The Perfect Gangbang Read online

  “Lube,” he said. Someone threw the bottle of lube.

  He caught the bottle in midair, and slathered up his cock. Gently, he began to work his cockhead into her pussy. He eased it into her wet slit until her outer lips engulfed the head, and his oozing tip reached the entrance to her pussy. He kneaded the opening of her pussy with it, in long, deep, massaging strokes.

  “I’m patient, bitch,” he said to her. “It’s gonna go all the way up your cunt eventually. Yeah. I know how to wait.”

  Irina moaned. The mouths sucking on her tits and the two fingers rubbing her clit had chased any fear from her imagination, and she relaxed the muscles of her pussy as much as she could. Her pussy began to swell and stretch. A tiny little spark of pain jumped, in the side of her pussy wall, but then she felt it massaged away. The man working her clit started to rub it a little faster. Tongues slithered against her nipples.

  One of the men rubbing his cock climbed up on the bed, straddled Irina, and knelt down on top of her. She could feel the hairs on his balls tickle her twitching stomach as he worked his dick harder and faster, harder and faster, squeezing the glistening cockhead. “Uhh,” he moaned. His belly and thighs began to tense up. Irina’s pussy was spreading, opening. He rubbed harder, aiming his dick towards Irina’s face like a cannon. “Yeah.” His balls lifted, his belly trembled, and he bit his lower lip and growled “Oh, here it fuckin’ comes!”

  Irina felt a load splash onto her collarbone, spattering droplets of cum everywhere, and running in rivers down her neck and shoulders, into her hair. She squealed as another huge jet of cum gushed like a fountain between her tits.

  As the guy’s giant squirt dried up, she suddenly became aware of the cock between her legs. It was almost inside!

  The man on top of her squeezed the last droplets of cum from his dick, shaking them onto her like he’d just taken a luscious piss. Cum dribbled down Irina’s sides.

  “You always cum like a fuckin’ elephant,” someone said.

  The man between her legs was starting to swirl the head of his cock around, stretching her pussy muscles, working her open. It wouldn’t be long now. Just a few more strokes and he’d be in. She started to push out. He felt it. His whole head was in now, except for the ridge, that last little hang-up of flesh. She kept working her pussy outward. It was easy, once she got the hang of it. He worked her back. Every time she flexed, another few millimeters went in. If she paid attention to the warm, wet mouths working her titties into a frenzy, it was easier to flex. The fingers rubbing her clit slowed down and gave her a few slow, direct strokes right on the head of her nub. A new wave of warmth spread throughout her pussy.

  That was all it took. Irina’s cunt spread open, and the giant cock slid halfway in. Another push took him all the way up to his base. The crowd cheered.

  He fucked her just like he’d gotten his cock inside — like he was rooting around in her pussy to try to draw out every drop of pleasure. Every motion of his dick felt enormous, something huge being pulled out of her entire body and then filled back in. She squeezed, once, and it was just too much, so she kept flexing her pussy in that new way, trying to pull his cock as far inside her as she could.

  The men above her were gasping and moaning as they worked their cocks. Sweat showered off them, and droplets of pre-cum spattered across Irina’s body. Someone gasped “Ah — ah — fuck!” and another warm wet splatter hit Irina’s body.

  The cock inside her was making something deep well up, was making every nerve in her entire body draw into her cunt. She screamed into her gag. She arched her back. She squeezed her legs around his back. He grabbed her hips and fucked her with a firm, steady rhythm. She howled. Another jet of cum landed across her face, collecting on her eyelashes and dribbling into her nostrils. Her tits were going to explode. Her clit was a hard nub of fire ready to burst. Her cunt was swollen up like never before and he just kept thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. She was going to cum. Oh, if the fingers on her clit worked it just a little harder, it would be perfect. She tried to push her clit outwards, into the fingertips. Twin streams of cum rained down on her. Irina’s pussy seized into its first spasm.

  Then something new happened. A wet blast of something shot out of her cunt and splashed all over the man’s chest and stomach. She squealed from the force of her cum. He pulled his dick out a little bit and said “Hey, this bitch is a squirter!”

  Irina gasped. Another push yielded an even bigger gush that soaked the man’s cock and swirled around his balls. The crowd was yelling, stomping, howling as Irina’s cunt emptied its juice all over the cot.

  Irina closed her eyes and lost herself in a sea of cum and cocks and sweat and squirting. Her pussy creamed over and over as the men fought each other to sink their cocks into it. Splashes of cum splattered across her face and her breasts as the dicks above her burst with creamy spurts.

  Finally, wrung out and spent to the point of numbness, Irina collapsed back on the cot. Her vision began to blur, and she moaned as her head lolled to one side.

  “All right, boys, she’s had enough,” somebody said.

