Group Sex Lusty Lynn - Sexy Biker Nurse

"I miss it too baby-girl," Davey nodded, " and yeah I'm not upset either,"

"Well then," Lynn suggested, "perhaps we can get out of our stupid monogamous rut and just open up this marriage once again. I'm thinking the best place would be here and now at this party, yes?"

Davey didn't bother to answer. The look of happiness on his face said it all. Without so much as skipping a beat he bent Chryssy forward at the waist, spearing her over the foot of the bed with nine inches of throbbing angry ding dong. He plowed away vigorously at that sodden pussy for several strokes until his meat was slickened with her cunt drippings, then he withdrew; only to now re-insert himself in her Hershey-highway pucker's forbidden warmth!

While this was all going down, an absolutely BEAMING Lynn looked on; nodding with approval at her husband's savage virility, (and noting to herself it was JUST like old times). She also felt the solid reassurance that any potential crisis in her marriage had now passed. It was all now replaced by something far more exciting!

She now felt very much caught up in the moment. Sweeping up Chryssy's face in both hands, she pressed their mouth's together in an ultra-deep lesbian soul-kiss, (in fact a kiss so French it required subtitles)! Chyrssy murmured back into her bestie's tonsils, overcome by luscious hedonism as that same girlfriend (not to mention respected coworker's), well-hung hubby cock-punched her turd factory with reckless abandon!

What followed was a frenzy of naked fuckery, humping, and fucking; interrupted only by sucking and munching! Davey jetted an enormous load of jism up Chryssy's crapper, only for Lynn to seize up her husband's wilting willie and suck him back to hardness as Cowboy Motherfucker continued to pummel at her pooper with slow deliberate strokes. Next to the anal-spitroasting trio, Chryssy, Nori and Anita dissolved into a delightfully fleshy Sapphic pile of lesbian gluttony and finger-banging. At some point Davey's cock made its way from Lynn's hungry cocksucker, down to her equally ravenous pink pussy-pit and Lynn happily screamed and rolled her eyes as Dave and Cowboy plowed away at her cunt and ass-chute in a scorching double penetration. Not to be outdone, next to them Chryssy, Anita, and Nori lay on their sides, gobbling and fingering cunts in a ravenous three-way lesbian daisy-chain.

As seconds and minutes ticked off from the clock, pulses quickened. The unison bumping and grinding of flesh became more urgent. Perspiration streamed from brows, backs, bellies, and thighs until everything seemed soaked in pheromone-laden humidity, yet all parties concerned paid it no mind; intent only on the locomotive momentum of pleasurable fornication and fuckery. The frolicking six occupying that king-sized bed now found themselves feeding off a collective vibe that built and built within the group; filling itself up like some bubbling cauldron of sexual energy made up of equal parts euphoria and hedonism. It built and built and built some more; that is until the vessel could no longer contain its contents.

With extreme pleasure came extreme pressure and with such pressure it would be inevitable that all came, it's all just good hard throbbing sweaty science! Cunts gushed hot brine on lips, noses and cock! Hips furiously sawed back as inner cores reached meltdowns and voices bawled. Ballsacks tightened and Davy and Cowboy roared and snarled. Lynn, quaking and screaming through her own orgasm as though gutted, found her twat and ass passages simultaneously flooded with twin rushes of steaming hot penis pudding. It was now that her poor little brain, battered from an endless onslaught of boozy partying, drugs and sex, finally said ENOUGH! She began tumbling happily and wearily down within herself; in ever tighter spiraling turns like a maple seed from the limb of a tree, until she was awash in soothing black unconsciousness.

*** DAWN ***

How long was she out? It was not certain. She awoke sometime after 6:45 that next morning feeling the after-effects of the night in her head, tummy, pussy and poor pounded asshole. She told herself she'd had worse, but she didn't want to open her eyes lest that mean nasty sunrise make "OUCH" all over her with its crashing brilliance. She felt at least the sun could do the polite thing and turn it down a notch until people were properly up. Rude!

To either side of her, limp slumbering penis touched one of her thighs with sticky wetness. To her right was Cowboy... sleeping quietly. To her left lay her husband Davey...softly snoring like he was revving his bike at a traffic light. Chrssy, Nori, and Anita lay in a sapphic cuddle-puddle, all dreams and sleep and spoons but with one addition. At some point in the wee hours, Vince, the greaseball band manager had climbed into bed with the three women and had wee-hours wake-up sex with first Anita, and then Nori, before finally blowing a generous blast of cock-snot up inside Chryssy's well-banged womb-hole. He now was out-cold as well, his leg over Chryssy's, his nose and Super Mario mustache brushing her shoulder, her hand unconsciously holding his wilted cock like it was somehow Linus's security blanket helping her sleep. Lynn finally braved the light and beheld the scene around her. YES... it had definitely been some party!

Across the Presidential suite, over the heaps of snoring naked bodies having just fallen on the floor after hitting their human limits of debauchery, over the solo cups, and the pizza boxes and empties and spent blunts, over tangled heaps of clothes and shoes... in the bed now occupied by the lead singer of Touch the Serpent and his two nun companions, a weary Flash McDonegal groaned and stirred. On his left shoulder lay the pretty head of Sister Katherine and on his right that of Sister Maria, (or was it the other way round, I'm not exactly sure). Anyhow, the pair of naughty nuns still wore their white and black veils with the bandeaus still atop their lovely noggins, except now a bit more red hair stuck out beneath their holy headgear after Flash had seen fit to take both sisters to Heaven and back (and that's not to mention several chapters of the Kama Sutra as well). Flash was finally able to open his eyes and take stock of everything that had gone down the previous evening.

"That was some night," observed Flash to both women and to no-one in particular at the same time, "I can't believe I FINALLY checked off sex with two nuns from my bucket list!"

"Oh," Sister Katherine chuckled sleepily into Flash's chest hair, "you didn't check anything off your list. We're not nuns." She let out a belch tasting distinctly of rockstar jism before burrowing her nose into that hairy pectoral pillow; playfully nipping at the manflesh she'd been resting on for good measure.

"Yer not WHAT? SAY OWWW... easy there... what do you mean, 'not nuns?' " exclaimed an incredulous Flash.

"Confession," observed Sister Maria from Flash's other exposed flank, "is good for the soul. I think me and Kate here have some confessing to do..."

"You mean Katherine," Flash corrected.

"She means KATE," corrected Kate into the nipple of Flash as if it were a microphone and making him feel a pleasant buzzzz, "let me explain..."

***

By now, Lynn was up and with her, husband Davey and Cowboy. Back in bed Christine, Vince, Nori and Anita lay locked together like naked kittens in a basket and still fast asleep. Lynn and her two male companions tiptoed from the room, careful not to disturb them. What they saw was a shock to their senses.

The room was a sea of naked bodies and post party debris of all descriptions. The curtain to the balcony window hung half off its railing like a hauled down flag. Apparently, somebody had decided there needed to be a bonfire in the piano and the smell of smoke and charred wood (plus a spent fire extinguisher next to the piano bench), was testament to it having happened. The presence of a firemen's helmet plus a discarded set of boots by the bar, was proof that the local fire department had indeed responded and were most likely laying about the premises somewhere underneath one or more groupies. Several sofas were flipped over and pushed together to make a gargantuan playpen/sleep bed and filled to the brim with flesh clad sleepers, (save one couple who'd awakened and decided to smash up a 'Good Morning' doggystyle fuck amidst that clot of comatose heads, arms, legs and butts).

The hallway was even worse, marred by party debris, puke, a puddle of unknown liquid. The streaks of black tire tracks courtesy of Lynn and Anita's motorcycles ran down the center of the corridor; indelibly etched in the carpet, and much later, in the minds of maintenance staff who'd have the grim task of dealing with the damage. The elevator was in a similar sorry state of affairs, as was the lobby on the ground floor; the night desk having been abandoned by the staff after a naked food fight had raged like a medieval battle before them at about 4 AM.

Outside it was more of the same, party litter of every description was strewn across the parking lot, the back lawn, and pool area; the grounds taking on a charming sort of jetliner-crash-debris-field motif. Red solo cups and pizza boxes fluttered in the morning breeze. Underwear and stockings of every description hung in the back lawns decorative hedges and red maple trees; not unlike outdoor Christmas decorations with their gentle swaying.

To one side of the pool resting on dilapidated deck lounges snored two naked cops, Butch and Eddie; their spent dicks and balls now painted Smurf blue. Between them snored an equally naked Nancy, sporting Butch's pool-soaked police officers cap now parked jauntily atop her crown of red hair. Lying back against the propped-up lounger with her head and shoulders turned skyward; she'd gotten her ass twisted partially to one side with her leg cocked, (so that any casual witness might have thought she'd been ejected from a vehicle at high speed). Of those same witnesses could easily tell from the sight of Nancy's blue mouth, blue pussy and rather cum-runny blue bottom-hole, she'd been backing the blue in a good many ways the night before! A final testament to the previous night's shenanigan's and fuckery lay perched atop the pool's diving board; none other than a Flagstaff police motorcycle, perched precariously high above the water with its flashing whoopie lights alternating RED BLUE, RED BLUE, RED BLUE, in the dazzling dawn glow. There was one other minor problem...

"Where's my bike?" Lynn's voice broke the morning's stillness.

Clearly it was nowhere in sight. Dave and Cowboy stared at one another incredulously as Lynn, wearing absolutely nil except motorcycle boots and Cowboy's sunglasses slowly strode bare-assed in a broad circle about the parking lot; searching in vain for her two-wheeled baby. At first, she'd told herself the Molly had fucked with her head and that it should be maybe between the police cars or between the buses or that she'd only thought of parking it in the motorcycle spaces and not actually done so. Noooo, she clearly remembered parking it in motorcycle spaces; in fact she'd set it between the two white lines where Davey and Cowboy now stood - she remembered THAT quite clearly. Concern turned to alarm and alarm turned to panic.

Cowboy presently made the mistake of asking her if she remembered where she'd parked. A now frantic Lynn (still processing the disappearance), completely set aside the fact she'd been fucked marvelously by the pair of gentlemen standing before her during the night's hellraising. She proceeded to lay into them both; seeming to blast her screams right THROUGH them!

Of course she'd remembered! Despite the booze and the weed, and the Molly and God only knows what else, it had been there! IT HAD BEEN RIGHT THERE... RIGHT WHERE SHE'D PARKED IT, and to emphasize the point she bare ass-stomped a riding boot onto the motorcycle parking space as if she'd meant to put a foot through the asphalt. She turned her head to the sky and bawled,

"WHERE IS MY BIKE?"

"What's going on?" rang out Chryssy's voice from the open lobby doors as she stepped with Anita and Nori, the sheets and comforters from the king-sized bed draped about them toga style and making the three appear as three plump zaftig muses. Behind them walked a bleary-eyed Vince, the sketchy band manager. He'd the presence of mind to put on a pair of trousers, just not his own. Somewhere in that hotel, a roadie was missing his leopard-print skinny-pants, but old Vince made them work, even IF he couldn't zip the fly up.

"MY BIKE IS GONE!" howled Lynn inconsolably.

No number of hugs could squeeze away the anguish and heartbreak she felt, not from Davey, not from Chryssy, not from Anita or Nori or Cowboy. Her baby was gone. There'd never be another one like it. Never... and that's quite literally as you'll soon see if you just read a bit more.

By this time Flash and his two naughty nuns had made it down the elevator through the lobby and to the parking lot; having heard the commotion up at the room quite plainly through the open sliding door to their balcony. Flash it seemed had the presence of mind to pull on cowboy boots for the trip downstairs. Sister Maria on his right arm however, and Sister Katherine on his left wore merely their headpieces (still in need or a good straightening), and had otherwise discarded both their habits and any vows of modesty they might have ever possibly made.

