Lusty Lynn - Sexy Bier Nurse

Lynn Goodrhyde coasted into the parking lot of the hotel, bare-assed on her motorcycle; her skirt wafting in the breeze. Seated behind her on the bike was Justin, the Cowboy Motherfucker and he was being anything but a gentleman; fingers groping here and there all up and down her form and making it damned hard for her to control herself, (much less the fucking bike)!

She braked and turned into a free parking spot by the pool. She killed the engine and "her girl" went to sleep with a

DIGGUH DIGGUH DIGGUH

-

SIGH

followed by a sputter of exhaust. Kickstand down and both parties dismounted, she turned with Cowboy Motherfucker to survey the scene of carnage before them at the hotel. It was (to put it mildly), absolute drunken fucked-up chaos in a leopard spotted thong!

What was it that said "debauchery" and "unhinged mayhem" to the both of them? Was it the blast of music, screams, and laughter seeming to come from every window on the second and third floors? Was it the trees about the hotel, filled with women's underwear and brassieres (as if Fredericks had started decorating for Christmas early)? Was it the debris field strewn all about the building, containing spent whiskey and beer bottles, plus the odd splatter against the hotel's very walls where a glass container of some sort had been flung; the booze inside having trickled down to the broken shards of glass below?

No... it was the scene of frantically fornicating bodies on balconies all about the structure, of raucous naked mayhem at the pool at ground level, of silhouettes darting back n' forth in obviously crowded rooms with lights flashing on and off to the beat of music. All was barely-clothed chaos, a perfect bacchanalian event with no one seeming concerned about violating any sort of dress code, (as anyone wearing anything would have been considered overdressed for the occasion). Lynne wanted IN on this, there was simply no time to waste!

She hopped out of her black engineer boots and stood on the pavement in nearly bare fishnet stockinged feet while rummaging through her bike's saddlebags; Cowboy Motherfucker admiring her bare ass from behind the whole time. OH AND WHAT AN ASS - he realized; heart-shaped with such a lovely pink pouty tulip of a pussy below that adorable crinkly pink mud button of an anus - all just built to be eaten, to be stabbed with his cock, plowed solidly and filled to the rim with nut juice, he reckoned. The Divine Creator had truly fashioned a work of art when he built that lovely biker-MILF's ass; an apple-bottomed masterpiece framed delectably by garters suspending oh so slutty fishnet stockings!

Out from the bags came her biker jacket with the weed (and the rubber dong which had once again slipped her mind of its presence in the great pocket). Out came her thigh high black high-heeled boots and in went her black engineers. In went her black leather mini-skirt; she'd stay bare-assed and bare-twatted for the shameless walk ahead just like she'd been for the ride from the traffic lights. In two shakes of a lamb's tail the thigh highs were on her lovely legs, she'd donned the jacket, and she was ready to get busy with the mayhem and debauchery at hand.

"I've come home," Lynne giggled to herself as her hand found that of the Cowboy Motherfucker's.

The two sauntered to the entrance of the hotel. High above Lynne could clearly see on the balcony the very same couple fucking over the railing both she and Cowboy had seen back at the intersection; the two seeming to beckon both Lynne and the Cowboy to another realm of decadence and hedonism like fleshy gargoyles on the roof of some profane horny cathedral, calling and crying to them from above in a duet of

OH OHHH OOHHH OHH YEAH LIKE THAT!

Pushing through the swinging glass doors to the lobby they stepped a large red marble front desk. Three desk clerks each with phones pressed to one ear and fingers in the other so one could hear spoke loudly into phones. They each sounded as if trying to calm panicked souls on the other end with such things as,

"I'm sorry Sir, I have to apologize about the noise but we had a concert in town and the band has booked the entire second and third floors," and...

"Madame I can assure you, that was not a gunshot. No, that was a cherry bomb tossed out from a balcony. We've addressed the matter with the guest responsible," and...

"No Sir, your wife did not come down by the lobby. She may still be at the pool. She went out to get ice?.... She's been gone for how long? ... Yes, two hours IS a long time. Oh Sir, I can assure you we'll keep a lookout for her..."

Lynne and Cowboy Motherfucker looked at one another. She was in shock. He looked like he had something to explain.

"Sometimes it's like this after a concert," he told her, "depending on what the groupie catch looks like n' how big the bus they get on."

