Three Gangbangs in One Night

At the station the young couple were followed by the drunk who was momentarily, and quite comically, blown backwards by the wind. No one else hopped on the train so all that was left was Sharon and a sleeping man.

She could feel the stickiness of her previous escapade cloying around her pussy and she lifted her skirt to take a peek. Her lips were still red from the power fucks she'd just had and she decided she'd clean it up before she'd dig out her old panties and slip them back on.

The daggy old tea towel was perfect as a means of cleaning up the mess. It hadn't been used at all and was probably cleaner than any of her own clothes. The soft cloth felt good against her twat and she rubbed it for longer than what could be considered a clean up. She was now entering into the realm of masturbation and when the cotton gave way for her fingers, she knew she'd stepped over the line. She watched the Asian gentleman as his head bounced against the windows and she remembered her first inter-racial fuck with a Tongan bouncer after a gig. He was useless. It was all over in about a minute and all the big tattooed boofhead could do was whimper, apologise and carry on. His true nature was nothing like his external countenance. He was actually a very peaceful bloke.

As she let her mind wander off into a mental inventory of the various races and nationalities of men she'd enjoyed in bed, on tables, up against walls or what have you, she absentmindedly lifted the hem of her dress up over her thighs and let her legs fall open. The cool air of the train compartment felt good against her pussy as her fingers traced up and down along her tender, ruby tinged labia. She closed her eyes and imagined Marcus down there, barely touching her with his tongue as he drove her crazy with teasing, light-as-air licks and kisses. Better yet, Marcus with a mustache, the stiff but pliable bristles tickling along her delicate nethers as he worked her towards orgasm with his mouth (oh God, how she'd begged him not to shave it off, the bastard). As she sunk deeper into her fantasy she felt an orgasm building within her; the orgasm she'd missed back at the bar, returning for a second chance. She decided to commit fully and slipped the index and middle fingers from her other hand inside herself.

"Ahhhh," gasped a voice from somewhere close.

With a start she opened her eyes. Standing over her was the Asian gent from a few rows down. His glasses were crooked and his hair mussed from his nap against the window, but the most noticeable aspect of his appearance was his dick, which was in his slowly stroking hand as he looked down at her with a big, toothy smile. His eyes looked a little frightened, like he half expected her to pull out a rape whistle and start blowing. But she just smiled back.

Encouraged, he redoubled his stroking while glancing from her face to her pussy to her face and so on. His obvious appreciation sent a wave of arousal through her, so she paused to pull her dress up even higher, giving him a full view of her hips. They were good hips for a woman turning forty; let the gentlemen enjoy the show.

"Mmm," he moaned as he slowed his stroking to maintain the moment. She knew he was hoping for an invite to climb down and fuck her, but she was already feeling a little morally dodgy about that whole thing in the bar. This didn't count as long as they didn't touch, she decided.

"Shhh," she said when he opened his mouth to speak. She didn't need him getting talky and ruining the moment. She needed this climax. She'd fucking earned it.

He nodded with a smile and got back to work on his prick. His already squinty eyes squinted further and she immediately thought of the old Vapors masturbation anthem "Turning Japanese". It was bad luck. She had a nasty habit of getting songs stuck in her head and now her mind locked on the chorus to the song. It was like an immense roadblock dropped in the path of her hoped-for orgasm.

I'm turning Japanese

I think I'm turning Japanese

I really think so

...over and over and over. Goddamnit.

"Ahhh..." he said with intensity. His eyes started flitting about, looking for somewhere to deposit his load. He looked hopefully at the tea towel, but Sharon had a better idea. She opened her mouth and leaned forward.

"What do we have here?" said a voice from somewhere behind her new friend.

The Asian fellow jumped back in alarm and caught the back of his calf on the seat facing Sharon, causing him to topple backward and land at the feet of a pair of amused looking transit cops. Sharon quickly pulled down her hem.

"I dunno mate, but I'm pretty sure it ain't legal," laughed the taller of the cops. He was a youngish guy; pink faced and freckled with pale blue eyes and a crooked smile.

The other cop was a stocky, swarthy fellow with a big, push-broom mustache and small dark eyes. He nudged the Asian lying at his feet with his toe. "You are correct officer Barnaby, this isn't legal at all," he said without amusement.

