Three Gangbangs in One Night

(co)Author's note: A few months ago I wrote a story that led to a fruitful correspondence with fellow authors Friskee_cpl. When we discovered we have similar tastes and styles, they were kind enough to propose a collaboration on a story idea they'd been considering. Needless to say, I jumped at the chance. Below is the result of the artistic coupling of the lustiest minds of our respective continents. I wish to thank my Aussie brethren for the chance to play in their world. It's been a lot fun. I hope y'all like it too. - Fastandsloppy.

***

Sharon looked at her rain splattered watch. She had five minutes to get to the railway station, buy a ticket, drag her bag down the stairs and into the 7.45 train back home. All up it was going to be a 90 minute trip home to her husband and the four other band members waiting to celebrate her fortieth birthday.

The so called conference she just left had been a debacle. From self-destructing technologies to delayed presentations, the day, and the previous night, had been a total waste of time.

Her husband Marcus had organized another gangbang with the band for her birthday, and she had to be home, at the very least, by nine o'clock. Why nine o'clock? Because after the last gangbang good old Stan, the aggressive cockhead with the small dick and appalling attitude to women, told all the other guys' girls about what was going on. So now they all had to be home around ten. But such is life and when there is a will, there is a way. She had originally planned to be home by about 7.30 but it seemed that fate was against her. If she wasn't going to get two and a half hours of hardcore sex, one would have to do.

Two weeks earlier Marcus had told her of his plan to fuck her senseless. She hadn't known about the conference at that time and now, as the companies finances collapsed, she couldn't really say no.

So here she was, ninety minutes from home and as horny as a goat. All she could really think about over the last two weeks was having the band fuck her like they had a few months ago. She wanted her cunt, arse and mouth filled with cock. She wanted cum, not rain, sprayed all over herself. She was a total slut and her husband loved her for it.

The rain was peeing down and the wind was strong enough to blow a dog off a chain. The familiar blue light of the railways signage beckoned to her through the veil of falling water. She flung her overnight bag back over her shoulder and continued down past the Railway Hotel towards the station. She had a quick look into the pub and saw three workers in their matching work jackets having a beer at a table. In the background the barman was on the phone. 'Sitting down to a nice cold beer would be nice,' she thought to herself. She couldn't say the same about the 'All you can eat' Asian 'Chew and Spew' next door. The awnings overhead did little to keep the angular precipitation from drenching her attire.

Her hair, indeed nearly her entire dress, was soaking wet and the wind had it pinned tightly to her petite, soft body.

The streets were nearly empty of both cars and people, not surprising considering the almost cyclonic conditions. With no weather protection available she never bothered to shield herself from the torrential downpour. Only about fifty metres away was the railway station and ninety minutes later she would be home, naked and being fucked.

She heard the familiar sound of a train rumbling towards the station as she stepped back into the rain. She put her head down and ran as quickly as her heels would take her across Railway Parade. Thanks to the wind carrying away most of the sound, the train was much closer than she thought. As she reached the footpath the train pulled into the station. A builder would have been offended by the language she used as the realisation that she was going to miss the train sunk in. Through the yellow tinted windows she watched ten or so punters hop on to the near empty train.

Regardless of the inevitable, she continued to sprint along the footpath and for a short moment, she was running at the same speed as the train as it left the platform.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she said into the storm.

Although the train was gone, she bolted up the stairs to the station, took protection from the wind and rain and pondered what to do next. She looked up at the railway staff member who spun the hand on the clock around a full 360 degrees to 8.45pm and as far as she knew, she was going to miss out on the gangbang. All she could think to do was ring Marcus and let him know she would be catching the 8.45 home and that by 10 all the guys would be at home with their beloveds. She fished her mobile out of her handbag and called home. She heard the riff of the Beatles 'Birthday' and her heart sunk for a moment.

"Hey darl, how are you?" Marcus said.

"Up the shit."

"Why, what's going on?"

"Missed the bloody train."

The music stopped in the background.

"Bloody hell," Marcus said

"I won't be home until after ten."

"That sucks."

"Tell me about it," Sharon leant forward in a despondent slouch. "And it's as windy as all fuck and pissing down rain."

