her head and she writhes in Brick’s grip. As she does indeed regain some of her bearings, she notices the large number of men around herself and Sam—all told there are ten men here with the two girls. The half dozen who apparently remained behind when Tyrus and his smaller crew went out have begun to file out to examine what the others have brought back. Before any of these men—who are likewise large and intimidating and clearly bikers—can move to take Victoria from Brick, Tyrus returns from the depths of the garage, smiling and with a couple of beers.
“Thanks for watching over my lady friend, Brick.” Without further ado, he takes one of Victoria’s wrists and pulls her in the direction of the car seat opposite the one on which Sam has been placed. Victoria watches her friend even as she is handed and helped to drink another beer by Tyrus. Sam’s breathing is deep and regular, her eyes are mostly closed, the delicate line of her eyelashes almost lost to the shadows in the half light of the low fires. Her shirt is shoved up under her breasts, her muscled torso on display again along with her light colored panties. Her legs, while not outright splayed, certainly reveal that she is too out of it to be concerned with anything like modesty right now.
A moment or two later Trigger lifts Sam up by the arms, and seats himself beneath her upper torso, and while she stirs a bit at being moved, she does not really come around. Tyrus leans into Victoria and says, “Well let’s see what happens now.” The chatting and talk that intruded upon the 70s rock pouring from the garage earlier dries up soon after Trigger has positioned himself beneath Sam’s delicate upper torso. Brick approaches and pulls Sam’s leg that is still bent and positioned on the car seat up over the back of the car seat so that she is more properly exposed to the men lining the garage door. A few moments later and Brick has a small switchblade out, cutting at the fabric of Sam’s cotton boyshorts. Trig grins as he watches Brick’s rough handling of the girl’s undergarments, and he massages Sam’s breasts, working his hand up under the wire and padding of her bra. Quickly annoyed with the restrictions on his hands though, Trigger pushes Sam up awkwardly, and her head lolls back as he fumbles to unhook and remove the silken contraption. As her head cascades back, her eyes flutter open briefly and she catches Victoria’s eye…
Before Victoria can really begin to object to the treatment of her friend, Tyrus has pulled her mouth beneath his again, and he begins to push her legs apart with his own right leg, then pushes her thighs wider with his hands. She struggles against this, but stops and is silent when he says “You don’t want me to be angry with you, Vickie, do you?” Quietly, she shakes her head no as he presses her legs wide open again and says, “Then leave your body as I want it. Right now I want you to spread your legs, okay?” Nodding, she submits to his touch, feeling nervous, dirty, and horribly excited all at once. Barely able to tear her eyes away from her own exposed flesh—her skirt has ridden up impossibly high because of her legs being open, she nevertheless notices that the men ringing the garage have divided their attention in one of two directions: either the car seat on which Sam is located, or the one on which she is seated with Tyrus. The amount of attention is not lost upon Tyrus either, and it is the reason he proposes a shift in the current situation.
While Brick and a couple of the other men have drawn closer to the end of the car seat where Sam’s pussy is open and exposed, Trig remains in his position feeling Sam’s breasts and working them in his hands beneath her t-shirt, rubbing and grabbing firmly the entirety of her tits before beginning to pinch and tug at her nipples, only to relinquish them and begin the pattern of massage and nipple stimulation over again. Tyrus changes this arrangement by pulling Victoria up, motioning for Brick and the others to back away from Sam’s pussy, and pushing Victoria to her knees on the ground at the end of the seat between Sam’s spread legs. “You tasted her before, go ahead and eat your girlfriend’s pussy now” challenged Tyrus; “She’s going to get fucked either way, but if you eat her out first, at least she’ll be wet and it’ll hurt her less.” Stammering and with tears close to brimming over her bottom eyelids Victoria asserts she does not know how to do this, that she does not want to do this.
Gruffly, Tyrus pushes her onto all fours so that her face is literally just inches from the exposed flesh of Sam, who is slowly coming back around and either writhing in pleasure or struggling to get a grip on her own body and the simultaneous pleasure and terror wracking its way through her. Just as quickly as he shoved her down, he unceremoniously lifts her skirt up well over her ass and shoves her panties down to her bent knees: “I’ll fix the not knowing what to do—what you feel me do to you, you do to her.”
