Free Brittany Loves Bikers: Motorcycle Gang Gangbang by Cherry Allen

 
    Brittany
Loves Bikers: Motorcycle Gang Gangbang
     
The Rape Fantasies #4
     
    By Cherry Allen
     
    The Club is an organization for women that provides
fantasy fulfillment, with forced sex fantasies as its specialty.
Each woman reveals her secret rape fantasies in a friendly,
non-judgmental atmosphere, pays monthly dues and gets to enjoy the
stories of other women who have had their fantasies fulfilled. All
of the women of The Club are assured that the people who help them
fulfill their fantasies will be disease-free, wear condoms and be
careful--as careful as the women want.
    They can have it rough or tender, terrifying or
comical. Be ravished by one man or several. One woman or several. A
slow, forced fuck by a total stranger, or a group pawing at them in
lust, taking them fast and hard.
    Whatever their secret, darkest desires may be, The
Club will provide.
    This is Brittany's story.
     
    ***
     
    I've thought about moving closer to my job for
years, but I like the scenic drive. And I like living in the
country with lots of space around me, rather than in a cramped
suburb. I've always kept my car in good repair--a necessity when
you have a 45-minute commute and can't walk to work or grab a taxi.
But as these things happen, it puttered out one evening after work
on a long stretch of rural road.
    It was kind of scary being stuck there with a car
that wouldn't turn over. Even though I'd driven that road every day
for years, being helpless there suddenly made every passing car
seem a little ominous. How many horror movies have a scene like
this?
    I reminded myself that it was my mother who thought
everyone was a serial killer, not me, and it was still
daylight--hardly the setting for a horror movie scene.
    I sat there thinking how walking to the nearest
house was going to suck. I'd worn one of my favorite shorter skirts
that day, and had chosen heels just a little higher than was
probably office-appropriate to celebrate the fact that it was
Friday. Thunder echoed from somewhere not too far away--it was
going to rain any minute. Perfect!
    A loud motorcycle whizzed past. Even though I was
aggravated at my situation, I couldn’t help but admire the shape of
the guy’s back in the leather jacket. Bikers have always turned me
on. The sound of the bike, the boots and leather, the long,
blue-jeaned legs on either side of a growling, vibrating machine .
. . .
    After my moment of admiration, I turned my flashers
on, got out and slammed the door. I thought about looking under the
hood, but then laughed at myself. I wouldn’t have known what the
heck I was looking at.
    That’s when I realized the motorcycle was coming
back.
    My heart flip-flopped, both in excitement and a
little fear. Then I reminded myself that not everyone is a mass
murderer in waiting, no matter what my mother had always told me.
There are still good people out there who will stop to help a
stranded motorist. Sure enough, he stopped next to me and asked if
I was having trouble.
    Good God. His face erased any serial killer thoughts
I’d had before. Foolish, I know. Ted Bundy was a looker, after all.
But this guy had dark hair and forest green eyes with tiny lines in
the corners that were clearly from smiling, not from frowning about
where to hide the next body. It wasn't just that he was handsome.
There was something about him that put me at ease, and I trusted
the feeling.
    He looked under the hood and had me try to start it
a few times while he fiddled with hoses and wires and whatever's
under there, but nothing worked. I found myself not just admiring
his leather-clad back, but the way his ass filled out his jeans as
he bent over the car.
    He asked me where I was going, then offered to give
me a ride. Said it looked like my carburetor was shot. I nodded
gravely as if I knew what that meant. He said I’d have to call a
tow. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately considering how things
turned out, I couldn't get a signal on my cell.
    I’ve never been on a