"Is there anywhere to go for an hour?"

Sharon looked back down the street. "There's a pub just down the road."

"What's it called?"

"The Railway Hotel," Sharon said.

"Go and have a beer," Marcus laughed, "Maybe you can pick up down there."

"There were only three people in there Marcus," She looked back down the empty street toward the pub, "For Chrissake its a Tuesday night, not a Saturday."

"Well I'll see what I can do here," Marcus said. "Maybe we can spin a yarn to their girls."

"Give me a call in ten." Sharon said. "I'm as horny as hell."

"No worries love, see ya."

"Bye," Sharon said and slipped her phone back into her bag.

The ticket office was still open and a man of indistinguishable ethnic origin glumly slid her ticket across the grate without even glancing up from his magazine.

Like a hypnotist's spiral, the rain spun around in loops as it was blown down the road in the direction of the Railway Hotel. She was already soaked so re-entering the tempest was not an issue.

With the wind behind her, the trip back to the pub was quicker than the upwind crawl to the station. The owner of the 'Chew and Spew' held the door open for a moment in the hope that Sharon was a interested in consuming the congealing by-products of an illegal abattoir. Sharon slowed at the first window, and with a renewed interest, she eyed the three lads through the nicotine stained glass.

When the door of the pub opened and a wet, petite lady with long curly black hair stepped in, all heads turned towards her. For Sharon, entering the pub raised two separate reactions. Firstly she was hit with the smell. Stale beer, cigarettes, deep fryer oil and sweaty men, all combined to act as an olfactory aphrodisiac that sent memories of wild drunken sex flooding through her cerebral cortex. Secondly the icy air conditioned atmosphere sent her nipples northward. The three lads sitting in the middle of the room kept their eyes fixed on her as she smiled at them and sauntered towards the bar.

The pub was your typical 1960's beer barn with carpet that was so old, the underlay was visible through the worn sections under the stools.

"Still a bit wet out there?" One of them asked sarcastically.

"Just a bit." Sharon replied laughing. "I missed the train so I thought I'd pop in for a quick one."

"What would you like?" another asked.

"Oh," Sharon pretended to be surprised by the offer, "I'd simply love a beer."

"Easy," he said as he hopped up from the stool and as he was halfway to the bar he turned back to his mates.

"Sorry guys," he said, "who's up for another?"

They both raised near empty glasses before one said to Sharon, "What beer would you like?"

"Carlton will be fine."

"Carlton for the lady Jacko."

A drop of water ran off her hair and trickled down into her cleavage.

"You should go and dry yourself off upstairs," one of them said.

"I might do that," she looked over to the barman who was smiling at her and still chatting to someone on the phone.

Sharon felt the two guys eyes on her as she approached Jacko at the bar. The barman was giving a mobile number to whoever was on the phone.

"No worries mate," he said before he hung up.

"Good evening love," he said as he eyed her up and down. "You look like you need to dry off."

"Exactly what I was thinking," she said smiling.

"There is a bit of a bathroom just out the back if you want to towel yourself off," he turned to his mobile which beeped an incoming message.

He grabbed the keys from behind the bar and handed them to her. "Down the corridor and go through the dining room, it's the middle door on the right."

"Cheers," she said and took the keys from him.

"I'll get you this first," the barman said as he poured her a beer.

Sharon sipped the amber nectar and went back to her bags at the table. When she turned back the barman was showing Jacko his mobile phone. Jacko laughed and sculled half his beer. Sharon could hear her phone ringing so she fished it out as she strolled down to the corridor. As she answered her phone Jacko was showing the barman's phone to his mates. It must have been some joke, Sharon thought.

"Hi darl," she said, "any luck?"

"Not much," he said. "None of the girls believed our tales."

"Bugger." She quickly looked back at the three men and gave them all the thumbs up. "Maybe they can come over tomorrow night?"

"You know that won't happen. It's taken this long to convince the girls that Stan was full of shit," Marcus had been working on them to allow the band to rehearse there for weeks, "They won't allow two nights in a row."

Sharon knew he was right. "I'm just going to get changed into yesterday's dress, I'm soaked."

