Chapter 10
Lash's homecoming was a gala event-down to the enchiladas and beans served by two Mexican girls who did the cooking" and cleaning at the raunchy motel-restaurant. The room, heavy with the smell of man-sweat and smoke, fairly rocked with bawdy laughter as the bikers sat at the red and white checkered oil cloth covered tables, grabbing for a leg or breast as the giggling swarthy faced girls bent over to refill their plates. Lash's father had tapped three kegs of beer, and for the third night in a row, everybody seemed hell-bent for another night of drunken lawlessness.
Ruth felt the beer shoot immediately to her head as she drank thirstily. She reminded herself that all her woes had begun precisely because she had in- dulged in alcohol once before, but nothing could degenerate from here. Besides, her body cried out for fluid after that buttock-aching ride and she reasoned, too, that whatever was going to happen would be easier if reality were blurred a bit. Then, too, this was her first real Mexican meal, except for an occasional taco at Somerville's fast food chain, and the beer helped cool down the burning in her mouth.
A distinct hum rattled in Ruth's head as she scraped back her chair and followed Pete and the others into an empty game room where the pool tables had been cleared from the floor. Excitement sparked through the air and everybody knew a party was sure to follow. A coin tinkled in the jukebox and the mood was set.
Everybody was either too full or too drunk to dance ... everybody except for the two Mexican girls in their ruffled skirts and thick black hair that rippled down over their off-the-shoulder blouses. The two girls walked briskly to the center of the room where the light was brightest and started twirling in time to the music, tapping their feet and snapping their fingers, shaking their shoulders and throwing back their heads. Obviously, both girls were very inebriated, though the one on the right seemed to be the aggressor-perhaps because she was older.
The smaller, younger girl was almost mature and the soft smooth lines of her body showed clearly through the brightly-colored peasant skirt and blouse she wore.
Squatting on the floor, Ruth forgot about the pain in her backside and her aching wrists and accepted a beer from Pete who made himself comfortable beside her. Communication today had amounted to a few gripes and groans and now Ruth wanted to talk.
"Are they professionals?" she wanted to know.
Pete threw back his head and roared. "I guess you might say that. Lash's old man is great on entertainment ... wait and see."
Ruth shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention back to the two women, both of whom were now dancing slowly in time to the music. The older girl led the younger one through a series of exact steps which she found difficult to follow, but struggled through as her partner smiled and winked at the audience of rowdy bikers, as if she shared a secret with them.
They twirled and whirled and the older girl stepped behind the lithe younger one and put her hands on her frail shoulders and began running her hands lasciviously over the young girl's body. The two of them danced together for a moment, their bodies pressed tightly together back to front, and then the older girl's hands traveled sensuously to the elastic of her partner's blouse and deliberately pulled it down over the girl's cherry tipped breasts.
A din of encouragements rose up from the roguish crowd of spectators, making the younger girl blush a little, but not protest.
Without taking his eyes from those brown mounds of flesh, Pete took a healthy swig of his beer and encouraged his captive to do the same, watching out of the corner of his eyes as she drank in tiny sips ... unconsciously as she watched, too.
Just keep drinking, thought Pete, knowing the Angels could turn Sunday mass into a drunken orgy. Some nights he enjoyed taking a girl by force, but he was weary after today's long ride and tonight he didn't want to get rough. Besides, he had certain sexual projects in mind that required cooperation. The beer would help and he knew from experience that her now well broken-in little cunt must have been stimulated by the long motorcycle ride.
Pete glared around the room, his eyes seeking out Lash who was stretched out on the floor, his head resting in Lila's lap while his fingers poked under the ragged edges of her cut-off denims. Hell, she's just a hunk of meat, thought Pete, fighting down the rage building in his veins as he watched the leader of the Angels finger his old lady's pussy. For a lightning second, their eyes locked and something akin to fear and guilt shadowed Lila's eyes as she realized she would be one dead body if Pete decided to reclaim her. But he didn't, and her fear faded to a teeth gnashing anger and she vowed to get even with the bitch who'd stolen her old man ... just when Pete was ready to take over the Angels. That would have made her number one momma.
As the blouse was pulled down to the girl's waist, the biker put his arm casually around Ruth's shoulders and pulled her close to him, his hand falling carelessly onto her right breast. To his surprise, she didn't pull away, as he had expected, but leaned back into his chest, as if they were old familiar lovers.