Her mind reeling, Victoria is nonetheless immediately aware of the moist warmth on her outer labia as Tyrus tongues first one, then the other, before sucking each of her pussy lips into his mouth. The baldness of the flesh there makes his pleasure at suckling her, and her pleasure at being suckled, all the more intense. Already wet from the heavy petting at the bar, Vickie is soon quite liberally wet and Tyrus’s rough cheeks and chin are soon covered with her rich, almost sweet scent. But her pleasure is suddenly interrupted when one of the men behind her, she isn’t sure which, pushes her face the extra couple of inches into Sam’s cunt. The hand holds her head down into Sam’s cunt for a moment or two, pressing her face into the warmth of Sam.
With her nose more or less pushed into Sam, Victoria cannot breath and backs away a little, her eyes peering up at Trigger and his mauling of Sam, who appears more and more awake by the moment, though she is somehow not resistant to Trig’s attentions. With grumblings coming from behind her that she should “eat the bitch” already, Victoria pulls her eyes from the stiffened and well-handled breasts of her friend to her similarly smoothly shaved vulva. Victoria decides to proceed as Tyrus had with her. Leaning into Sam, she runs her tongue from the very bottom of Sam’s right labia to its top. She repeats the motion for the left side, enjoying the smoothness and the incredibly silky nature of her friend’s pussy before pulling each plump lip into her mouth and sucking at them.
Vickie’s attentions to Sam’s pussy meet with general approval from the men looking on and even inspire Trigger to comment that he’d “lick her other end wet” before pressing his tongue into Sam’s mouth. Not soon after this other labial kiss ensues, Brick props himself onto the seat, blocking Victoria’s vision of her friend. Before she can wonder what Brick will do, Victoria becomes lost in Tyrus’s caresses. His tongue pushes in and out of the pinkness of her labia minora, over and over again, at varying tempos before he pulls back for a moment—Victoria cannot see why, but it is to show the others the pinkness of her little vertical mouth—before picking up his oral ministrations by sucking her swollen clitoris between his lips. It is this last sensation that distracts Victoria from Brick, and then makes her long to help her friend feel as good as she is feeling—though her mind reels against ‘good’ possibly being able to be the correct word to describe how she is feeling.
Familiar with the slightly sweet musk of her own cunt, Victoria finds Sam to be a tad tangier, but still as delicious as in the club, and so it is with a great deal of pleasure that she abandons simply sucking the labia of Sam’s cunt in order to push the pink triangle of her own tongue into Sam’s pussy. A hot dampness meets Victoria’s face and encompasses her senses. Her nose presses into Sam as her tongue thrusts inward, darting as far as possible into Sam, whose own body seems to want Victoria there as her pussy muscles try to grasp Victoria’s delicate tongue.
Lost in Sam’s scent, Victoria remains aware of Tyrus’s own systematic devotions to her cunt, and she mimics them as best she can, at one point being rewarded with what sounds like a rather openly aroused grunt of satisfaction from Sam. Encouraged, Victoria continues her licking and sucking until she herself feels a rather keen heat building in her pussy and mound. Withdrawing slightly from between Sam’s legs, she lays her head on Sam’s thigh and licks leisurely at the outermost pussy lips, which are pink and swollen. As her tongue traces this path, she feels her own pleasure flowing and building to a severe peak. It is only when Tyrus once again sucks her erect and pulsating clitoris into his mouth that this desire crashes over her whole body in waves. Vickie’s tongue, rather than licking at Sam, lolls out onto the other girl’s pussy in a panting motion and is accompanied by a keening howl of enjoyment that lasts the duration of her orgasm.
Victoria is aware of herself again only a few moments later as the brilliance and intensity of her orgasm recedes. The men around her are praising Tyrus’s skill and calling her a wanton whore. Tyrus ascents to this name for her, and before she can push herself off of Sam to object to being discussed like this, she feels a man she presumes to be Tyrus press something thick and rigid against her slippery, swollen pussy lips. Panicking, Vickie’s eyes fly open and she looks back to see Tyrus slowly moving his hips back and forth, his cock moving in time with them, but only barely parting her labia—she’d certainly been fingered deeper than this.
“Ready then, love?” are the words Tyrus uses on her before thrusting fully into her well-aroused pussy.
