The Incident At Raspberry Ranch P 1
- 4 years ago
- 45
- 0
The Incident At Raspberry Ranch: P.2 free porn video
The two men, with nothing on but their boots, each took an arm and dragged me into position bent over with my knees on the floor, slippery from the debris underneath shoes along with the ever-present layer of semen, causing me to have to readjust often to keep from being pushed off balance. My arms were held so that they were at my sides and perpendicular to my torso, with each man ensuring that if there were any disruption to the activities, my arms and hands wouldn’t be the cause. They were completely immobilized. With my knees and arms positioned in this way, my head and torso naturally fell forward and rested on the couch. I had never dared put my face near this couch, despite my many visits prior to this, due to fearing being turned off by some foreign odor. To my surprise, though, the couch had no smell other than the faintly musty odor of cum. It was also not quite soaking wet, but not quite dry, leaving a sponged layer of semen on any part of me that pressed against this worn b**st of a sectional.
Just as my head hit the damp, center cushion of the couch, I heard the leader call one of his acolytes. “Hey Wentz, since u just got out, yours must be the most backed up set of balls in the Skulls! Why don't you do the honors? Boys, hold those arms tight. Our toy slut might try to fight back!” Then, as if what was just said reminded him of something, he motioned to another in his crew and whispered in his ear. The crew member redressed and ran out of the room on a mission. As he walked out, leaving the door wide open, I felt Wentz begin to push the head of his cock against my backside. With no defense except my vast experiences being teamed up on by horny men, i waited for penetration.
I heard the leader once again call on several of his members to hock up and spit into my ass to lubricate my hole, which was completely unnecessary, but felt so hot. After seconds, Wentz went from knocking on my anal opening to burying himself deep in my quivering butthole without warning. Wentz snarled, “Had plenty of bitch boys in the pen, but this bitch is real sweet!” Wentz smelled like he hadn’t showered since they released him from prison, and that could have been a month ago, or yesterday. He towered above me like a totem pole and his thrusts made it difficult for my two subduers and myself to maintain my prone position. I jumped and bucked, but for all my sudden shock and subsequent movement, the two burly bikers wearing nothing but footwear who held me down were resolved to ensure that until commanded otherwise, they weren’t letting my body even so much as squirm slightly. Wentz commenced to fucking me with long strokes, often pulling out and ramming it right back in to the hilt. He showed no sign of an orgasm, but within 5 minutes, pulled himself out and stood, backing away into the darkness to where I was unable to see.
The leader took a long look at me, seemingly put out. “Wentz just fucked you like a rag doll, but you didn’t even seem to feel it. Are you that much of a whore that your hole needs to be violently ****d in order to get the reaction we are looking for?” Wentz’ man slime oozed out of me slowly, but not for long. The leader gave an order, and I was yanked out of that position and pushed to my knees. Suddenly, dozens of unclothed men approached from the blackness and surrounded me, more men than I had any idea were viewing my violation, and each one seemed to want their spot in line.
As they joined the circle, each one hefted their cocks onto my face. Every one of them wanted my mouth. At one point, while one black biker was in my mouth deep enough to assume that his head was somewhere in my esophagus, another gang member with a girthier cock than most of the others (though not as long) also was trying to pry my jaw open far enough to share my mouth with the black cock lodged in my breathing passage. I almost passed out. The room went dizzy as both the black cock in my throat and the girthy cock simultaneously left my mouth. I shrieked for air, and as I did, the gangsters all chuckled from different points in the murky and humid room. “Woah! Careful boys! This little piggy has a long way to go before I say we are done,” said the leader, who vigorously stroked himself while barking another command I was sort of ready for.
With ease, 4 men were charged with lifting me way up and placing me into a device that was not present before the gang arrived and it could only be concluded that this was set up by the bikers for me to be placed into. My legs were strapped into place so they were split apart with my knees tied up near my shoulders so my ass was closest to the ground, but still elevated about 4 feet up. My arms were left free. I realized I was actually lowered into a sling, a contraption I’ve always dreamt of being bound into, but never did I think being gang ****d by a bunch of perverted, sweat-soaked bikers inside a cum covered room within the Ranch would be the venue.