The young cop, Barnaby, leaned over and glared at the Asian who was quickly working to stuff his penis back into his pants. "OK rice-cake, put your dick away and get the fuck out of here," he said. With astounding speed for a middle-aged man he was up and jumping down the front stairs three at a time. Although the young cop pivoted to watch him flee, his partner kept is eyes locked on Sharon.

Sharon could usually deal with cops without difficulty. She was a good looking woman and a little batting of the eyes and a bit lip could get her out of most difficulties with a gentle warning, but her curly hair was still wet and lank, her makeup long gone and her dress crumpled and noticeably soiled from the bar. But still, some guys liked a messy girl. A little charm was worth a try.

"I... I'm so sorry officers."

"Make a habit of this sort of thing ma'am?" asked the swarthy cop.

"No. Not at all," she said, looking up into their eyes and seeing a spark of... something. "Well, not in trains anyway... to be perfectly honest."

The two cops turned to each other and smiled. Officer Barnaby turned back to her. "What's your name ma'am?" Sharon told them and they looked at each other again like they'd had some suspicion confirmed.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked with a kittenish purr. She couldn't believe she was coming on to these cops, but she was achingly horny from her unresolved encounter with the poor Asian gentleman. She was risking spending her fortieth birthday in jail if she misplayed this situation, but she was usually pretty good about reading people and these two seemed ripe for plucking.

"Do you want to be?" asked the swarthy cop. Sharon looked at his tag. His name was Collins.

"Well... A little temporary trouble might pass the time nicely Officer Collins," she said and cocked her head like a playful puppy.

"We thought you might say that," said Collins. He held up a phone, pointed it at her and pressed a button. "Please stand up ma'am."

Sharon complied with his order. "Did you just take my picture?" she asked.

"New policy ma'am," he said in a dry officious voice. Barnaby however was smiling like a stupid kid about to get his first handjob as he stared at her.

They led her down the back stairs to the area outside of the rear control room. It was a bland little room with the alcove containing the controls for the driving the train tucked back in a corner. The engineer would just switch from one end to the other when it reached its terminus, but now it was empty except for Sharon and her two captors.

"Think we should search her?" asked Barnaby with a grin.

"For a start," said Collins.

"You should probably restrain me too. I'm a double-O spy and my body is a deadly weapon," said Sharon with a wry smile in a low seductive voice.

Collins and Barnaby looked at each other and each arched and eyebrow. Collins withdrew his nightstick and Barnaby pulled a fistful of zip ties from his pocket.

"Remove the frock ma'am," said Collins as he dipped his nightstick under her hem and lifted it up for a peek at her arse. Barnaby moved in close so he towered over her. He was almost two metres tall.

Sharon's heart was racing. When she was young she'd had fantasies of being a captured spy on a foreign train; a woman in peril using her brain and body to outwit her captors. She'd let such trifles fade over time, especially since she and Marcus' open sex life fulfilled whatever sexual needs she had. But finding herself plopped down into a girlhood fantasy made her feel young and randy. True, she was violating her agreement with Marcus for the second time today, but this was a long held fantasy; he'd understand. It would be as if she came home and found him with his cock buried in Megan Fox's arse, she wouldn't fault him for taking an opportunity like that and neither would he with this. At least, that's what she told herself as she wiggled out of her dress.

Barnaby used his twist ties to lash her wrists together behind her back as Collins stood before her and slowly dragged the end of his baton up the contours of her body. He played his part well, looking at her with iron coolness while she knitted her eyebrows together and panted in pretend fear.

However, her budding fantasy was interrupted when the speaker crackled into life and a voice announced the next station. The lads got very animated.

"Think Morris made it in time?" asked Barnaby to Collins.

"Go take a look, mate," said Collins. Barnaby nodded and reluctantly left the room, keeping his eyes on Sharon as long as he could and nearly running into the frame of the door.

"Who's Morris?" asked Sharon.

"I'll ask the questions, prisoner," said Collins as he stepped around her while still dragging the end of the truncheon along her skin. The light pressure of the hard object raised a crop of goose bumps all over her body. Behind her now, he reached around with his left hand to cup her breast and pinch her nipple. She choked back a groan of pleasure as he twisted it.