Virginal no longer, Victoria can barely conceptualize that she has just been penetrated—not by a boy, the type with whom she is familiar in a fumbling, embarrassed sort of teenage sexual experimentation—but by a man at least five or more years her senior and not at all awkward or shy about what he wants. Along with this confusion, she feels a deep sort of keening pain in her cunt, the pain of her hymen tearing away with each thrust. This fades though as her loss of virginity sinks in and the tears brimming at her eyes fall down her cheeks. Smiling at her, Tyrus continues to fuck her cunt, rhythmically, rubbing out the pain of the loss of her hymen and fingering her clit with one hand while entwining his other hand in her hair so that he can keep her looking back at him while he fucks her. Unable to really move, Victoria lets her eyes slip closed and decides it’s best to just let Tyrus finish; she couldn’t escape him if she tried, and his thrusts no longer particularly hurt. Trying not to cry out or whimper, Victoria’s eyes flash open again suddenly when she feels a familiar pattern of groping on her breasts again. Brick’s—she assumes—rough hands have taken to rubbing both her pendulous breasts, tugging the nipples stiff again. In the cool night air the sudden warmth of Brick’s mouth closing over her right nipple breaks Victoria’s silent submission to being taken. A low moan escapes her lips, and with that Tyrus makes eye contact with her again, asking if she likes getting fucked like a dirty slut. Shame curls its way up inside Victoria’s stomach and she tries to turn away from Tyrus’s face, but he keeps a firm grip on her hair while allowing Brick’s continued stimulation of her breasts.
Her continued silence is met by an increasing savagery in Tyrus’s ministrations. His fingers work her clitoris mercilessly, and she realizes for the first time that he has not been fucking all the way into her yet, but just easing his cock in most of the way once it was passed her hymen. Increasingly she can feel Tyrus’s cock bottom out, pressing into her cervix, and once it has begun doing that, Tyrus increases the roughness of his strokes and their speed while intermittently slowing his attentions to her clitoris. Then suddenly he pulls all but his head from her, but continues fingering her clitoris, even pulling the remainder of the way out only to mash her little throbbing erection with his own before slipping his head back into the vestibule of her cunt. Meanwhile her nipples have grown taut and sore and throbbing with the pleasure of her clitoris. Without meaning to do it, and without realizing she is, Victoria squirms backward toward Tyrus, trying to wriggle him deeper into herself. This is met with general approval from the crowd, and there are general cries of “Look at the slut want it.” Again shamed by her body’s reactions and her own piqued desires, Victoria blushes all over, but tied up with that blush is an increased overall pleasure in her body, which comes crashing home when Tyrus finally slides back into her completely. That pleasure washes over her in thick waves undulating out from her clitoris and nipples. Lost in her own ecstasy, which is communicated to the group by her immoderate moans and cries of pleasure, she is oblivious to the quickening of Tyrus’s own pace. This quickening climaxes in a heat released deep in her womb, showering her insides with Tyrus’s creamy, thick cum. Still high and somewhat bewildered by her first genuinely coital orgasm, Victoria is left with a deep sadness when she feels Tyrus withdraw from her. At the same time though, she is pleased when he also relinquishes his grip on her hair, allowing her to straighten her neck for the first time since she first looked back at him.
Seeing her partner stand and begin walking around her, Victoria attempts to pull up her panties, kneeling up fully to do so even as Brick gives her nipples one last suck before giving his place over to Tyrus. Once seated, Tyrus bends her back over the car seat and his lap, allowing Victoria to see that Sam has been bent up onto the back of another car seat for Trigger to fuck her. Sam’s hands are pulled out in front of her and held in place by Jackal, who also intermittently pinches at her nipples and slaps at her face. Victoria can just see Trigger’s cock moving backward out of Sam’s pussy from her angle. The sight upsets her but also interests her. She is lost in her own lustful thoughts until Tyrus’s voice recalls her mind to what is immediately in front of her, his lap, and in it, the stiffening and pink cock that took her virginity. “Clean me off, Vickie. Suck my cock” Tyrus states. It is neither a request, nor an order—it’s a statement that fills Victoria with a bit of sinking dread about the inevitable factuality of her sucking his cock. Opening to object that she has never properly sucked a cock, Tyrus instead grabs her by the nose and pushes her open mouth down onto his semi-erection: “Lap at my cock to get your hymen and my cum off it. If you suck it well enough, perhaps I’ll fuck you again, little whore.”