"What's happened?" queried Flash over the plaintive wails of Lynn as several people tried to comfort her and reassure her that all would be well.

Davey turned in the direction of the rocker and tried to explain. His words were cut short, however, by the blast of pipes and a digguh digguh digguh that both he and Lynn knew all too well. Clearly, a Harley Davidson Night Train was approaching.

Lynn raised her face, tears still streaming down her cheeks and her look of anguish changed to bewildered joy. She was coming home... HER BABY WAS COMING BACK TO HER! BACK TO MAMA... AND SHE WAS BEING RIDDEN BY NONEOTHER THAN ... Stevie?

He roared down the street, pulled into the parking lot swerving expertly to avoid the red solo cups and pizza boxes, before coming to a stop before a bewildered Lynn and her throng of equally stupefied support committee. There should have been harsh words, but none came. It might have been expected that hands would be thrown (and quite violently too), but none were. There were just eyes ...all those eyes, looking down and staring at Lynn's bike... or what had been Lynn's bike.

Now you're probably wondering the what's that were happening here and more than a few of you are wondering the why's so let me explain, (just as our hero, Stevie ended up hastily explaining to a dumbfounded and gob smacked Lynn). You see, he was high as a kite when he'd left Lynn post-fuck at the party and as you'll soon discover he like everyone else was high as fuck for a long time afterwards. He was also now WELL-FUCKED, as it were and he was head over heels SMITTEN! She'd fucked him well alright and the combination of booze, drugs and far better sex than he'd ever had in his life, had clouded his judgement superbly.

For a while he ambled around the party in a sort of euphoric cloud, getting into mischief here and there and basically all full of love and positive if not sloppy energy. Then he was called downstairs by Anita to assist in the motorcycle race through the hotel; something that left him in drug-fueled awe of Lynn's prowess with a bike between her legs. It was then as she crossed the finish line it hit him, an inspiration, a vision, a full-blown mania. In the back of his mind, it began to accrete and solidify, this "thing"; a twisted illogical molly-infused plan that with the light of day made no sense, but at the time seemed as sensible as contributing money to an IRA plan.

The sane fragment of his mind tried in vain to reason with him and tell him the myriads of things that were wrong with what he was about to do... ah but, nothing-doing though, for the crazy mad scientist part of his head began to rationalize everything away. It didn't help that thanks to the Molly, Stevie's inhibitions were now long blown away, like some grass hut in a hurricane. The mad scientist in his skull capitalized on this and he screamed the temptation LOUDER.

He was STEVIE! motorcycle mechanic extraordinaire! Gandalf the Wizard with a wrench, wasn't he? He owed her a debt of gratitude for a fuck he'd remember up into his nineties ...yes? Well then, there was no more arguing with himself over it. All that was crazy was now sane and sensible.

At that point he found himself standing in the parking lot contemplating Lynn's motorcycle, long after everyone else had gone back up the elevator to party and fuck their brains out. A few seconds later and he was astride the bike, and a minute or so after that he was tearing down the streets of Flagstaff; naked as a Michaelangelo statue. It was then things went black for a bit.

His next recollection was coming around, standing over the bike in his uncle's body-shop at some un-godly hour. He'd been making a great racket with power-tools on metal and from what he could tell, he'd been semi-conscious the whole time; working on the bike in a sort of automatic-pilot type of consciousness, out but not out, awake but not awake. Apparently from what he saw before him, he'd done an excellent job and the inspiration that had gripped so tightly back in the parking lot at the hotel was fresh and clear as a mountain stream in his head. There was nothing left to do but finish the job and he set his hands in motion.

Now, before the naked and nearly naked group of gawkers in the hotel parking lot, he swung his leg off Lynn's bike. He stepped back so as to allow Lynn a more complete view of what had become of her Harley Davidson Night Train. He gestured grandly with a sweep of his hand to Lynn saying,

"She's all yours again!"

Lynn's face was now a study in complete shock. Her big blue eyes were unblinking and wide as saucers. Her chin trembled and her lower lip quivered as she gasped,

"I love it! ...STEVIE YOU"RE A FUCKING GENIUS!"

