During the symposium the next day I was distracted by thoughts of Joan. I kept revisiting how exciting it was to have this strange, naked woman on my bed, how silky her pussy felt around my condom covered erection, the excitement of her quivering orgasms, the high when I came, the low of post ejaculation and the satisfaction of lying beside her for that short period. Then, there was the story she was telling me. Would she really be there tonight? Would I hear the rest of the story that held such promise? Would we again be naked in bed, my cock sliding in her pussy, tasting her, having her lips around my cock? Would I cum in her mouth? Truth be told, I didn’t get much out of the symposium that day.

I went to Snuffy’s at eight. When I walked through the door Snuffy greeted me. With a smirk and a jerk of his head he indicated that she was in the same booth as last night; apparently it was something he was accustomed to. I slid in beside her, put my arm over her shoulders and pulled her close.

Leaning her head against my shoulder she said, “You really got me going last night Peter.” Her laugh indicated surprise and enjoyment. “It was really just a quickie. But I came like I hadn’t come in a long time.” She became quiet, seemed deep in thought. Her hand moved to the top of my thigh, rubbing it absently. Just as absently she said, “Maybe you’re just a little classier than what I’m used to.”

‘”There’s nothing special about me,” I said. Her body language encouraged me to think otherwise. Changing the subject I asked, “Are you and your husband still pissed off at one another?”

“I was pissed at him. He can be such an asshole sometimes.” She turned her head and riveted my eyes. Shaking her head she revealed, “You got me so turned on last night Peter that I attacked him.” She giggled. “Maybe it was the way you got me going but I thought he was actually good. We must have sucked and fucked for two solid hours. Then, I went to sleep and dreamed about the four days with the motorcycle gang; Ha-ha.”

“What?”

“Dreams are weird; you were there.”

I took it as my cue to ask a question. I didn’t want to. I wanted to take her back to my hotel right then and see how long we could suck and fuck. But, last night, the story (at least as much as I heard) had me riveted—until we took a sex break of our own. “So they took you and your sister to their clubhouse; then what?”

“The place was an old farmhouse,” she began. “But it was big—two stories.”

The front room was set up like a living room. There were two couches and two armchairs—all maroon leather. In the middle was a large coffee table strewn with biker and girlie magazines. I saw a porno magazine on top. Large tiffany lamps sat on four occasional tables at the end of the couches. As we walked into the next room Riff yelled for Bull to come see what they had brought for him. I was pissed that he referred to us as “something” rather than someone. It was like we were pieces of prime meat.

The next room was the original family dining room. It was larger than the living room and was converted into a bar. Oak wainscot, about 36″ high went all the way around the room. Above the wainscot the walls were painted maroon; there were all kinds of biker decorations on the walls. Like all these old houses the ceilings were really high. Two ceiling fans hanging from the ceiling whirled slowly. At the end of the room, between a stairway on the left and a door to the right, was a beat up oak bar. It came off the wall about six feet and was surrounded by eight oak swivel stools. Over the bar was the same Wrecker sign we saw at the Chopper. Under the sign was the same picture. On either side of the large picture was a 9×10 picture, Bull on the left, Riff on the right. The wall to the right of the bar was covered with framed, 9×10 pictures—maybe a hundred of them. The earliest ones (15 or so) were in black and white. The rest were in color. They were all head shots, mostly of attractive women. Some were kinda rough looking—the “durable types.” Judging by the hairstyles the pictures went back as far as the fifties. A large black sign with pink script lettering read, Tits and Clits.

Peter: When I laughed Joan asked why. I told her that in San Diego, where I was from there’s a women’s summer soft ball league. Some of the names are kinda funny, kinda suggestive. One is called Tits and Clits.

Joan: “Yes,” she laughed, “but I bet they weren’t as active as our tits and clits…Katie’s and mine and the hundred other girls whose pictures were on the wall. At the time though, I didn’t even think about theirs. Ours were the ones that were tingling and hurting.”

Through the door on the right a giant of a man, probably 6’7,” darkened the room. He was buttoning the top button of his Levis. Bare-chested, he wore boot socks. His Pecs looked almost like breasts, covered with a mat of hair. His rugged, handsome face sported a blonde walrus mustache. His damp blonde hair, hanging in a ponytail, betrayed casino siteleri his recent shower.

“Well, well, well” he chortled, “look what my boys have brought in.” In total body scrutiny his eyes ogled the two women. To Joan he said, “Sisters?”