Fatigue etched its way into every sinew of Ruth's body and she let her head rest back into Pete's chest, her eyelids fluttering shut involuntarily. Even in her half-sleep, she could hear the unmistakable beginnings of an orgy. Shouts of encouragements to the dancing girls rang in her ears and when Ruth managed to peep open one amber eye it was to see the tall Mexican girl licking away at the tempting black vee of her partner's pubic mound. Ruth stiffened when with a quick, judo-like movement, the girl tipped the other backwards, flat on her back and then climbed over her in the classic '69' position.
This was female rape.' Ruth shrunk even closer to Pete, half-terrorized and half-fascinated by the barbaric scene. In all honesty, she had to admit to herself that the events of the day had stimulated her sexually and she could not ever recall having been so turned on.
Pete sensed that vulnerable condition and slipped his hand beneath the T-shirt she was wearing to caress her heavy, swollen breasts, smiling to himself as Ruth failed to resist.
Excitement from the rape taking place in the center of the room spread quickly and the bikers began reaching for the nearest woman. Socks and brassieres flew up in the air and bodies writhed and squirmed on the floor.
Almost forgotten in the confusion, the big Lesbian girl buried her face in the dark fluffy pubic hair of her partner and began sucking her naked cunt furiously, ignoring the pleading moans coming from the younger girl's mouth.
Steam of sexual lust rose from the floor of the game room like morning fog from a pond.
Ruth took one long last desperate swallow of beer, draining her mug in a futile attempt to deaden her feelings so that she would not be forced to face what she knew was coming. Naked bodies were scattered on the sexual battlefield and Pete, too, was clawing at his clothing, anxious to get started. Ruth was to participate in her first biker orgy.
Ruth rode the brink of despair ... and moral suicide. She did not want to end up like the cycle mommas with a tattoo on her buttocks, nor did she want to roar around California highways beating in campers' heads and masturbating herself on the back of a motorcycle. And God knew how many men she'd be loaned out to tonight.
All these things were repugnant to her ... yet they were inescapable.
They couldn't hold her prisoner forever. Someday, someway Pete would turn his back and she would be gone. That didn't worry her. What frightened her was that she might not want to escape! She remembered vividly how he had licked and fucked her into lewd submission the night before and how she had screamed with lust as the magic sensations had swept through her body. He was brutal, coarse, and uneducated, but he arose something undeniably wonderful in her. She was only human and she was rapidly learning what it meant to be a woman.
Already his hands were roaming over her body, undressing her and touching her in vulnerable places while her will to resist flowed out of her. True ... she was a captive, and that meant she had no choice. It was also true that she was one hundred percent inebriated. But the mere fact that she could cite these reasons meant she wasn't as weak or as drunk as she made excuses for being. Down deep inside the devil's mistress was plotting against herself for more humiliation, more shame.
The room spun like a top and Ruth seemed to be floating in a sea of flesh. The odor of sexually aroused bodies made her nostrils flare; shouts of laughter and screams of lust were all around, her and she discovered that she was now naked and lying before Pete, waiting. Out of the corner of one glazed eye, she saw two lusty bikers throwing the Lesbian girl off of the younger one-and then piling on top of her themselves, heavily throbbing cocks spearing wetly up into the thinly bearded little mouth of her cunt.
Pete was crawling over her and she waited with breathless anticipation for the weight of his body to come crushing down on top of her. But he kept coming toward her as her fogged mind drifted laxily like butterflies on a hot summer day, and she watched his strong erect cock seeming to grow bigger as it came closer.
What could she do but rest her spinning head on somebody's leg and wait for his hardness to storm into her open willing cunt like a train steaming into a tunnel?
But the grunting biker did not pause as he slid the hugeness of his cock up over the soft blonde hairs surrounding her pink-lipped cunt and the long hardened column scraped over her smooth flat stomach, tickling her unmercifully. He stopped as it encountered the softness of her breasts and, taking his cock in his hands, the rugged Hells Angel tormented each of her brown puffy nipples with the softly seeping head of his cock, exciting each of her soft tender buds into hardness.
Pete was conscious that some of his biker friends had stopped playing their own games to watch his progress. Everyone knew by now that he had fucked Ruth the night before and the gang was curious to see if he was going to brand her for his own. Even Lash looked up from the corner where he was plowing into Lila and glared jealously across the room at his rival.
This was Pete's chance to show the club who was the true conqueror of women. Lash was getting old and losing his vim and vigor and a club like the Angels needed a leader with true grit... somebody like Pete. Tonight was his test of strength, and he hoped that Ruth did not take it into her mind to start resisting him now. He had her clothing off without too much trouble and she seemed to be well on her way. Tonight he had to do something that would truly amaze the gang and he was inwardly afraid that she would react negatively when she understood what he had in mind.
