Bang Gang(10)

"My turn," Buck grunted when she'd tipped over the peak. I moved to one  side and he pushed into her in one thrust. Fuck, how he pounded her.

I squeezed at her tits until she arched her back, flicked at those stiff  nipples with my tongue. Jimmy changed position, fucked her throat until  she quacked. And then I made my move.

I took her by the waist and lifted her up, and the guys moved without being told.

Buck took her place on the table, and I dropped her sopping pussy right back onto his cock.

She moaned and groaned and rode him like a fucking pro until I pushed  her forwards and jammed my thumb in her asshole. She stilled, panting  ragged breaths.                       
       
           



       

I smiled at Petey. "Get up here, lad, and get a fucking johnny on it."

He scurried over. His hands were shaking as he ripped into the foil.

"Fuck her ass," I said. "That's what she fucking wants. Hey, Hayley?"

"God yes! Fuck me!" She squealed as he pressed his cock to her hole. "Do it!"

The lad fucked her, and fucked her good. His balls slapped against  Buck's underneath and he didn't give a fuck, just kept fucking ploughing  her. He fucked hard, and so did Buck, stretching that dirty bitch wide  open between them as she cried out for more.

Petey didn't last all that long. He came with a groan, his cheeks flushed, and Jimmy O was straight in to take his place.

I took Jimmy O's spot after him, and her ass was well and truly fucking  ready by that point. I barely had to push inside, but being in there was  fucking bliss. I circled my hips to spread her wider, and she rolled  her hips with me.

"Yes … " she hissed. "Oh God, oh fucking God … "

I wrapped her hair around my fingers, pulled it until her back arched. "Is this fucking dirty enough?"

She nodded. "Fuck yes!"

I breathed into her ear. "Gonna fuck you until we're all fucking done. That what you want?"

"Yes!"

The pressure built in my balls, the urge to shoot my load threatening to  take me. Buck was feeling it, too. His thrusts were frantic.

"Fuck!" he groaned. "I'm fucking done!"

He shot his load and bellowed like a beast, and the jerks sent me over  the edge, too, sent me coming hard inside Hayley's hungry fucking  asshole as Hugh emptied himself in her mouth.

End of round fucking one, and we switched it up.

Fingers on her clit as she took us one by one, and the bitch came over  and over, her pussy so fucking pink and raw. Her asshole was a fucking  pleasure, slack and hot and hungry for cock. Her mouth was fucking  insatiable, her dirty moans egging us on.

Fuck, how we took that dirty bitch, and she loved it, she fucking loved it.

We held off on the final load until she'd had her fill - we knew her game by now.

When she'd flailed through one final climax she held up her hand for  time out, a big dirty grin on her sweaty face. When she was ready she  dropped to her knees in the middle of the store and opened wide as we  pressed into a circle around her.

I focused on her gaping mouth, all smudged and dripping with spit,  working my cock hard until my balls were tight enough to blow all over  again.

I shot my load right onto her filthy tongue and she ate it all up, then smacked her lips for more.

There was plenty more.

Four fucking loads more.

I left the foray before they were done. I gathered up my used johnnys  and tossed them in the bin. I'd straightened up my clothes before the  others had even finished up.

I was done. Job complete. Balls empty.

Customer satisfied.





Don't think about Trent. Don't think about Trent. Don't think about Trent.

I herded the kids through bath and bedtime, and made sure Nanna had  taken her tablets before I sat with her to finish up her evening TV.

"Well?" she said during the advert break. "Did you sort things out with your Darren?"

I shrugged. "Nothing to sort, Nanna. We just …  I said thanks for the  washing machine." I gave her my don't-be-ridiculous eyes. "He's not mine  to sort."

She chuckled to herself. "So I keep hearing … "

I held my breath - half expecting to field gigolo questions raised by  over-the-fence gossip - but she let out a sigh at the end of her  crime-drama and made her way to bed. Maybe she didn't know …  I could  hope.

Once Nanna was tucked up for the night, I resumed my regular schedule. I  wiped down the kitchen worktops, fed the cat for the twentieth time,  sorted school lunchboxes and cleared the scrubbed-out baking pans away.  It was late when I finally dragged myself to the machine to sort out the  Trent-washed laundry. I did this while totally not thinking about him  and his five man gigolo outfit, of course.

