Brittany Loves Bikers: Motorcycle Gang Gangbang

Available now at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords and Kobo.

 

Brittany Loves Bikers: Motorcycle Gang Gangbang

Brittany is a member of The Club, an organization that fulfills sexual fantasies for its members, with forced sex fantasies as its specialty. She’s not thinking about her membership the evening her car breaks down on the way home from work. When a sexy biker named Al stops to give her a ride, she has no idea that her hot, chance encounter is just the beginning of her ultimate fantasy coming true.This short story is about 9,200 words long and is intended for adults only. Excerpts at the end of the story let you sample other titles.This book is #4 in The Rape Fantasies series. Each story is designed to stand alone, but it’s fun to read more than one!Rape fantasies and rape are very different things, and this story in no way condones violent rape.

Enjoy this excerpt from Brittany Loves Bikers:

The Club is an organization for women that provides fantasy fulfillment, with forced sex fantasies as its specialty. Each woman reveals her secret rape fantasies in a friendly, non-judgmental atmosphere, pays monthly dues and gets to enjoy the stories of other women who have had their fantasies fulfilled. All of the women of The Club are assured that the people who help them fulfill their fantasies will be disease-free, wear condoms and be careful–as careful as the women want.

They can have it rough or tender, terrifying or comical. Be ravished by one man or several. One woman or several. A slow, forced fuck by a total stranger, or a group pawing at them in lust, taking them fast and hard.

Whatever their secret, darkest desires may be, The Club will provide.

This is Brittany’s story.

 ***

 I’ve thought about moving closer to my job for years, but I like the scenic drive. And I like living in the country with lots of space around me, rather than in a cramped suburb. I’ve always kept my car in good repair–a necessity when you have a 45-minute commute and can’t walk to work or grab a taxi. But as these things happen, it puttered out one evening after work on a long stretch of rural road.

It was kind of scary being stuck there with a car that wouldn’t turn over. Even though I’d driven that road every day for years, being helpless there suddenly made every passing car seem a little ominous. How many horror movies have a scene like this?

I reminded myself that it was my mother who thought everyone was a serial killer, not me, and it was still daylight–hardly the setting for a horror movie scene.

I sat there thinking how walking to the nearest house was going to suck. I’d worn one of my favorite shorter skirts that day, and had chosen heels just a little higher than was probably office-appropriate to celebrate the fact that it was Friday. Thunder echoed from somewhere not too far away–it was going to rain any minute. Perfect!

A loud motorcycle whizzed past. Even though I was aggravated at my situation, I couldn’t help but admire the shape of the guy’s back in the leather jacket. Bikers have always turned me on. The sound of the bike, the boots and leather, the long, blue-jeaned legs on either side of a growling, vibrating machine . . . .

After my moment of admiration, I turned my flashers on, got out and slammed the door. I thought about looking under the hood, but then laughed at myself. I wouldn’t have known what the heck I was looking at.

That’s when I realized the motorcycle was coming back.

My heart flip-flopped, both in excitement and a little fear. Then I reminded myself that not everyone is a mass murderer in waiting, no matter what my mother had always told me. There are still good people out there who will stop to help a stranded motorist. Sure enough, he stopped next to me and asked if I was having trouble.

Good God. His face erased any serial killer thoughts I’d had before. Foolish, I know. Ted Bundy was a looker, after all. But this guy had dark hair and forest green eyes with tiny lines in the corners that were clearly from smiling, not from frowning about where to hide the next body. It wasn’t just that he was handsome. There was something about him that put me at ease, and I trusted the feeling.

He looked under the hood and had me try to start it a few times while he fiddled with hoses and wires and whatever’s under there, but nothing worked. I found myself not just admiring his leather-clad back, but the way his ass filled out his jeans as he bent over the car.

He asked me where I was going, then offered to give me a ride. Said it looked like my carburetor was shot. I nodded gravely as if I knew what that meant. He said I’d have to call a tow. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately considering how things turned out, I couldn’t get a signal on my cell.

I’ve never been on a motorcycle, and ordinarily would never take a ride anywhere from a stranger. The idea of my hair blowing all over didn’t appeal much, either. I’d styled it so carefully that morning in loose waves that let the lighter blonde underneath show through the darker strands on the outside. It hangs a little below my shoulders, so it’s plenty long enough to look awful after just a few minutes in the wind. I didn’t have a ponytail tie handy, either.

But the thunder was getting louder, and the air had changed. It was going to rain soon. The walk or the wait for a tow if he sent one for me would be a long one. And I’ll be honest–the idea of hanging onto him for a few miles had a certain appeal. It felt naughty. I told myself that I’d had a crappy day, and there was nothing wrong with squeezing a tiny bit of fun out of it.

I hiked up my already short skirt and climbed on the bike behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He started the engine, and I actually laughed as the vibration went through me. As we took off and he gunned it, the vibration got stronger. I found myself pushing my ass down against the seat, really enjoying the feel of it.

And though I didn’t know this man from Adam, I found myself pressing against his back, enjoying the feel of that, too. I let my hands slide down until they rested on top of his thighs. I closed my eyes and focused on the vibration coming up from the bike. Another mile or two, and I think I’d have come from rubbing myself hard against that vibrating seat.

The rain finally hit, so he pulled off the road to give us some tree cover and keep me from getting soaked. He turned off the bike and turned his head as if he were going to say something. But the ride had made me so horny, I didn’t really want to spend the time chatting. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I said, “Please turn it back on.”

One of my hands went from his thigh to his crotch. It seemed like he’d been enjoying me pressing up against his back, too. His groin was a hard mound in his jeans. He shuddered when I kneaded his cock through his pants, making me realize just what I wanted.

I got off the bike, then got back on in front as if I were going to drive it. My skirt pushed up farther as I settled down onto the seat, my ass right there in front of him. I grabbed the handlebars and pressed my pussy forward, while lifting my ass a little in a clear invitation. One of his hands covered mine as he started the bike and revved it back into action. I shouted Oh! at the renewed vibration against my crotch.

I guess the whole situation had me feeling and acting out of character, because I turned my head and shouted, “You offered me a ride, remember?” I arched my back and tipped my ass up a little higher.

###

Read the rest of Brittany’s gangbang adventure at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords and Kobo.

oon to be available from Barnes & Noble

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *