Morgan's Gang Bang Ch. 03

Morgan 3

As I drove home dressed only in my underwear, I prayed I wouldn't get stopped. I found a towel in the back seat and wrapped it around my shoulders like a shawl, giving me some coverage. Luckily, I made it home without problems and was never so happy to be there. Later as I sat in a hot bath massaging my sore boobs, I thought it was funny; I love having my tits mauled, especially my nipples bitten and abused, it sends lightning bolts to my pussy, but I pay the price later, with bruised and sore tits.

Monday came, I threw myself into my job, and the week went by quickly. Friday was beautiful, so I did a little shopping at lunch. Picking up a couple of pencil skirts and some stretchy tops. I still liked to dress sexy, even if it got me in trouble. I crave male attention, even the unwanted kind. For example, an older man followed me and did not attempt to hide it. I had on a black and white check dress that was super tight and barely reached my knees. If I raised my arms even slightly, the hem rose to the point of exposing my stocking tops. To give the old man a thrill, first, I made sure he was watching me, then I stretched to reach for something on a higher shelf, feeling my dress ride up, exposing my off-black nylons. I held that pose till I noticed him sweating and touching himself, the poor old horny fool. Laughing to myself, I walked as quickly as my four-inch heels allowed and headed back to work. The rest of the day went by with no problems except for my wet, tingling pussy. I could hear a couple of girls making plans with their boyfriends for the weekend. It was then that I realized I would never have a boyfriend; my past choices were proof of that. All I could think about was being forced to perform for a couple of men, preferably in their sixties.

Friday night came, and I was going to meet some girls from work. I got there early and saved some seats.

I was halfway thru my drink when this handsome guy sat beside me; I told him he could sit there until we needed it. This guy was a catch, had good looks, and could converse without looking at my boobs. He kept ordering me drinks, and I was starting to feel them; I didn't object when his hand brushed my boob and rested on my thigh. After a while, he stood up and whispered to me; he was going outside to smoke a joint and did I want to go with him. I said yes. It was hot in the bar, and I could use some air. He followed me so he could check out my heels and legs. I'm not dumb, the dark green silk dress I had on left little to the imagination, it was short, barely covering my stocking tops, and the scoop neck displayed my perfect tits. I had perfected a walk that made my tight ass wiggle. I knew he was enjoying the view, and it made me hot.

We got to a dark spot. He texted someone and then lit up. I took a hit, it's been a while since I smoked, and it hit me hard; everything started spinning. He took advantage of my drunken state, kissed me full on the lips, and squeezed my tits. I was dimly aware of a van pulling up next to us, and the side door opened, and I heard someone say, "That's her. Good job."

Strong arms pulled me into the van; somebody said, "We got her, lock the door." My dress had pulled up, exposing my nylons. The van started moving as I lay on the floor, scared, and as I looked around, panic set in.

The smell of pot was heavy, and three guys were inside drinking beers. Then I recognized the valet from the other night, grinning and grabbing his crotch.

"Hello, Morgan, I'm Mike."

"You were with your rich old man at the country club, and you assumed I wasn't good enough for you; then I saw you the other night, and you ignored me again. We've been waiting for you; paybacks are a bitch."

I started crying, begging them to let me go.

"All in good time; stand her up, fellas." They forced me to my feet, my head hitting the roof, unzipping my silk dress and pulling it off, leaving me in my dark blue bra, panties, and garter belt.

"I told you she was hot; what girl dresses like this, and can she suck cock, show him, Morgan."

I slowly dropped to my knees and reached for the nearest cock, my heart pounding.

"If I suck you off, will you let me go?" I said while batting my false eyelashes; Mike snickered. We've got plans for you. I hope you enjoy them.

"Please don't hurt me; if you let me go, I won't tell anyone." I whimpered.

"Who cares? Tell anyone you want," Mike said, and they all laughed.

I had no choice and gave in. Men always get their way with me anyway.

I wrapped my hands around two cocks and ran my mouth up and down Mike's sweaty dick. Then he maneuvered it into my hungry mouth; thank god it wasn't too big, so I could deep throat it.

The guy driving was going nuts; he could see everything in the mirror and wanted a piece of the action. The van jolted to a stop; I looked out the window, and we were at a sleazy motel outside town. Mike grabbed the door and said,

"I've got the key. Let's get inside."