After a moment, the leader called on Leonard. Leonard, still clothed from head to toe, stepped up faster than the turn of a light switch. “Now slut, before he unveils what he has between his legs, I oughta warn u that with Leonard’s......delicate mental state, he tends to block the feelings of others out of his mind as long as his are being gratified. And no matter what, you WILL gratify my bro. So he is going to fuck you with his cock using no caution should you holler or squeal. My suggestion is to take what he gives and have plenty left for the rest of my road weary bandits, you got it?” I nodded in subservience. “Alright bro! Pull it out and try not to scare our little, slung-up friend.”
Leonard couldn’t wait as he fumbled for his belt buckle, then his zipper. Once he got to pulling down his jeans, his arms were shaking with anticipation. But my first look at his manhood made my heart stop for a beat. It was cut, not long, a little hairy above the spot where the shaft began, but as his cock protruded out from his oafishly enormous body, it met the head, which was 3-4 times fatter than his shaft. Though I couldn’t see it, someone squirted a torrent of liquid at my hole and spread it all over the area surrounding it, and taking liberty to stab a few fingers in me for his amusement, I suppose.
Leonard, with not one ounce of grace, approached from in front of me and tried, unsuccessfully, to thrust the head of his member into me. Frustration set in after a minute. To make the target easier to aim for, I was pushed back so my hole, still dripping Wentz’ load out, was in plain sight. Leonard smiled, squeezed the base of his throbbing sausage, and began applying a lot of pressure on my hole with his enormous, softball-sized head as his brother pushed my shoulders so my body would remain in place until the drooling simpleton was able to snuggly cram his entire shaft up my butt. With 3-4 violent and powerful thrusts with the leader pushing my body into those thrusts, Leonard’s massive crown breached my hole and caused me to scream. The leader looked at me with sternness and shook his finger signifying that screaming was banned under any circumstances.
“Hey Barton,” Leonard called out to brother, the leader, “I wanna play peek-a-boo!” Remember? PEEK-A-BOO!! Huhuhuhhehehehahaha!” So the leader’s name is Barton.
“Go on little bro, play away! That’s your ass!”
The Leonard version of peek-a-boo consists of him removing his huge head from my ass, then without a moment’s passing, plowing it right back in. He did this again and again until he was eventually able to fuck my ass with ease, pulling out so my ass, from my perspective, looked like it was about to spill my digestive tract onto the floor. My ass was never beaten as badly by just one guy’s cock before.
Leonard began to show signs on his face of an impending orgasm. He grunted, moaned, pushed in, yanked out, then, in the course of a few seconds, buried himself deep and shot his goo as far up my wet, slimy ass canal as he could. Cheers could be heard all over and it was clear Leonard was the gang mascot, of sorts. Phrases like, “Dont go easy on him, you a****l,” were being sent in the direction of the mentally small, but bodily enormous man.
Leonard’s knees buckled as he back away from my now sloppily dripping ass and crotch. Both Leonard and Barton stepped back into the blackness. As this happened, the rest of the Rose Skulls began to appear from their viewing areas around the room. Innumerable hands and fingers began to grope my entire body placing emphasis on my mouth, ass, and even my cock, most of them coarse and sandy from gripping their handle bars. All cocks were in clear view. Most were respectably sized, but there were several stand outs, and even in the depraved state I was in, even though this whole fiasco was forced upon me, the glimpse at some of these violent bikers’ meatsticks sent thoughts in my head that gave me a cautious sense of anticipation, but by now, caution was out the window. The Skulls clearly had control of not only my body, but they also ensured there were no interruptions by tying up the clerk, who was the only employee at the time. So they also had control of the building and who enters and leaves.
Still slung to the ceiling like a slab of meat in an ice locker, I felt a body rub up against my back, his cock left dangling close enough to my opening that I could feel the heat from it. I couldn’t see him until he pulled me backward so I was in a laying position on my back while in the sling. His intent was to fuck my face as it hung upside down. As his cock neared my face, the smell from it was powerful and dank. These men are on their bikes for the better part of any given day, i thought, so I was bound to run into a few guys who still had the lingering aroma of crotch sweat. The smell made me both gag and excited.
The biker at the opening to my mouth was a fat, homely looking black man with a pierced shaft and a long, pliable uncircumcised foreskin that hid beneath it the source of his unctuous crotch odor. As his foreskin unsheathed in my mouth to reveal the crown, the strong taste of cock sweat stained the back of my throat, and just as his head completely uncovered giving my throat a real dose of his man scent, my gag reflex triggered and I involuntarily began to vomit. This occurrence, I suspected, would deter the man from further entrance to my throat, but instead, he became ornery at the sight of my face, most of which was now covered in my accidental purge. He pushed his fat body into my face so his cock could only move in one direction; toward the back of and down my throat. Once he was in, I was helpless to try to fight since his weight was locking him in place and I had no leverage, but the gang could now see a visible struggle coming from my body motions and it was arousing them.
