The Outlaws - Part Two by Honey Palomino

 
    The Outlaws
    Part Two
    By Honey Palomino
     
     
     
    “Without obsession, life is nothing.”  ~John Waters
     
    I could hear the birds chirping outside and feel the sun on my naked skin, but I was afraid to open my eyes, afraid to find out last night had been a dream, and I was really just laying in my warm, boring bed at my warm, boring house.  I didn't want to be there, and my memories of last night had were so amazing, that before I could open my eyes to witness my reality, I said a little prayer that what I remembered had in fact not been a dream.  A wonderful, delicious dream.
     
    Licking my swollen lips, I opened my eyes and smiled with relief. 
     
    The first thing I saw was the mirror over the bed.  It was definitely not a dream.
     
    The mirror was marvelous.  It had proven to be quite the accessory last night as I watched Jackson mount me, his sculpted ass flexing gracefully with every stroke.  His ass was like a damned artist, all on it's own.  The muscles moved like a perfectly choreographed ballet.  My ass wasn't bad, but it wasn't anything like his.  But since I had the distinct pleasure of watching it dance, the brilliantly mounted mirror above his bed provided me with the best view in town and I didn't mind one bit.  Who needed the ballet when you had Jackson, the president of the local motorcycle club, The Outlaws, sinking his cock into you over and over at the same time that his vice president watches from the sidelines to teach you a lesson?  Not this woman.
     
    At first I was afraid.  Shaking in my boots, about-to-pee-my-pants terrified!  But last night, when I woke up tied to Jackson's bed after he found me spying outside his window in his most private of moments and seeing the look on his face as his emotions drifted from anger to lust, not to mention the growing package between his muscular thighs, well - my fear disappeared. 
     
    And then I was hungry.  Once I realized I was safe, and they weren't going to chop me up into a million pieces or brand me by tattooing their logo on my ass, the only thing left to do was enjoy myself.  I took everything they had to give me throughout the whole night, and it wasn't only the lips on my face that were pleasantly bruised and swollen this morning.
     
    Trigger was just icing on the cake. I knew I had hit the jackpot when he showed up.  I had fantasized about this moment for months, watching them both from across the street, standing there biting my lip, and thrusting out my swinging hip, twirling my hair and daydreaming about how it would feel to be naked and pressed up against the leather jackets of the men across the street at Outlaw Repair.
     
    Mostly, I wondered what they would smell like and what those tattoos looked like up close.
     
    And now I knew.  Smiling up at the mirror, I took a mental picture to remember forever.  I had no idea what the day held, but right now, lying here in this huge four poster bed sandwiched between two sleeping giants...two incredibly dangerous, yet handsome, giants with monstrous cocks, rippling muscles and the ability to fuck that is on a level that should be outlawed....right now, in this moment, everything was perfect.
     
    Jackson was on my left, his thick thigh thrown over mine and his arm draped across my chest.  Trigger was lying on my right, completely uncovered.  He was sleeping deeply, they both were, but Trigger's cock was swollen and hard.  I was surprised. We had been fucking all night but obviously neither of them were lacking in testosterone.  They were masculine and rough, raw, yet skillful, as they both devoured my tender flesh, leaving no inch of skin untouched, fucking me throughout the night in each and every way that they pleased. I had never  experienced sex like that before.  Raw, unabashed, wanton passion unleashed in the most savage of ways.
     
    Trigger's eyes burned into me, breaking me into a million pieces and putting me back together all at once.  All these