He shrugged. She lifted up the sunglasses she'd stolen from him off her eyes and winked with a scrunched up nose above an impish smile.

"Oh there's NO need to tell it to me, luv," she purred, "you don't know who you're dealing with!"

He reached for his sunglasses but she was too damned fast for him, whisking them away with the deftness of a carnival magician. She pouted at him and chided,

"Oh NO, you BAD BAD BOY! You don't get those back so easily. You have to earn them... and the faster you can get the room key, the faster you can start earning!"

He shrugged again. Can't blame a guy for trying. He left her standing there while he approached the desk for the room keys.

About that time, the doors to the lobby split open and more noise poured in. This time it was in the forms of Nancy, the tequila and cum-soaked nurse (and sometime side-kick for Lynne), Flash McDonegal (the rocker star of the evening's show), Nick the proprietor of 'The Lucky Horseshoe Tattoo Parlor and Piercing Studio,' and Nick's common law courtesan and madly talented needle artist, the lovely tattooed Tina. Bringing up the rear was Stevie, the black-haired limousine driver, (who'd found a parking space just a half minute before next to the band's luxury bus).

"LYNN HONEY! THERE YOU ARE!" Nancy bellowed with arms outstretched. She ran up and hugged her bestie in a python death-grip squeeze as the two filled the lobby with cackles. This evening was just getting warmed up.

Cowboy Motherfucker turned to the assembled throng behind him and held aloft two room keys. Flash nodded and held up his guitar-plucking paw with fingers open. The cowboy made an over-handed toss and the room key hit Flash dead in the palm for a good catch.

"Shall we?" the cowboy asked the group. He was met with emphatic

FUCK YEAH's

and

LET's GET IT ON's.

"Oh Mr. McDonegal Sir!" one of the desk clerks called out while placing his palm over the phone to shout, "Refreshments are already up at your rooms. Oh and room service has provided the champagne and liquor stocks specified by your manager!"

"Cheers Mate!" Flash called back, tipping one finger to his forehead in a cavalier salute of gratitude as he now proceeded to lead the mini-mob towards the elevators.

It was then the frantic desk clerks with phones in hand stopped their conversations and simply stared dumbstruck at the group. In plain sight and stepping out quickly to the elevators with Flash, Cowboy, and Stevie in the rear; both women clearly were bare-assed tor all the world to see, Nancy in her microscopic dental floss thong and then Lynne absolutely bottomless down below, (save her garters fishnets and thigh high boots)! Each clerk shook his head and returned to the frantic conversations on the other end of those phones; all the result of tonight's party carnage that was rocking the hotel from one end to the other.

The group stepped off in good order, eager for the fuckery that awaited. Stevie followed close behind, bringing up the rear and sucking on the last contents of Nancy's tequila bottle; his driver's hat back in the limo on the seat as he was now clearly OFF the clock. Ahead of him Lynne and Nancy's delectable derrieres bumped and moved with each feminine stride in a devilishly decadent manner. This was indeed going to be a magnificent night that was only beginning - he could see that clear as day!

There was one more straggler who'd joined the group as they packed into the elevator. Just a minute before her arrival she'd gone unnoticed as she rolled up well behind Stevie's parking of the limo. She'd swung a long luxurious leg off from a blue Honda Shadow motorcycle and set the kickstand.

Had a casual observer seen the towering lovely BBW lady with curly shoulder-length brown hair dismount from her ride, they'd have been struck by the fact her magnificent round ass was not hindered by clothes... bare even, (owing to a particularly "good time" at the concert that night where she'd lost her underwear and everything else save her thigh high black boots but she'd a damned good story to tell about it). The observer would have also noticed a very unique attachment on Honda's seat, a flip-up butt-plug that the lovely rider stowed with a mere SQUOIKE

!

from a remote key fob; the rude little butt-hole poker disappearing down out of sight in but one secret compartment of the scandalously customized cycle, (right down to the matching leather floggers hanging from the handlebars). She was obviously someone who enjoyed riding for more reasons than merely one.

Surveying the scene, she noticed her quarry, Flash McDonegal, Cowboy Mother Fucker and the others. She stepped off in the direction of the tequila soaked throng, her boots clicking on the pavement and her lovely round BBW rump barely covered by her long leather jacket. Upon entering the lobby, she raised the attention of the three desk people busy on the phones but when they looked in her direction, she merely made a pointing gesture at the group complete with walking fingers that said,

I'M WITH THE BAND.