"Please... stop," she said unconvincingly.

Collins' teeth traced along her shoulder to the nape of her neck as his truncheon moved around to press against her windpipe. She let her head drop back as he bit her harder than tenderly, but lighter than painfully. With her bound hands she could feel his cock going hard within his pants.

"I asked you to wait Collins," said a voice; low, but feminine.

Sharon looked over at another cop; a woman about her age. She was a tall woman with a firm, square jaw, prominent cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes. She pulled off her yellow rain poncho and threw it to the side. Her hair was short and black and the tag on her uniform confirmed her name as Morris.

"Sorry," said Collins like a chastised schoolboy. "I didn't know if you'd make it with this weather."

"Took me twenty bloody minutes to drive ten fucking k's in this shit," she spat out like the weather was the fault of someone in the room. She pointed at Sharon with her chin, "This the tart you called me about?"

"We caught her upstairs sucking off some Jap," said Barnaby from behind her.

That wasn't actually true, but Sharon let it slide. She was more concerned with what the hell was going on. Especially the odd detail of how could these cops have called the severe looking woman over twenty minutes ago when they only just caught her five or ten minutes ago. But for some reason the woman's cold icy eyes prevented her from asking.

"Have you lads searched her yet?"

Barnaby and Collins both answered no. Morris held out her hand for Collins' truncheon and stepped back behind Sharon. Sharon felt it slide between her tights and up towards her pussy. Her flesh jumped and twitched at the sensation.

"Open your legs," demanded Morris as she dug her long fingernails into Sharon's left arse cheek. Sharon obediently complied. "Bend over," she ordered. Again, Sharon complied.

Officer Morris began sliding the truncheon up and down long the length of her vulva, pressing it up along her sensitive lips with firm pressure as she rocked it back and forth along her dampening slit. The surface of the hard, black shaft grew wet with her increasingly copious juices. The two male officers moved around in front of her. From her position she couldn't see their faces, just their crotches positioned before her at eye level. It was no surprise to her when she saw their hands go to their flies and start opening their trousers.

"You are going to have to learn that we don't appreciate you horny swingers turning Australia's transit system into a filthy sex club," said Morris. She changed the angle of the truncheon and pushed lightly at the maw of Sharon's now dripping wet cunt. Without further preamble she slid the truncheon up inside, causing Sharon to gasp and rise up on the balls of her feet at the deliciously wrong sensation of her rough penetration. Morris began violating her with a firm in and out motion while giving the baton a slight twist with each invasion. Sharon groaned in lurid pleasure.

Barnaby and Collins both had their dicks out now. Sharon noticed that their cocks matched their owners; Collins' was dark and thick, Barnaby's was long and pink. They began rubbing and slapping their heads across her face; smearing glossy trails of precum on her brow, over her cheeks and along her lips. She opened her mouth in a silent, pleading motion and sighed in gratification as Collins took the first turn at her. As she rocked back and forth with the motion of the truncheon thrusting inside her she let Collins' prick move in and out of her mouth along the length of her rippling, teasing tongue.

"Fuck, she's good," exhaled Collins as thick strands of precum stretched back from her lips to his wet, shivering cock.

"Gimmie a go mate," pleaded Barnaby. Collins moved over to let Barnaby slide between her pouting, puckered lips.

Sharon closed her eyes. She was back in her dreams; a young courier for the French resistance, caught by fascists and on her way to prison. Her only way to escape was to satisfy them all so thoroughly that they fell unconscious from exhaustion. For Victory, she thought to herself as she forced her face down on the full length of Barnaby's cock. The howling rain and the roaring wind buffeting the outside of the train only added to her vivid daydream.

"Shit, you weren't foolin', she's taking me down her throat," panted Barnaby.

Officer Morris had shifted the angle of her truncheon so it was now hitting her g-spot with each thrust. Sharon began pushing back onto it; riding it to an orgasm she could feel charging her body with prickly energy. She was feeling the tingle settling into her body from her teeth to her toenails as her bones trembled with the incipient explosion of knee weakening pleasure she'd been craving all day. But suddenly Morris stopped. If it weren't for the dick in her mouth she would have screamed in bloody minded frustration.

"Come back here Mike, I'm moving up front," said Morris.