Unable to breath, I felt another throbbing member unmercifully puncture my, as yet, unhealed pucker. Both ends then started to pig roast me in united thrusts, so that the harder the biker fucked my ass, the deeper down my throat the other cock would go, and vice versa, until I turned purple as the heavy, stinking biker held himself as deep as he could while streams of his cum shot right down into my tummy. Taking his time and forcing me to go breathless until he deemed it time to unplug my mouth, he finally recoiled his chubby figure until his black cock fell out of my mouth and I could finally inhale a breath. My whole body convulsed, then shivered, then went cold.
Then, as I lay limp in the sling with my ass still under assault, I began to feel something warm me from deep inside. Slowly, I lifted my vomit and cum layered face and looked to find that the biker fucking me wasn’t thrusting at all. He was buried deep. He was rock hard. I was warm inside. After putting the pieces together, I realized that the 8 inches of cock inside my exhausted butthole was shooting a load, but not of hot, sticky cum. He was peeing inside me. Upon finishing, he pulled out and immediately, my stretched out o-ring began spilling all sorts of filth from it.
Barton stood, stoically, at my side ordering his acolytes into the fray. The multi-hued spray that was beyond me to control hit his matted and worn steel-toed boots, dripping off the front and onto the floor. “What the fuck?!” You fuck pig! Those are my good fucking boots! You think you can disrespect me? I lead this gang! When I get no respect,” he motioned his hand out to the encroaching darkness as if he was modeling a car on a game show, “they get none, too. If they don’t get it, they take it by any means they want. And now that you’re all cleaned out......”
His words stopped for a moment, he thought, then he called two names. “Byron, Poke! Where u at!!” Out of the black popped two goons, both white, both already exposed, both average in size and uncut, and both intent on using more than just their members to punish me. The two removed my limp body from the sling, threw me onto the couch, legs in the air. From behind the couch, Barton grabbed my feet, pushed them down so my knees were pinned on either side of my head and my now leaking and gaping hole was completely and helplessly vulnerable, and then, he ordered another Skull to “bring the rope”. He didn’t completely subdue me, but he did tie the rope around my left knee, behind my head, then around the other knee. Once he fastened the rope tight enough to Barton’s standards, the rope going behind my head forced my neck upward so I could clearly make out what these two mystery bikers would do to me.
First, the one called Byron grabbed a bottle with the words ‘Gun Oil’ written on it (I’d seen this bottle in the toy store section of the Ranch in the past, so I knew what it was). Byron took the bottle, a pump release, unscrewed the pump, and began pouring about a third of the bottle over my half-hard cock, letting it cascade down my red and sticky bottom. After my bottom was glistening with the slippery oil, Poke lived up to his name. He began rubbing his hand on my tummy, saying with heavily applied sarcasm, “Feels like sandpaper a little, huh?” Usually, in porn I’ve watched, a fisting begins slowlyThen, very suddenly, with nothing to stop him and not a thought for my well being, he made a tight fist and pushed hard against my ****d hole while Byron continued pouring oil on his dry hand until I felt my pucker give way to his hard fist. With my head propped up, I was able to easily witness my already worked hole engulf the coarse fist before swallowing it whole, as if my hole was grabbing it and pulling it further in. He then performed the same act with his other, just as rough and rigid, fist, with Byron was at the ready, pouring even more slick gun oil over my body.
His next violation is difficult to describe without using the word, punchfuck. With my knees pinned down by the rope and my eyes in full view, Poke began alternating his fists. He would try to jam one in, my hole would offer some resistance, then the fist would pop in. He would pull his fist out, which caused the flesh around my hole to grab onto it until he yanked it free, causing me to inhale in mild shock. Then he repeated with the other.