That was enough to satisfy the desk people who noticed she was also underdressed and obviously part of the party -

or so they surmised

. The three behind the desk merely nodded and pointed to the elevators as they spoke into their phones to soothe panicked hotel guests, disturbed by the raucous party above. The woman recognized her cue, stepping quickly to the elevator and catching things before the doors could close. Flash and the rest inside noticed another presence in the confines of the small space and all turned to see the lovely voluptuous woman with ample curves, shameless nakedness down below and

I SO FUCKING DARE YOU

attitude up top. As both doors closed behind her wonderfully bare moon it was Stevie the limo driver who chimed in with,

"Anita, what are you doing here?"

"I lost my bottoms at the concert Stevie so I decided to hop on Spike and ride over here to this party to blend in," answered the sultry toned BBW who scooped up Stevie in big mama-bear hug and smooch, nearly lifting the limo driver from the elevator floor.

"Spike is her motorcycle," Stevie explained in the woman's embrace over his shoulder to the rest of the group.

"You named your bike Spike?" Lynne asked with an incredulous smile.

"I had to," Anita commented as the elevator began to move upward, "Stevie here is not only a limo driver. He is also my bike mechanic. He did some mods to my Honda Shadow and I simply love every inch of them!"

"Six inches to be exact," Stevie chimed in. The two burst into little snickers at an apparently private joke and Anita wrapped her booted leg around the young driver's waist and humped him in an impromptu lap dance, her bare twat bumping and grinding up and down the front of Stevie's pants. It was about this time the elevator doors opened.

Two nuns stood in the doorway staring at the lovely large bare-assed woman who was dry-fucking a long haired young man in full view of a crowd of rockers. There was a pregnant pause (with the exception of Anita's grinding buttocks below her black leather jacket). Both of the Sisters looked at one another before one summoned the strength to say,

"W... we'll take the stairs!"

The doors closed a moment later. The elevator exploded in laughter and continued to move upward inside the shaft, leaving two sisters standing at the now shut doors, contemplating the sight they'd just beheld. One of them broke the awkward silence with,

"Maria?"

"Yes Katherine?"

"Did I see what I think I did?"

"I believe so," Maria replied.

"FLASH MCDONEGAL!" they both exclaimed in unison, clutching their beads and made the sign of the cross.

"He's here?"

"Well, I heard he'd be in town but I thought the concert was next week?"

"Oh don't be absurd," Maria countered, "haven't you noticed all the traffic tonight?"

"So that means he's here in this hotel? That explains all the noise in the hall and also upstairs. Did you get a good look at him?"

"I did, despite the bare-assed woman humping that little fellow like she was on heat and set to mount him."

"Hmmm yes," agreed the other absentmindedly as her free hand wiped a trickle of something from her temple, "I wonder what room he's in?"

"One way to find out," replied the other who pushed the call button once again. The Knights of Columbus would have to observe patience as a virtue and wait for another time.

***

Meanwhile in the elevator, it was decided by Flash McDonegal almost immediately that Anita was "one of this pack" and should tag along for the fun. It was just as well, she looked like the sort of woman who crashed sex parties for shits and grins. The way she was practically using Stevie as a pocket rocket right before them, Flash could tell she'd both be able to fit in (and handle herself without difficulty).

Lynne on the other hand upon seeing Anita saw something else in the lovely BBW lady.... a kindred spirit. One look at the two and one could surmise they were cut from the same piece of cloth, what with both wearing thigh high boots (albeit with high heels for Lynne), both liked riding their bikes bare assed naked down below, and both had that certain something

SOMETHING

that told people in the know they loved sex and physical pleasure from both men and women. It was the "vibe," the aura, and when Anita and Lynne made eye contact, it was most definitely there!

With the opening of the elevator doors, the merry band of miscreants spilled into the hall on the third floor. They were met by the sight of a naked roadie racing past them down the corridor, chased by a manically laughing and equally naked groupie spraying a fire extinguisher at him and missing wildly. That was just a taste of what lay ahead.

