Cucking the Captive Campers Ch. 06

"Have some respect," Bradley said, then scooped up a handful of Leanne's hair, tilted her head back, and thrust his penis into her willing lips. Leanne took him, and eagerly rubbed his balls while she swallowed him up.

Together, the men resumed their double-team of Leanne, fucking her on top of Brian. She kept up, sucking, and moaning, and moving her body in time with theirs. The insults began to boldly fly more and more. Both McDowell and Bradley took turns belittling and humiliating the captive Brian.

His lip quivered as he pretended not to listen, not to see. But how could he not? It was all happening literally right on top of him.

They fucked her in that position until Leanne climaxed again.

When she dismounted, she swung her long legs over the bed, and momentarily paused when she was straddling her husband's stomach. Her well worn pussy dripping with her own excitement.

"Look at it," she barked at Brian, rubbing her slit with her fingers. "Look at it, Brian. This is what happens when you become boring, and fat." She plunged her fingers into herself, and then knelt up by his head. She shoved her sopping fingers into Brian's mouth, making him groan in disgust.

He tried to wiggle away but McDowell held him in place.

"How's it taste, Brian? That's what satisfaction tastes like," she remarked, before climbing off of the bed.

With their sexual frenzy at fever pitch, McDowell handcuffed Brian to the bed, not wanting to babysit him for much longer.

"You think that's bad," McDowell slapped Brian, smirking at the control they had over the husband. "Just wait until it's our cum in that tight little body." McDowell stuffed a pair of Leanne's discarded underwear into Brian's mouth as a gag.

Brian thrashed against his ropes, knowing he was going to endure a night of more and more unspeakable acts involving his son, his wife, and this monster.

McDowell thought for a moment, grinned an evil grin, and said "You know... that's not a bad idea..."

For their final act of depravity, Leanne was positioned over top of Brian's face. Her pussy inches above his cringing expression. It was there that both McDowell and Bradley took turns inserting their cocks into her tight well groomed little body.

"Ohhhhh fuck me, daddy," Leanne cooed as McDowell's enormous member glided in and out of her pussy. The steady in-and-out of their fucking sent sweat and cum cast-off into Brian's face. McDowell's huge swollen balls smacked him on the cheek each time they swung back and forth. The man's coarse pubic hairs tickled Brian's cheeks.

There was no avoiding it. No amount of cringing, shutting his eyes, or turning his head could distract him. The violation of his wife was literally inches in front of his nose. Leanne bent over above him, and the man's length-- wet and glistening with Leanne's orgasms-- appearing and disappearing like a magic trick.

But when Bradley went, that was the worst. His cock wasn't as big, but it was his own son.

"Check it out, dad," Bradley declared as his cock slid into Leanne's quivering body. "I'm fucking mom!" His humping was faster, and much more aggressive now that he had a captive audience. "Like riding a bike, right dad? Check it out. See what I'm doing? Look at me!" He echoed on and on. His plump balls smacking Brian in the face.

Leanne's whole body was jiggling with the rough pounding that she was taking. Her moans went on and on. Mindless in her desire for her son to give her the sexual release that she'd always been craving.

It wasn't long before a warm trickle ran onto Brian's face, and he knew that Bradley was bringing Leanne to yet another orgasm. The drops of her excitement ran off of her tight body and collected in Brian's patchy growth of beard.

She was moaning again and again under Bradley's relentless pounding, although Brian couldn't see her face. He couldn't see anything other the back and forth of her pussy and stomach.

"Oh mom," Bradley suddenly cried out.

"Uh huh... uh huh!" She moaned back at him, her hips a blur as she threw her body back at her son again and again.

Brian knew what was about to happen, and he dreaded it. His son had amazing stamina, with his mother repeatedly draining his balls over the past few days... but that wouldn't last forever.

A harsh clapping sound as the boy spanked his wild, untamable mother. Then Bradley's cries took on a much more innocent and bewildered note as the boy began to climax. He didn't slow his pace at all. He fucked her hard and fast as his balls drained right on the cusp of Leanne's.

Back and forth they went, both moaning at the apex of pleasure. And although Brian couldn't see it yet... he knew it was coming.

Then inevitable, their pace slowed. Leanne's mound just above Brian's face. Bradley grinned and began to withdraw his cock. And along with it, the white cream appeared and ran painfully slowly.

Then the first drop came free and landed right on Brian's face. He groaned in disgust around his gag and thrashed his bound hands in frustration.

"Check it out dad! I did it," Bradley taunted, and as he withdrew his cock, the couple of renegade drops turned into a steady stream of white cum that ran down between Leanne's legs and glazed Brian's face like syrup.

Brian shook his face, trying to get out from beneath it, but Leanne kept herself positioned. Over the sounds of his own grunting, he could hear Leanne giggling. A dark and evil giggle, and it was obvious she was squeezing Bradley's baby batter out of her body.

