Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(51)

I stroked the hot, dry cock with an overhand motion, worshiping at the shrine of his sex. The beautiful mushroom head was glossy with heat, and just like he had, I used the droplet of pre-come at the slit to massage and caress the glans. “Please keep me safe, my big, omnipotent Zane.” And before he could say a word, I plunged his dick down my throat.

I had never been hungrier for cock. I took him so by surprise I wound up shoving him back against the deck rail. As I suckled at the giant, throbbing limb, the glans nearly choking me when it banged up against my tonsils, I whipped out another of Maddy’s little tricks. The simple pair of cuffs wound easily with Velcro closures around one of his wrists. I didn’t even need to see behind him to bind him to the vertical rails, just threaded the tough black fabric through the wooden posts until I was sure he couldn’t escape. Then I cuffed his other wrist.

He allowed me to do this willingly, maybe overwhelmed with my deep-throating technique. My throat had been stretched by constant blowjobs for Roscoe, although his wang wasn’t nearly as long or thick as Sax’s. I remembered the hypnotic technique Roscoe had taught me, the blind concentration required to loosen your throat muscles. Inch by inch I took that monster down my throat, and now I could hear the hikers mumbling to themselves.

“What a stud,” said one of the girls.

“I’d ball him in a heartbeat,” said the other.

“I would too,” said a guy. “Wish I had a muscular ass like that.”

“You’re so bi,” said the other guy.

The original guy with the blue plaid shirt said, “Like you wouldn’t take it up the ass from him?”

Red shirt said, “As if I could. He’s too hung.”

Girl said, “Hung like a racehorse.”

In your f*cking dreams, I felt like saying. But the idea we were being avidly watched was bringing out the best in me. Sax’s prick strained against the roof of my mouth, the flat of my tongue as I caressed his bare ass for the benefit of the voyeurs. I squeezed the muscular globes in the palms of my hands, showing them that even my big man hands couldn’t contain such juicy flesh. I pistoned my head up and down on the large dick, allowing the horny potheads to see the length of his dong as it plunged once again down my throat. I wanted to leave them panting, crazy with desire and jealousy, ready to go at it like wild animals—somewhere other than here.

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe the illicit thrill of having the horny quartet for an audience came over me, pushed me to my greatest heights of boldness yet. But I started slapping Sax’s ass.

Yes, slapping him, just as he’d done to me. The f*cking nerve!

Where did I get such nerve? But every time I spanked the bare ass his entire body would twitch. When he protested against his bonds, when he strained his arms to test the strength of the polyester ribbons, I looked up at his bulging pecs. He only wore a wifebeater under his cut, and his nipples poked out like stones. He tossed his head back like a caged lion, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed his moans. Such a giant wave of oxytocin rolled through my system, I could have easily mounted him on the deck railing, assaulting him with my overflow of female hormones. The hikers would have liked that, living vicariously through me, but I wanted to gulp his seed. I wanted the chance to watch him squirming, bound, helpless under my mouth and hands. I wanted him to go off like a cannon in my mouth because he enjoyed being helpless and it was turning him on being viewed this way.

“Oh, man, look at her suck. She’s done this a thousand times before,” said Red Shirt.

Blue Shirt said, “Sure wish that was my dick going down that pretty throat.”

“I’d like to bite that ass,” said Blue Girl. “Hell, I’d like to lick it. Who is this giant stud who lives here?”

Red Girl read the back of Sax’s cut. “The Bare Bones motorcycle club. Flagstaff.”

Blue Girl sighed. “How macho can you get? A biker with a dick like my fist. I wonder if he’s an outlaw.”

Now Sax’s entire body was shuddering so mightily, like a pressure cooker about to blow. I was proud I was able to get him off using just the power of my throat muscles, the lapping steadiness of my tongue. The sharp sting of my spankings might have added to his arousal, too. But I could feel it against the tip of my tongue, the pulsating of the channel that ran the underside of the cock. The urgency of the pulsing and the tremor running up the front of his powerful thighs urged me on, and before I knew it he was blasting my soft palate with his hot, sweet seed.

“Ah! God!” he groaned, as he let loose jet after jet into my greedy throat. Even his hand gripping the back of my skull trembled as I drained him. I was so damned proud of myself, I was just fit to burst as I struggled to gulp each mouthful of delicious jism. If a woman can make a man come with her mouth, she’s absolutely got him in the palm of her hand.

“Ah! Enough!” Now he pressed my forehead with his palm. I knew the feeling. One can only come so much before the intensity of flesh against flesh is like nails on a chalkboard.

I sat on my feet and looked up at the bound he-man. Now we were nearly back in our proper roles, me subservient, literally at his feet, him looming above me with a beautifully half-erect cock jutting from his bush.

“Bare Bones, eh?” called out Blue Shirt. “I wonder if they’ll let me join.”

Sax craned his neck to call out over his shoulder. “In your dreams, pal.” To me, he muttered, “Get the hell up here, sister.”