Author's Note: Again, good clean fun. No minors depicted. Contents are the property of the author.
Hatch ignored Lacey and went to one of the urinals. Soon she could hear the sound of him emptying his bladder. Lacey rolled up onto her knees and then stood up shakily. She went to the sink and leaned on it, inspecting her face and disheveled hair in the stainless-steel mirror. She was a mess.
"Did I say you could stand up?"
"No, Hatch. Sorry." She set her knees back on the tiles. "How have you been, Hatch?"
The thing with Hatch was, he disliked Paul, her Paul, intensely, and even Paul didn't know why. Hatch disliked a lot of things. He was an angry little fireplug, sensitive about his height, with sandy hair, deep-set eyes, and big arms that he kept that way by doing literally hundreds of push-ups every day. The sight of him suddenly dropping down to press out forty perfect push-ups was so common, people didn't even comment on it anymore.
Hatch turned from the urinal but he wasn't buckling his pants. His dick, half hard, hung down in front of his zipper. It was purplish with a snug little mushroom head. "Don't worry, bitch," he said. "I would never put my cock in any hole where Fredo's little dick has been."
This was good to know, but didn't alleviate Lacey's anxiety at all. There was no way that Hatch wouldn't make her pay. It wasn't Hatch's way.
"Like I said, I ain't gonna fuck you." Hatch was pulling loops of paper off the roll beside the toilet. He extended the paper to her. "Here, wipe that shit off your face."
Leave it on. Wipe it off. Everybody had an opinion. Lacey took the paper and dabbed at her face.
"You can clean my asshole instead."
Ah. Hatch's way. Of course. "Okay, Hatch," she said. "Sure."
"We've been out hauling freight all day. Heavy lifting. A man's asshole can get pretty funky. I made sure not to clean it." He turned around, grabbed the flush handle above the urinal, and bent at the waist. "So get to work."
Lacey scootched toward him on her knees. Hatch's ass and lower back were covered with the same curly, sandy hair that was on his head. His asshole was a shy pink star above his dangling testicles. Not as filthy as it maybe could have been. She leaned forward and gently licked the little puckered hole. Then she slipped her tongue in. Fetid and rank, of course, but probably not as awful as kissing Clem on the mouth.
She leaned backwards. "I think I'm finding out why you guys call yourself Perverse Fate," she said.
At first she thought this little bit of humor might be a mistake with Hatch, but Hatch just shifted his feet and sighed irritably.
"Fuck you, bitch," he said, without much heat. "And your feeble-dick boyfriend, too. Get the fuck in there."
So Lacey did what she was told. She pressed her face between Hatch's buttocks and went for the gold, extending her tongue far up his asshole.
"Actually," Hatch said, almost to himself, "all the good bike gang names were probably already taken."
This might have made her smile if she weren't tonguing and sucking asshole. It was grim, unpleasant business and she let her mind drift away to more pleasurable thoughts, like what being a Perverse Fate girl would be like.
It meant, first and foremost, that you couldn't be fucked with anymore. If anyone, anywhere, hassled you, there would be payback. Not right away maybe. The guys were busy guys; they weren't Roadside Assistance. But when they got to it, they got to it with extreme prejudice applied. And word got around. You weren't to be fucked with. You were a Perverse Fate girl.
Lacey became aware of a rhythmic motion up front and she realized that Hatch must be jerking off. One thing she didn't have to worry about, at any rate. She plunged deeper into his butthole, licking and slurping and sucking. Theoretically, she thought, the more cleaning you did, the less disgusting the job became. She tried to believe this as she slobbered on Hatch's asshole.
After a minute or so that seemed like an eternity, Hatch abruptly turned around to face her. He was tugging vigorously on his cock, not much longer now than it had been when he was half hard. No wonder he was so angry all the time. She held her face up to the twitching knob and opened her mouth, but Hatch grabbed her nose and tilted her face down.
Then she felt it. Gob after gob of cum striping her beautiful brown hair. Her hair had been a lost cause on this night anyway, she supposed. When he was done, Hatch released her nose. She raised her head and Hatch was already zippering and belting his pants.
"Thank you, Hatch," she said.
"Fuck you," Hatch said. He was looking at his artwork in her hair. "I want you to know something."
"What's that, Hatch?"
He abruptly swung an open hand at her boobs, giving her right tit a sharp, stinging slap. Then he swung his other arm and did the same to her left tit.
"I ain't voting for you," he said. Then he turned away and headed for the door.
She made a point of not reaching up to rub either smarting tit. "Sorry to hear it," she said.
The door shut after him and she leaned back on her heels. She looked around the filthy bathroom. There was some extra stock, a few cases of bottled beer, in one corner. She could really use a beer, she thought.
The door opened again and a busty redhead, chunky and short in big heels and a crop-top that revealed plenty of underboob, strolled in.
"Hi, Barbi," Lacey said.
"Hey, baby girl," Barbi said. "They treating you right down here?"
"Yeah, you know. Boys bein' boys."
"I bet." Barbi clacked across the tiles toward Lacey on her lofty heels. She looked down at her and then reached out, set a fingertip beneath her chin, and raised her face. Lacey was acutely aware of the cum in her hair and on her face. "You got a pimple comin' in," Barbi said. Then she clacked over to the squalid toilet and started the laborious process of undoing buttons, zippers and buckles to lower her tight pants.
"How's things upstairs?"
"Boisterous." Barbi grinned and tried it again. "Boys... sterous. The boys are real happy. They jacked a shitload of pharmaceuticals, somebody had some alarm codes somehow, I don't know." She waved a hand airily, dismissing the details of this story, and then succeeded in getting her pants scootched down to her knees. She bent at the knees and hovered over the filthy toilet, a look of concentration forming on her face. "I think somebody done cleaned up down here."
"You think so?" Lacey looked around. It looked as filthy as ever.
"Yeah. I think they like you." Barbi grimaced and then there was the sound of a stream of pee hitting the water in the toilet. "You got your privacy down here, anyway."
"Oh, I've had some company."
"Boys broke me in at Sturgis. Right in the middle of their campsite." Barbi had plenty of pee for a short girl. It was still pounding into the toilet. "They put me in a, like, inflatable kiddie pool for the night. Boys can get pretty nasty with nothin' to do but drink beer all day."
"It's a man's world, I guess," Lacey said cheerfully. It was important to keep it cheerful and light. No grumbling, even with the girls. Especially with the girls.