The side door opened, and I stepped into the parking lot. I couldn't make a run for the office dressed in my underwear and stilettos. Mike opened the door, and the others pulled me from the van and into the room; grabbing at my tits and ass, I let out a little scream which only excited them more. I tripped at the door and went sprawling on the floor, and it winded me. I lay there a minute, listening to them laugh, saying what they were going to do to me like I wasn't there. Pretty soon, they were naked, standing over me, and I couldn't let them know I loved every minute of it.

Mike and another guy grabbed my arms and stood me up, and I started screaming and struggling, kicking my legs and pleading with them to let me go.

I stood before them when Mike said, "Strip." His tone was menacing. I gave up.

Hanging my head, I fumbled with my bra and held it in place, covering my tits. He roughly pulled it from me. "Panties next, honey."

I pulled them off and stood before them in nylons, a garter belt, and heels; I made a move to unfasten my stockings when Mike said, "Don't take them off; they turn me on."

I laughed to myself, the power of stockings.

"On your knees, bitch."

I sunk and licked my lips, "Do what you want, just don't hurt me."

I got what I wanted, Mike, and another guy slapped my boobs and twisted my nipples, I was in heaven, but I couldn't let them know how much I liked my tits abused. Somebody else was poking his dick around my mouth I opened wide and took it in, deep-throating it till tears rolled down my face. They laid me on the bed, and Phil, I think that was his name, went to work licking my pussy; he was pretty good at it, and I wrapped my nylon-covered legs around his head, forcing his tongue deeper. I had my first of many orgasms that night.

The details of that night are fuzzy, they forced me to drink whiskey, so I was pretty drunk. I know they fucked every hole on my body, I know at one point I had a dick in my pussy, and another squeezed in my ass; it hurt like hell and felt good at the same time. I was howling like the bitch that I was.

After a while, I looked around the room. The four guys were sprawled on the other bed and chairs, the good thing about men in their twenties is they can't fuck long, but they recover in no time. They surrounded the bed, four hardening cocks bobbing up and down. I started drooling at the sight of them, but Mike got a cruel look on his face; he leaned over me and rubbed my sore pussy. He hooked his middle finger in my wet cunt and pulled it up, the pain forcing me to sit up. He removed his finger and said.

"That's how you get cunts up, now on your knees Morgan and suck some cock!"

I knew better to protest; I've seen what drunk guys can do to a girl. I sunk to my knees and went from one dick to another; pretty soon, I had pre cum all over my face and tits. I knew what they wanted, to cover my face with cum. I didn't have long to wait; one after another, they squirted my face with their hot cum. I stayed on my knees till I could see them getting dressed. I started to get up when I heard Mike say,

"Let's tie her to a chair and leave her here for the maid to find."

I started to panic; I was begging them to let me go. Finally, Phil, who looked older and had a wedding ring, said.

"No way; what if there was a fire, I'm not going to jail for some whore. We can dump her on the street."

As they were headed out. I pulled my panties on and grabbed my bra, picking up a paper towel and trying to get the cum out of my eyes. They all passed out on the floor of the van. With Mike driving, I sat in the passenger seat, trying to put my bra on. My choice of underwear was not practical, and I got it hooked and then struggled to try and get the lace cups to cover my nipples.

I noticed Mike was looking at me more than at the road; he got a smile on his face and said,

"Make sure you leave me your number. If you don't, remember I know where you live."

As we got close to my house, I reminded him that my street was one way and for him to go around the block.

"Fuck that. Get out and walk. It's only half a block." He snarled.

He reached over and opened my door, rubbing my tits in the process. I jumped out, reaching for the side door to get my dress, but he took off, blowing the horn and leaving me under a streetlight in my underwear. I didn't see anyone. Most homes were dark as I hurried in the shadows in my high heels, my tits bobbing up and down. I hadn't seen anyone, but when I reached my front door, someone whistled and said, "Nice tits, Morgan." I had no idea who it was or where they were. I quickly entered, locked the door, and turned out the lights.

I curled up in bed, and my phone rang, startling me. It was two in the morning, and it was Sam, well screw him calling at this hour. There was an attachment, a photo of me from tonight with all my holes filled with cocks. I threw my phone across the room and went to sleep crying. I was freaked out, Mike had talked with Sam, so I knew what was in store for me.

