Bang Gang

“Don’t what?”

“I dunno,” I said. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“Bit past that now, Jo.”

He climbed up into his seat, lit a cigarette and turned the key in the ignition. I listened to the roar of the engine as it started up — a beast you could hear through the village. It suited him.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said, and put his foot down.

I watched him out of sight, watched that truck until it left the village straight and disappeared from view. I watched until there was only the cool autumn evening left to watch.

And then I sat on his steps to catch my breath, wishing I had a cigarette of my own to smoke.

Moreton-in-Marsh. A classy little place at the heart of the Cotswolds, with quaint stone buildings and posh signage and Hayley Friar’s latest menswear boutique.

That’s why we were dressed up like prize pissing poodles — her big opening night bash. That and the fact Hayley loves her bit of rough trussed up in pretty packaging. We’d been doing this gig since last summer, once a month without fail. Her downtime she called it. Her little break from the prissy little store owner she made herself out to be.

The shop was still full, people going gaga over fancy silk ties and her other high-end shit. She was at the back, fawning over some couple who’d whipped out the gold card. The guy had a toupee like a squashed hamster. His girlfriend was a fucking model, legs up to her neck. That about sums up this place, and sums up the circles Hayley Friar schmoozes in.

I gave her a nod and kept my distance, pointing the others over to a quiet space by the window. Jimmy O held up some swanky shirt with ruffles, twirling around with it like a daft fucking prick. He was still doing it when she made her way over.

She took the hanger from him, placed it back on the rack with nothing more than a shake of the head.

“You polish up well,” she said, and her eyes were all over us. All over me. “Suits you, Trent. You too, guys.”

Did it fuck.

I gestured to the crowd. “This shit wrapping up soon?”

“Very soon,” she said.

Hayley Friar’s very soon was over two pissing hours long, but I forgot all about that once she turned the open sign to closed and lowered the shutters. Her sparkly white dress was fitted and fine — and on the floor at her feet in two seconds flat.

She stepped out of her knickers and flashed a grin.

Hayley was mid-thirties, tops. Perky little tits with pointy nipples. A thin line of hair between her legs that didn’t match the auburn on her head. Makeup that runs like a fucking dream when she’s gagging on dick.

“Where do you want it?” I said, my hand already on the swell in my pants.

She beckoned us over with a laugh, hitching her ass up onto a low display table in the middle of the store. She cleared her pretty little tie rack in one swoop and kicked a pile of shirts onto the floor along with them. Then she laughed.

“Fuck me,” she said. “And make it hard. I’m so sick of all this pretentious shit. I’m sick of being a good girl!”

My dick twitched as she gathered her heels up onto the edge. Her fingers were at her pussy, her head lolled back as we closed in. Her cunt was sopping, nipples like bullets, mouth nice and wide as she sucked Jimmy’s dick into her mouth — he always gets straight fucking in there. Hugh was latched onto one tit and enjoying the fuck out of it, so I nudged Petey to the other. He was still nervy, still on edge, still needing direction every five fucking seconds. Like any of us were there to hold his fucking hand.

I took my cock out and dropped to my knees between Hayley’s thighs. Her cunt was so fucking ready, knees falling open like the wanton whore she loved to be. She moaned around Jimmy’s cock, squirming on the table as I lowered my mouth to her pretty wet slit. Her pussy was like a fucking peach. I tongued her with tight little flicks, nice and steady until her legs were twitching. I pushed two fingers inside and she bucked her hips, reached for my hair and held me there.

She sucked in a breath as Jimmy’s dick plopped from her mouth.

“Fuck yes!” she hissed. “Fuck me, Trent! Fuck me!” She tugged at my hair, her fingers raking my scalp. “Fucking fuck me!”

Dirty bitch.

Buck took her fingers and wrapped them around his thick dick, held them tight as he thrust away in her hand. I pulled my fingers from her cunt and moved them to her asshole instead. She tensed and wriggled like a fish on a line, that tight little hole opening up nicely.