The following story is fiction. It involves sexually explicit erotic events between males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or live in an area where it is not allowed, don't read the story.
Email with you comments and suggestions to bertcarley@goldrush.com
Danny Boy - Part 12
Exactly three weeks and two days after my visit from Bart on his way to meet up with his biker buddies in Guerneville, I get a call from him. He and his three buddies had checked into a motel out on Lombard Street and they wanted me to drop bye so they could meet me.
"Yea sure, more like they want to gang bang me! Right?"
"Well baby! Nobody's perfect! Look, you come down here and meet them, we rented this motel room just to see you or we'll be over to see you! They would love that Jacuzzi, maybe even a quick game of 'steal the bacon,' with you as the bacon girl!"
"OK Bart, I'll be out there in about 20 minutes." As I pulled up next to their four Hogs, parked side by side, next to each other in front of unit 8, they all came out to welcome me. I felt like they individually undressed me with their eyes, big smiles on their faces like a pack of wild stallions approaching a mare in heat. They gathered around me commenting on how pretty I was. As for me, in all truth, these guys looked hot, Hot, HOT, all dressed in their leathers, sporting nice baskets under faded, worn 501's. There wasn't an ugly one among them. My libido was racing; excitement was instantly on the rise, all of them were hunks, beautiful masculine hunks.
Bart took me by the hand and led me into the motel room and the others followed at our heels. Bart had obviously told the guys he was in charge. He was giving orders to the others, as he was their drill sergeant. That only lasted until he stripped me of my garments. Then it was every man for himself. You ever see four aggressive dudes taking possession of a bitch. Well, that is exactly what happened the minute I was standing there in my birthday suit. The guys rushed me and began to lick and suck on me, four hungry mouths working me over from head to toe. They left me little breathing room. Bart was fondling one breast and sucking on the nipple. The other three rotated from breast and nipple to licking and sucking up and down over my torso, my thighs, and even my toes as they supported me on one leg. They eventually laid me across the bed with my legs in the air, spread my legs and went to town on the ultimate conquest. They had me humming, one on each nipple, one on the bottom and the other licking and sucking up and down my inner thighs.
I finally couldn't take it any more and begged them to give me some cock. They were very accommodating. Bart greased up his fingers and began to open me up while the others continued their assault. Bart put my lets up on his shoulders and fed his dick into me while one of his buddies lowered himself onto his knees, straddled my head and rubbed his dick and balls all over my face and lips. The aroma was very powerful, smelled like leather, stallion juice, and essence of man beast. It was a gloriously, pungent, damp, exciting aroma. It beckoned my tongue and lips to nibble and lick to my hearts content. As the member expanded it was determined to spread my lips and massage my tongue. "Down the hatch girl," was the only command that registered in my mind. My mouth opened wide and my throat relaxed, awaiting for the tonsil tickler to ascend and play its' tune on my vocal cord. While that monster played the 'Anvil Chorus' in the symphony hall, Bart was fixing to impregnate my bun hutch with his powerful man seed too.
Bart said, "Don't you be skeeting girl! Not until I say so! Junior here will finish you off; he likes to suck dick too!"
When Bart stiffened and dropped his load into me, my throat convulsed and it too filled with a like hot substance that trickled down my throat into my tummy to gestate. As Bart and his fuck buddy pulled from me, they replaced with two more candidates for the best fuck award. This foursome took total possession of my most treasured body parts for hours. By the time they were done pleasuring themselves with all my creases, crevices, and extensions, it was taking all my willpower to keep from blowing my boy pussy and spraying the area with pussy juice. Bart gave Junior the word, he put his mouth over my dick and in two strokes, I filled him with a warm mouthful of my skeet too. I was a limp noodle now, too wasted to give a damn what they did to me next. Junior came up, lowered his lips to mine and deposited my load into my mouth forcing me to chug it down the hatch.