With a shy smirk she said, “Yes,” daring to return his gaze with a deep stare of her own.

“Even better,” he mused. “By the way bitch, I like your attitude.” Then, recognizing the obvious fear on Katie’s face he said, “You and your sister have nothing to worry about here. We’re not like the Hells Angels; we’re not animals. We’re civilized Hogs. What’s your name, Hon?”

She started to answer but Riff cut in, “This here’s Joanie-J, and her sister’s K-K Katie.”

Holding up his hand, Bull ignored Riff. “I apologize for my friend’s enthusiastic response, honey. What’s your name?”

Ordinarily she would have been irritated being called honey by a stranger. But every man in Texas called women honey or sweetie or darlin. “I’m Joan. This is my sister Katie.”

Spreading both arms he said, “Are these ladies prisoners or something?” Looking around the room he put his hands on his hips. “Let go of their arms for Christ’s sake. We’re supposed to be welcoming our guests, not terrorizing them.”

As Riff’s hand released her bicep Joan’s angst eased. Bull, though such an imposing man, made her feel welcome. He seemed a gentleman. She shuddered as she felt a warm coating of mucous lubricated her labia.

Through a roguish smile Bull said, “Welcome to the Junkyard ladies. “Would you like a drink?”

Joan answered, “We were drinking Shiners at The Chopper.”

“We’ve got it on tap even.” Bull walked behind the bar, opened the refrigerator and took out two frosted glasses, drawing each one with a perfect head. He set them on the bar then drew another for himself. With a smile he nodded at the glasses, indicating for them to pick them up. Lifting his own he toasted, “It’s such a pleasure to be in the presence of such beauty.” He held his glass high for them to touch. The women touched theirs to his. “Welcome to the Wreckers.”

After sipping his beer he set his glass on the bar (the girls held on to theirs). He turned, opened the fridge and took out enough glasses for everybody else, filling them as each of the Wreckers, from Riff to Needle Dick, took their glass. When he was finished he lifted his glass and said, “Thanks for taking good care of these ladies boys.” To the women he said, “I assume they treated you okay.” He shook his head and said, “I don’t like physicality or crudeness,” to which there were smirks from most of the Wreckers.

Peter: “Did you think it was part of the initiation?”

Joan: “I remember looking at Katie. We were both relieved. We had gone through their silly ritual and thought we would be going back to The Chopper soon. Bull told Needle Dick to get the camera, which he did. He took pictures with Katie and Me standing on either side of Bull. Then, he took a couple of each of us for the wall. ‘You’ll each get a copy,’ Bull said to us. ‘About the names,’ he said in a soothing voice, ‘We never give nicknames to our uh…auxiliary,’ looking up at the wall to his left ‘…until we conduct an initiation.’ He smiled, looking first at me then Katie, then back at me. ‘Personally, I think the boys have done a great job with their suggestions: Joanie-J and K-K -Katie. Actually there are two more Joanie’s, so we have to differentiate.’ With a stern countenance he looked at me then Katie. ‘There’s a Kate, a Kat and a Kathy.’ He looked at us again, shaking his head. ‘But, the only way those monikers can be your Wreckers names is for you to go through the initiation.’ “

With the beers and the toasts we thought we were home free. But the “initiation” seemed to be taking on a different life. He didn’t push anything though, just talked with us asking about our lives, where we lived, where we grew up, what our families were like. Did I have children? Was I happily married? Did Katie have any prospects? It was like meeting someone in a bar. With the beers we had at The Chopper, coupled with the ones we just finished, we were quite mellow. He pulled us both another beer.

After drinking about a quarter of the beer in the glass I began to feel a woozy. I heard Bull say, “Something wrong, sweetie?” I shook my head to clear my thoughts… told him I didn’t think so, that maybe I had too many beers. Feeling dizzy I put my hands flat on the bar to steady myself; I remember that. And, I remembered saying, “I think these Shiners are stronger than the beer I drink at home.”

I remember Bull saying, “Ya know what I think, Joanie-J? I think it’s because you had those powerful bikes between your legs, sittin behind these studs…”

When I looked at Katie the alarm went off. Her head was laying on her crossed arms on the bar.

The next thing Joan knew she was laying on a big round water bed. She remembered a black ceiling fan going round and canlı casino round. “It made me feel like my face was following it… round and round. Bull was standing with his back to me. He was straddling my left leg, pulling on my cowboy boot.”