"He looks like a cinnamon bun," Bradley smirked, regarding the mess on his father's face.

"The kind with the separate icing packet?" McDowell asked, and they all laughed.

McDowell went next, fucking Leanne's already dripping pussy. His girthy cock helping to plunge her depths of the final drops of Bradley's cum-- forcing them out onto Brian's helpless face as he went at it.

By this point, Brian's face was a sticky mess of drying cum. Leanne and McDowell moaned again and again as the scene unfolded.

But when it was time to cum, McDowell was much less polite. At the last possible second, he pulled out. "Here it comes, Brian, my boy," he laughed and aimed his cock straight for Brian's face. He pumped several times in his tightened fist.

Then his cock went off, launching a hot stream of jizz that rocketed at Brian's already saturated face.

"That's right, take it like a dirty slut," McDowell laughed as rope after rope that had been formed for Brian's wife landed flatly on Brian.

"MMMMMMMM!!!" Brian screamed in a rage and thrashed his hands on the bed.

"See? He likes it," Bradley laughed.

"Yeah... take it you slut. You fuckin' cum dump," McDowell was hurling obscenities as he mindlessly stroked each and every burst of seed from his dick, making sure he gave Brian's face a thorough glazing.

When it was all over, it was in Brian's beard, his eyes, his hair, and caked beneath his nose.

"Let me help with that, champ," McDowell said, swiping sweat from his forehead. He used the balled up panty gag from Brian's mouth to wipe the cum, but it only served to smear it around further.

When the panties were properly saturated and he was done, the gag was forced back into Brian's mouth, and the man was forced to endure the next several hours tasting a mixture of McDowell and his son's spent semen.

***

"That's the one," Ranger Gobel pointed to the lone trailer in the desolate camp site.

The men spread out in all directions. A literal army of State Police and US Marshals closed in, decked out in full kevlar with weapons at the ready.

"Why didn't you report this sooner?" Captain Allen asked the park ranger.

Gobel shrugged. "There's only two of us for all this acreage."

"And how many days ago should they have checked out?"

"A week. They've been here a week longer than they should have." After their first encounter, Gobel had given little thought to the hot redhead with the resting bitch face, and her trashy looking beer-swilling husband.

But last night, while making the rounds through the park, making sure none of the guests had alcohol in their coolers, Gobel happened across this site, and thought it odd that no lights were on and no campfire was lit. It certainly was a chilly enough evening for one. And upon inspection of the camp, he found it abandoned-looking.

The cooler had been ransacked by bears, the garbage left behind was picked-through by wildlife. And the fire-pit hadn't seen use in at least two days. A quick check of the reservations revealed that these folks should have been packed up and out of here last week.

That was when it clicked into place-- the escaped fugitive that was still on the loose. Suspecting that some foul play might have occurred, he retreated and called for backup.

Now Gobel crouched behind his truck with the rest of the officers coordinating the effort. Allen ran the tags on the trailer, and pulled up drivers license photographs of the owners.

"Trailer's registered to these two. Husband and wife. Recognize either of their faces?" He asked.

Gobel gave it a glance. Of course he recognized the wife. How could he forget? Trashy but hot all at the same time. But the husband was *not* the man he'd been introduced to. "That's not the guy I met." Gobel confirmed it. When Allen showed him a mugshot of the escapee, that struck a chord with Gobel further.

Half a dozen armed troopers sidled up to the trailer's door. "Leo McDowell!" The one in the lead pounded on the door. "We know you're in there! Come out now!"

They waited with bated breath. The seconds ticked by.

When there was no response. The entry team nodded to each other. One yanked the trailer open. "Move! Move! Move!" The rest filed inside, guns drawn.

Although it wasn't a big trailer, the few seconds of silence was the longest of their lives. No shots were fired and no shouts could be heard.

Finally the radio buzzed. "Trailer is clear. We have one contact," the lead trooper reported. There was a hesitation to his voice. "Better... better get a medevac in here, on the double."

Paramedics were on standby in the rear, in case there was shooting during this operation. They came dashing up, running past the haunted and disturbed expressions of several of the troopers who emerged from the trailer.

The EMTs were uneasy as they went inside, not sure what to expect. And what they found at the back of the camper far exceeded anything that their experience or imaginations could concoct.

A heavy-set stocky man was handcuffed to the bed, completely naked, and left there for god only knew. He'd been discarded like a piece of trash. He groaned weakly, alive but dehydrated.

"Holy shit. He's alive," they surrounded the bed, tearing into their emergency gear.

His head lolled to one side. "Sir, can you tell me your name?" One of them knelt by the bed.

With a voice like gravel from days of screaming for help, he answered "Brian... I- I can't feel my hands." He pulled weakly at his handcuffs. His hands discolored from poor circulation.

"What's that all over his face?" another EMT asked.