This lasted until Barton expressed his annoyance at these little noises I was making every time one of Poke’s fists forced its way past his knuckles, which, at that point, must have been a hard, solid, and unmerciful 8-10 inches in circumference and caused a considerable amount of discomfort. He called a new name; Harry. “This is Harry. Show him, big guy.” Harry stood a head and chest taller than Barton. Barton looked to be about 6 feet tall. Harry must have been close to 7 feet tall. Harry wasn’t heavy, but he wasn’t chiseled either. Aside from his height, he didn’t look like he could brag about much, so I was curious to see what Harry was going to unveil.
Harry began to disrobe, and as his clothes shed, I saw that his body was extremely hairy. His back and front. He removed his pants and his legs looked like two tree trunks with hair literally covering them. Finally, I saw the bulge. My eyes had to adjust when he took off his boxers to reveal a not too thick, but still very long member that looked to be close to 10 inches long.
With Poke still fist pounding my tunnel with Byron now adding jerking off to his lubrication duties, Barton ordered this b**st to stop me from panting every time Poke punched violently past my defenses. Harry got the hint. The gang members positioned me so, while Poke continued his relentless assault of my sore ass, my face was tilted back to make it easy for every inch of Harry’s hog to plug my throat. As he entered my mouth, I could already feel my gag reflex kicking in. I knew I was about to vomit again until, as if anticipation it, Harry thrusted himself down my unprepared throat until I could smell his fat and musty smelling balls as they slammed into my face. I couldn’t breathe.
Poke’s fists were now pumping hard and fast. He would punch a fist into me, then continue to the mid forearm, pull it out as fast as a hand would recoil from a hot stove, then punch the other in. But my body’s reaction to the fists’ deep and rhythmic penetrations made my throat muscles contract against the 10 inch mouth assault. The contractions made Harry bury himself in my face and cum almost instantly. He let his cock soften before it fell out of my mouth, covered in my body fluids.
Pokes hands eventually went to the elbow. Once they went that deep, I began having orgasms that caused my body convulse as thick ropes of my cum shot out of my now rock solid cock and splashed against my face and upper body. Columns of white strands shot from me like plumes of mortars shoot from a firework in all directions, arching, then falling somewhere in the near blackness. As Poke’s fists, now smooth and slimy, both from inside me and from Byron’s healthy and welcome application of lube, slowed and ended their barrage of intrusions with an exclamatory yank and an audible pop from my elastic asshole.
I was lost for several minutes in my convulsive/euphoric state, but once I regained my ability to complete a thought, I realized what Barton, Leonard, and the rest of the room witnessed. I was actually enjoying this most degrading and demoralizing treatment. Through the pain and constant expectation by all present to satisfy the room, I was eager for what was next and now, after seeing me in that mindset, Barton knew the door was open to far more sinister plans....
Just as my head hit the damp, center cushion of the couch, I heard the leader call one of his acolytes. “Hey Wentz, since u just got out, yours must be the most backed up set of balls in the Skulls! Why don't you do the honors? Boys, hold those arms tight. Our toy slut might try to fight back!” Then, as if what was just said reminded him of something, he motioned to another in his crew and whispered in his ear. The crew member redressed and ran out of the room on a mission. As he walked out, leaving the door wide open, I felt Wentz begin to push the head of his cock against my backside. With no defense except my vast experiences being teamed up on by horny men, i waited for penetration.
I heard the leader once again call on several of his members to hock up and spit into my ass to lubricate my hole, which was completely unnecessary, but felt so hot. After seconds, Wentz went from knocking on my anal opening to burying himself deep in my quivering butthole without warning. Wentz snarled, “Had plenty of bitch boys in the pen, but this bitch is real sweet!” Wentz smelled like he hadn’t showered since they released him from prison, and that could have been a month ago, or yesterday. He towered above me like a totem pole and his thrusts made it difficult for my two subduers and myself to maintain my prone position. I jumped and bucked, but for all my sudden shock and subsequent movement, the two burly bikers wearing nothing but footwear who held me down were resolved to ensure that until commanded otherwise, they weren’t letting my body even so much as squirm slightly. Wentz commenced to fucking me with long strokes, often pulling out and ramming it right back in to the hilt. He showed no sign of an orgasm, but within 5 minutes, pulled himself out and stood, backing away into the darkness to where I was unable to see.
The leader took a long look at me, seemingly put out. “Wentz just fucked you like a rag doll, but you didn’t even seem to feel it. Are you that much of a whore that your hole needs to be violently ****d in order to get the reaction we are looking for?” Wentz’ man slime oozed out of me slowly, but not for long. The leader gave an order, and I was yanked out of that position and pushed to my knees. Suddenly, dozens of unclothed men approached from the blackness and surrounded me, more men than I had any idea were viewing my violation, and each one seemed to want their spot in line.