As Tyrus reachs under her to fondle her tits, Victoria tastes her own pussy mixed with a strange thicker material, Tyrus’s own cum. As she tastes more of his cock, more of Tyrus stiffens, and she feels the truly magical epidermis of the male cock—unbelievably smooth, supple, like nothing else she has ever felt in her mouth. The sensuousness of that flesh between her lips, slowly parting them, makes her long for him to part her pussy lips again, where even now his cum leaks from her. This desire was not to be met by Tyrus, however, but as she sucked him obediently, her head occasionally manipulated by Tyrus, Victoria feels another man’s cock enter her. At first outraged, after having it in all the way, she cannot fight her body’s desire to be fucked, and gives herself over to a vigorous need to fill herself. As the cock behind her bangs away, its owner grabbing onto her hips and tits alternately, she bangs her own mouth with Tyrus’s cock, and she thinks of being fucked impossibly by Tyrus in both her cunt and her mouth. With her eyes closed tight and her face sinking deeper and deeper into Tyrus’s groin, the friction between her lips echoing and driving on the friction between her labia, Victoria experiences her second orgasm of the night only to be filled again with cum shortly afterward. For a brief period, the man fucking her cunt is unreplaced, and so a ferocious suckling at Tyrus ensues—she thrusts her head onto his cock harder and harder, trying to make the feeling in her pussy come back. It did not until a third man took his place between her legs and pushed his erect cock into her cunt—he fucks her more roughly than the first two, savaging her cunt much as she savages her own mouth, forcing herself to choke on Tyrus’s now fully engorged cock.
As this third man fucks away at Victoria’s cunt, she feels one of Tyrus’s arms reach out over the length of her body and play with her pussy—his hand briefly interrupts the depth of the other man’s penetration, which upsets her, but then suddenly she is confronted with another sensation. His finger, slippery with her own fuck as well as the cum of two men, gently prods the tight, pink bud of her anus. Moaning on Tyrus’s cock, Victoria tries to lift her head and object to this sort of touching, but Tyrus’s other hand keeps her head firmly in his lap, leaving the digits of his other hand free to stroke, tickle, and massage her asshole.
Panting, the third man to fuck Victoria that evening withdraws from her pussy swiftly and pulls back from her just fractions of a second before she feels a hot, wet spray shoot onto her butthole. Realizing this last man has cum directly on her butt, Victoria is beside herself with arousal, exhaustion, and fear. This fear is notched up several levels when she feels Tyrus’s finger which has been carefully massaging her asshole up to this point, push inward, penetrating her delicate bottom. “That’s very tight, Vickie, so we’re going to need to open you up” Tyrus whispers to her before he lifts her head gently from his lap.
The cock gag removed from her mouth, Victoria begins to stammer, “But Tyrus, please don’t do that. We can have sex again like before. Please don’t try to put anything in my bottom.” Her pleading is met with laughter of the four men still giving audience to the girls being fucked and fondled, and for her trouble, Victoria is presented with Brick’s cock to suck. Unlike Tyrus’s, it is fairly short, though a bit thicker, especially at the base. Victoria is getting used to the odd scent of cinnamon in Brick’s pubic hair when she feels Tyrus’s one finger that has been moving in and out of her joined by a second finger. This spreading of her anus thrills her with both fear and a delightfully queasy desire. Unconsciously, she moans against Brick’s cock, and in response, he shifts positions so that he is directly in front of her and can fuck into her mouth. Brick’s hand lock into Victoria’s hair and he uses her face, occasionally cutting off her airways with his thick, stumpy cock.
After some intermittent time that Victoria has no way of measuring, Vickie feels the thick head of Tyrus’s cock prodding her asshole, gently rubbing it in small circles. Inexorably excited as Tyrus’s cock massages her asshole in time with the groping his hands give her breasts, Victoria feels herself begin to spread around his cock head. It is with Brick ejaculating into her mouth and moaning loudly that Victoria first feels the head of a cock penetrate her asshole. At first Tyrus only tries to push through the first ring of her musculature—pausing to let her get used to the feel of his girth in her asshole. Slowly though, he begins pushing further into her, then pulling out. The firm grasping of her asshole dragging along Tyrus’s cock drives her to moan, and uncaring of the audience in front of her, she reaches between her legs to play with her throbbing little clit.
