admin

Author's Note: Again, good clean fun. No minors depicted. Contents are the property of the author.
Hatch ignored Lacey and went to one of the urinals. Soon she could hear the sound of him emptying his bladder. Lacey rolled up onto her knees and then stood up shakily. She went to the sink and leaned on it, inspecting her face and disheveled hair in the stainless-steel mirror. She was a mess.
"Did I say you could stand up?"
"No, Hatch. Sorry." She set her knees back on the tiles. "How have you been, Hatch?"
The thing with Hatch was, he disliked Paul, her Paul, intensely, and even Paul didn't know why. Hatch disliked a lot of things. He was an angry little fireplug, sensitive about his height, with sandy hair, deep-set eyes, and big arms that he kept that way by doing literally hundreds of push-ups every day. The sight of him suddenly dropping down to press out forty perfect push-ups was so common, people didn't even comment on it anymore.
Hatch turned from the urinal but he wasn't buckling his pants. His dick, half hard, hung down in front of his zipper. It was purplish with a snug little mushroom head. "Don't worry, bitch," he said. "I would never put my cock in any hole where Fredo's little dick has been."
This was good to know, but didn't alleviate Lacey's anxiety at all. There was no way that Hatch wouldn't make her pay. It wasn't Hatch's way.
"Like I said, I ain't gonna fuck you." Hatch was pulling loops of paper off the roll beside the toilet. He extended the paper to her. "Here, wipe that shit off your face."
Leave it on. Wipe it off. Everybody had an opinion. Lacey took the paper and dabbed at her face.
"You can clean my asshole instead."
Ah. Hatch's way. Of course. "Okay, Hatch," she said. "Sure."
"We've been out hauling freight all day. Heavy lifting. A man's asshole can get pretty funky. I made sure not to clean it." He turned around, grabbed the flush handle above the urinal, and bent at the waist. "So get to work."
Lacey scootched toward him on her knees. Hatch's ass and lower back were covered with the same curly, sandy hair that was on his head. His asshole was a shy pink star above his dangling testicles. Not as filthy as it maybe could have been. She leaned forward and gently licked the little puckered hole. Then she slipped her tongue in. Fetid and rank, of course, but probably not as awful as kissing Clem on the mouth.
She leaned backwards. "I think I'm finding out why you guys call yourself Perverse Fate," she said.
At first she thought this little bit of humor might be a mistake with Hatch, but Hatch just shifted his feet and sighed irritably.
"Fuck you, bitch," he said, without much heat. "And your feeble-dick boyfriend, too. Get the fuck in there."
So Lacey did what she was told. She pressed her face between Hatch's buttocks and went for the gold, extending her tongue far up his asshole.
"Actually," Hatch said, almost to himself, "all the good bike gang names were probably already taken."
This might have made her smile if she weren't tonguing and sucking asshole. It was grim, unpleasant business and she let her mind drift away to more pleasurable thoughts, like what being a Perverse Fate girl would be like.
It meant, first and foremost, that you couldn't be fucked with anymore. If anyone, anywhere, hassled you, there would be payback. Not right away maybe. The guys were busy guys; they weren't Roadside Assistance. But when they got to it, they got to it with extreme prejudice applied. And word got around. You weren't to be fucked with. You were a Perverse Fate girl.
Lacey became aware of a rhythmic motion up front and she realized that Hatch must be jerking off. One thing she didn't have to worry about, at any rate. She plunged deeper into his butthole, licking and slurping and sucking. Theoretically, she thought, the more cleaning you did, the less disgusting the job became. She tried to believe this as she slobbered on Hatch's asshole.
After a minute or so that seemed like an eternity, Hatch abruptly turned around to face her. He was tugging vigorously on his cock, not much longer now than it had been when he was half hard. No wonder he was so angry all the time. She held her face up to the twitching knob and opened her mouth, but Hatch grabbed her nose and tilted her face down.
Then she felt it. Gob after gob of cum striping her beautiful brown hair. Her hair had been a lost cause on this night anyway, she supposed. When he was done, Hatch released her nose. She raised her head and Hatch was already zippering and belting his pants.
"Thank you, Hatch," she said.
"Fuck you," Hatch said. He was looking at his artwork in her hair. "I want you to know something."
"What's that, Hatch?"
He abruptly swung an open hand at her boobs, giving her right tit a sharp, stinging slap. Then he swung his other arm and did the same to her left tit.
"I ain't voting for you," he said. Then he turned away and headed for the door.
She made a point of not reaching ankara escort bayanlar up to rub either smarting tit. "Sorry to hear it," she said.
