“Kelly’s Kinky Biker Orgy”

by J.D. Savanyu

Kelly Kross was hanging out at The Crow’s Nest in downtown Butte on a Hot Saturday afternoon, looking for some random guys for another meaningless fuck. The dive bar was loaded with cowboys and cowgirls. She loved riding ranch dudes in the badlands wilderness, with the Big Sky sun kissing her face and the golden barley scratching her Ass… but she was getting bored with their predictable hick pick-up lines and predictable doggy/missionary positions. She needed a change of pace to spice up her life. Something really kinky. Something like…

“Doin’ This” by Luke Combs was drowned out by the distinct roaring of Harley-Davidson engines. Kelly peered out a window and saw fifteen suicide machines entering the parking lot, with a heavy metal cacophony blaring from as many speakers.

“Hot damn, we got some fucking Banditos!” Kelly beamed. Fifteen leather-clad “one-percenter” outlaw dudes dismounted their motorcycles and entered the building. The very definition of “beefcakes,” in stark contrast to her Barbie doll body. Their black jackets were decorated with a vintage Mexican hombre in a big sombrero, pointing a huge pistol with one hand and a machete with the other, framed by “BANDITOS LAS VEGAS M.C.” She felt that old familiar tingling between her legs, and she had to obey it. She had to get gangbanged by a bunch of random bikers, preferably in bondage with lots of whoopin’.

The bikers stepped up to the bar and ordered the cheapest possible beers. The beefiest guy with the most tattoos fell in Love with Kelly at first sight. He sat next to her at the bar and motioned toward a nervous bartender in a ten-gallon hat.

“Hey cowboy, get me two PBR’s. One for me, and one for this pretty little thang. My treat, honey.”

“Thank you kindly, shoog,” Kelly replied sweetly, cocking her head and tossing her lustrous brown hair.

“Name’s Bruce.”

“Name’s Kelly. So what’s bringing ya’ll Vegas slot jockeys way out to Butte?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Ha, okay. I saw way too many episodes of Sons of Anarchy, so I’m guessing… sawed-off shotguns and amateur Porn?”

“You like guns and Porn?”

“I Love hunting rifles, and I’m addicted to skin flicks.”

“Is that so?”

“The kinkier the better, in my opinion.”

“Mine too, Sister.”

The bartender delivered their Pabst Blue Ribbons (blue for last place.) Bruce sized her up like a Holstein cow.

“You ever get fucked on camera, Kelly?”

“A few times. I’m gonna move to L.A. in a few weeks, so I can be the next August Ames.”

“Good luck with that. Better luck than August, at least.”

Kelly sighed wearily and took a swig of scuzzy beer, picturing a police officer patrolling a city park late at night and finding August hanging from a sycamore, dead as a doornail.

“You ever done a gangbang?” Bruce asked.

“Two or three, with a bunch of cowboys.”

“Wanna do one tonight, with a bunch of bikers?”

She tried to act standoffish, but a smirk betrayed her keen interest.

“I dunno. You gonna tie me up, and all that BDSM shit?”

“You wanna get tied up, and all that BDSM shit?”

A voice in the back of her mind warned her to back off, because they might sell her off as a Sex slave. But a louder voice told her stop watching so many stupid shows and stupider movies, and have as much fun as possible while she was still young and invincible.

“Why the fuck not?”

“That’s my favorite mantra. Come out to the Bodie ranch at eight thirty. You know the place?”

She was well aware of that three thousand acre barley ranch with a big old farmhouse, filled with enough crystal meth for half of Montana.

“Sure do.” She grinned from ear to ear and turned toward the other fourteen bikers. “Hey fellas, y’all just got yourselves a date with yours truly.”

They all cheered triumphantly. Meanwhile, the other cowgirls looked at each other like, “Damn, can you believe that fucking slut?”

“Good girl. We’ll give you a night to remember. You won’t be able to ride a horse for a fucking week.”

“Don’t oversell it, Bruce Bandito. I ain’t one of your gullible biker babes from Sin City.”

He snickered and took another swig. “Hey Kelly, are you a real cowgirl? Roping steers and all that shit? Don’t fucking lie to me to sound cool.”

“I’m a real hardcore buckle bunny, you fucking ape-hanger.”

“Ooooooh!” hooted his fellow bikers.

“Then prove it. Let’s see you ride that mechanical bull.”

“With pleasure, shoog.”

She marched over to the robotic rodeo contraption, fed it a few dollars, and rode it like the wind. She’d had plenty of practice during her “down time” away from the ranch. She managed to stay on for seventeen seconds, a personal record. Everyone in The Crow’s Nest cheered her performance. She felt so alive on a midsummer night’s eve; chomping at the bit to take the wildest ride of her life.