Before her was her girl, and yet not her girl anymore. Like Anita's ride "Spike," young Stevie had given Lynn's girl... A MAKEOVER! Where there had once been foot pegs, now black powder coated metal penises jutted out all angry and veiny to either side of the ride and looking like they might spooge at any moment. Where there once had been hand grips, two black rubber dongs jutted outward with black leather floggers hanging at the tips from their pee-holes. This was where the similarities between Anita's "Spike" and Lynn's girl ended, however.

Instead of using a key fob, Stevie had installed seat dildos and buttplugs for both the rider's and the rear passenger's double-penetrative enjoyment. From hidden chambers in both seats, a pair of huge veiny faux dicks and somewhat rude-looking plugs could be raised or lowered individually by four buttons located on the handgrips: each with a mere flick of a thumb. Stevie, it seemed was always aching to improve upon a design, (or enhance things if possible).

A perfect example of this was his mastery with paint, (which had improved over time since transforming Spike for Anita). Now, instead of an original factory paint-job, Lynn's gas tank sported brilliant red yellow and orange flames. They were dazzling to the eye but at the same time, they seemed odd red and orange flames at that.

Lynn somehow suspecting something, gave the flames closer squinty inspection. Like some sort of magic-eye picture, the new image popped out *BANG!* at her. Now wide-eyed and jaw-dropped, she realized each licking flame was a naked writhing couple (or couples threesomes and moresomes), engaging in every sexual position imaginable! It seems that in that blackout autopilot state of inspiration in which several of his hours had been lost, Stevie had managed to render in paint a twisted Karma Sutra knot; a frolicking fuck-fest orgy where hedonism magically achieved combustion.

As the viewer's eye traveled across the collective fuckery, the scene only became more shameful and shocking, (or downright HOT depending on one's taste and perspective). Women sucked cocks or fucked them with reckless abandon, while happy nymphs were spit-roasted by raging dick at either end through mouths or upturned rumps. Men and women munched and fingered twat. Airtight loving sluts took dong in every hole while enjoying handfuls of penis. Bodies sixty-nined, limbs conjoined and locked, feet and legs flailed high in the air. It was a scene of tightly packed depravity covering the entirety of the tank's metaled surface, giving the whole thing a deceptively flamey inferno appearance from a distance. It was only at two paces away that even the most casual observer would understand what it all REALLY all was.

Lynn simply loved what she saw! She swept up Stevie in a hot French kiss and dry humped his thigh with her naked twat, oblivious to the fact her hubby and paramour penis holder, Cowboy Motherfucker were standing just three steps back from her. It didn't matter... they all had a little bit of "molly-bite" still fogging up their heads. Damned stuff.

"Sweet ride!" Sister Katharine observed, with Sister Maria nodding appreciatively; both their nun bonnets rocking 'yes' in agreement.

"Wish she were mine," agreed Sister Maria. Lynn was struck by the irony of their words and replied over her shoulder,

"Oh, I don't think your holy order would approve of you parking this back at the convent, Sisters."

"Oh, we're not nuns!" Sister Katherine admitted sheepishly.

"WHAT?" Lynn blurted back at what was plain to see for her (even though it hadn't been so obvious to Flash upstairs a few minutes prior). Clearly there was more story here and she suspected she was about to hear it.

"We're strippers," Sister Maria explained, "we were here in Flagstaff on a gig. The Knights of Columbus had a special late-night dinner following some sort of initiation across town at the Pine Tree Lodge. We were supposed to be one of the acts. We knew about the concert but we were torn between it and doing paid work, so the money won out for us..."

"That is," Sister Katherine added, "until we caught sight of Flash here in the elevator. Well, we knew the Knights of Columbus would just have to miss out,"

"And I," Flash interrupted pulling both naked stripper nuns in close to either side of him for kiss on each of their necks before continuing, "ended up having my after-party crashed by these two lovely ladies. Oh I don't mind, not in the least... I got my balls drained, but what's more... I have a new addition to my act!"