Victoria is given a moment or two of this direct clitoral stimulation before Tyrus thrusts himself fully into her asshole, grasps her, and like a ragdoll, lifts her up, fully impaled on his cock, and seats himself on the car seat beneath her. Before she can realize the purpose for this, Jackal steps between her legs, lifting them up and over Tyrus’s, exposing her cunt, pulling it fully open. Jackal, along with the other men, admires the slow assfucking Victoria is taking. Jackal jumps into participation when Victoria, overcome with a slow, deep burning pleasure throws herself back against Tyrus’s chest and seeks out his mouth and tongue with her own. Watching her lusty kissing of Tyrus, Jackal decides to assist Victoria with her own sexual desires by thrusting the full thickness of his erection deep into her cunt. Fully impaled on Tyrus’s cock, Victoria can only emit a low, keening wail of pleasure when she is filled up with Jackal’s cock simultaneously. Jackal’s pubic bone begins to bang and rub up against her clitoris and pubic bone as his thrusts alternate with Tyrus’s; this friction works Victoria to another earth-shattering orgasm, which stimulates Jackal to cry out, thrust his hips forward into her own and ejaculate thick, ropey white cum into her cunt. As Jackal withdraws, Tyrus repositions Victoria once again, laying her out alongside him on the car seat with her legs pressed together. In this position he works her asshole for another twenty of thirty minutes, slowly pushing her toward another orgasm with his strokes and clitoral massage.
As Victoria’s ass is slowly fucked by Tyrus, she watches intermittently as Sam is fucked at both ends by two of the other men from the garage. She has been positioned on all fours on a car seat, and one man fucks at her cunt while another buries himself deep into her throat. Victoria can see that Sam is also being held more tightly than she herself is. The man in her cunt has one of her arms bent up at an awkward angle that looks painful to Victoria, and the man fucking her mouth has his thumb in one corner of her mouth, prying her open as his other hand buries itself in her hair so he can press her head deep down onto his girthy member.
As Victoria is overcome with another wave of pleasure when Tyrus ejaculates into her body for the second time that night, she realizes Sam is red-eyed and crying—probably not enjoying her fucking at all. This realization fills Victoria with a deep sadness for her friend, but she has little time to think before Tyrus withdraws from her and gets up from the car seat, disappearing into the garage. Alone, and covered in cum, Victoria is about to follow Tyrus, his name on her lips when the remaining to men from the garage seize her. One already has his leather pants undone at the crotch, his erection bobbing wildly. It is longer than any of the other cocks Victoria has seen tonight, though it is quite thin. Panicky, Victoria tries to pull away, but the man with the leather pants pulls her back onto his lap on the car seat while the other pushes her down and begins fighting with her arms in order to cover up her mouth.
These men are even older than Tyrus, perhaps in their thirties and not particularly attractive. The man beneath her is thin at least, but he has a long and scraggily beard that feels rough and prickly on her bare back. Victoria is, however, unsuccessful at fighting them off, and despite biting the man who stands in front of her, the man beneath her is able to maneuver her so that his cock can penetrate her asshole. The standing man pulls away from her to suck on his finger before leaning in and slapping her hard in the face several times. Cursing her, this large man who has a small paunch on a very thickly muscled frame positions himself slightly above her on the car seat and pinches her nostrils closed until she opens her mouth for him.
These last two men to take Victoria care very little for her own pleasure. While Tyrus stroked and fucked her playfully, the man fucking her ass rhythmically and swiftly pistons his cock into her asshole and out again, fucking to the rhythm that pleases him without even touching Victoria’s clitoris. Furthermore, he keeps her wrists pinned behind her back, held in place at the small of her back by his own large hands, which she was sure were bruising her. The man fucking her mouth does so savagely, working out his anger over being bitten. He barely lets her catch her breath and pushes deep into her throat, making it sore and forcing her to gag on his cock. This gagging was producing a constant drooling from Victoria’s mouth so that the spit flowing from her mouth ran down her chin to drip on her breasts, letting them glisten in the low light of the exterior of the garage while her ass is pounded. It is during this last paired violation that Victoria feels fully humiliated and abandoned. Victoria had hoped Tyrus wouldn’t leave her over to anyone else completely, but these two men shatter that hope and so it is that she is whimpering and gasping back tears and spit when the thin man ejaculates deep in her colon and the thicker man thrusts one last time into her throat, brutally ejaculating his cum into her scorched throat.
After her final pair of “lovers” leave her, Victoria curls herself into a ball on one of the car seats and continues to cry. A few minutes later she cringes as someone runs their hand on her back, but Victoria sits up and wraps her arms around Sam when she realizes it is her friend. The two girls embrace and rock each other back and forth until they fall asleep in each other’s arms, exhausted and terrified at their ordeal.