The door shut after him and she leaned back on her heels. She looked around the filthy bathroom. There was some extra stock, a few cases of bottled beer, in one corner. She could really use a beer, she thought.
The door opened again and a busty redhead, chunky and short in big heels and a crop-top that revealed plenty of underboob, strolled in.
"Hi, Barbi," Lacey said.
"Hey, baby girl," Barbi said. "They treating you right down here?"
"Yeah, you know. Boys bein' boys."
"I bet." Barbi clacked across the tiles toward Lacey on her lofty heels. She looked down at her and then reached out, set a fingertip beneath her chin, and raised her face. Lacey was acutely aware of the cum in her hair and on her face. "You got a pimple comin' in," Barbi said. Then she clacked over to the squalid toilet and started the laborious process of undoing buttons, zippers and buckles to lower her tight pants.
"How's things upstairs?"
"Boisterous." Barbi grinned and tried it again. "Boys... sterous. The boys are real happy. They jacked a shitload of pharmaceuticals, somebody had some alarm codes somehow, I don't know." She waved a hand airily, dismissing the details of this story, and then succeeded in getting her pants scootched down to her knees. She bent at the knees and hovered over the filthy toilet, a look of concentration forming on her face. "I think somebody done cleaned up down here."
"You think so?" Lacey looked around. It looked as filthy as ever.
"Yeah. I think they like you." Barbi grimaced and then there was the sound of a stream of pee hitting the water in the toilet. "You got your privacy down here, anyway."
"Oh, I've had some company."
"Boys broke me in at Sturgis. Right in the middle of their campsite." Barbi had plenty of pee for a short girl. It was still pounding into the toilet. "They put me in a, like, inflatable kiddie pool for the night. Boys can get pretty nasty with nothin' to do but drink beer all day."
"It's a man's world, I guess," Lacey said cheerfully. It was important to keep it cheerful and light. No grumbling, even with the girls. Especially with the girls.
"What that pool was full of after a bunch of hours... well, it don't bear talkin' about." Barbi pressed out one squirt and then another, and then pulled the flush handle on the toilet.
Sturgis was another benefit that came with association with Perverse Fate. You got to make the road trip with the boys and you were treated like a queen all week. Which was more than most of the unlucky groupie trash that made the trip on their own could say. There were other road trips and poker runs and parties, too.
"Anyway, Odd Job says hey, I'm sure he'll be down here."
Odd Job was Barbi's man. Barbi was once with Big Wiley, but that was years ago. She'd come down a little in the world since then. Barbi, still leaning on the flush handle, had removed one heel and was tugging her pants leg down and over her foot. When she got her foot out, she reached down and pulled a long stretch of toilet paper from the roll. She balled this up and brought it to Lacey, clopping awkwardly on her one heel.
"Clean that cum off your face, baby. Whose is that? Clem?"
"Rusty mostly." Lacey took the toilet paper and wiped at her face. She was never going to get it all off until she could have access to a real mirror. Her hair was not repairable either at the moment. "That boy is a wonder of nature."
"Yeah? How's that?"
Lacey held up her hands and tried to approximate Rusty's length and girth.
"Really." Barbi raised a carefully sculpted eyebrow. "It's always the quiet ones, ain't it?"
Lacey giggled. "That's exactly what I thought."
Barbi set one hand on Lacey's shoulder and stepped out of a tiny pink pair of panties, so that one leg was entirely free. When she straightened again, her pussy with its groomed strip of red hair was a few inches from Lacey's face.
"Well, baby girl, the boys told me to fuck you, and I gotta say, I don't mind. I get hardly anything off of Odd Job anymore. I'm horny as hell."
Lacey could smell Barbi's musky scent now; there were still droplets of piss in the folds of her unwiped pussy. She looked up at the naked bottoms of Barbi's boobs and her avid face.
"You like pussy, don'tcha?" Barbi said.
Lacey grinned. She could feel the cum drying in her hair. Her asshole still hurt. "I sure do," she said.
"Then start working, baby girl. I gotta get off."
Lacey leaned forward and gently explored Barbi's cleft with her tongue. It tasted almost sweet and was already wet enough to soak her lips and chin. Barbi sighed a small sigh and spread her legs a little. Not one for shyness, she grabbed the back of Lacey's head and pulled her in closer.
"Get up in there, baby doll."
Lacey's face was now mashed up against Barbi's vulva, her outer lips ankara esmer escortlar and inner lips, and her tongue was up in Barbi's needy hole. Lacey had reason to be grateful for Barbi's neat grooming of her nether parts.
