Bang Gang(4)

By: Jade West

I felt Buck press a wrapper into my hand, and I pulled away enough to watch him roll a johnny onto his cock. He was the biggest of the five of us; they don’t call him Big Buck for nothing.

I took her hands from my cock, guided them between her legs while I tore the wrapper and slipped a johnny on mine, too. “Show me your cunt,” I grunted. “Open it.”

She moaned and spread herself open. It was a fucking delight.

I dropped to my knees and buried my face in her, licking that snatch like a man fucking possessed, and she grabbed at my hair, rubbed her sweet-tasting pussy all over my fucking mouth.

Her sighs almost blocked out the rattle of a fist against the shutters.

Someone coming for their car. Someone coming with a new one. Someone delivering some fucking part or other.

That someone would have to fucking wait.

Another rattle. That someone was persistent.

“Hurry,” Buck growled. “Need to fuck her. I’m ready for it.”

“Suck my clit!” she hissed, and her fingers were harsh, scratching at my scalp. “Suck my fucking clit, Trent! Make me come!”

She was so wet and hot. I closed my eyes and sucked on that hard little nub until she gasped, ignoring another round of rapping at the door.

“Yes!” she cried. “Fuck, yes!”

Eleanor’s whole fucking body tensed up, her legs thrashing as she came. She flooded me, cut off my air until she was done, finally setting me free in order to take Buck’s big dick inside her.

I watched him push his way in, and her pussy ate him right up.

“Hard!” she demanded. “Fuck me! Fuck me!”

The tools rattled as he rammed her, fucked her hard until his breath was short and his beard was glistening with spit from sloppy wet kisses. “Swap,” he grunted.

My fucking pleasure.

Poised close, so fucking close, about to spear that sweet fucking snatch and pound her good, until the shutters shook again. Rattled fucking hard by the idiot outside, the impatient dick who wouldn’t back the fuck off.

And then the dick’s voice.

Only it wasn’t a dick.

Not even close.

“Darren! What the hell?! I know you’re in there! I need to talk to you!” Jodie’s voice paused, and my mouth dried up. Guilt. Even though I had no reason to feel guilty and hadn’t done for a long bastard time.

Buck stared at me, raised his eyebrows. Giving it all the ignore her shit he usually gives me. She’s just an ex, Trent. Leave her fucking be.

But Buck hasn’t loved Jodie Symmonds since he was a kid.

Buck didn’t watch Jodie Symmonds bring two of his fucking kids into this world, hasn’t loved her with every single fucking bone in his body and believed it’d last for fucking ever.

The shutters rattled again. “Darren! It’s about the girls!”

Buck sighed.

Game over.

Mere hours earlier.

World War Three didn’t start over nuclear weapons, or oil, or violation of civil liberties. It didn’t start over who pissed on someone else’s prayer spot, either.

No. World War Three started at Number Two, Oak Crescent, Pontrilas.

World War Three started over standard-issue black school socks, and the eight-year-old diva who refused to wear them.

I gritted my teeth and prayed to the God of Monday mornings for a change in fortune.

“Ruby, please! Just. Put. The. Socks. On!”

“But Mummmmm! Black socks are the worst ever. I never ever ever wear black socks! I won’t be Ruby Trent in boring socks! Urghhhhhh!”

I held up the offending items. Just socks. Just fucking socks.

“And who do you suppose you will be? Huh?” I tossed them over to her. “Ruby Trent doesn’t have any other clean socks! Not since the washing machine went psycho-crazy last night!” My delightful daughter held up a truly heinous combination of odds. Green stripy and purple plain. Just no. No. The perfect-mother-brigade would never forgive such a crime against humanity. “Matching socks, Ruby. Matching.”

She let out a groan, threw herself on the bed, arms flailing. “Who cares about matching?!”

The entire snooty populous of the local village. Your teachers. My peers. Your peers. Cynthia Blackthorne and her pigtail-wearing twins. Georgie Graham and her child prodigy mathematics genius pre-schooler. I could give her the whole bloody directory.

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