I sorted the kids' blouses, then the socks, then the miscellaneous  whites before I faced the inevitable, embarrassing confrontation of my  underwear pile. Oh Lord. I cringed afresh as the full horror of the  granny pants hit home, and it seemed so much worse now, now that I'd  seen him - the one I was definitely not thinking about. Definitely not  thinking about at all.                       
       
           



       

I definitely wasn't thinking about how kind the years had been to the man I was definitely, definitely over.

Definitely.

Totally over.

Anyhow, it wasn't just the passage of time that had served Trent well.  No. It was the gym - sweat and time and effort. That and a fat wedge of  cash from a string of loaded women like Porsche-bitch, no doubt. I bet  she had nice knickers. I bet she had nice everything.

I looked through my pitiful pants collection. Some had holes. In at  least one pair the elastic had snapped. One pair was still vaguely  blood-stained. All of them were grey and tatty and thoroughly  unattractive. That's when it occurred to me that I might be too …

Ouch.

Super ouch.

Was I grey and tatty and thoroughly unattractive?

I scoffed the thought aside. Porsche-bitch has time to look great.  Porsche-bitch probably has nothing better to worry about than looking  great.

I could look great, too. If I really wanted to. I had makeup, I could put a face on any time I felt like it …

I fished my cosmetics bag from the odds-and-sods drawer. My heart dropped to find the situation was worse than expected …

One cruddy foundation - congealed around the top. Lid missing.

One blunt eyeliner pencil.

One neutral glow palette of eyeshadow - half of the colours missing, the  other half broken and crumbly having been stabbed with an applicator.  Thanks, Ruby.

Two lipsticks. One was just a paltry stub left in the bottom. One was so red I'd never even tried it.

Had it really been that long..?

Yes. It had been that long. The occasional night out down the local with  Tonya had turned into a Christmas-only event. Ladies-who-lunch had  become a makeup-less affair, hair scooped up in a pony after the school  run.

Brian hadn't cared a toss about my makeup through the two piss-poor  years of our relationship …  Hadn't cared about my hair, either …  or sex,  in fact …

Or me …

Big pants had become a thing of comfort - bumper packs of five with  standard white bras were easy-peasy. They covered my baby podge nicely.  And who was there to worry about now, anyway? Who would ever see them?  Not even Brian …  not since I'd ditched the loser last winter.

Trent. He'd seen them.

And it smarted. The embarrassment prickled my chest. Shit.

He'd seen my ugly, stained knickers and now he was off fucking some rich  bitch who probably had stylists to choose her panty-stash for her.

In a moment of madness I crumpled up those gross knickers and tossed  them straight into the outside bin. My makeup bag followed soon  afterwards.

I slammed the lid with a satisfying thump.

Good fucking riddance.



Late night shopping at the 24-hour supermarket was surprisingly calming.  The aisles were empty and the music was loud, and I wandered freely  through the clothes and makeup section without hindrance. A strange  sense of guilt washed over me as I contemplated my purchases - some  irrational mantra that said if I wasn't buying it for the kids it wasn't  worth buying at all. But I was worth it. Surely I had to be worth it?

I picked up a handful of frilly knickers and a couple of matching bras. I  grabbed a tight little teal V-neck that showed off the dip of my waist  and a smaller pair of jeans to go along with them. A pair of low heels  that wouldn't totally destroy my feet through the day at the cafe. Some  foundation, and an eyeliner that worked. A decent lipstick, too. A new  eyeshadow palette, with green and gold and blue. It was a start.

My heart was thumping as I went through the self-scan checkout, shoving my card in the reader before I could change my mind.

It felt exhilarating, and indulgent and strangely naughty. It felt good.

I sang along to the radio on the way home, hoping that everyone had  slept through my late night disappearance. They had. Of course they had.  They weren't babies anymore, weren't glued to me 24/7. They had Nanna,  and Mia was almost old enough to babysit herself. It was only me who  worried about leaving them, worried about going out for five minutes and  not being there.