It occurred to her, not for the first time, that all the women she knew were so much more presentable -- so much better groomed and clothed and mannered -- than any guy in this biker gang could possibly ever bother to be. And too, that was the nature of things. Men had to do man things. And women, well, women had woman things to do.
Barbi was now rocking her hips on Lacey's face, and Lacey managed to move north a bit to lap at Barbi's clit, which was unsurprisingly large. Barbi shuddered and gripped Lacey's head even tighter. Barbi was a woman who knew exactly how to get what she wanted.
Lacey gave up trying to apply any artful licking and sucking, and just let Barbi use her face as something to fuck. Barbi was grunting in rhythm now, her legs shivering as she found her climax.
"Jesus, FUCK!" Barbi yelled. "Fucking get it!"
Barbi's legs wobbled as she started cumming and Lacey wrapped her arms around Barbi's legs to keep her from falling. Barbi slumped over Lacey's head and shoulders, her pussy grinding on Lacey's face. She pushed up once, again and then again, and stopped squirming.
"Oh my," Barbi said, when she had stopped shivering. "That! Was just what I needed." She released her grip on Lacey's head and stepped back. "Whew! You give good head, baby girl."
"Thank you, Barbi."
"Holy crap." Barbi hobbled backwards on one heel and fumbled at the empty leg of her pants. She leaned on Lacey's shoulder and started to get her leg into it. "You know, the guys are kinda protective of their chicks, but they mostly turn a blind eye to girl-on-girl stuff."
"Well, I'm not really anyone's girl yet," Lacey said. "I mean, I'm with Paul, but I guess everyone still has to vote."
Barbi was stepping into her big heel. "Keep me in mind, baby. I'll fuck you any day."
Lacey grinned shyly. "Thank you, Barbi. That's very flattering. Wish me luck."
Barbi had her shoe on. "Hang in there, bitch. I got a feeling, good things are gonna happen."
Barbi wasn't even her friend, although Lacey appreciated her kindness. Barbi was kind of a den mother to all the younger girls. Cardi and Vanessa and Twilight were Lacey's friends. She watched Barbi clack away on her heels, back to the party upstairs.
After Barbi, there was a little skinny guy called Cleveland, one of tech-geek newbies the guys had brought in to do hacking, security breaches, and maybe or maybe not crypto/NFT stuff. Cleveland turned out to be one of those boring guys, a picture collector. Every girl gets these, Lacey thought, and she'd certainly had her share.
Cleveland was fucking her face with his smallish cock, and Lacey did her best to look sexy in Cleveland's phone. Big wide eyes, mouth looking sloppy and goofy, filled with cock. Where would this video end up, she wondered. Everywhere probably. When Cleveland finally blew his load, Lacey knew the drill. After Cleveland's cock fell out of her mouth, she opened her mouth wide, showing the little oyster of cum in her mouth. She moved it around in her mouth, watching herself in the phone. Another load down the hatch. She swallowed.
"Thank you, Cleveland," she said into his phone.
Her next visitor was so surprising, Lacey almost gasped aloud. It was Red, Perverse Fate gang leader, boss of the chapter for almost a dozen years. She'd met Red before -- she wouldn't be in this filthy bathroom if she hadn't -- but his appearances were increasingly rare. He was in his 60s and it was known among all the girls that Red was impotent since a bout of prostate cancer three years before. He looked gray and wiry and tired in faded denims and pants cinched with a rope around his narrow waist.
"Hi, Red," she said.
"Hi, Lacey."
Lacey was shocked and pleased that Red even remembered her name. Although maybe somebody upstairs told him before he came down here.
"How you doin'?"
"I'm doing great!" she said, leaning into the enthusiasm. Red was on the way down, but nothing -- no job, no road trip, no grift, no payday -- got done without his say-so. Her Paul -- Fredo -- was about sixteen levels below Red in the pecking order. "Just here to help," she added coyly.
"Yeah," he said wearily. He walked up to her and matter-of-factly took his zipper down. "You're a scout."
A scout? What did that mean? She hoped to god she wasn't supposed to suck his cock. What if he didn't get hard? How could he get hard? What if he got mad? For the first time all night, she felt the prize slipping away from her.
Red was fumbling his cock out of his pants. It looked depressingly small. An old man's cock.
"Oh my," Lacey said. "So nice." She winced inwardly. She sounded like an idiot.
"Be quiet," Red said gently.