As they joined the circle, each one hefted their cocks onto my face. Every one of them wanted my mouth. At one point, while one black biker was in my mouth deep enough to assume that his head was somewhere in my esophagus, another gang member with a girthier cock than most of the others (though not as long) also was trying to pry my jaw open far enough to share my mouth with the black cock lodged in my breathing passage. I almost passed out. The room went dizzy as both the black cock in my throat and the girthy cock simultaneously left my mouth. I shrieked for air, and as I did, the gangsters all chuckled from different points in the murky and humid room. “Woah! Careful boys! This little piggy has a long way to go before I say we are done,” said the leader, who vigorously stroked himself while barking another command I was sort of ready for.
With ease, 4 men were charged with lifting me way up and placing me into a device that was not present before the gang arrived and it could only be concluded that this was set up by the bikers for me to be placed into. My legs were strapped into place so they were split apart with my knees tied up near my shoulders so my ass was closest to the ground, but still elevated about 4 feet up. My arms were left free. I realized I was actually lowered into a sling, a contraption I’ve always dreamt of being bound into, but never did I think being gang ****d by a bunch of perverted, sweat-soaked bikers inside a cum covered room within the Ranch would be the venue.
After a moment, the leader called on Leonard. Leonard, still clothed from head to toe, stepped up faster than the turn of a light switch. “Now slut, before he unveils what he has between his legs, I oughta warn u that with Leonard’s......delicate mental state, he tends to block the feelings of others out of his mind as long as his are being gratified. And no matter what, you WILL gratify my bro. So he is going to fuck you with his cock using no caution should you holler or squeal. My suggestion is to take what he gives and have plenty left for the rest of my road weary bandits, you got it?” I nodded in subservience. “Alright bro! Pull it out and try not to scare our little, slung-up friend.”
Leonard couldn’t wait as he fumbled for his belt buckle, then his zipper. Once he got to pulling down his jeans, his arms were shaking with anticipation. But my first look at his manhood made my heart stop for a beat. It was cut, not long, a little hairy above the spot where the shaft began, but as his cock protruded out from his oafishly enormous body, it met the head, which was 3-4 times fatter than his shaft. Though I couldn’t see it, someone squirted a torrent of liquid at my hole and spread it all over the area surrounding it, and taking liberty to stab a few fingers in me for his amusement, I suppose.
Leonard, with not one ounce of grace, approached from in front of me and tried, unsuccessfully, to thrust the head of his member into me. Frustration set in after a minute. To make the target easier to aim for, I was pushed back so my hole, still dripping Wentz’ load out, was in plain sight. Leonard smiled, squeezed the base of his throbbing sausage, and began applying a lot of pressure on my hole with his enormous, softball-sized head as his brother pushed my shoulders so my body would remain in place until the drooling simpleton was able to snuggly cram his entire shaft up my butt. With 3-4 violent and powerful thrusts with the leader pushing my body into those thrusts, Leonard’s massive crown breached my hole and caused me to scream. The leader looked at me with sternness and shook his finger signifying that screaming was banned under any circumstances.
“Hey Barton,” Leonard called out to brother, the leader, “I wanna play peek-a-boo!” Remember? PEEK-A-BOO!! Huhuhuhhehehehahaha!” So the leader’s name is Barton.
“Go on little bro, play away! That’s your ass!”
The Leonard version of peek-a-boo consists of him removing his huge head from my ass, then without a moment’s passing, plowing it right back in. He did this again and again until he was eventually able to fuck my ass with ease, pulling out so my ass, from my perspective, looked like it was about to spill my digestive tract onto the floor. My ass was never beaten as badly by just one guy’s cock before.
Leonard began to show signs on his face of an impending orgasm. He grunted, moaned, pushed in, yanked out, then, in the course of a few seconds, buried himself deep and shot his goo as far up my wet, slimy ass canal as he could. Cheers could be heard all over and it was clear Leonard was the gang mascot, of sorts. Phrases like, “Dont go easy on him, you a****l,” were being sent in the direction of the mentally small, but bodily enormous man.