………………………………

Kelly cruised out of Butte in a twenty year-old Ford pickup with hay bails in the back. Riding into a sunset that resembled an H-bomb explosion. Plenty of horses grazed in the fields along Browns Gulch Road, reminding her of the hard work she performed every day on Casey Tibb’s ranch. Casey was her steady boyfriend until last Tuesday. She really thought he was her kinky soulmate, but she gradually drifted away from him, just like all her other “soulmates.” She pushed that depressing thought out of her mind by popping a Brad Paisley CD into the player and singing along to “Freedom was a Highway.”

Twenty minutes later, she turned onto a long gravel driveway leading into the Bodie ranch. A big plume of smoke rose up behind the nineteenth century ranch house. A rather ominous welcome to a biker gangbang. She swung around the house and saw the source of the smoke: a big roaring bonfire in the middle of a neatly grazed pasture behind the horse stables, surrounded by burly Banditos and their Harleys on kickstands. She parked her truck near a black stallion, took a deep breath, and took the plunge.

“Yee-ha, here comes Kelly Cowgirl,” Bruce beamed as she approached a raging inferno, literally and figuratively. The loud crackling fire sound clashed with death metal from a pair of speakers hooked up to an iPhone.

“My last name is Kross, by the way. Kross with a K.”

“Kelly Kross. Good name for a Porn star.”

“Thank my daddy for giving it to me. And for beating the shit out of me for ten straight years.”

“Aw, poor baby,” said another biker dude with red hair. “You’re all grown up now, and you need someone else to whoop your Hot Ass?”

“Fuck you, douchebag,” she snapped playfully.

“Ooooooh!” was their collective response.

“Damn, this backwater skank got some serious aah-titude,” remarked a blonde one.

“They oughta bring back the draft,” grunted a hulking Bandito with an army dog tag necklace. “That’ll teach these punk-Ass bitches a little respect.”

“How much you wanna hurt, cowgirl?” Bruce asked sternly.

“Get me nice and sore all over, but don’t send me to the fucking hospital. Ya hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” they replied in comic unison.

She took off her blue plaid work shirt and black bra, revealing pale natural DD wonders. The Banditos howled to a rising full moon, and started removing their biker gear.

“Keep those leather jackets on, boys. I Love the feel of cowhide on a raw night,” Kelly ordered while shucking off the rest of her cowgirl get-up.

“Holy fuck. You’re twice as Hot as August,” Bruce quipped while stroking his eight-inch dick. A few other guys pulled out their phones and hit the record button. She hoped the videos would go viral on the underground Porn matrix, showing the world how hungry she was for the mainstream. On the pill and riding roughshod. Bruce grabbed a bunch of farm rope off the stable fence and marched right up to Kelly.

“Hey Cowgirl Barbie,” he cooed mockingly. “You’re my doll-bitch now.”

He shoved his leather-clad barrel chest against her big bare tits, making her yelp in sudden fear. He licked her face in a slow straight line from chin to forehead, and she whimpered pathetically, realizing she was in in way over her head. But she steeled her resolve to make the most of it. Bruce wrapped the rope quickly around her arms and torso, like a rodeo cowboy demobilizing a calf.

“Aright, boys. Let’s tenderize this longhorn steak.”

“I need a safe word, guys,” Kelly said meekly. “How about ‘Yellowstone?'”

“How about you shut the fuck up,” Bruce growled. “Safe words are for hipster pussies!”

Kelly whimpered pathetically. They grabbed their leather belts and lashed her soft skin over and over from from every possible angle. She screamed in pain at first, but her masochistic side soon took over, and she screamed in pleasure. A baptism by fire on the road to stardom. These outlaws made the ranch hands in her previous gangbangs seem like little girls whacking a pony.

“Somebody better whoop my twat!” she shrieked. Someone followed her order right away, swinging low and hitting her sweet spot a dozen times. So many nerve endings in that one tiny mound of flesh, lighting up like fireworks on the Fourth. Someone else stepped around and whipped her asshole even harder, making her knees buckle in ecstasy. It was clearly evident on her face; tilted toward the first star of the night. Venus. The relentless heat from the bonfire on a muggy night soon had everyone sweating bullets. The distinctive body odor of hardcore bikers turned her on even more.

“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face!” growled the tallest Bandito.

“Make me!“

He slapped her hard on her sweaty left cheek. She turned the other one with a throaty laugh, and he slapped it just as hard.

“Ooh, big macho man, slappin’ bitches. I bet you only get laid by hookers.”

“Shut your fucking trap, you fuckin’ hick!”