“Put your foot on my ass and push Joanie,” he said. She felt like she was suspended in a fog. “Do it baby,” he commanded. She pushed on his ass and he worked my boot off. He did the same thing with the right boot.

Peter: “I asked her if she realized she had been drugged.”

Joan: “I didn’t realize anything. I just felt like I was floating on a cloud. Bull looked like this incredible fucking giant. To me it was all part of a foggy dream.”

Peter: “Did you wonder where your sister was?”

Joan: “I didn’t even think about her. I found out later that she was upstairs with Riff, undergoing the same ritual, so to speak. I had no idea how long my “initiation” was going to last.”

Bull turned around and leaned down. He peeled her jeans under her butt and off her legs. “Raise up, baby,” he said. She lifted her ass off the bed and he stripped off her panties. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Give me your hands Joanie.”

She complied and he pulled her to a sitting position; her body was limp. She slumped as he pulled up her lime green sleeveless top. “Raise you arms, sweetie.” She lifted her arms, he shucked her top. Reaching behind her back he unhooked her bra, her breasts giving way to gravity. “Lay back,” he commanded. Her back plopped on the floating waterbed.

Joan: “I felt like I was drifting on a gently rolling sea.”

He told her to put her feet on the edge of the bed. Bending her knees she put her heels on the board that held the waterbed in place. “Spread you legs darlin.” She spread her legs. His eyes captured the vista, the contour of her lips, her neatly trimmed mound, up to her breasts, to her face then back between her legs, which caused a tiny whistle.”Open your pussy for me.”

Putting her fingers on her pussy lips she opened herself to him. “Tits and clits,” he whispered, “They’re all so fucking beautiful…and each one different.”

Peter: “And you didn’t feel threatened at all?”

Joan: “Not in the least, I was in this incredible miasma. It was like I was in a cocoon. The world was beautiful. Not since I was a little girl exploring myself had I ever spread my pussy like that. When he said how beautiful I was I felt like a princess, wanted to preen in front of a mirror. For the first time I felt proud of my parts, something, as a Catholic, I had been brought up to consider the burden of original sin.”

Peter: “Did you have any idea that Bull was going to rape you?”

Joan: “Rape me?” she laughed, “At that point I was just hoping he would fuck me. He leaned down and kissed me. I was amazed that a guy who looked so rough could kiss so sensuously. His soft lips on mine made my body glow from the inside out. I opened my mouth before he even attempted to probe. Thinking back, until I felt his in my mouth I never considered, at least consciously, about how amazing another person’s tongue felt. Its top was like soft velvet. Underneath, it was slick like… like…the only way I can describe it is the way my pussy lips feel to my fingers when I masturbate.”

He straightened up and worked the metal button of his Levis through the buttonhole. Casually, he unzipped them and pushed them down, stepping out. There was an incredible bulge in his boxers, a bulge so large that Joan thought she was hallucinating. Standing in front her completely naked with his log of a cock protruding so imposingly she remembered the picture of him that she saw at The Chopper, the bulge in his jeans where his leathers were cut to a triangle, exposing the bulging fabric beneath.

Joan: “Even in the condition I was in I wondered ‘how the hell was he going to get that huge thing inside me?’ He wasn’t even hard yet, which made it even more awesome. His humungous organ was arcing like a giant salami, pumping up and down to the beat of his heart, each time going a little higher and getting a little straighter…and fatter. He told me, ‘Get down on your knees, Hun …facing me.’ He said it so forcefully that I complied immediately. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know why he was boss of the Wreckers; he was a natural leader. The only problem I had was his, did I say cock? It was more like one of those souvenir baseball bats, only it wasn’t tapered at the bottom. And his head…his head was purple and shiny, like a giant plum. His balls hung down like a sack of potatoes. No wonder he was called Bull. I remember thinking, ‘how can I do anything with that monster?’”

Peter: “So, I guess size does matter.”

Joan: “I was on all fours on the waterbed; I wasn’t accustomed to the instability of the mattress and almost fell over. Grabbing the wooden bed frame edge to keep from falling, my face was sticking out past the edge of the bed. Bull’s monster cock was almost touching kaçak casino my nose. I remember how huge his slit was, and the crystal bead that was filling it. It was unbelievable. Does size matter? Jesus, it sure as hell mattered that night.”