  Somebody undid the restraints at her wrists.

  Irina drifted off into a warm haze, feeling the still-wet cum trickling from her pussy.

  She was still drowsy on the plane ride back home. Every time she thought of the events of this last weekend, her clit shuddered and her nipples hardened, and sweet liquor began to run down her pussy lips. Cum had been flowing out of her for two days. She had even found a dime-sized load of cum in her ear.

  Everyone was asleep. Irina was alone in her aisle. Under the blanket, she unbuttoned her slacks and worked her clit with the tip of one finger. She’d been drinking water all morning. She built up her cum until she couldn’t hold back any longer, then zipped her pants up and went to the restroom.

  Inside, she locked the door and knelt in front of the toilet, placing her bare pussy above the rim. She’d replayed every moment hundreds of times already, but this time she thought of the man who’d whispered dirty talk to her as he fucked her. She thought about the slow rhythm of his cock in her pussy. She invented new things for him to say.

  Yeah cunt, she thought as she worked her clit. I’m gonna fill you up with my load. I got a big one for you. You’re gonna feel it in your fucking ears. Then I’m gonna draw it out of you too. Pussy’s gonna squirt like a big fucking dick.

  Irina’s clit spasmed and a huge jet of cum burst from her pussy. She held it open, and pushed out all the squirt, emptied herself until she was dry. Satisfied, she zipped up and went back to her seat.

  Thank you for supporting an independent erotica writer!

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  About the Author

  A former Catholic schoolgirl, Alastair Anders has been writing erotic fiction ever since he was in plaid skirts and knee socks. He lives in Brooklyn with his girlfriend, and he is working on an erotic graphic novel. Visit him online at www.AlastairAnders.com.

  Discover more titles by Alastair Anders at Amazon.com.

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  The Perfect Gangbang

  “There should be seven, maybe eight of them,” Irina said.

  The receptionist nodded and took it down. Irina shifted nervously in her chair. She reached for one of the business cards and turned it over. On the back read “Your Wildest Dreams Come True.”

  “What should they look like?” the receptionist asked. “Any preferences for age, body type, ethnicity?”

  Irina swallowed, crossed her legs, and clutched her Gucci purse on her lap. She felt like she was carving out a bloody piece of her subconscious and spreading it out on top of the desk, for the receptionist to poke with her pencil. The receptionist was a young woman with librarian glasses and a calm demeanor, which Irina knew was probably cultivated for the job, but which made her feel even sillier right now.

  “It doesn’t really matter what they look like,” she said. “Just big dicks. And lots of cum.”

  The receptionist nodded and scribbled something down on a piece of paper that Irina couldn’t see.

  “In fact, it’s probably better if they’re kind of ugly,” Irina added. “And they should swear a lot. But not spit on me, I don’t like that.”

  “Okay.” The receptionist chewed on the end of her pencil. “Do you have some kind of staging area in mind? Like a penthouse or something?”

  “Not really.” Irina thought about it for a moment, sifting through old mental frames of the fantasy that she’d been using for deep and hard orgasms since she was sixteen. “A warehouse, or an abandoned building would work.”

  “Perfect.” The receptionist added it to her notes.

  Over the next hour and a half, the receptionist took down hundreds of notes, ranging from Irina’s relationship with her parents, to her opinions on bruises, to how much girth she liked, to the fact that she’d broken her tailbone as a teenager. She gave Irina a waiver to sign about contact with bodily fluids, reminding her that all of the agency’s performers were tested for STIs every two weeks.

  “What’s your schedule like this week?” the receptionist asked.

  “I fly back to Moscow on Monday,” Irina said. “Early. I have a Saturday morning shoot at 10, but I’m free after that.” She gave the receptionist the addresses of the nightclubs and boutiques and theaters she planned to visit on Saturday and Sunday, as well as the card from the hotel where she was staying.

  “Great.” The receptionist stood up and shook Irina’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Irina, and I hope you have lots of fun in New York.”

  Her voice held so much obvious lust and pleasure that Irina giggled and blushed.

  Irina wrote a check to the agency, and stumbled out of the office and into the bustling New York City street. Upstairs, she knew, the receptionist would be making her calls, probably making especially sure that Irina got the men with the fattest dicks, the heaviest loads. Soon, very soon, this city would contain seven or eight strange men on a mission to track her down, gag her and handcuff her, and pull her into a van. They would drive her to an abandoned building where they would gather around her in a circle, rubbing their dicks until thick ropes of cum shot all over her tits and face and stomach and pussy. Everything was in motion now. Giddy, she turned on her high heels and clicked back to Broadway.

