Supergirls and Stupid Men Ch. 03

Chapter Three -- You Know I Hate To Fuck In Drag

Balwyn PD's SWAT team was only small: eight very well trained officers and they were all pissed off at Penelope Bishop. They'd hit the Beasts of Burden MC clubhouse at sunrise expecting the bikers to be armed and dangerous and instead they'd found the President Duane McAllister, the Vice President Bob Livingstone, and the remaining three fully-patched members, a couple of prospects and four scantily dressed skanky mommas asleep and strewn around the clubhouse in various stages of undress.

Duane and Bob were fast asleep on old leather sofas in the meeting room, both cuddled up to snoring mommas. The rest were sleeping on the beer-stained couches and in some cases on the floor of the barroom. None of them were armed and they were all in various states of drunkenness after a wild party the night before.

Penelope made her apologies and sent the SWAT team away telling them to get breakfast at The Longhorn and put it on her tab. She, Steve Edwards and Silvia Bickle sent the skanky women home along with the rest of the bikers and prospects and sat Duane McAllister and Bob Livingstone down in the club meeting room.

Duane McAllister lit a cigarette and looked up at Penelope through squinted eyes. His eyes travelled over her body, unashamedly leering at her tits, ass and legs and then he did the same to Silvia Bickle.

"They sent a tranny and a spook to roust us Bob," he croaked to Bob Livingston through a broken-toothed smile.

"I got one word to say to you lady... lawyer," Duane put his head down on table and began to snooze, leaving his cigarette burning in the ashtray.

"No need for lawyers. We just have a couple of questions is all," Penelope replied.

Lawyer, Duane's voice was muffled by his folded arms.

"All I want to know is... do you know either of these girls? This one rides with one of your members," Penelope put the pictures of Olena Svetlana and Alina Kunis down on the polished wood table and pointed to the picture of Olena Svetlana.

Duane didn't even take his head out of his arms and neither did Bob Livingstone.

"Hey boss come look at this," Steve called from the barroom.

The walls of the barroom were decorated with neon beer signs, colours, patches, sigils, old number plates and other biker paraphernalia but also there were numerous framed pictures of the members partying, riding, attending rallies and just sitting around the clubhouse.

Steve pointed to a picture of Harlan Decker sitting on his Harley outside the clubhouse. Sitting beside him and smiling at the camera was Olena Svetlana wearing cut-off denim shorts and a t-shirt with her tits out, her long legs sheathed in glossy pantyhose, her feet shot in come-fuck-me heels. Steve climbed up on a bench and began to remove the picture off the wall.

This roused Duane McAllister and Bob Livingstone.

"Hey!" Duane called out and tried to get out of his seat.

Penelope pushed him back down in his chair and pointed to the search warrant she had placed on the table.

"Cunt!" Duane hissed and put his head back down on his forearms and pretended to snooze.

Steve brought the picture into the meeting room and held it up against the pictures on the wall next to the MC's honour board listing the President, Vice President, Treasurer, Secretary, Road Captain, and Sergeant-at-Arms. There it was: 'Harlan Decker - Sergeant at Arms' right beside his picture. Steve took the picture out its frame much to the consternation of Duane McAllister.

Silvia Bickle took a call from Alice Leasingham right then and called Penelope into the clubhouse.

"Alice got a hit on the mystery bloodstain at Supergirls. It's been matched to a Peter Decker who was recently released from Huntsville after serving seven years of a twelve year stretch for armed robbery," Silvia whispered.

"So it was the two brothers, Harlan and Peter Decker. Let's get the fuck out of here and find those fuckers," Penelope was excited.

She went back into the meeting room and snatched the up warrant off the table.

"Thanks boys; you've been real helpful," Penelope smirked at the two bikers who still sat with their heads in their hands.

"Fuck you," Duane growled and feigned sleep until the police had left the clubhouse.

When Penelope, Steve and Silvia left the clubhouse Duane banged the table.

"Those fuckers did it! Check the armoury while I make some calls and check on a few things," Duane said excitedly.

Bob Livingstone went outside to a cinderblock building at the back of the clubhouse located behind a beat-up lanai scattered with grungy outdoor furniture and a rundown bamboo tiki bar. He unlocked the steel door, turned on the lights and weaved his way through the detritus to a false wall at the back of the building which he was able to remove with a screwdriver. Behind the wall was a fireproof steel gun safe.