Bart told the rest of the guys he was staying on for awhile in the city and would catch up with them back in Visalia later in the week. I looked at him funny, wondering where he would be staying. He caught my look of amazement, smiled and said. "You got room for me in that big glass palace in the sky girl, just one more man to keep serviced! You can work my services out with beer, pot and food girl! You know how much fun we always have together; it is just like old times! I'll keep you happy for a few days before I move on!" He sent the rest of his buddies roaring off to return to their Central Valley destinations.
"I don't think Blake, Joe or Kent are going to take with your hanging around Bart. They will make chopped liver out of you if they come home and find you messing with me. The only way you might be able to stay over is if I pass you off as my Cousin Bart, my mother's sister son. You will have to sleep on the daybed in the office at night when they are home, and you don't dare fool around with me in front of any of them. All three work every day, but take days off during the week when they can, so one or the other of them could show up during any weekday without notice. Can you do that Bart?"
"Hell yes girl! I'm a regular man of mystery! Anything it takes to get some more of that hot pussy of yours girl! Cousin Bart, sounds like a part I can play in your life. Cousin Bart it is girl! You got anymore of that fine grass we smoked last time I was here? Sure would like to get stoned with you and maybe play another game of 'Steal the Bacon' this afternoon."
"Yea, sure Cousin Bart! Blake has a friend that keeps us well supplied with grass and poppers. Another game of 'Steal the Bacon' with you sounds like fun. This time, I may let you win!" I laughed and told him to follow me on the bike and he could park it in the parking garage. When we entered the condominium Bart went right for the refrigerator and took out two beers. He popped the lid on both, passed one to me. He chugged his down in five seconds. He returned to the refrigerator, grabbed two more and repeated the process until he had four of them down him and I had three. He stripped his clothing off, made his way to the Jacuzzi, hopped in, reached for the shelf and retrieved the metal container. He pulled a joint out, lit it and took a deep drag, motioning me to join him. The afternoon was off to a good start already. You don't suppose we got stoned. Never would we have sex in the Jacuzzi, now would we? Then a bit of sun bathing on the Astro-turf in the afternoon sun in the nude, before we retired to the bedroom with two more joints to devour. I knew I had to get dinner started, but we were both having too much fun to consider stopping what we were doing. I decided we would call out for pizza tonight.
When the guys got home, I introduced them to Cousin Bart and they seemed comfortable with his existence, not even questioning my truthfulness. Oh what a sly plot of deceit Cousin Bart and I had planned. I just hoped it would not backfire on us before he decided to move on to meet his buddies in Visalia. The second day, we got stoned, then rode around the city on his Hog looking at all the sites. He was a pistol, had smoked dope for so many years that he could manage that big bike totally stoned, even with me rubbing his dick and nipping on his neck. We had the time of our life riding around town on that big Butch Harley. Bart smelled so good; I just clung to him and inhaled his scent. We stopped by and grabbed some to go Chinese before we returned home.
Good old Cousin Bart and I had the time of our life together for damn near two weeks before he decided to take off for Visalia. I begged him not to leave yet, but he said he and his buddies were going to go to Las Vegas, then on to El Paso, Texas. I felt like I would be loosing something very important to me when he was gone, and my days became doldrums and boredom again. I called the guys in Oakland and told them I was going on a vacation with Cousin Bart to Vegas, then on to El Paso for a two or three weeks. Blake wasn't too happy about the sudden announcement, especially since I was going so far, but finally agreed that I could go. I changed the message on the answering machine so Timothy O'Hara would know I had going for a three-week vacation when he called. Bart and I packed up the van and I followed him to Visalia. He was as excited to have me along as I was to go. Of course, he insisted I bring all the pot we had in the house and my credit cards. It was a long ride for Bart on the bike in the hot sun to Visalia. Twice he stopped at roadside rest areas and crawled in the air-conditioned van with me, drank a few beers, smoked a joint or two and fucked my sweet ass. Then we would get back on the road. We finally reach Visalia, a trip that normally would take about three hours in about six hours. Even hot and tired, the guy was fun. He never complained about anything and always gave me more than enough dick to keep me begging for more. He was a wonderful traveling companion. He seemed to have friends everywhere that he went. He pulled up in front of a house three miles east of Visalia on the Keweah River. His three friends were already there, along with another buddy that owned the place. We all gathered around the kitchen and ate tacos his Native Indian wife prepared. Three little half- Cherokee children filled our evening with fun and laughter. The guys drank tequila and downing Peyote Buttons to get high. They lay around telling stories, spaced out of their minds. I passed on the Peyote, not quite ready for the head trip stuff. I smoked a couple of joints instead. That night all four guys wiped out on the Buttons that I had to carry Bart into the van to molest him. The other three lay in the warm night air the entire night dreaming whatever biker's dream.