  Irina woke up on Saturday around seven in the morning, too excited to sleep. Her clit was as hard as a kidnapper’s cock and her pussy had already filled out a wet spot underneath her ass. In the shower, she ran the shower-head attachment over her breasts, tickling her nipples until they tightened and puckered and stood up to their full height, then pressed the jet of warm water between her legs and rocked it back and forth against her clit. She thought about testicles dangling over her face, full of cum and heavy as ripe avocados, and her pussy clenched as she came so hard that she gasped for breath and had to catch herself against the shower wall.

  She completely phoned it in at her shoot, even though she’d been nervous all month about it. All she could think about was the feel of cold clammy air on her bare skin and the gentle shlick-shlick sound of men jacking off in the dark. As the cameras flashed all around her, Irina lay back on the sofa, her eyes closed, her lips parting slightly.

  All afternoon she wandered around through a sexually animated world. Every man who passed her might be carrying a chloroformed rag in his pocket, her ticket to the realization of her fantasy. She bought a pair of boots on Fifth Avenue, green snakeskin with gold plating, because she couldn’t stop imagining those killer spike heels flailing helplessly in the air as cum rained down on her from every angle.

  She watched the bartender at the nightclub who fixed her vodka martini, noticing his muscular arms and trying to guess whether his cock would be sliding inside her helpless pussy by the end of the night. Or would it be the bouncer at the door, who regarded her behind mysterious mirrored sunglasses? Irina nearly fainted, and her pussy creamed so intensely that her panties soaked through and a trail of sweet wetness began to run down the inside of her thigh.

  Late in the night, she got invited out to an after-hours club at some underground warehouse in Bushwick. A perfect place for a kidnapping, she thought. All those abandoned warehouses, all those narrow little alleys. They could grab her right off the sidewalk, and no one would know.

  In the nightclub bathroom, Irina texted the address of the after-hours club to the agency. Then she went back to her hotel and changed into a skin-tight black dress and her new pair of boots. She slicked on an extra layer of mascara and applied her sluttiest red lipstick. She wadded up her soaked panties and tossed them in her suitcase. Let them find her without underwear. Irina grabbed her purse and headed out.

  As the hotel room door shut behind her, strong arms clapped around her body, pinning her arms to her sides. Someone pulled her backwards, lifting her up off the floor, and she could feel the indent of a hard cock straining through jeans and underwear as it pressed into her ass. She shrieked, and a warm wet rag soaked with something chemical was clapped over her nose and mouth. She moaned and closed her eyes as everything went dark.

  Her hands and feet were bound. There was duct tape over her mouth. The surface against her back was scratchy car-floor fabric. Everything smelled like cigarettes. Street lamps were flashing past her.

  Irina closed her eyes and sank back into unconsciousness.

  “Call him. Fuckin’ call him back, I’m not driving around all five boroughs with this bitch.”

  Irina blinked. She looked around. She was in the back of a stripped-out van with two enormous men in leather jackets sitting in the driver’s and passenger’s seats. The passenger was fiddling with his cell phone. Behind the seats crouched two men wearing ski masks, both watching her intently.

  “I haven’t squirted in almost a week,” one said to the other. “Been saving it up for tonight. I’m gonna drown this bitch.”

  “If we don’t get there soon, my balls are gonna burst right in my pants,” the other said. He grasped the hem of Irina’s dress and lifted it as high as he could, blocking out her vision. “Somebody’s not wearin’ panties,” he said.

  Irina felt the tip of a finger begin to probe the crease where her legs closed. She was already incredibly turned on, and with no more than a gentle push his finger slipped all the way up to his third knuckle.

  “Not wearing panties and looking for a good time,” he said. He raised his finger up to the glow of the streetlights, where it glistened, then ran his thick tongue d
own its full length.

  The driver banged on the roof. “HEY! What did I tell you! You save that pussy for everyone, you hear me?”

  The passenger snapped his phone closed. “All right! He got the keys. Ten minutes away.”

  The bodyguard who had touched Irina’s pussy extended his slick finger to the other guard. “Good pussy — go on, try some of this.”

  The other bodyguard flattened himself against the wall. “Man, you’re sick — there’s something real fucking wrong with you.”

  They lifted Irina out of the back of the van and carried her through a battered metal doorway, through a network of hallways lit by flickering overhead fluorescent lights. They carried her up two flights of stairs into a darkened hallway full of doors. She could smell dust, and mold, and somewhere far off she heard glass breaking and police sirens.

  “This one,” somebody said.

  A door opened, and Irina was carried into a dark, empty apartment, and spread out on a cot in the center of the room. Somebody grabbed her arms and shackled them in thick leather handcuffs high above her head, lifting her breasts and holding them up for display to everyone in the room. The rope around her legs was sliced apart, and two men seized each leg and bound her ankles to the bedposts, spreading open her already swollen pussy.