Half the contents of the safe were missing including two nine millimetre semi-automatic pistols fitted with suppressors and a couple of nine millimetre Parabellum Heckler & Koch MP5 that were capable of fully-automatic fire.

Bob went back into the clubhouse and found Duane McAllister finishing up a call.

"He fuckin' took half of our weapons stash," Bob growled.

"I shudda seen this comin' when he came to us with that crazy plan to knock over the counting house and take the Russian money. He had his cooze workin' inside," Duane sat at the long table and tapped the polished wood with his fingertips.

"Not a bad piece of ass," Bob reminisced.

Harlan had shared Olena with brothers in arms and she didn't mind. She whored for a living so putting out for Harlan's biker friends was no big deal.

"I bet he got his crazy brother in on the deal... Peter... yeah that's his name, Pete," Duane continued, ignoring the interruption.

"Look; the way I see it. Harlan and Pete Decker and the crazy Russian cooze killed those guys at Supergirls and took the money. The cops and the Russian mob will be looking for them. They already got pictures of the girls on the TV news and all the media. I just checked," Duane's brow was furrowed in thought.

"The cops pretty much gave us a pass so we're not suspects; the crime is not related to our club," Duane continued.

"Harlan said that if we pulled the job with him we could hide out on a farm until the heat was off," Duane ran his fingers through his long greasy hair.

"The Harrison place! Harlan leased the old Harrison farm north of the city," Bob Livingstone said excitedly and gave Duane McAllister a wicked grin.

"I got Benny comin' over with the crash truck. We can't fit all that cash in the panniers if we take our sleds," Duane mused.

The club's crash truck rode at the very end of the bikers riding in formation carrying spare gas, parts, and space to pick-up any broken down bikes

"We goin' after them right now?" Bob was a little surprised.

"Fuck yeah right now! We don't get that money soon the cops or the mob are goin' to be all over them like a fat chick on a cupcake. Get the guns. It's just goin' to be just you me and Benny. We find those fuckers, take the cash and hide it away somewhere safe until the dust settles," Duane rubbed his hands together.

"What about the Deckers?" Bob asked; but he knew the answer.

"They're collateral damage; the Russian chick too. The cops will think the Russians did it and the Russians will think someone else did it. The trick is that no one finds out that it's us," Duane speculated just as Benny Hopkiss arrived with the crash truck

*****

Harlan Decker and Olena Svetlana drove to Menard in the Raptor. There were no cops on the road north of Balwyn because the cops still figured that the guys that hit Supergirls would run south to Mexico. Olena had cut her blonde hair into a short bob and Harlan had shaved off his biker beard and Olena had trimmed his long hair up to his collar.

They found a shopping mall and parked the Raptor between an RV with Oregon plates and a beat up Volkswagen Kombi so it didn't stand out in the parking lot. They split up with their respective shopping lists, Olena shopped for groceries, underwear and clothing for the two girls while Harlan got beer, vodka, cigarettes and two burner phones. Then he went to an outdoor and camping shop and purchased six waterproof backpacks. Olena also picked up toiletries including some hair dye for her and Alina. Harlan picked up a couple flannel checkered shirts and plain white t-shirts for himself and Pete; they would make do with the two pairs of jeans they each had with them.

They wheeled the two shopping trolleys back to the Raptor pushing the rickety trolleys across the broken blacktop when the unmistakeable smell of marijuana greeted them as they got closer to the car.

A man and woman in their sixties were sitting on the steps of the RV. They had the door open and Harlan could see two cans of Bud Light on the kitchenette table inside the RV. The man was wearing a Boho paisley shirt and raw cotton drawstring harem pants with sandals; his hair was tied in a ponytail that came down to the middle of his back. The woman was wearing a rainbow-coloured crochet miniskirt, a white cotton blouse worn open, tan nylons and flats. Her hair was sun-bleached and long and she wore little makeup except for red lipstick.

"Howdy folks," the man sucked in a draw on the joint which was now little more than a roach and passed it to the woman.

Harlan just waved and lifted the canopy and started loading their purchases into the tray of the Raptor. Olena was putting the breakables on the back seat. She was bent over and her skirt was up showing off her pink nylon panties over her pantyhose. The man and the woman were checking out her ass.

"Don't see many women wearing nylons nowadays. I wear em to keep the sand flies and midges from biting my legs plus Mitch likes me to wear em," the woman winked at Olena.