He whipped her tits just like she whipped Highfly, her favorite red stallion at Casey Tibb’s ranch. Everyone else aimed their leather at her hooters, and she squealed in delight.

“Fuck yeah! Turn them big white titties fucking red. Whoop me like them fucking Vegas whores!”

“Lucky seven, bitch,” someone growled while aiming a black leather belt at her flat belly. They kept wailing away for what seemed like five minutes. The waves of stinging pain turned into a tsunami of ecstasy, flooding her brain with endorphins and making saliva ooze out of her mouth.

“God damn, that bitch is drooling like a fucking spazz. She fucking loves this shit!”

“Gimme fucking more!”

Another guy swung really low, hitting the delicate flesh on top of her bare feet, driving her even crazier. An outlaw with a pedi Fetish? Meanwhile, everyone else kept going ballistic on the rest of her body.

“Hold up, guys. Hold your fucking fire!” Bruce barked, and his troops reluctantly obeyed. “I wanna make this party last, so let’s do some slow dancing. Tie her up to that big-Ass tractor.”

They dragged her toward the horse stables and shoved her against a huge MeriCrusher MT-700. The most expensive model on the market; purchased with dirty meth money. Like a cross between a farm tractor and an Abrams battle tank.

“Stretch her out on that spiky thingy,” Bruce ordered. A bunch of guys tied her bound body to a big steel attachment with vertical rollers on the back.

“My-my, will ya look at that slutty farm chick,” Bruce crooned in a mock Montana accent.

“She plowed the fields all day, and now she wants to get plowed by some biker pricks,” another guy added in a genuine Nevada accent.

“Oh god, please fuck me,” Kelly groaned, desperate for relief from the sweet torture. “I want fifteen cocks in both holes, and fifteen loads on my face!”

Bruce wagged his index finger at her face. “Ah-ah. Not yet, Cowgirl Barbie. We ain’t done torturing our little doll-bitch.”

The redhead got all up in her grill and squeezed her sore tits so hard, making her squeal. The sound was echoed by the whinnying of a horse in the nearby stables.

“I bet you were a bad girl growing up. A real problem child.”

“Hell yeah, I was so fucking bad. I deserved all that pain from daddy.”

“I bet you loved playing with fire.”

Kelly whimpered as soon as he said the “f” word, knowing exactly what she was in for.

“Guess what? So do I.”

“Light ‘er up down there, Chuck,” Bruce suggested. “Get that Hot Pussy really Hot.”

Chuck picked up a small stick near the bonfire, lit it up the end with a cigarette lighter, and walked back over to their whimpering sub.

“Nothing beats pink s’mores on a camping trip,” he quipped while lowering the stick and pointing the flaming tip in her direction. “Kum-ba-ya.”

He slowly moved it toward her Vagina, savoring her rising fear.

“Oh god, please don’t,” she moaned.

“If you can’t stand the heat, stay outta the fucking kitchen,” Chuck grunted. He moved the flame closer and closer to her puffed-out Pussy, making her scream. Not close enough to burn, but close enough for genuine terror. She loved getting Hot candle wax drizzled on her cunt while tied up like a fucking hog, but this was taking the concept to a whole other level.

“Give the boss a turn,” Bruce ordered. Chuck stepped aside and gave him his flaming twig. Bruce jabbed it up to the same spot, and the intense heat made her hotter under the collar. He started jacking her clit with his other hand, and she only lasted ten seconds. Her Orgasm grabbed her like a grizzly bear. Clear fluid blasted outward in a massive geyser, extinguishing the flame and soaking his leather swag.

“Fucking bitch! Nobody blows a fucking load on my $500 custom-print jacket!”

He smacked her right between her drenched legs, hard as fuck, making her gasp real awkwardly while locked in the throes of climax.

“Apologize to the boss, you fucking inbred skank!”

“Sorry, boss,” she murmured almost inaudibly.

“I can’t hear you!” he shouted, giving her snatch another good smack.

“Sorry boss,” she managed a little louder.

He smacked it again.

“I can’t fucking HEAR YOU!”

“SORRY BOSS!”

“Fuck you, bitch! You ain’t fuckin’ sorry ’bout nothin’ you ever did!”

Bruce wrapped his strong hands around her slender neck, shoved his big dick up her tight Pussy, and ramrodded her into the warm steel. The best ride of her life had only just begun.

“Fuck yeah, slam that Pussy! Ride me like a fucking Fat Bob!”

“You know your Harleys, bitch,” he grunted, and spanked her Ass so good. She loved the feel of his wet black leather jacket against her sore brown nipples. She always fantasized about moments like this while riding Highfly on the open range; stroking his leathery reins, saddle, and horsehide. Bruce kept fucking her hard and fast, dropping so many F-bombs.