I had a terrible night's sleep and was sore everywhere possible; plus, I had a world-class hangover, that pot and whiskey killed me. I was curious about what Sam wanted. Well, I knew what he wanted. I'm not stupid, and I couldn't get the thought of being taken by a couple of older men out of my head.

I began my descent into hell by calling Sam. He picked up on the second ring, and I had forgotten how charming he was when he wanted to be. He apologized for Mike and his crew; I guess he forgot what he did to me or wanted me to forget he made me a cum whore. I don't know what power he possesses, but it works on me. After five minutes, he had me giggling at his dirty jokes and suggestive remarks and agreeing to help him with a going away party for one of his friends, with the promise that Mike would not be there. I am such a pushover for older men.

The party was next Saturday, and I looked forward to it. I must need my head examined to go along with this. Sam called me Monday and wanted to take me out to dinner. The only thing that bothered me was when he asked if I'd seen my mother lately, and I said no and didn't want to.

Besides that, he was the perfect gentleman taking a good night kiss gently, not pushing for anything else, a real live Jekyll and Hyde.

I called Sam on Thursday night. I wanted to know more about this party and what he expected from me. This friend of his, Fred, was moving to Utah to live with his daughter. It turned out it was the two of them and no one else. Sam admitted he wanted me to help out with the food and drinks.

I felt better, I could handle two men in their sixties, or so I thought. I still wanted details. No matter what he said, the only reason to have a good-looking girl in her twenties there was for sex. I'm not stupid, but Sam thought I was. He sounded sincere when apologizing for the night at the country club, blaming himself for drinking too much.

I was fool enough to believe him. Saturday morning, Sam called, telling me one more of his friends would be there, and asked if it would be a problem. I thanked him and said I didn't care as long as everybody controlled themselves.

My problem was what to wear. I wanted to look nice but not encourage them, and I didn't want to look like a prude or a tramp.

Meanwhile, Sam had made some purchases to try out on me, and he couldn't believe how gullible I was. Saturday night came, and I had settled on a black sequin dress that was full from the waist down and tight from the waist up, finishing with spaghetti straps. Sheer black nylons coupled with four-inch black heels and a black choker that highlighted my long neck, I was worried about the amount of cleavage that showed, but it was too late now. I looked in my full-length mirror; turning slightly, I realized when I bent over that my hem raised in the back, revealing my stocking tops and garter straps. I liked how I looked, but the thought kept going thru my mind that maybe I was "asking for it."

My hair was in a French twist, and maybe the hoop earrings were too big, but I liked the look and wouldn't change it.

Sam and his two friends sat in easy chairs when I arrived, drinking shots. I almost turned and left. These guys were getting drunk; any girl knew what would happen next. Sam got up and immediately hugged me, planting a wet kiss on my lips, almost trying to show the other two how close we were.

"Welcome, Morgan, let's get some food ready," Like I was the maid. I forced a smile, wondering what Sam told them about me. I started for the kitchen. I almost said I was leaving, I was a little scared, and that jerk Sam, wasn't being so nice now that I was trapped in his house. I tried to calm myself down with a shot of whiskey, and it worked until I walked into the living room and noticed a chair blocking the front door.

"What's going on? Why is the chair there?"

"We need plenty of room tonight. By the way, I'm Steve, and this is Matt. We're business friends of Sam.

Now I was really scared, room for what?

I put the tray of sandwiches on the table, being careful of the flare in my dress when I bent over, but no matter how I tried, my dress rose enough to show my stocking tops. They sat back, enjoying the show. While Sam was in the kitchen getting drinks, he called out.

"Don't start without me."

Start what? I thought to myself. I grabbed another glass of whiskey; I had to calm down. Sam was being a real jerk, the way he was ordering me around. I was so scared of him that I feared leaving even if somebody didn't block the door. While I need to be dominated, I prefer only one guy, maybe two, but not three.

The intimacy of one guy makes the pain personal, and I love pain.

While Sam was still in the kitchen, Steve and Matt sat on the couch, and I was headed for a chair when Steve grabbed my arm and pulled me between them.

"Hey, not so rough, and get your hands off me!" I cried.

"Sam said you like it rough, and guess what it doesn't matter what you say. You're still getting fucked."