"For me it's just what I do. I started wearing at fourteen and always wear them. Legs look better and men like them. Don't understand why American woman don't wear them," Olena said, her Ukrainian accent evident.

Harlan kept loading the Raptor, ignoring the old hippies.

"You look like you're going to a party," Mitch, the old hippie, pointed to the cases of beer and bottles of Vodka being loaded onto the Raptor.

Harlan just nodded.

"Justine and I don't mind a party either," he reached into the RV and collected the Buds and passed one to his wife.

They had finished the joint and moved onto the beer.

"Want one?" Mitch asked Olena and pointed to his Bud.

"Sure; why not. I'm Olena and my boyfriend is Harlan," Olena smiled at the man.

He was tanned and handsome with white teeth and he seemed friendly.

"What about you cowboy?" Justine got up from the step and sidled up to Harlan.

Her open blouse displayed a nice firm set of breasts held in place by a crocheted bikini-top that matched her skirt. She had good tits for a woman her age and her open face with high cheekbones, although a little weathered by too much sun, was attractive.

"We really should be going?" Harlan replied, closing the canopy on the Raptor's tray.

"Looks like your girlfriend is having one," Justine smiled and waved her hand at Olena who had taken a cold one from Mitch.

"Don't be a party-pooper," Justine stepped into Harlan so that her face was inches from his and her breasts lightly touched his chest.

She smiled and her attractive face was suddenly beautiful.

"Mitch and I like to party," she reached out and touched his shoulder gently.

"We're grey nomads. Retirees who just cruise around enjoying life and you never know when and where a party might just break out," Justine licked her lips provocatively and stroked his cheek.

"I guess one beer won't hurt," Harlan wheezed.

"Come in and have a look around," Mitch said to Olena, helping her into the RV and Justine went in after them and then came back out of the RV out with an ice-cold Bud Light.

"There you go cowboy," her fingertips stroked his hand when she handed him the beer.

"You two get around a bit huh? I see the Oregon plates on your rig," Harlan took a sip of the beer, grateful for the cold liquid on his parched throat.

"We're drinkin', druggin' and fuckin' our way around the good old US of A," Justine leaned in and squeezed Harlan's dick through his jeans.

"Jesus lady!" Harlan howled.

"Oh come on cowboy. Mature pussy is good pussy. If Mitch hasn't got your girlfriend's panties down around her ankles by now he's losing his touch," Justine laughed.

At that very moment the RV began to gently rock from side to side on its suspension.

"See! My old man is a quick worker. Come and join us and have some fun," Justine hauled herself into the RV and Harlan could see that she wasn't wearing any panties and her pantyhose were crotchless and sheer-to-the-waist.

"Fuck! What the hell," Harlan said and hauled himself up into the RV.

He could see down the narrow gangway to the bedroom at the rear of the RV where Mitch had Olena lying on her back on the bed with her legs in the air while he stood between them, slowly fucking her, leaning down between thrusts to kiss her. From the noises Olena was making she was not under any form of duress.

"Come on cowboy; give momma some lovin'" Justine bent over the table and lifted her skirt.

"Jesus!" Harlan griped but he moved in behind her and unzipped his flies and dropped his drawers.

"There's a good boy," Justine reached around behind her and guided Harlan's hard cock into the hole of her crotchless pantyhose and nestled it in her bush.

"Push baby," Justine sighed and Harlan obliged.

It had been some time since Harlan had been with a woman who had a bush that wasn't trimmed and Justine's pubic hair tickled his crotch as his cock slid into her hot wet maw.

Justine's vagina wasn't as tight as Olena's but it was warm, wet and she did something with her vaginal muscles that caused her cunt to squeeze his manhood with a ripple effect that was amazing.

"Not bad for an old gal hey?" Justine took Harlan's hands and put them inside the cups of her brassiere.

He freed her breasts and stroked them, her nipples hardening to his touch. They were long and thick and her tits felt like they might have had some work done but Harlan didn't care. They felt nice and his cock was very comfortable right inside her creamy pussy.

Justine twisted her head so that Harlan could kiss her while he slowly thrust his cock in and out of her cunt which was doing that fluttery, quivery thing that drove him wild. He reached a hand around front and found her clitoris and began to softly circle it with his fingertips.

"That's good boy, don't forget to please momma while she's pleasing you," Justine smiled at him, craning her neck.