"Sure Donna," answered Barnaby and withdrew from Sharon's mouth to move around and take position at her pussy.

Barnaby fucked her leisurely while Sharon watched Morris quickly remove her slacks and climb onto Collins' lap where he had sat on a padded bench at the rear of the compartment. The lady cop settled on to his cock facing out and began to ride him reverse cowgirl style while he reached around to unbutton her shirt and fumble open her bra. Her tits were small with dark, pointy nipples. Morris threaded her truncheon behind Sharon's head and used it to pull her face to her pussy where Sharon began greedily lapping at Donna Morris' clit and Collins balls as they fucked within millimetres of her face. The smell of their mingled juices flowing out over Donna's lips and down along Collins' balls sent Sharon into paroxysms of feral lust.

"Don't you dare come until I'm done, Jimmy," ordered Morris as she worked herself on Collins' cock with vigorous intensity.

"I'll try," he panted in a voice that sounded like he didn't think it likely.

Sharon gyrated her hips backwards onto Barnaby's cock, trying to get him to hit her sweet spot as the rhythm of their foursome increased in intensity. However, she'd invariably get herself positioned just right when he'd shift his footing or change his angle so she was left breathless and frustrated. She desperately wished her hands weren't tied so she could work her own clit. But then again, she didn't. The constrained desire of this rough usage was building a time bomb of a climax down in the basement of her soul and she was alive with the thrill of riding it to its eventual detonation.

Donna was not having such difficulties. Her wet slaps down onto Jimmy Collins were ferocious now and Sharon was having a hard time keeping her tired tongue on her clit. She resigned herself to keeping it out and available for Morris to slide past as she pumped up and down in her final rush to ecstasy. When she suddenly halted and went tense with a low growling cry, Sharon fixed her lips to her thick, throbbing clit and sucked with abandon. As Officer Donna Morris came with an intensity that Sharon could only envy she felt Collins suddenly start to buck and twist under her as he pumped his load up into Donna. She dropped her face down to bathe his wet scrotum with her tongue.

"I told you not to come," admonished Donna.

"You said not to come before you," said Collins meekly.

"That just means our swinger slut here is going to have to work for your jizz," she said as she braced herself to rise up off of Collins' lap. Then as she pulled herself free of his cock she barked, "Eat his slime, slut. Don't you dare waste a fucking drop."

Sharon greedily clamped her mouth onto Donna's pussy. She felt Collins' slimy seed sluice down the contracting walls of Donna's cunt onto her probing tongue. The deliciously rank and musky taste of their sex drove spikes of red hot fire into her stampeding libido. She heard herself emit sloppy, unbidden noises of rampant sexual gluttony as she feasted and inwardly smiled to herself as she heard Donna gasp and hum at the sensation of being sucked clean by her willing prisoner.

Sharon lost track of herself in her cunnilingual frenzy and was surprised to find herself standing with her wrists free. The two male officers were holding her arms up and tying them to a steel pole mounted horizontally to the ceiling as a handhold. Looking left and right she saw that Collins was flaccid but Barnaby was still rock hard. Donna stood in front of her slapping her palm with her distinctly slimy looking truncheon. She was completely naked now and actually smiling.

"You are a talented bitch, I'll admit that," she said.

"She made you come twice, heh?" said Barnaby with a goofy smile.

"Yes she did, yes she did. Twice in a row. I think she's earned something special."

Something special? Sharon liked the sound of that. She was wondering what it could be when Barnaby stepped up in front of her and reached around to grasp her arse in his large hands. He was a skinny young guy, but powerful. He easily pulled her up along his body until his stiff cock bobbed free beneath her. Donna reached under her to guide it into Sharon's body as Sharon held onto the bar and helped lower herself onto the young cop's cock.

The exertion involved was enough to quickly raise a gloss of sweat over their bodies as they slid laboriously against each other. Sharon threw her legs wide, then wider still as she squirmed to push her clitoris against Officer Barnaby's lithe young body. But when she felt Donna begin to draw her omnipresent night stick along the cleft in her arse she suddenly realized what they had planned for her. Her mind thrilled with excitement at the thought of a double penetration. She knew from past experience that she'd probably come as soon as both stiff rods began sliding against each other through the thin film of her tender inner tissues; if she even lasted that long.