“Kiss it baby,” he said with so much charm that she not only kissed it, but loved kissing it.

Sucking cock was nothing new to Joan; her husband’s had been in her mouth hundreds of times…all of it. The problem she had with Bull’s was that his head alone looked like it was too big for her mouth. Tentatively she gingerly touched the precum in his slit, an amount she couldn’t even imagined in her husband’s.

“Come on baby,” he said as he put his hand on the back of her head, gently encouraging her forward, “open up; it’s fit in everyone else’s mouth. You’ll do fine.”

His eyes hypnotized her. Opening her lips she licked them and slid her mouth over his head. She couldn’t believe how big it was. But he was right; even though she felt like her mouth was stretching she got him inside. Pulling her head to him he slid his incredible bulk over her tongue, until his plum-like head touched the back of her throat. Most of his cock was still outside. When she gagged he pulled back to allow her to breathe.

“This is for me Joanie-J,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’m just gonna fuck your mouth for a bit and cum, ok?” With his cock plugging her mouth she looked pleadingly into his eyes and nodded yes. Slow and easy he moved back and forth in her mouth. The shock passed and she was enjoying the way his warm flesh felt as it slid over her tongue, gently bumping her soft pallet. Making a trough with her tongue she created a cradle for it to slide on, then moved her tongue forward and back to increase his pleasure.

“That’s it baby,” he soothed, “yesss, that’s good, baby, very good. You’re such a sweetie.” With his left hand he caressed her head, combing her hair with his fingers. With his right he fondled her cheek, her neck and under her chin. All the while, as he held her eyes with his, smiling and sighing his approval, he gently fucked her mouth.

Joan: “I felt the strong pulse of his heart beating in the mouthful of his penis. His nostrils flared as he grew more excited. His lips formed an oval and whispered, ‘yes, yes, yes.’ With my head sandwiched between his hands he started pumping faster.”

“I’m almost there Joanie,” he seethed between clenched teeth, “yes, I’m almost there.” His body tensed. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth honey, k?” She wiggled her head, yes, as if she really wanted it.

Joan: “The truth is, I really wanted it.”

His hand was wrapped around the part of his rod that wasn’t in her mouth; that part was still longer than her husband’s full cock. He started jacking, his body jiggling and tensing as his softly bagged, hanging walnuts brushed and bounced on Joan’s chin. As he went completely stiff, like he was in a trance, she felt his cum forcing its way in gouts through his cum canal, afraid she would choke on what was coming. What emptied into her mouth was beyond belief. It was warm and thick—a cum chug-a-lug—like he broke two Grade-A large eggs and dropped them into her mouth.

As she gulped his huge string of sperm Bull cried out, “Jesus, Joanie, Jee-zuss!” His cock recoiled again, cramped and let go another flood. “Holy shit, baby!” Three more times his massive penis flexed, each time diminishing. His cock softened. Even in its softening state though, it was more male organ than she had ever had in her mouth. Flopping on his back, making the water in the mattress surge, he threw his left arm across Joan’s back and hooked his fingers on her side, pulling her crosswise on his torso. Putting his hands under her arms he encouraged her to straighten on his body until she lay on his huge frame, feeling the cum-wetness of his soft, bunching cock. He pulled her too him.

Joan: “I sucked my husband’s cock—even before we got married—but I never really enjoyed it. Ever since Bull though I love it…can’t seem to get enough. I wanted to suck yours so bad last night but I just didn’t have time. I needed your cock inside me more.” Chuckling, “I made up for it with my husband’s though. He loved it.”

Peter: She’d been patting and rubbing the top of my leg. Her hand pressed against my cock, which was hard and sticking straight up. Her fingers circled it through the fabric of my pants and started a slow stroking. She smiled at me and I smiled, rolling gently in my seat. I was thankful for the long tablecloth that hid our actions.

“You’ve got great tits, Joanie-J,” Bull said as he hugged her body to him. “I love how they flatten on my chest.” His hairy curls tickled her nipples. His full mustache tickled between her nose and lip. Again, she was surprised at how sensually he kissed.

“It’s exciting kink Joanie,” he said, “to be kissing you after I came in your mouth. I love the taste of it on your lips, the smell of it on your breath. And, it always amazes me how much softer a woman’s lips are after they have sucked my cock.”

Searching her eyes he smiled and said, “I have a compliment for you, sweetie pie; you undoubtedly have given me one of the finest blowjobs I’ve ever had.”

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