"Come upstairs," she breathed, running one hand between my legs, and I didn't have the will to resist her. She unfastened my pants there in the music ...oom, leaving me in shorts alone, took off her bra, and kissed me long and deep, my hands roaming over her back and down farther. She led me up the stairs, one hand in my shorts, and opened the door to her bedroom. There was a large bed there, a music system equal to the one downstairs, and a low metal Sixties-style bench with a fur seat by a. “Hey, not bad for an Army puke,” biker two says.They thought it had all been great fun. Me? Not so much. Biker number two was checking out my head as if he were some modern day phrenologist when my cell phone rang. The biker was checking my head because a lump the size of an Ostrich egg was forming where he hit me with his ham-like fist, and blood was dripping down on my ear from a gash his ring made.Helpful cute bartender girl answered my chirping cell phone. I listened to one side of the. More

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