"Fuck this is just too uncomfortable as much as I like the way your dick gets right up inside me," Justine grunted impatiently and pushed Harlan off her.

She jumped up and put her ass on the edge of the table and opened her legs and pulled Harlan between them and guided his cock back into her bushy cleft.

"Mmm! That's what I like," Justine purred as Harlan pushed his cock all the way inside her and she wrapped her legs around him and kissed him.

Her legs slid inside his unbuttoned shirt and the feel of her cool, silky nylons on his bare flesh was very pleasurable.

He began to fuck her harder, feeling his orgasm approaching. Both he and Justine turned to face the rear of the RV so they could see Mitch pounding away at Olena who was mewing like a harlot and encouraging Mitch to fuck her harder as he held her by the ankles and slammed his rather large appendage in and out of Olena's vagina.

"Huh... oh my god!" Harlan cried as he emptied his load deep into Justine's vagina while her cunt gripped his cock and did ripplely and juddery thing, milking his quivering cock of his seed.

"Mffll, oh god... fuck me!" Justine gave a muffled cry as she came along with him, grinding her crotch against him.

She pulled his face to hers and he kissed her passionately, tasting beer, pot and something spicy on her breath. His cock juddered and pulsed as he spunked her.

Justine let him bask in the afterglow for a minute or two before she pushed him away and put her tits back in her bra.

"Pass me some hand towel will ya," she pointed her toe at the paper towel dispenser above the sink.

Harlan gave Justine a couple of sheets of paper towel and she wiped at her sopping cunt and then hopped down off the table. Olena came skipping down the gangway, a smile on her face.

"The old man fucks pretty good," she smiled up at Harlan and kissed his cheek.

"How was grandma?" she teased.

"Hey! Enough with grandma! Your man just got the best fuck of his life," Justine smiled at Olena's joke.

"You guys wanna another beer?" Mitch asked, tying up his harem pants.

"Nah; we gotta get going," Harlan began to push Olena towards the steps leading down from the RV.

He followed her down and turned to say goodbye but Mitch and Justine were in a hot and heavy embrace.

"It always gets him hot when he sees me getting' fucked by a young buck and I aint wasting that Viagra," Justine grinned down at Harlan.

She was squeezing her husband's cock through his cotton pants.

"See ya on the road sometime," Justine squealed as Mitch dragged her down the back of the RV towards the bedroom.

The RV began to rock on its axles again.

"Start the car. I got an idea," Harlan tossed the keys to Olena and went round back of the Raptor.

He lifted the canopy and rummaged in the toolbox and came out with a screwdriver.

It took him only a few minutes to exchange plates with the RV then he and Olena hit the road and began to drive back to the farm.

*****

As soon as Harlan and Olena left for Menard, Pete chased Alina around the old farmhouse wanting to fuck. She let him chase her for a bit to tire him out and then she let him catch her and throw her over his shoulder and take her upstairs to their bedroom.

The novelty of having a pretty girl to fuck whenever he wanted to was starting to wear off and Pete was no longer an impatient fumbling lover. Alina took advantage of the situation and taught Pete a few things, like how to use his mouth on her sex, how to tinker with her clitoris just right while they fucked so that she enjoyed it as much as he did. How to kiss her and how to caress her breasts just the way she liked it.

Working at Supergirls she fucked between five to ten men a shift depending on the time of day and the day of the week. As well as the regular local customers Supergirls attracted the tourist trade, businessmen out of town looking to party and interstate truckers who could park their rigs out back. Most were 'wham-bam-thank you-ma'am' quickies but some of the clients liked to take their time and some liked to be a little rough but she seldom got off with clients. And that didn't count the lap dances in the VIP rooms where she let the guy rub his cock on her pantied ass and blow his load or the quickie blowjobs where she hid the money down her panties rather than hand it over to that fuckwit Robert Sangster.

Alina figured that letting Pete fuck her a few times a day was easy work for the recompense she was hoping to receive and now that she was taming him it wasn't unpleasant. There was something about Pete: his buffoonery and scruffy good looks were appealing. Pete's awkward, fumbling fuckery had turned her on initially and after a night in the sack where she had taught him a few things he was getting even better.

She was going to have to hitch herself to Pete for as long as they were teamed with Harlan and Olena because she knew that Harlan and Olena were still of a mind that money split three ways was better than money split four, so she might as well tame Pete and keep him on a leash.