Harley Davidson Lawyer Ch. 01

"I liked the contrast between your brown skin and his muscular black body so much that I took a video."

I turned my head and closed my eyes. My heart was pounding, and I was hyperventilating. I felt close to fainting. My body was on fire, and the DA was yelling in my ear. My modest blouse and bra did little to protect me from his cruel fingers. I heard buttons rip off and bounce on the floor. He shoved my bra up to expose my plump breasts. When I kept my eyes closed and whined, he grabbed my breast and twisted my nipple. I screamed in unexpected pleasure. I had never had a man touch my breasts, at least not while I was conscious.

I stared at the screen in horror as the black athlete drove his big black cock into my little pussy over and over. His thrusts were so powerful that they shook my sweaty body. The bed frame squealed loudly in protest. The only other sounds in the room were from the black athlete panting hard and a regular animal-like grunt from me each time his lunges drove the air out of my lungs.

The worst part was when I saw myself momentarily regain consciousness and began responding. I heard my voice begging the big black athlete not to stop. The camera obscenely scanned over my sweaty body as I thrust my hips back against his lunging erection. The big black man fucked me for what seemed an eternity. I saw my little brown body spasm as an intense orgasm caused me to scream like an animal. I counted three more powerful orgasms before he shot his cum into my fertile womb. When he rolled off me, my body was covered in cum and looked destroyed. The bastard left me with a drunken smile on my face.

I felt the DA rip the button off my dress pants and lower the zipper. The bastard's soft hand plunged inside my soaking wet panties. I squealed as his fat fingers slid through my moist slit. The asshole hooked a couple of rough fingers inside my boiling vagina. I twisted around in what I thought was an effort to escape. Instead, I helped him drive his fingers deep into my core. I danced on my toes as he thrust his fat fingers in and out of my gushing pussy. His fat thumb drove my clit in circles. He matched the rhythm of the black football player in the video that I couldn't take my eyes off.

The DA laughed. "You're just a dirty little whore like every other Mexican cunt I've ever met. I only have two regrets about our first little party. The first was that I didn't have one of my brothers fuck your ass. My second disappointment was that you didn't get pregnant. We tried our best. My friends and I each fucked you several more times that night."

The DA forced me to watch the entire video. The black athlete fucked me for nearly ten minutes, but when he came, his massive load of semen was white, just like his fraternity brothers.

"I understand this is your first case. Who did you have to fuck to win the honor? I'll bet it was the head man himself. I understand he has a thing for little girls with big tits."

He talked and roughly fingered me as he flipped through a series of pictures. Each photo showed a different man or a different position. All of them had used my body more than once. They had fucked me like a rag doll and left me lying naked and covered in cum. The last photograph was a close-up view of my body. My gaping vagina was oozing cum down my ass cheeks. The smile on my face was the worst part. Somehow, my body had enjoyed the gang bang that I didn't even remember.

The DA continued taunting me. "I can't believe those chicken-shit cowards in the Public Defender's Office let an inexperienced Mexican lawyer oppose me. I'm going to love taking your courtroom virginity."

I hated myself for responding to the bastard's uninvited touch and the nasty images on his phone. Just because I had never even kissed a man didn't mean I was a stranger to self-gratification. Masturbation was my only source of sexual release, and I was familiar with the signs of my rapidly approaching orgasm. I screamed when he bit my hard nipple. I was on fire and so close to a powerful orgasm.

"Oh God, oh God, please, please, please."

I have no idea what I was begging for, but my pleas were interrupted by a voice on the elevator intercom.

"Is everything alright? Should I call maintenance?"

The hateful DA calmly released me and stepped back as I slid to the floor. I whimpered in protest at being left on the edge. My dress pants had been shoved halfway down my thighs, leaving my wet pussy exposed. My hand slid down to cover my shame and rub the pain from my abused vagina. When my fingers brushed across my engorged clit, my body exploded. I bit the palm of my free hand to prevent myself from screaming as I orgasmed hard.