"OK mate," he said, "take care and whatever you do, don't miss that next train."

"Bye," she dropped the phone back into the bag and headed through the dining room. She heard another phone ring in an office as she unlocked the door. The bathroom was small but serviceable. A fresh stack of towels was sitting on the vanity so she grabbed one and toweled down her hair. In her bag she had another small black dress she had worn to the meeting the day before. The mirror on the wall was grazed and cracked but from what she could see her make up looked ok. She unbuttoned the front of her dress and pulled it off. It clung to her like plastic wrap and her hair fell down over her face. Now she had on her semi damp underwear, and she decided to remove those as well. "No use having wet undies under my dry dress", she thought.

Standing in nothing but a pair of black high heels in a strange pubs bathroom excited Sharon more than she could really be expected to handle. Knowing that four virile men were just out in the lounge had her imagination going and her hands went down to her tingling pussy.

She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her finely cropped pubic hair before rubbing her swelling clit. Marcus and Sharon often discussed their fantasies and one of Sharon's, coincidentally, was to be banged in a pub by a bunch of strangers. Clichéd? Maybe, but really, what fantasies are original? Their open relationship meant that, theoretically at least, with the others permission they could fuck anyone they liked. Was Marcus serious about picking up at the pub? She grabbed yesterday's short black dress and quickly threw it on. The material was a little bit crushed but not so badly that it wasn't wearable. She didn't bother with the underwear, wearing yesterdays underpants didn't appeal at all. Wearing only a small black dress and a pair of black high heels she leant over the sink, found a semi decent portion of the mirror, and re-applied some fresh lip-stick.

Sharon was in two minds as to whether she should go ahead with the possibilities that presented itself. She only had fifty minutes before the next train and at home her husband was more than functional when it came to satisfying her carnal desires. Was she being greedy? Should she just finish her beer and go back to the station? Should she shag the four guys out in the bar? She needed to speak to Marcus so she grabbed her mobile and called him back.

The phone rang for a while before it went to the message bank so Sharon dropped it back into her handbag and gathered up her gear. The only thing that she could really do is go back into the bar, have a drink or two, and see what happens.

Once again as she entered the room the lads all spun around to greet her. Their eyes took in her delicious torso and the barman hung up the phone and grabbed a bottle of scotch down off the top shelf.

Sharon noticed that the curtains had been pulled down and some of the chairs were upside down on the tables.

"Are you locking up?" she asked the barman.

"Not much happens here on a Tuesday night," he said as he poured two glasses of Old Pultenay. "I reckon that you would be a bit of a scotch drinker," he added, "Would I be correct?"

"Well you never know what the wind can blow in," she said, "and yes Scotch is one of my favourites."

"Ice?" he asked.

"Definitely,"

Jacko grabbed a spare stool and sat it down next to the table. "Here you go," he said, "Come and plonk yourself down here."

The barman carried the two scotches over to the table and set them down. "These should warm the cockles of your heart," he said.

"And the heart of your...." she laughed.

"Ah well," he said, "you know what they say about whisky."

"What do they say?" Sharon asked as she took a gulp.

"Whiskey makes a lady frisky."

"Does it now." she took another gulp and felt the welcoming burn down her throat. "Maybe it does, or is it Brandy that makes us randy?" she coughed a little as it made its presence felt.

Sharon wiggled up onto the imitation suede stool and gyrated her arse into the lumpy padding to make a comfortable perch for herself. As she felt her damp labia brush the crusty old surface of the cushion she saw two of her companion's eyes pop open with eager discovery. She grinned when she realized she'd just exposed herself to the lads.

"Well hello there," one of them said with a truncated laugh.

"Oops. Apologies boys," she said looking at them through narrowed, hungry eyes as she readjusting herself. "My, um... my undies were wet.'

"Looked like it might still a little damp down there," said one of the guys with a nervous laugh.

"Shit, I missed it," another muttered glumly.