"New addition?" Lynn queried, knowing something good had just presented itself.

"Everyone," Flash announced grandly, "you are looking at Sister Katherine and Sister Maria, my two new back-up dancers we are adding to Touch The Serpent. Our band needs a bit of the Holy, as well as the profane!" With this both nuns spun about and bent at the waist, pulling apart their well-fucked ass cheeks and baring their profane "holeys" at Lynn; beaming at her and licking their lips in an over-the-top display as Lynn laughed at their display.

It seemed the night had worked out for all. Katharine and Maria were now part of Flash's band. Lynn's friend Chryssy had gotten away from Phoenix and had a fiendishly good time at the orgy riding Davey and dozens of other quality cocks. What's more Chryssy now had on her arm Vince following the late night/early hours foursome the pair had enjoyed with Anita and Nori. In the future, Vince would make a point of always furnishing Chryssy tickets with a backstage pass when Touch the Serpent was anywhere even remotely near the southwest (and what's more still, Chryssy always found an excuse to be "business travelling" wherever and whenever the band happened to be nearby so she could enjoy good music and greaseball Vince's nasty veiny prick). Nancy had gotten laid by half the Flagstaff police department and was still sleeping it off between two of Flagstaff's finest with a patrol cap atop her head (she'd a brand new tattoo courtesy of the tat-parlor orgy to brag about, as well). Stevie had received the best fuck of his life and managed to pull off a masterpiece of customization with Lynn's Harley in the bargain. Anita found Norianne that night and in doing so had a new girlfriend. Cowboy Motherfucker (or "Justin" as everyone in the band knew him), had the honor of splitting Lynn's tight turd-factory with his cock and had even won his cowboy hat back from a gratefully well-plowed Nancy.

Most of all however was Lynn's fortune! By any standard it was an impressive rap sheet of hedonism and unbridled mayhem when one considers it. In an epic level of partying worthy of a Viking saga, she'd enjoyed multiple-partner public sex at a concert, private sex backstage, group sex in a tattoo parlor, (and that's all before taking part in a post-concert orgy back at the hotel). She'd won an indoor motocross race against Anita in that very same hotel-trashing orgy and her epic story would be mythologized for years to come in various Flagstaff circles. She'd been dicked down HARD by roadies and concert security, by Touch the Serpent's lead singer, by dozens of anonymous random cocks, (and by her object of desire for the night, Cowboy Motherfucker). Most important of all, she'd gotten back the love of her life, Davey! The two of them had fucked open a whole new exciting chapter in their marriage. Love wins! ...well orgasms don't hurt either!

Lynn became quiet and considered all that had manifested during the previous night; her eyes travelling back and forth across her girl's magical new look. Presently she realized the bike had become more than merely "her girl." It was now her fuck trophy, her legendary steed, her beautiful, customized Harley Davidson Night Train; all veiny dicks, poking dildos and probing buttplugs gathered up in an awesome display of ROARING SNORTING SEXUAL POWER!

"I earned you, girl!" she whispered to herself.

"What did you say babe?" Davey asked her to one side.

"Oh, I said," replied Lynn turning to him, "we need to find our clothes and get on the road home. Besides, with all this strange spooge and spunk inside me, you need to fuck me proper back in our bed and claim me!"

With that she threw arms about him and kissed him. He crushed her back in those big arms of his that could build or fix anything. It was now that everyone with a wristwatch seemed to notice what time it was... it was NEXT DAY LATE and they all had someplace to be.

The quest to find clothes by original owners was met with varying levels of success. After the previous night it wasn't all that extraordinary for pants or shirts or the odd sock to have gone completely MIA, known but to the Gods and the local city sanitation service. People began to leave the wreck of the hotel in various states of dress and undress as a result.