The DA laughed as he watched my body twist and shudder on the elevator floor.

He answered the intercom. "We're fantastic. Someone must have leaned against the stop button. We were in a serious discussion and didn't notice we had stopped. Everything is Ok. We're moving again."

When the doors opened to the parking garage, the DA stepped out. He held the door and said, "I'm looking forward to reaming you in court. The judge and I will be picturing you on your hands and knees naked, getting fucked by a black athlete. I want you to hold that image in your mind when you get up to defend Mr. Grenhouser in court."

He reached in and hit the button for the top floor.

"Enjoy your ride. I'm going to text the janitors that there's some filthy trash in the elevator. I'm sure the black cleaning crew will love finding a Mexican whore instead. I doubt they'll let you get much sleep tonight. See you in court tomorrow morning."

I panicked when the door closed, and the elevator began to ascend. I quickly pulled up my pants to cover my ruined panties. The damn zipper jammed halfway up. I pulled down my bra, but I couldn't do anything about the buttons the DA had ripped off except pick them up. Maybe I could sew them back on and save the pants and blouse for tomorrow's court appearance. I hit the button for the next floor and got off the elevator. I had no desire to entertain the cleaning crew.

The closest stairway was at the end of a long hallway. I clutched the top of my blouse together and held my attaché case to hide the wet spot in the crotch of my half-open pants. When I got to the parking garage, I heard excited voices from the open doors of the elevator. Fortunately, I was closer to my car than the janitors, and I ran as fast as possible. My short legs made the contest too close for comfort, but I managed to drive away just as their eager hands reached for the door handles.

When I got to my apartment, I took a long hot shower to get the DA's scent off me. I spent several hours trying to prepare for court tomorrow before crawling into bed. My head was filled with the images that I had been forced to watch on the elevator. I cried while I finished what he had started with my trusty vibrator. I was no closer to sleep after pushing my exhausted body to a couple of intense orgasms.

My anger built as I lay in bed thinking about what the bastard had done. Not only had he taken my virginity years ago when I was unconscious, but tonight, he had assaulted both my body and mind. I lay awake for hours staring at the ceiling. If the DA had planned to knock me off my game, he had succeeded.

Some of my anger was directed at me for enthusiastically responding to his assault. What was wrong with me? Had my parents' untimely death left me with a desperate need for a father figure? Was I a weak, submissive female? By the time sleep came, I had resolved to gut the asshole in court. After the trial was over, I promised myself that I would find myself a boyfriend. It was time I found someone to help relieve my long-suppressed sexual urges.

#

I doubt you're interested in the courtroom details. The DA completely underestimated the 'little Mexican girl' defending against the sure-fire conviction. Suffice it to say that I got all the tainted evidence thrown out. What was left was a charge of impeding the airway of the pharmacist's wife. Deek got sentenced to seven years in the state prison for what was usually an enhancement charge. The DA got egg on his face and an end to his political campaign. I got a reputation as a formidable defense attorney. I got nicknamed the 'bitch lawyer' by jealous men who only knew I had beaten the most prominent lawyer in LA. I also got the title to a battered 2011 Road King Classic with 104k miles on it.

#

I visited Derek in the state prison shortly after his grandmother died. I had no leverage over him, but he believed my lie about a mistrial if I talked to the DA. He quickly signed over the deed to the multimillion-dollar house he had promised me for the hundreds of personal hours I had devoted to his case.

On the way out of the jail, I casually dropped a little bit of gossip. I told a guard, "I know everyone is entitled to legal counsel, but I'm personally disgusted at my client's actions. Some of the more horrific details of the case were kept from the public. I described how Derek had raped the young boy before killing his mother in front of him. My story was a total fabrication, but my lie had the intended consequences.

I saw loathing on the guard's face and knew my former client's fate was sealed. Prisons, like Dante's Inferno, have a special place for pedophiles. In the unlikely event Deek survived his sentence, he would emerge a broken man. It wasn't the death penalty, but I knew I'd sleep better at night, knowing he'd never have a moment's peace. I just wished it was the DA being ass fucked in prison instead of an idiot like Derek.

