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“Come on, mate, you can’t fuckin’ die on us. Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” I yelled at the man I was half carrying, half dragging over the concrete floor, to get him to the safety of our club house. His bulky frame left a trail of blood in its wake.

It wasn’t me being callous but I had to keep him awake. Porky was a big fucker and no way was I gonna be able to carry the bastard on my own. I needed the little help he was still able to give even though he was about to make that last step into the Twilight Zone. The only thing holding him back was my determination that he wasn’t gonna walk the plank leaving me behind. Fuck that, I needed the cunt.

“I’m bustin’ my fuckin’ balls here, mate. Work with me.”

A sort of a laugh burbled through the blood in his mouth. “At least you still got yours, not like some of the guys.” Blood spewed out of his mouth. “Let me a sit a while.”

I lowered him onto the old sofa we’d relegated to the ground floor where we usually stored our bikes when the club was in session. I’d left the steel roller door down because I wanted to ensure no bastard was gonna ride his bike into the center of our workings. They’d have to come through the side entrance, one at a time, easy pickings.

It wasn’t much of a clubhouse but at least it was private. An old industrial warehouse, three stories high internally with all sorts of gangways and levels, just waiting for us to find the time and the cash to fit it out. A few of the rooms were what you’d call ‘converted’ but some of the guys liked the rough, dirty industrial ambience; it made them feel more piggy.  

I’d found the place on a rundown inner city industrial estate and, after I’d kicked in a side panel to gain entry, checked it out for our needs. The place was full of fuckin’ damp and vermin. We should feel right at home. We did something about the damp, replacing rotting doors and wooden walkways. Last thing you want to worry about when you’re thinking with your cock or your ass is whether you’re gonna fall through the floor up to your balls.

The club is not only for sex it’s also a place to come and relax, be ourselves. We’re the Hogs, a loose-knit group of bikers trying to get up the guts to come out. Hogs stands for Hot Orgy Gay Sex. Okay, not very fuckin’ clever but calling ourselves the Swine or the Pigs don’t hack it. Yeah, we’re biker sex pigs. And if you know biker gangs they don’t look kindly on faggots in their midst. Sure most of ’em will fuck a faggot if there’s nothing else going but then they’re just as likely to beat him up afterwards.

All of us belong to various biker gangs. We got our loyalties but you leave them at the door. In here, we’re just faggot bikers lookin’ for a good time. To get our dicks sucked, our asses reamed. No disgrace in here if you suck cock or take it up the ass. Or if a cock don’t satisfy you maybe a fist will. Or a gang fuck.



Reservoir Hogs!

Excerpt:


eBook Cover Price: 2.99

Length: 50 pdf Pages / 7806  words

Thriller, Gay Erotica, Multiple Partners

Heat rating: 5