I pulled free and stood up; my dress hiked to my waist, exposing my stockings and black panties. Sam walked in from the kitchen,

"I told you guys to wait for me, and I bought Morgan some presents."

I was really scared, I panicked and started trying to make a deal with them. I offered them blowjobs and said they could finish on my face or my boobs; I sounded pitiful.

Sam just smiled; "We were going to do that anyway and much more."

"Now, how about you take that dress off? We don't want it getting ripped like last time, do we?"

I almost fainted; the power he had over me was unreal; anything he said I would do,

"No sir, I'll take it off. Please don't hurt me," I begged, silently hoping for the worst.

They settled in their chairs, waiting for the show, drinks in hand. I trembled like a leaf, reaching for my zipper and slowly pulling it down. As my back became exposed, the only sound was their heavy breathing.

I caught the front of the dress, holding it against my chest.

"Drop it," Sam snarled. I let it go, carefully folding it and putting it on a chair, don't take your bra off just yet; just pull your cups down. The black lace cups formed a shelf for my perfect tits, with my nipples pointing straight out immediately hard.

"Come here, Morgan. I want those tits."

I put my hands behind my back and minced over to Sam in my stilettos, tits bouncing. I stood before him, shaking. He pulled me onto his lap and buried his face in my tits, torturing my nipples. It felt so good that I was losing my mind trying to make myself cum. I returned to reality when I felt my hands tied above my head.

"Hey, guys, stop it now! I didn't say you could do that; now I want out of here."

"Shut up, Morgan, and we don't need your permission, guys; put the rope thru that hook in the ceiling and pull." My arms were pulled over my head until I was almost out of my heels. Sam opened a bag that was beside his chair and pulled out a riding crop, and smacked his hand,

"Time for a riding lesson Morgan."

Taking full swing, he brought the crop down on my ass.

After only one hit, my butt was on fire. I lost count after ten or eleven. It felt like somebody had torched my butt. I squirmed and twisted as Sam had a good old time raining blows on my burning ass.

Thank god he stopped, but I knew it wasn't over. Steve loosened the rope until I was bent in half, my full lips at crotch level. Matt stepped before me and pulled his pants down, his dick popping free, hitting me in the face. I was struggling for all I was worth.

"STOP IT NOW; LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Sam laughed,

"Nobody can hear you, and it's getting on my nerves. So unless you want more of this, shut your fucking mouth!"

He swung the crop under me to prove a point, hitting my boobs. It was like an electric shock; the pain was delicious; it went straight to my pussy. Creating a maddening itch. Matt rubbed his dick over my face smearing his pre cum. I felt like a whore and wanted to get out of there.

Sam entered me from behind with one push. It hurt like hell, and he wasn't that big; I was far from ready. He rode me, slapping my ass and telling me I was like my mother. My face was burning with shame, and I guess he was right. It was relentless. They all took turns fucking my holes until they were satisfied.

Sam finally untied me and threw me on a bed in a spare room. He laughed and said, "Don't go anywhere, sweetie."

I remember the room spinning and then blackness. I don't know how much time passed, but I woke up to pain in my arms; I was tied to the bedposts and blindfolded. I could sense someone in the room.

"The princess is awake," Sam said.

I was aware of someone crawling between my legs, kissing my inner thighs, brushing my stocking tops, and slowly reaching my aching pussy. I could smell cheap perfume,

"Oh my god, it was a woman!"

My cunt was full of cum, and she was eagerly licking it up. with the guys urging her on. She was good, and I wrapped my legs around her head as she stabbed my folds with her tongue; only a woman would know the right spot to caress. I felt one finger, then two, as I arched my back. I climaxed quickly, and as I relaxed my legs, she gently kissed my tender pussy. I felt her moving up until her lips found my mouth, I could taste cum and my juices as her invading tongue found mine. "My turn, honey." she rasped. And then moved up, so her cunt was over my mouth.

"Let's get rid of this blindfold." As she pulled it off, she started grinding her pussy onto my mouth. It was then that my worst nightmare came true. It was my mother. I started screaming and twisted my head from side to side. She used it to her advantage, contacting my mouth with her smelly snatch. I wanted to die. The guys were standing beside the bed, jerking off next to me. My mother was forcing me to eat her out.