After some gentle prodding of the dried and flakey white substance. The EMT rubbed it between two gloved fingers. "Seminal fluid."

"Good god, what the hell happened here?" the other asked.

Brian started to sob. His ordeal was over.

***

SOME TIME LATER...

He tossed back his shot and signaled for another. It was brought to him by a busty blonde with a little too much jiggle in her plump ass to make her fishnets appealing. To Frank Vega, she looked like a ham, just pouring out between the netting. But then again, every strip-club had a couple of the token chubbies. It was like a law or something.

"Thanks, Hatfield," he remarked rather crudely to the waitress, and sent her away with a slap on the ass.

Besides, he could forgive the thick chick. Because on center stage, he was rather fixated on the leggy bad-bitch with the wild auburn hair. So was half the bar, for that matter.

She was in a leopard print g-string, thigh high latex boots, and little else. Although the dog collar was a nice touch. She tossed her hair back and grinded her ass against the pole as she regarded her audience with an expression that could be described as lusty contempt. There was a slow hypnotic quality to her movements, and her eyes were half shut, her jaw set in a rather severe expression. A woman who didn't smile often, and didn't have to.

She liked what she was doing. Frank could tell. Not every stripper was happy with their lives, but he wasn't deluding himself when he figured that this filthy bitch craved the attention.

Deciding that it was worth it, he flashed a wad of hundreds at the dancer, and she came slow-strutting her way across the stage, like a dog chasing a bone. Between the flashing lights, and the smoke, she looked straight out of an 80's beer commercial.

"Looking for a dance, sweetie?" She asked, ignoring the room full of bikers, and truck drivers. She sank down to the edge of the stage and rested her high-heeled boot on the front of Frank's chair, right below his balls.

"Looking for more than that, if you catch my drift," he gave a wink.

"You all are," she smirked, hardly put off. "What's your name?"

"Frank. But you can call me 'daddy', if you like."

She slid off the stage and made herself comfortable in the biker's lap. Her firm perky ass pressing against his crotch. His dick was already stirring beneath her.

"And what's your name?" He asked her.

She put her arms around him and ran her fingers through his greasy hair. "Lee."

"I expected something more colorful like Cinnamon, or Lexus," Frank couldn't resist running his hands over her smooth skin. Her tan was natural, and she sparkled from glitter and sweat.

"Just Lee."

Frank couldn't help but smirk wider. "You dancing to put yourself through college, little lady?"

This time, Lee's smirk grew into an amused smile, although she still retained much of that bad-bitch composure. "No. Dancing to put my son through college," she said, then jutted her chin across the room.

Behind the bar, Frank spied a stocky young man with a smooth youthful baby-face. He looked a little too young to be tending bar. But around here, nobody questioned it. In a place like this, some pimple-faced college punk handling liquor was the least shady thing going on.

Hell, on his way in, Frank had spied some hulky behemoth of a bouncer knocking the teeth out of some drunk who hadn't paid for his last couple of dances. Said bouncer was now behind the bar, icing his knuckles and chatting it up with Lee's son.

"Lucky him," Frank turned back to the slender goddess grinding herself in his lap. Definitely too old to be a college bimbo-- she knew what she was doing. She was working her ass against him in just the right ways to stir up his libido and awaken his cock.

"You have no idea," she ran her tongue across her upper lip and continued to slowly gyrate her hips until Frank's balls felt as heavy as lead, crying out for release.

Frank groaned as she worked her body against his, until she could feel how good and ready the man was.

"C'mon," she grabbed him rather aggressively by the shirt collar, and practically dragged him from his chair.

Frank was all too happy to follow, as he was led like a puppy to the curtained off area of the club. Along the way, he felt eyes on him. The envious eyes of Leanne's son followed. Frank was sure to flash the boy a wink and a smile. A knowing look passing between them.

When Leanne had taken her new sugar-daddy out of sight, Bradley's eyes remained on that curtain, until he sensed the presence behind him.

"All that jealousy is going to eat you alive, son," McDowell's broad grin crossed his face.

"I'm not jealous," Bradley insisted, returning quickly to pouring drinks. "I just don't want to be a cuck, like my dad. That's all."

McDowell continued to grin admiring the room full of men who were all willing to spend money to leer at Leanne exposing herself. And if they had the money, McDowell wouldn't oppose any and all of them fucking the shit out of what was rapidly becoming a biker slut on the wrong side of the tracks.

"You don't want to be like your dad, then don't act like a little bitch. Besides, she doesn't charge you for a dip in that honey pot. So stop your whining and get back to work." McDowell merely shrugged his shoulders, and returned to the task of icing his knuckles.

Bradley scowled. As the next dancer took the stage, from behind the curtain in the private rooms, the unmistakable sounds of grunting and moaning could be heard. Leanne was enjoying her client for the night.

This was becoming a regular thing.

***THE END***