Sharon cast a quick glance around the faces of the men arrayed around her. They positively buzzed with checked desire; eager to take her but reluctant to push her too far too fast. They needed some help. "Well, I hate to hear that anyone got left out," she said as she pulled the hem of her dress up and let her thighs fall open as all four men bunched around her to gaze at her increasingly moist vulva. She shuddered as their stares lapped at her pussy like a physical force. She knew where they were headed and in her heart she knew that without Marcus's consent what she was doing was not part of their agreement. However she gave no thought to stopping the proceedings; her lust was like gravity, pulling her down into a well of warm, delicious sin.

A hand settled on the small of her back and slid down over the top of her arse. She cocked an eyebrow in amusement as the man next to her turned to his mates and said, "I guess that explains the lack of panty lines boys." They all laughed.

"Is someone going to check my bra line too?" she asked with mock innocence as she raised her hands to lace her fingers together behind her head. Two different sets of hands reached in to find her tits. She began panting in anticipation as they lifted and squeezed her flesh. Other hands found her thighs and began running up towards her sex as her skin bloomed in goosebumps. Hands brushed across her tender labia as others slid down into her dress to tease and pinch her nipples.

"Oh Christ ma'am, you're so damn sexy," gasped one of them. There was a general mumbling of agreement.

The straps of her dress were slid from her shoulders as it was pushed down off her tits. Two of the workmen's faces found their way to her heaving mounds, lapping and tugging at her firm nipples with faces rough and scratchy with a day's worth of stubble. The sensation of their rough masculine faces tasting her tender flesh aroused her deeply; make her feel naughty and wanton as the workmen had their way with her. Her trembling lust spiked further when one of the men who had been massaging her legs and playing with her pussy stepped between her thighs and began to sink to his knees. She leaned back to eagerly accept his kiss on her pussy.

Unfortunately she had forgotten the stool had no back. With a squeak she felt herself toppling backwards but powerful, work-hardened hands grasped her flailing limps and propped her back onto her stool. Unfortunately, the near fall seemed to have broken the intensifying storm of lust they had been generating and the lads stepped back, forming a ring of aroused, florid faced men around her. Her dress was gathered into a mere belt of black fabric around her midsection and her companions looked over her exposed body with unconcealed desire.

"I declare," she said, feigning a southern US accent she had been playing around with since she and Marcus had watched "Gone With The Wind" on Blue-ray a week ago. "I don't consider it rightly fair that y'all are in your uniforms while I'm so cruelly exposed." She splayed her fingers across her upper chest in pantomimed distress.

Jacko aped her accent as best he could. "Well, dang-blast it. I reckon I mighten just start the ball then and remove my dungarees," he said as he unclasped his belt and pushed his pants to the floor.

"Do they say dungarees?" asked the man to the left of Sharon.

"Your devotion to accuracy is sadly misguided," she told him, still in character. "I'm much more interested in your devotion to showing me your manly root."

A couple of the guys laughed as they all commenced desperately tearing off their clothes in a flurry of flying fabric that erupted around her. As she watched with keen anticipation she noticed their uniforms for the first time. State Rail was stitched on the shirt pockets.

"You lads all rail workers?" she asked, dropping the fake accent.

"Yes sirree ma'am," the guy behind her said as he went back to pulling off his flourescent yellow shirt..

"Well," she checked the time on the clock over the bar, "We don't have long before I need to get to the station, unless one of you guys can delay the train for a while."

"No way," Jacko laughed, "The paperwork's a killer."

The guys had shed their clothes and stood around her, naked but for their socks. Despite her entreaties to hurry things along they seemed frozen in place, unsure of how to recommence the orgy. She laughed as it occured to her that they reminded her of four polite elderly aunts staring down at the last biscuit on a plate.

"You guys realize that I had expected you to have started fucking me by now," she laughed.

"Well, I hate to keep a lady waiting..." said Jacko as he moved up between her legs.

The spell was broken and the men swirling around her drew close to envelope her in a tide of probing, grasping hands and firm, prodding cocks. Her legs were pulled wide by the barman and one of the rail workers as Jacko pressed in to slide the firm length of his meat up along the furrow of her womanhood. She felt the electric thrill jolt through her body as his cock pushed up over her clit and then withdraw as he slowly bathed the underside of his unit in her rapidly gathering juices.

The adrenaline rushing through her body at this point was enough to fuel a small car. "Quit playing around and fuck me Jacko," she ordered.