Lacey set her knees on the cold tiles and leaned into the flaccid little sincan grup yapan escortlar thing. This was the hill she was going to die on, she thought. But Red set the palm of his hand on her forehead, staying her approach.
Okay, she thought, now what?
They stayed like that, motionless, for a minute, two minutes. And then, a miracle. Red began to piss on her face. A tiny, halting stream at first, then stronger. Lacey eagerly opened her mouth and began to drink as much of it as she could get down. Gulping, drinking, gulping, drinking again. It was unbelievably bitter and rank. An old man's piss.
After another minute or so, Red was finished. He zipped up.
Lacey wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Thank you so much, Red," she said.
Red was retying the rope around his waist.
"I mean, it was an honor."
"Yeah, yeah," he said absently, already moving toward the door. "Enough, honey."
She watched the door close behind him, and she was alone again. Alone with her doubts and fears in this shitty go-go bar bathroom. She realized that she had never really doubted her ability to get this job done. Never doubted that she would be voted in to the only organization she had ever wanted to belong to. And now, suddenly, everything seemed sketchy. Everything seemed wrong.
Was Paul the problem? Hatch hated him. Was that enough for her to get black-balled? Lacey thought of the stupid whores upstairs, selling blowjobs for pocket change. Was that her future? Was Red coming down to piss on her face a message to her?
Bleak thoughts gathered in her mind, and then the bathroom door slammed off the cinderblocks again. Standing in the doorway was a big, bluff, happy-looking guy in -- she could hardly believe it -- tan chinos and a polo shirt. Like a happy husband shopping for grass seed in a Home Depot. Was this some kind of joke? Was this the guy they sent to tell you that you were out?
"Hey, baby!" the guy said. He was tall, six feet or so, and absurdly handsome. Big shock of blond hair, blue eyes, gym fit and lean. Like the bad guy from the entitled fraternity in a raunchy movie comedy.
"Who are you?" She had absolutely no idea who this guy was.
"Tommy," he said, as if that explained anything. He was kicking his shoes off. Burgundy loafers. It was beyond belief.
"I don't think I've seen you around." There were no rules for Audition Night, it could be anything -- she thought for a second about Barbi's experience and felt a chill -- but this seemed unprecedented. Some unaffiliated guy, some civilian, wandering down here, apparently with permission.
Loafers tossed onto the tiles, Tommy was working on his pants. "Nope, I guess not."
"Huh." Well, it wasn't hers to question the boys upstairs. Saying a silent prayer, she grabbed her hair and twisted it up in her hands, wringing some of Red's piss out of it. "Hi, Tommy."
"Hi, yourself."
He didn't seem like some kind of weirdo on assignment. She could only hope for the best. And then Tommy lowered his pants.
"Oh, holy shit."
Tommy grinned at her. "What?" he said. Although he clearly knew what.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Tommy's cock, well, there had to be a different, more prodigious word for it. It was a foot long, easy. Just a big swinging log with obscene looking veins and a big dumb head. Not a plum, more like a peach. How did he even walk around with that thing?
"Can I ask you a question?" she said.
"Sure," he said, still grinning.
"Are you related to Rusty?"
He looked surprised. "How'd you know?"
Lacey laughed out loud. "Lucky guess."
"I'm his big brother. You wanna fuck?"
"You sure are." She walked toward him until the handcuff chain went taut behind her. "And I sure do."
Tommy came toward her and hoisted her up like she was a small package he found on his doorstep. He walked her to a spot on the wall between the toilet and the sink. He braced her back up against the tiles. She could feel his cock -- bludgeon, she thought, would be a good word for it -- lying along her leg.
"Are you gonna be gentle?" she said.
"No."
"Okay, good," she whispered in his ear.
Supporting her weight easily with one arm, he reached down and aligned his cock with her under-utilized and greedy pussy. The feel of the head of his cock nestled at the entrance to her hole felt like a fist. A big fist. She was still leaking Clem's cum from her asshole. It was amazing how different men could be, she thought.
Which was almost her last coherent thought for the time being. Tommy plunged his enormous member into her and she saw stars, as they say.
"Pwuh!" she said, or something like it.
It was like being impaled on a telephone pole, and she knew he wasn't even all the way in. He bounced her lightly once, twice, three times on the length and girth of his cock, like he was tossing a ball gently in the air. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave the fuck up. Sometimes there's nothing you can do but hang on, she thought.
She was aware that she was slobbering on his neck, aware that she was being filled to the point where her guts must have been politely rearranging themselves around this monster dick. And aware of something else. Something. A noise. Some noise, like the sea.