“Fucking country bitch, getting what you fucking deserve. I’m gonna break your fucking Pussy in half!”

He cranked his gear shaft into overdrive, and she squirted once again on his jacket.

“Save your load for the grand finale, boss,” the redhead Bandito advised while masturbating slowly. Bruce reluctantly pulled out, and another guy immediately took her place, fucking her in the same gung-ho style, smacking both Ass cheeks a dozen times for emphasis. She gazed longingly into the camera lens of a nearby phone, imagining thousands of guys around the world jerking off to this kinky Montana melee. Way more fun than they’ll ever have, most likely.

“I told you fucking pricks to fuck me in both holes!”

“As you wish, your majesty,” another alpha male snickered. He shoved his penis up her anus and screwed her brains out against the steel. She’d had plenty of Anal Sex ever since Jake Stanley popped her butt-cherry while drunk as a skunk at their high school graduation party.

The sky kept getting darker and darker, and her rope-bound arms started going numb. The death metal compilation stopped playing on the speakers, replaced by thousands of crickets. The redhead Bandito tagged out the one with a long dark beard, and he grinned slimily at Kelly.

“Having fun, shoog?”

“Fuck yeah,” she murmured under her breath.

“Me too. Damn, I’m sick and tired of that #MeToo bullshit. So many innocent guys are getting dragged through the fucking mud. Due process got killed off by whiny bitches like you.”

He unzipped a pocket on his leather jacket and pulled out something small and dark. He flicked his thumb, and a three inch blade popped right up, gleaming orange with the reflected bonfire. She yelped loudly, fearing the worst from one of the worst guys in the world. Her fears were eased when he only used the switchblade to cut the rope that bound her to the tractor. He retracted the blade, tucked it back into his pocket, and shoved her to the ground. She lay there pathetically, face-down on the barley, wondering how much longer they’d drag this evening out. She heard lots of stories about biker orgies that lasted for hours on end.

“I’m gonna bang you like a bunny rabbit, you fucking ho.”

He got down on the ground, lay down on top of her, and screwed her six ways from Sunday. He weighed twice as much as her, and it was all muscle. She loved the hard bulging sensation of his pecs and biceps through weather-worn cowhide. Struggling to breath beneath the relentless onslaught. Five more guys drilled her in both holes, making her squirt three more times.

“Hey bunny-bitch, ya hungry for some carrots?” asked another blonde Bandito.

“Fuck yeah! I want all them biker dicks in my cowgirl mouth!”

She got up on her knees, and the fifteen outlaws circled around their sweaty sub. The skinniest guy stepped forward shoved his long schlong all the way in, nearly making her puke. She quickly recovered, and bobbed her head back and forth at a rapid clip. The salty flavor of man-sweat, tinged with traces of her own shit. Her tummy rumbled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything since that bowl of Wheaties at the crack of dawn. A woman can’t survive on cock alone.

She shuffled her knees in a gradual counterclockwise rotation, frantically fellating fifteen desperadoes. Her neck got just as sore as the rest of her body.

“Get those balls, bitch!” the redhead grunted. “Suck ’em like Jessa Rhodes!”

“I Love that crazy blonde skank,” Kelly beamed. She squeezed his entire nutsack into her mouth and sucked hard while squeezing gently with her teeth, making him howl to the moon. She went back to work on his thick manhood, slurping like hell until another guy tapped him out. Then another one, and another one, and another one. More dicks than she could shake a stick at.

Someone picked up a Ponderosa Pine branch and whacked her on the back while she bobbed back and forth in bondage.

“Fuck yeah, Davey!” Bruce cheered from the sidelines. “Whoop that naughty girl with a switch, like her cowboy daddy!”

She yelped with each painful blow from hundreds of pine needles, with a mouthful of man-meat. She moved on to yet another penis, and Davey kept slashing her entire backside with the switch. By her rough estimation, they’d been going at it for nearly an hour. The Banditos could keep exploring her caves until the cows came home, but she was thoroughly exhausted and “tenderized.”

“Aright, you had your fun, boys. Now git your Hot spunk all over my pretty face!”

“You earned it, Kelly Cowgirl,” Bruce growled. “You fucking deserve your dessert.”

He stepped into the center of the ring, grabbed her hair, and yanked her head up toward the star-studded Big Sky.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”

That satisfying warm goo kept coming and coming, covering her outstretched tongue and the rest of her face.

“Damn, boss, you must have been saving that up for a fucking week!” the Army Bandito remarked.

“That explains why he jumped right on me at The Crow’s Nest,” Kelly giggled as Bruce jerked out every last drop. Chuck tagged him out and stepped in the ring, grabbing her dark brown hair and jerking like hell.