Better get her a little, steamed up first, he told himself, and he reached behind him and slipped his hand gently into the rich blonde thatch of her warm pubic fleece, carefully spreading the pink fuzz-covered lips between her thighs and locating the tiny, moistly throbbing nub of her clitoris. As the biker's fingers touched her there, Ruth's body jumped as if she had been stung by a bee-but when his hand began skillfully caressing her naked pussy, all the muscles in her legs and buttocks started twitching and moving. Her hips began grinding into the hard floor.
Even through her closed eyes, Ruth could sense that she was the center of attention and that she and Pete were the sex act of the evening, despite the pitiful efforts of the Lesbian and her poor young partner. She wished now she had drunk more of the consciousness-destroying beer so that she could pass out completely and not be aware of what was happening to her.
Pete continued to inch forward, his legs on either side of her rib cage and his buttocks suspended over her flat white stomach. For a moment he toyed with the idea of laying his long throbbing penis between her two, heavily throbbing breasts and making a neat artificial cunt by pressing her tits together.
Tempting as that possibility was, it was only another form of masturbation and tonight called for something more. Drunken, unfocussed eyes watched him as he inched even higher on her supine body until his knees were placed on either side of her neck and his long purple-knobbed cock stuck out over her dimpled chin. His buttocks, hard and muscular from years astride a motorcycle, rested lightly on her breasts and he could feel her hard little berry nipples pressed nakedly against the hairy flesh beneath him as he hovered over her.
His heavily swinging balls, covered with a light fuzz, were laying comfortably against the underside of her chin. Preacher's daughters weren't known for blow-jobs, he reasoned, and he moved slowly, terribly cautious as to not break the spell she was under. Whether it was the beer which had induced this submission or whether eight hours on the back of a motorcycle had built up this reservoir of unsatisfied desire in her lush young body, he didn't care as long as she continued to lay quietly and slavishly under him.
He was about to press his cock-tip into her open lips when a movement in the corner of the room distracted him. It was the tall Mexican lesbian who had been sulking nakedly since the bikers had deprived her of her young prize a half-hour before. Now the big voluptuous swarthy girl, her face twisted in frustrated lust, was crawling across the room, climbing over couples who were still fucking, her fiendish homosexual eyes locked on Ruth's neglected pussy behind his buttocks.
Pete's first impulse was to kick her out of the way, but he quickly changed his mind. As long as she didn't get in his way, what the hell?
Licking her lips, the lesbian crawled up behind him, paying no attention to the laughter and jeers echoing throughout the game room. Squirming between Ruth's knees and pushing her legs gently apart, the big Mexican girl began lasciviously running her thick lips up and down the delicate white flesh on the insides of softly quivering thighs.
Like a preying hawk, Pete watched his captive's face, vowing that if she showed the slightest sign of displeasure, he would knock the lesbian across the room.
But Ruth had no idea what was causing these wonderful tickles goose-pebbling her legs and she moaned softly, letting it turn into a little cry of pleasure as the woman's lips found their way to her already hotly steaming cuntal lips. Then with a low-voiced grunt, the lesbian found what she was looking for and settled down to suck steadily and gently on Ruth's already over-excited genitals, sending electric spurts of pleasure up into the tormented girl's stomach.
Satisfied that the lesbian was doing half his job, Pete decided to go to work himself. He entwined his fingers in Ruth's baby fine hair and gently lifted her head up so that his heavily throbbing cock was pointed point-blank at her laxly parted lips. Even though Ruth's eyes were closed, she wasn't out cold-or was she pretending to be?
Pete inched his loins forward slightly until the pearl of pre-cum dangling on his cock head's slit smeared teasingly over the surface of her lips. An involuntary groan rippled from his mouth at the delicious sensation shot back up into his loins. Edging forward again, he held his breath, expecting her to clamp her mouth shut tightly, or at least to utter some protest as he slowly forced the fist-sized head down between her limp, unresisting lips. This was the test... and all eyes in the room were upon him.
Everybody's jaw dropped as Ruth opened her mouth and let Pete slip in gleefully. In all his bike riding days, he'd never imagined having a preacher's daughter give him a blow job ... especially one this good looking. Of course there were a lot of chicks in La Honda who would spread their legs or open their mouths to him, but nobody with this much class. He had to make her his!