The Stolen Girl by Samantha Westlake

crouching in front of him, completely nude, was rocking back and forth as she sucked on his cock. The reason for her rocking was clear - another man was kneeling behind her, his own dick buried in her ass all the way up to his balls. He was forcing himself in and out, one hand slipping up over the woman’s naked back to reach around and fondle her tits as they jiggled back and forth. The woman was moaning in pleasure, but her cries were muffled by the shaft filling her mouth. The man behind her had his other hand tangled up in her long blonde hair and was tugging on it, occasionally jerking her mouth back on the shaft inside as she was forced to arch her back.
    And variations on this threesome were repeated all across the room! On a couch, a young woman, maybe only about my age, lay on her back while a man squatted over her, dipping his balls and cock in and out of her mouth. She was quite skinny, her chest almost flat, but her youth only seemed to spur the two older men interacting with her to greater heights. She was lying there gasping with her mouth open while another biker buried his head between her legs. I could see her toes curling and uncurling as his tongue flicked away at her, and her nipples stood straight up from her chest.
    On the floor, right in the middle of the room, another woman, this one older, perhaps in her forties, was squatting atop a rather portly fellow lying on his back. As we took another step into the room, I could see that his cock was sliding in and out of her; she was completely shaved, and I could see her pink pussy stretching as the big shaft pumped in and out of her. Two other men were standing next to her, their cocks out as well; she had one in each hand, apparently jerking on them as she bobbed up and down. A funnel extended from her mouth, and one of the men standing next to her was laughing as he poured beer down the funnel and straight into her lips. Her rhythmic motions were making her oversized tits bounce up and down on her chest, occasionally nearly managing to whack her in the face before flopping back down. I didn’t understand how she wasn’t in pain!
    “Oh, hey there!” I jerked around at the voice, but it wasn’t directed towards me. Two women had come ambling out from around the corner, their eyes fixed on Roads and big smiles painted across their faces.
    I couldn’t stop myself from sizing them up as they drew close - uncomfortably close - to the big biker. One of the girls, her red hair definitely out of a bottle, was wearing a pair of Daisy Duke cut-off jeans and a too-small flannel shirt tied around her breasts, showing off her tanned midriff. She was quite busty, and I could tell that she had neglected to put on a bra this morning. With every step, she seemed as though she was about to fall out of her hand-knotted top.
    The other girl, shorter and more petite, twirled a strand of her long, wavy, platinum blonde hair between her fingers as she stepped up and ran her other hand over Roads’ chest. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here, Roads,” she murmured in a stage whisper that I had no trouble hearing. Her tank top dipped so low that I could see the crests of her areolas, and her tight jeans clung to every curve of her ass and long, toned legs. She looked like she had stepped straight out of the pages of an adult magazine.
    Roads looked slightly uncomfortable as he gazed down at these two women batting their eyes at him. I, on the other hand, felt a strange and simmering rage building up in me. I didn’t know why I was so suddenly, irrationally at them, but a small corner of my mind was yelling at me to yank on their dyed hair and tell them to back off!
    I glanced down at myself, only now realizing that I was still dressed in my pajamas, the same clothes I had been kidnapped in. The long trip on the road had left them dusty and dirty, and I could feel a similar layer of grime covering my skin. I probably looked like some sort of scarecrow. How was