Read Online The Perfect Gangbang by Alastair Anders - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alastair Anders
Tags: gangbang, gang bang, bondage sex, gang bang sex stories, kidnap and gangbang, gangbang sex stories, bukkake, woman in bondage, hardcore gangbang, kidnapped woman, hardcore sex stories
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keys. Ten minutes away.”
The bodyguard who had touched Irina’s pussy extended his slick finger to the other guard. “Good pussy — go on, try some of this.”
The other bodyguard flattened himself against the wall. “Man, you’re sick — there’s something real fucking wrong with you.”
They lifted Irina out of the back of the van and carried her through a battered metal doorway, through a network of hallways lit by flickering overhead fluorescent lights. They carried her up two flights of stairs into a darkened hallway full of doors. She could smell dust, and mold, and somewhere far off she heard glass breaking and police sirens.
“This one,” somebody said.
A door opened, and Irina was carried into a dark, empty apartment, and spread out on a cot in the center of the room. Somebody grabbed her arms and shackled them in thick leather handcuffs high above her head, lifting her breasts and holding them up for display to everyone in the room. The rope around her legs was sliced apart, and two men seized each leg and bound her ankles to the bedposts, spreading open her already swollen pussy.
“Hit the lights,” somebody said.
With a click, a weak lamp on the kitchen counter snapped on. Six men stood around Irina. Another faced the corner of the room, whispering into a cell phone, “We got the bitch, yeah, everything’s set up.”
The men were all tall and muscular, with beaten-looking faces and broken noses. Several of them had networks of prison tattoos lacing their biceps and collarbones, along with ragged scars. They wore tight T-shirts, denim or leather jackets, and heavy jeans or leather pants. Each of them was wearing a wide leather belt with a huge metal buckle, and each one sported an enormous cock-bulge in their pants. A few of them ran their hands along the ridges of their cocks, making sure Irina could tell the full length and girth. Her nipples were already hard beneath her dress, and her pussy was oozing.
The man in the corner snapped the cell phone shut and deposited it on the counter. “He says go ahead and get started. Work her over. You and you —” he pointed to two guys, one bald and with a boxer’s face and the other stroking a bulge that extended almost halfway down his thigh. “Warm that pussy up.”
A chorus of cheers and happy assent rose from the crowd. Buckles started to come undone, popping open with heavy, final clatters. Zippers cracked open, and monster cocks popped out from beneath elastic waistbands. Irina moaned behind her duct tape.
“Yeah...”
“Fuck...”
A bottle of lube got thrown around, high above her, and her men squeezed out palmfuls of thick gel and ran it along their cocks until the shafts glistened. Some of her men could barely touch their thumbs to their forefingers when they jacked off. They worked their fists along the lengths of their cocks, slowly, squeezing the heads under their thumbs. A droplet of lube landed on Irina’s dress, and soaked through to her skin.
A pair of sewing scissors appeared in someone’s hand, and he took the strap of Irina’s dress in his fist and sliced through it, slowly, so she could hear every thread being severed. He ran the twin points of the sewing scissors along her breasts, pausing to capture her nipple, then traced a line to her other dress strap. The back of Irina’s dress fell away. Someone’s hand grasped the neckline and slowly pulled it down, exposing Irina’s full, perfect breasts to the air.
“Work those titties,” the bald guy said to the crowd. “Milk her like a fuckin’ cow.”
The two men closest to Irina’s breasts knelt down beside her and started to lick. Their tongues circled around her nipples and fluttered against the most sensitive spots, right at her tips. Irina arched her back, pushing further into their touch. She felt her clit swell and grow, pushing her pussy lips aside. One man opened his mouth and took almost her entire breast inside, slathering it with his tongue, and
The bodyguard who had touched Irina’s pussy extended his slick finger to the other guard. “Good pussy — go on, try some of this.”
The other bodyguard flattened himself against the wall. “Man, you’re sick — there’s something real fucking wrong with you.”
They lifted Irina out of the back of the van and carried her through a battered metal doorway, through a network of hallways lit by flickering overhead fluorescent lights. They carried her up two flights of stairs into a darkened hallway full of doors. She could smell dust, and mold, and somewhere far off she heard glass breaking and police sirens.
“This one,” somebody said.
A door opened, and Irina was carried into a dark, empty apartment, and spread out on a cot in the center of the room. Somebody grabbed her arms and shackled them in thick leather handcuffs high above her head, lifting her breasts and holding them up for display to everyone in the room. The rope around her legs was sliced apart, and two men seized each leg and bound her ankles to the bedposts, spreading open her already swollen pussy.
“Hit the lights,” somebody said.
With a click, a weak lamp on the kitchen counter snapped on. Six men stood around Irina. Another faced the corner of the room, whispering into a cell phone, “We got the bitch, yeah, everything’s set up.”
The men were all tall and muscular, with beaten-looking faces and broken noses. Several of them had networks of prison tattoos lacing their biceps and collarbones, along with ragged scars. They wore tight T-shirts, denim or leather jackets, and heavy jeans or leather pants. Each of them was wearing a wide leather belt with a huge metal buckle, and each one sported an enormous cock-bulge in their pants. A few of them ran their hands along the ridges of their cocks, making sure Irina could tell the full length and girth. Her nipples were already hard beneath her dress, and her pussy was oozing.
The man in the corner snapped the cell phone shut and deposited it on the counter. “He says go ahead and get started. Work her over. You and you —” he pointed to two guys, one bald and with a boxer’s face and the other stroking a bulge that extended almost halfway down his thigh. “Warm that pussy up.”
A chorus of cheers and happy assent rose from the crowd. Buckles started to come undone, popping open with heavy, final clatters. Zippers cracked open, and monster cocks popped out from beneath elastic waistbands. Irina moaned behind her duct tape.
“Yeah...”
“Fuck...”
A bottle of lube got thrown around, high above her, and her men squeezed out palmfuls of thick gel and ran it along their cocks until the shafts glistened. Some of her men could barely touch their thumbs to their forefingers when they jacked off. They worked their fists along the lengths of their cocks, slowly, squeezing the heads under their thumbs. A droplet of lube landed on Irina’s dress, and soaked through to her skin.
A pair of sewing scissors appeared in someone’s hand, and he took the strap of Irina’s dress in his fist and sliced through it, slowly, so she could hear every thread being severed. He ran the twin points of the sewing scissors along her breasts, pausing to capture her nipple, then traced a line to her other dress strap. The back of Irina’s dress fell away. Someone’s hand grasped the neckline and slowly pulled it down, exposing Irina’s full, perfect breasts to the air.
“Work those titties,” the bald guy said to the crowd. “Milk her like a fuckin’ cow.”
The two men closest to Irina’s breasts knelt down beside her and started to lick. Their tongues circled around her nipples and fluttered against the most sensitive spots, right at her tips. Irina arched her back, pushing further into their touch. She felt her clit swell and grow, pushing her pussy lips aside. One man opened his mouth and took almost her entire breast inside, slathering it with his tongue, and
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