Leonard’s knees buckled as he back away from my now sloppily dripping ass and crotch. Both Leonard and Barton stepped back into the blackness. As this happened, the rest of the Rose Skulls began to appear from their viewing areas around the room. Innumerable hands and fingers began to grope my entire body placing emphasis on my mouth, ass, and even my cock, most of them coarse and sandy from gripping their handle bars. All cocks were in clear view. Most were respectably sized, but there were several stand outs, and even in the depraved state I was in, even though this whole fiasco was forced upon me, the glimpse at some of these violent bikers’ meatsticks sent thoughts in my head that gave me a cautious sense of anticipation, but by now, caution was out the window. The Skulls clearly had control of not only my body, but they also ensured there were no interruptions by tying up the clerk, who was the only employee at the time. So they also had control of the building and who enters and leaves.
Still slung to the ceiling like a slab of meat in an ice locker, I felt a body rub up against my back, his cock left dangling close enough to my opening that I could feel the heat from it. I couldn’t see him until he pulled me backward so I was in a laying position on my back while in the sling. His intent was to fuck my face as it hung upside down. As his cock neared my face, the smell from it was powerful and dank. These men are on their bikes for the better part of any given day, i thought, so I was bound to run into a few guys who still had the lingering aroma of crotch sweat. The smell made me both gag and excited.
The biker at the opening to my mouth was a fat, homely looking black man with a pierced shaft and a long, pliable uncircumcised foreskin that hid beneath it the source of his unctuous crotch odor. As his foreskin unsheathed in my mouth to reveal the crown, the strong taste of cock sweat stained the back of my throat, and just as his head completely uncovered giving my throat a real dose of his man scent, my gag reflex triggered and I involuntarily began to vomit. This occurrence, I suspected, would deter the man from further entrance to my throat, but instead, he became ornery at the sight of my face, most of which was now covered in my accidental purge. He pushed his fat body into my face so his cock could only move in one direction; toward the back of and down my throat. Once he was in, I was helpless to try to fight since his weight was locking him in place and I had no leverage, but the gang could now see a visible struggle coming from my body motions and it was arousing them.
Unable to breath, I felt another throbbing member unmercifully puncture my, as yet, unhealed pucker. Both ends then started to pig roast me in united thrusts, so that the harder the biker fucked my ass, the deeper down my throat the other cock would go, and vice versa, until I turned purple as the heavy, stinking biker held himself as deep as he could while streams of his cum shot right down into my tummy. Taking his time and forcing me to go breathless until he deemed it time to unplug my mouth, he finally recoiled his chubby figure until his black cock fell out of my mouth and I could finally inhale a breath. My whole body convulsed, then shivered, then went cold.
Then, as I lay limp in the sling with my ass still under assault, I began to feel something warm me from deep inside. Slowly, I lifted my vomit and cum layered face and looked to find that the biker fucking me wasn’t thrusting at all. He was buried deep. He was rock hard. I was warm inside. After putting the pieces together, I realized that the 8 inches of cock inside my exhausted butthole was shooting a load, but not of hot, sticky cum. He was peeing inside me. Upon finishing, he pulled out and immediately, my stretched out o-ring began spilling all sorts of filth from it.
Barton stood, stoically, at my side ordering his acolytes into the fray. The multi-hued spray that was beyond me to control hit his matted and worn steel-toed boots, dripping off the front and onto the floor. “What the fuck?!” You fuck pig! Those are my good fucking boots! You think you can disrespect me? I lead this gang! When I get no respect,” he motioned his hand out to the encroaching darkness as if he was modeling a car on a game show, “they get none, too. If they don’t get it, they take it by any means they want. And now that you’re all cleaned out......”
His words stopped for a moment, he thought, then he called two names. “Byron, Poke! Where u at!!” Out of the black popped two goons, both white, both already exposed, both average in size and uncut, and both intent on using more than just their members to punish me. The two removed my limp body from the sling, threw me onto the couch, legs in the air. From behind the couch, Barton grabbed my feet, pushed them down so my knees were pinned on either side of my head and my now leaking and gaping hole was completely and helplessly vulnerable, and then, he ordered another Skull to “bring the rope”. He didn’t completely subdue me, but he did tie the rope around my left knee, behind my head, then around the other knee. Once he fastened the rope tight enough to Barton’s standards, the rope going behind my head forced my neck upward so I could clearly make out what these two mystery bikers would do to me.
