Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Mila swallows hard before nodding. “Show me.”
5
MILA
The guys lead me out of the party and into what must be where their members actually live. It’s something between a dorm and an apartment building, but it feels like it was expanded in stages, so it’s like walking through an organized maze. Most rooms have names marked on them, some with signs, some scribbled on with markers. Occasionally we pass a door that’s been left open. I peek in as we walk past one, and see a bunch of guys playing cards. It would look normal, except each of them has a girl on their lap, and the girls are nearly naked.
“Read ‘em and weep.” A man with blue eyes and a bright green buzzcut leans back, showing his hand. His girl grins, and the others laugh, standing up and stripping off a piece of clothing each.
“Fuck you, Toxic,” one of the loosers says with a chuckle. His girl steps out of her miniskirt and kicks it to the side.
“That’s my job, Cyrus,” she says, but she doesn’t sound mad about it.
She struts over to Toxic—the green haired man—and kneels between his legs, running her hands up his thighs. Toxic’s own girl helps open his belt and—
“You like to watch?” Mack whispers in my ear. “Come with us.”
I don’t answer, but I do let them lead me deeper into the heart of their lair, which is maybe answer enough. I never thought of myself as being particularly voyeuristic, but it turns out maybe I just never had the opportunity to find out.
We come to a door with a wooden plank that has ‘Scrapper’ burned into it. The loud music from the party quiets when we step inside. Scrapper flicks on a floor lamp, bathing the whole room in a soft golden glow. It’s basically a studio apartment, with one main room and a couple doors that I’m guessing are for bathrooms or closets. It’s nothing fancy. A large bed, a kitchen table with a few chairs, and a sofa and coffee table facing a TV mounted to the wall. But what catches my eye is that each piece of furniture looks totally unique.
I run a hand over the coffee table, which is a massive plank cut from the center of a tree with only enough finishing to make it smooth and rich. It’s gorgeous. “This is amazing. Did you make all this?”
Scrapper looks a little uncomfortable. “It’s a hobby.”
“If you want to admire some wood, let me bring up the Playroom,” Mack says. He plays with his phone for a minute before the TV turns on, and a video fills the screen.
There’s probably five guys in the room, and two very happy women who are extremely good at multitasking. I forget all about the furniture and stare at all the filthy action happening on the massive bed they’re all piled on. There’s nothing staged or polished about the video or the people in it. The men are fit and attractive, and so are the women, but it feels real. Real bodies, with real scars and real breasts that obey the law of gravity. It’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. And that’s when I realize I’m hearing the same low, thudding bass in the background that was playing at the party.
“Wait, is this live? Here? D—do they know we’re watching?” I stammer. Every inch of me is flushed and sensitive, craving to be touched.
“See how he’s licking her pussy?” growls Reaper in my ear. “That’s happening right now, and they’re in there because they want to be watched. They’re hoping the brothers are fucking or stroking off to what they’re doing.”
I shudder as Scrapper slides his fingers into my hair, then makes a fist so he can angle my head just right for Mack to kiss me. Reaper puts a hand on my exposed stomach and starts finding his way upwards. The three of them cooperate like they're a practiced team. I have no illusions of being the first girl they've done this with, as long as right now they’re touching and watching me like I'm the only girl in the world.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” I whisper.
“You’re a virgin?” Mack asks, his mouth on my neck freezing.
“No!” I shake my head in denial. “But I feel like I might as well be compared to what you’re probably used to.”
“If you don’t want to fuck, you don’t have to. You get that, right?” Scrapper’s expression is dead serious. “We want to show you a good time, not freak you out.”
On the screen, one of the girls helps position the hips of the other girl as she slowly sinks onto a long, hard cock. The biker’s hands are wrapped around her waist, and her hair cascades down her back in chestnut waves. On either side are more men, with their cocks in their hands, stroking as they watch and wait their turn.