After coffee the next morning, we all started for Vegas. It took us two days to get there also. The blazing sun slowed our progress considerably. They stopped at every wishing well bar along the way, sucking up suds, shaking old friends hands. They had made this trip so often, they knew every tavern owner along the way personally, most bikers too. We made Barstow the first day. Stayed again with friends that lived just west of Barstow in a little town called Lenwood. The next day we made it into Las Vegas, Nevada then south to a little town of Henderson and stayed with more friends. They ended up avoiding the major cities when possible; always staying with friends in small, out of the way little towns along the route through Arizona, New Mexico, and South/Western Texas. We ended up in a little town called Clint, just south of El Paso, Texas and stayed there with more friends awaiting a big biker event scheduled in El Paso the following week. The three guys managed to pick up female companions along the way to share their sleeping bags to take the heat off me for satisfying their demanding taste for rough sex. I got enough of that from good old Bart to keep me well oiled. He had an insatiable lust for kinky sex. He was my kind of man, always putting me through some new kink he had dreamed up or heard about from other bikers.
Everything went along quite smoothly until one night Bart went out drinking with his buddies and came back to the van that night with the young kid name Kyle, that was 12 years old. He fucked that poor virgin boy most the night, his hands tied and his mouth covered with duck tape. I then realized that Bart was a pedophile, as well as his buddies. They passed that poor kid back and forth all night long. He was just a pre-adolescent, hairless, and definitely an unwilling recipient of their kinky sex. I tried to intervene, but they were all stoned and turned on me and beat the hell out of me then continued their games with the kid. The next morning, when they were off somewhere doing their thing, I gathered Kyle, and we headed for freedom from this wild bunch of renegades. Turned out the kid was a runaway. Wouldn't tell me what his last name, where he was from, or anything about himself. I threatened him with returning him to Bart and the guys, but he still would not tell me anything. It was almost as if they had traumatized him enough that he lost all will to fight them anymore. Over two nights and three days, they had turned the little guy into a whore for their pleasure and he had no idea what he wanted for himself. He was even going for my dick when I pulled off the side of the road and tried to talk some sense into him. I could see, he was too far-gone, had obviously been subjected to this type of treatment for some time to survive on his own. He had accepted what they did to him, and wanted to return rather than go on with me to return to a normal life of some kind. I decided it was useless trying to help Kyle escape this lifestyle.
I returned to Clint before the sunset in the west that afternoon, telling the guys we just took a ride around the area and along the Rio Grande River. That night he almost looked forward to tied up, gagged, and molested by all of them. I watched his little hairless pecker rise to the occasion, proof that he had learned to enjoy their games every night. After a few days they passed the kid on to a couple of their friends and I saw him no more. However, they showed up back at the house in Clint with three more young kids that they had traded some of their Peyote Buttons. Teddy, the youngest was 8, then Dominick at 10 and Pedro at 12. They were brothers, cute little Indian boys off the Indian Reservation. I didn't even want to know what they did to them that night, but I heard their screams from the van. The next morning I packed up and drove off headed for home. I realized these guys came to El Paso frequently, knowing they could pick up all the poor little kids from the reservation they wanted and never have to fear prosecution as pedophiles. On the long trip home, I promised myself I would not longer welcome Bart into my home and would certainly tell my dad Albert about what I had learned of Bart on this trip.
Let me know you are enjoying this series and I will continue. Otherwise, bye bye guys! bertcarley@goldrush.com