First, the one called Byron grabbed a bottle with the words ‘Gun Oil’ written on it (I’d seen this bottle in the toy store section of the Ranch in the past, so I knew what it was). Byron took the bottle, a pump release, unscrewed the pump, and began pouring about a third of the bottle over my half-hard cock, letting it cascade down my red and sticky bottom. After my bottom was glistening with the slippery oil, Poke lived up to his name. He began rubbing his hand on my tummy, saying with heavily applied sarcasm, “Feels like sandpaper a little, huh?” Usually, in porn I’ve watched, a fisting begins slowlyThen, very suddenly, with nothing to stop him and not a thought for my well being, he made a tight fist and pushed hard against my ****d hole while Byron continued pouring oil on his dry hand until I felt my pucker give way to his hard fist. With my head propped up, I was able to easily witness my already worked hole engulf the coarse fist before swallowing it whole, as if my hole was grabbing it and pulling it further in. He then performed the same act with his other, just as rough and rigid, fist, with Byron was at the ready, pouring even more slick gun oil over my body.
His next violation is difficult to describe without using the word, punchfuck. With my knees pinned down by the rope and my eyes in full view, Poke began alternating his fists. He would try to jam one in, my hole would offer some resistance, then the fist would pop in. He would pull his fist out, which caused the flesh around my hole to grab onto it until he yanked it free, causing me to inhale in mild shock. Then he repeated with the other.
This lasted until Barton expressed his annoyance at these little noises I was making every time one of Poke’s fists forced its way past his knuckles, which, at that point, must have been a hard, solid, and unmerciful 8-10 inches in circumference and caused a considerable amount of discomfort. He called a new name; Harry. “This is Harry. Show him, big guy.” Harry stood a head and chest taller than Barton. Barton looked to be about 6 feet tall. Harry must have been close to 7 feet tall. Harry wasn’t heavy, but he wasn’t chiseled either. Aside from his height, he didn’t look like he could brag about much, so I was curious to see what Harry was going to unveil.
Harry began to disrobe, and as his clothes shed, I saw that his body was extremely hairy. His back and front. He removed his pants and his legs looked like two tree trunks with hair literally covering them. Finally, I saw the bulge. My eyes had to adjust when he took off his boxers to reveal a not too thick, but still very long member that looked to be close to 10 inches long.
With Poke still fist pounding my tunnel with Byron now adding jerking off to his lubrication duties, Barton ordered this b**st to stop me from panting every time Poke punched violently past my defenses. Harry got the hint. The gang members positioned me so, while Poke continued his relentless assault of my sore ass, my face was tilted back to make it easy for every inch of Harry’s hog to plug my throat. As he entered my mouth, I could already feel my gag reflex kicking in. I knew I was about to vomit again until, as if anticipation it, Harry thrusted himself down my unprepared throat until I could smell his fat and musty smelling balls as they slammed into my face. I couldn’t breathe.
Poke’s fists were now pumping hard and fast. He would punch a fist into me, then continue to the mid forearm, pull it out as fast as a hand would recoil from a hot stove, then punch the other in. But my body’s reaction to the fists’ deep and rhythmic penetrations made my throat muscles contract against the 10 inch mouth assault. The contractions made Harry bury himself in my face and cum almost instantly. He let his cock soften before it fell out of my mouth, covered in my body fluids.
Pokes hands eventually went to the elbow. Once they went that deep, I began having orgasms that caused my body convulse as thick ropes of my cum shot out of my now rock solid cock and splashed against my face and upper body. Columns of white strands shot from me like plumes of mortars shoot from a firework in all directions, arching, then falling somewhere in the near blackness. As Poke’s fists, now smooth and slimy, both from inside me and from Byron’s healthy and welcome application of lube, slowed and ended their barrage of intrusions with an exclamatory yank and an audible pop from my elastic asshole.
I was lost for several minutes in my convulsive/euphoric state, but once I regained my ability to complete a thought, I realized what Barton, Leonard, and the rest of the room witnessed. I was actually enjoying this most degrading and demoralizing treatment. Through the pain and constant expectation by all present to satisfy the room, I was eager for what was next and now, after seeing me in that mindset, Barton knew the door was open to far more sinister plans....
Nadine
- 20.11.2020
- 31
- 0
The Incident At Raspberry Ranch Part 1 lsquo The Meeti
- 2 years ago
- 128
- 0
Raspberry Dreams
- 2 years ago
- 19
- 0