#

I've always found I can learn almost anything I needed in books or online. I spent a well-earned vacation watching online videos on bike maintenance, taking the bike apart, replacing a couple of thousand dollars worth of worn-out components, and putting it all back together.

It ran rough when I first started the big hog. A few tweaks, and it was purring like a cat. I'm not talking about a house cat. It sounded more like a lion roaring after a kill. When I straddled the beast, I felt the powerful bike vibrating between my thighs. It was the most thrilling sensation I'd felt in my life. I couldn't imagine that sex was more exciting, but what did I know about the pleasure of sex. Despite the DA's disgusting photographs, in my mind, I was still a naïve virgin.

I'm not an idiot. I took the bike to a dealer and had them run a complete set of diagnostics to validate my repairs. They must have been satisfactory since the shop manager offered me a job. I made several short runs to break in the new piston rings before taking it for a 120-mile-long trial run to San Diego for a deposition.

One of my favorite movies as a kid was called "The Lincoln Lawyer." I watched it with my dad, who was an LA county sheriff. Even he said the film was enjoyable. The movie starred Mathew McConaughey, who played a lawyer who worked out of a big Lincoln Continental. My Harley had extra-large touring saddlebags, which I fitted with everything I needed for a mobile legal office. I handed in my two-week notice to the Public Defender's office, updated my Linked-In page, printed business cards, and advertised clients. I was now officially 'The Harley-Davidson Lawyer," although I wouldn't be opposed to being called 'that bitch lawyer on wheels.'

#

I'd been working my ass off on Deek's case for months. Rebuilding my bike was my vacation. I was nearly broke and needed cash while I waited for Maggie's house to clear probate. I decided to make a run to Las Vegas for a weekend playing Texas Holdem. I expected to skin a bunch of dumbass male chauvinists who wouldn't know what hit them when they found out a little girl was much better at calculating probabilities and bluffing than they ever were.

I planned on buying a couple of new outfits in Vegas with my winnings, so I was dressed for the road in low-rise skinny jeans with rips from prolonged wear, together with a black leather jacket over a white cotton muscle shirt. My ample breasts were enhanced with an underwire pushup bra, and my height was increased with five-inch-high Michael Kors' Damita Platform Wedge Sandals that I had bought in a thrift store. I figured the outfit would be perfect for playing cards. Men are so easy to distract. Once I'd taken enough money from the rubes, I would buy some new clothes.

I hate interstates and had planned a route following two-lane county roads just south of the four-lane. The desert was hot and gorgeous. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, I heard a nasty pop. The scary sound was followed by a rapid drop in RPMs as the big engine died. I got off and quickly discovered I had no spark. I could smell the fifty-cent capacitor that had fried in the noon-time desert heat.

Off in the far distance, I could see a couple of rundown buildings next to a junction in the road. My vision of safety shimmered in the hot air rising from the asphalt highway. The buildings were the only shelter from the scorching sun around.

I knew people died in the desert, but I was reluctant to abandon my bike. Fortunately, it was downhill most of the way, and I glided down the hill in neutral. When the big bike slowed to a stop, I still had a mile to go up a slight incline. It would have been easy except for the hundred-plus temperature.

Since I'd seen no traffic on the backcountry road, it was up to me to muscle the big Harley to what passed for civilization. Not for the first time in my life, I wished I weren't so petite or so alone. Once the bike stopped moving, I broke into a sweat. I stripped off my leather jacket and draped it over the seat before beginning the long trudge.

I was out of drinking water before I was halfway there. My body was drenched in sweat, and my martial arts conditioned muscles ached. My brain was fried, but it didn't matter. My superior intellect was of little use pushing a Harley.

I giggled when I noticed vultures were circling overhead. The scene was straight out of a Hollywood movie. Any minute the hero would show up to save me.