Toilet paper festooned the ceiling sconces. The air hung with coarse smog of weed, spilled booze and sex even out there in the hall. Here and there an empty beer bottle lay in plain sight on the green and black carpet and spent pizza boxes littered the floor in a sort of cardboard-brick road all the way to the end of the row of rooms lining either side. Now and then a door would open and half clothed revelers would emerge and dart down the hall to another of the rooms, hooting and shrieking as they stumbled ahead.

Now and then the group passed open doors; inside scenes of utter mayhem and debauchery for all to witness amidst flashing on and off again lights. Naked bodies humped and frolicked upon beds, couches, counters, and the floor; in pairs, threesomes, foursomes and more-somes! Oh and the noise, the ear splitting noise of chest vibrating metal seemed to come from the very walls, up from the floor and down from the ceiling as if the sound had nowhere to go and instead ricocheted around like an acoustic hockey puck. The whole second and third floors of the hotel could be summed up with "complete bestial bare-assed Bedlam!'

Upon reaching the room, the group paused as Flash moved to the door with the key, but immediately saw it was all quite unnecessary. The door was ajar and inside the merriment had obviously begun without them! The room was swelled to capacity with half-dressed and full blown bollocky-bare-assed partiers. Lynne craned her cocked-head and peered inside, then she let go with a happy gasp and a squeal of delight. The nude human form is a beautiful thing to behold and here in the room amidst a heady fog of reefer it was EVERYWHERE!

Bodies humped and bumped and frolicked in every conceivable position and on every available surface in the Presidential Suite reserved for Flash. There was fucking on both of the King sized beds (each of which appeared more resemble overloaded lifeboats following a maritime disaster in which a nude cruise ship had gone down). There was fucking in chairs, on the bar, and on the balcony. There was even fucking on the floor where partying hedonists had earlier pulled pillows, sheets, and covers from the king beds and created an impromptu orgy pit on the carpet. To Lynn Goodrhyde it reminded her of her uncle's fishing bait shop, the time when she'd beheld a package of fleshy wriggling earthworms being sold to a customer. She wanted in on all that wriggling just now!

In the center of the hotel suite stood the band's fat band manager. Poised at the top of a flight of three stairs leading down to a lounge area with a piano and immense television, he was now naked, (showing off his hairy chest and equally fuzzy back but still with his ever-present cigar that he chomped at while surveying a scene below in the sunken living room). Down on the living room floor were two young women, a blonde and a buxom redhead in a torrid sixty-nine in the middle of a group of people assembled around them on the floor in a ragged circle, in the dead center of which was an empty pink Champagne bottle. They'd been playing a game of "spin the bottle" except participants were not to kiss as much fuck and eat one another to orgasm should the bottle land on them. The middle-aged manager had a tall blonde woman down on her knees upon the stairs who was in the process of sucking the man off he frantically fucked her mouth while holding onto her frizzy head of shoulder length hair; his eyes never blinking nor straying away from the two girls munching twats on the floor for the enjoyment of all.

As luck would have it, the two labia licking ladies were a split second away from a combined climax and as the two humped and bawled, the fat manager drove his hips faster and faster matching the energy of the rug-munchers on the floor. As the two women bucked and humped through a shared girlie cum-quake, the man shut his eyes and whipped his head back open-mouthed; grabbing the blonde cocksucktress by the back of her head with both hands filling her jowls with hot jism.

"Swallow it Donna!" he croaked, "Swallow that load baby, AWWW YEAH THAT'S IT PUMPKIN! GULP DAT GRAVY BABY!"

He finished and pulled his limp dong from the woman's kisser as she swallowed, putting the back of her hand to her lips before coming up to her bare feet. She gave him a sweet bimbo kiss and whispered something in the fat man's ear that made him chuckle before he nodded and swatted her on her lovely heart shaped hiney as she hopped away happily. The man then turned and his eyes settled upon Flash, Lynn, and the rest of the sordid company. His expression went from contented selfish pleasure to happy surprise!

"Flash!" he hollered, "you've been missing the fun!"

"Vince," Flash replied, "as usual you've cornered enough fun for all of us and had some of it on the end of your cock! What lies have you been telling that pretty young thing with the blonde hair and the pouty lips?"

"Oh Donna?" Vincent the manager replied as he took the cigar from his teeth and pointed back in the direction of the woman who'd just sucked him off, "Yeah, she is gonna be your group's backup singer. She'd got a brilliant set of pipes!'