A Vietnamese Tran & A Dog Pt. 02

So, yeah, I organize fuck parties.

Big shindigs, I book a hotel floor and arrange for food and security. Entry fees cover the expenses. For intimate affairs, just a suite's needed. You fuck in one room, sleep in the other, and that's what I put together for the Johnson's last month.

Steven contacted me asking could I gather 5-6 BBC's to gangbang his wife, Pamela. You'd think finding brothas to tap willing white pussy would be easy, but it's not. There's scheduling issues and the flakes.

That's how me and the likes of Eightball became friends/associates. We'd met before at fucktions. He lived close and was a reliable dick to call who could bring others.

The Johnson's appeared ultra-conservative, giving off Amish-like vibes. Pamela was tiny, barely 110 pounds. Entering the hotel room, saying nothing and making no eye-contact, she went straight to the bathroom as Steven prepped his recording equipment.

"You sure about this? There's 5 of us! She may break!" I cautioned.

"Lock the doors! No one escapes!" yelled Pamela, exiting the bathroom naked, "Ya'll fuckers gonna get fucked!"

"Sic'em, honey!" Steven cheered.

Pamela pushed Eightball's big ass down and rode him hard as her small hands tugged on 2 dicks and her mouth soul sucked the other.

I tagged in next mounting her ass doggystyle.

"Hoboin' my caboose? You gotta pay the fair!" she demanded.

"Smack it! Hard!" Steven urged and I obliged turning white asscheeks beet red.

The other 3 guys couldn't handle her suckjob's intensity. One shot his load down her throat. The other two left streams of cum across her forehead and chin leaving me and Eightball last fucks standing.

"Take no prisoners!" Steven encouraged as Pamela posed tongue out, baby-battered covered, and smiling.

Eightball picked her up, placing her legs over his shoulders, with Steven capturing images of hard standup fucking.

I moved her to the open window, pulling her hair and fucking her in the arresting position in plain sight of any passersby as Steven spielberged away.

"Round 2? Y'all ready?" she asked an exhausted room, "No? Next month then! 8-10 guys, ok?"

So, here I am again, a month later.

Word spread quickly about the previous encounter and finding gangbangers was no trouble. I now looked over a suite filled with 9, viagra-roided, BBC's determined not to be fucked senseless from petite, sexual dynamo and cock deflator, Pamela.

To get away, I'd given Thuy some lame excuse.

"We never spend weekends together!" Thuy cried as Mrs. Tran stood, arms folded, suspiciously frowning me down.

The Johnson's were late. One hour turned into two. They weren't answering their phone or replying to texts. The room was getting anxious, frustrated, and a bit drunk. Motherfuckers were actin as if it was my fault!

When a knock came at the door, I jumped, relieved they'd arrived.

Mrs. Tran burst in, backpedaling me to the middle of the room, screechin Vietnamese shit, waggin and pokin her finger all in my face.

I imagine she was shouting, "Gotcha! Im tellin Thuy!"

Ok, stop!

I gotta backtrack some context.

First, though, let's pause.

Like, sometimes, in reading these stories we miss intimate details as we rush towards the end of our tale, never enjoying the fulfilling richness of the journey. Take another sip of that beer, dear reader, and ask yourself... What's this all for? Are we just a carbon based combination of cells genetically predisposed to seeking meaningless copulation? What is Spam made of? 750 words to tell a story? That's fucking insane!

Ok, remember Thuy's nickname?

Well, her pear didn't fall far from the tree! I'm tellin ya Mrs. Tran, herself, was a hot piece of shaking beef! Short, with a tinge of grey running through her black hair, her ass and tits were fuller than her daughter's. Mrs. Tran was a ripened pear!

Running a stakeout operation on me, she dressed comfortably, wearing only loose sweats and, as she spouted off, her sexy parts freely jiggled and bounced. If I noticed then certainly...

I hurriedly tried escorting her ass outside.

WHAM-POW!

Eightball's fists tenderized my nose.

"No one goin' nowhere!" he shouted.

I'd seen this coming. "If you want to gather knowledge, act as if you're ignorant," Thuy would repeatedly say to me. Eightball wasn't angry from tardy pussy. He was cashing in a grudge.

"Don't worry, fellas," Eightball smiled, "We still gettin our fucks on tonight!"

I could only watch helplessly from the floor as 9 horned up dicks surrounded poor Mrs. Tran.