"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!