In the morning light Lynn swung a boot over her girl and made last second prep for the long ride home. Next to her was Davey atop his bike doing the same. A whoop from across the parking lot drew their attention. It had come from Justin, the Cowboy Motherfucker who was walking alongside Flash over to the waiting band bus, its engine already idling. He waved to the pair and Lynn and Davey replied with a happy wave back... it was then Lynn remembered something. The sunglasses! She found her voice and plucking them from atop her head hollered,

"HEY COWBOY! YOU WANT THESE? YOU EARNED EM!" She waived them back and forth for emphasis and they glinted in the sunlight.

"TELL YOU WHAT! YOU HANG ONTO THEM FOR ME AND KEEP EM SAFE," he hollered back over the noise from the bus, "IT WILL GIVE ME AND FLASH A REASON TO COME AND VISIT YOU FOLKS SOMETIME DOWN IN PHOENIX!" He tipped the brim of his hat to her cordially. Flash shot her a thumbs up in agreement and yelled he'd bring both of his nuns down for Davey's entertainment if he and Lynn would have then all in her house.

"DEAL!" she yelled back, and she watched the two disappear onto the bus.

There was nothing left to do but begin. They'd decided ahead of time to skip the main highway out of Flagstaff, figuring it would be packed with traffic and people leaving town. They were right. Traffic reports already spoke of congestion on the radio. Instead, they'd take the crazy S-turn switchback road out of town and go down through Sedona then rejoin the I-17 further south to take in the beautiful southwestern countryside and to avoid everyone trying to get back fast as they could to the grinding urban sprawl of the Phoenix rat race. It wasn't for them. They were going to enjoy this ride... and Lynn was going to enjoy this ride a bit more than Davey.

A mechanical SQUOIKE ! SQUOIKE ! later and Lynn felt the protrusion of first the seat's long veiny dildo followed a split second later by the poke of the buttplug up her twat and ass-chute. She'd skipped her leather mini-skirt on purpose, opting for black assless chaps and a thong which she'd the presence of mind to tug to one side before engaging those wicked little buttons on the handlebars. She huffed out her air... those toys REALLY filled you up on first poke, but she figured it was like having an internal seatbelt; gripping her guts by both holes in a lovely double penetration, The only question she had was would it feel good when she...?

THUMBADUDDAH! BBRRRAAAAPPPPPPP! THUGGAH! THUGGAH! THUGGAH! Her bike thundered to life. Just as she'd suspected that wicked dildo and plug began humming like a dozen bumblebees had decided to make nests deep up in both her holes. It was all just much more intense than she'd counted on and her face flashed into an expression of wide-mouthed surprise before it twisted into selfish lip biting hedonism. A flick of a thumb dial next to the buttons could dial up or down the vibrations on the wickedly whirring toys up her lovely rump and as if she were Goldilocks, she fine-tuned things until she could feel they were "just right."

"Stevie," she said to herself over her Harley's blaring snorts, "you're a fucking genius!"

She adjusted Cowboy Motherfucker's glasses on her nose and shot back one final glance at the gloriously trashed hotel before tugging her helmet down over those lovely blonde locks. The only way for the whole scene to have been more epic and fucktacular would have called for the building to suddenly explode in an enormous orange fireball, but it was probably asking too much of the universe. She shrugged, pleased beyond wildest expectations at how everything had all panned out.

A quizzical look from Dave amounting to 'You all good Love?' was met by a reassuring nod from Lynn's pretty helmeted head, followed by a confident thumbs-up. The two bikes rolled forward out of the parking lot in a duet of snorting Harley flatulence which reverberated off the hotel's windows. Together the couple Digguh! Digguh! Digguhed! out of town.

At half a mile out they opened up their throttles; making the lodge-pole pines to either side now whiz by the edge of their vision with ever increasing speed. Faster and faster (and then faster still), the tree's cabins and scenery swept past; all of it reflected in reverse on Cowboy Motherfucker's glasses perched atop that button nose and pretty smile. Lusty Lynn; the Sexy Biker Nurse and her well-hung hubby Davey were putting Flagstaff and that whole night of unhinged debauchery far back into their rearview mirrors; a good old-fashioned wife-claiming fuck awaiting the happy couple back at their Phoenix home!
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THE END
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