American Ream Pt. 01

"Well shit, when you put it that way, I might as well give it a shot," I declared.

"Alright Frankie!!" he shouted and jumped off the bar stool, "that's the spirit." He headed for the council room and then looked back over his shoulder at me, "Oh ya, they want you to do it naked, that should make it easier for both of us," he said.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," I replied and dropped my head like a dead weight. I felt exhausted already. I just let it hang there, my whole stupid noggin pulling down on the muscles of my neck, like I do sometimes when I've got an unpleasant job in front of me that I can't get out of.

My job, as lousy as it was, was on the line, so I took a few deep breaths and then raised my head and stretched out my neck from side to side, 'Okay Frankie, you can do this," I said to myself. I opened my eyes and looked at Donna, "Can I borrow your hair elastic thingee?" I asked.

EYE OF THE TIGER

I went to the bathroom, and when I came out Donna said, "better let me hang on to your phone for you, this could get messy." I handed her my phone and then her and Teddy escorted me out the back door.

It was nuts; there must have been thirty to forty guys and five or six chick standing around in a circle out on the torn-up lawn beside that damned yellow ragtop. They were bearded, tattooed, shirtless, topless, and even bottomless, you name it; smoking dope, drinking, doing crack for all I know, and somewhere off to the side the dogs were barking like mad. And here I come walking down the steps in my beat-up costume like some down-and-out Mexican wrestler, with Teddy and Donna on each side of me like my freakin trainers, and no shit, the crowd lets out a roar and starts cheering; "Frankie! Frankie! Frankie!"

From somewhere speakers started blaring "Eye of the Tiger" no shit. And damn it, I'm getting pumped up. I threw out my chest and fucking... strode into the center of the circle.

Some idiot was shouting "USA! USA! USA! As Robbie entered the circle. He started to shout something at me and then, wham!

They turned the fucking hose on me, and it wasn't your basic garden hose, it was like a freaking fire hose. It almost knocked me over; the first few seconds the water was warm at least, but as I was regaining my balance the water turned cold and I was jumping around and shouting "Shhhhiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttt!"

I saw that Robbie was taking off his clothes, and I gratefully peeled off that stupid costume. I just stripped down stark naked, fucking bare butt naked in front of fifty hairy assed, cheering strangers. It was that kind of a day, you know.

Robbie was dancing around like a fool, so I started to do it to, just letting go, and laughing my fucking ass off. As you probably know, bikers are not the most body beautiful people in the world, not really stuck up or judgmental in that department, so what the hell, my body ain't what it used to be, but they didn't give a shit, they were here to see my fingers.

Donna tip toed and then kinda slid into the circle in her cowboy boots and handed me a bar of soap. I told you she was a real person; I shouted my thanks and then chased Robbie down.

"Jump" was pounding over the speakers, which gives you an idea of the age of this gang. I tackled Robbie to the grass and started giving his private parts, which were soon going to be in my face, a dammed good scrubbing to the cheers of the assembled outlaws. He struggled to his feet and I knelt beside him, keeping him steady with one hand grasping his ass, and scrubbing his semi-hard dick with the other. All modesty was gone out the window now, this was serious business. I wanted that bastard as clean as a baby, so I, Frankie Heck, knelt there naked, and cleaned his cock, balls and ass, right there in front of a wild audience under the merciless blue Indiana sky.

Everybody was bouncing around to "Jump" and I had a hell of a time keeping a grip on him. Every time the chorus came around everybody would shout "Spunk!" instead of "Jump", you know as in, "I might as well Spunk, Spunk! Go ahead annnnnd Spunk!" and he would thrust his hips out and wave his dick around and I would have to try and catch it. The crowd loved it, and in the back of my mind I was thinking, "that's it Frankie, get them all on your side, make em laugh and maybe they won't go through with the whole gangbang thing when this trick fizzles.

When the song ended he helped me to my feet and the whole gang moved over and crowded around the car. Someone had thoughtfully put down an old blanket to cover the seats; I got Robbie to sit in the passenger seat so I would have more room to maneuver, that was how I used to do it in the old days. Bucket seats were a challenge, but I had dealt with them before, I'm not that old, and fortunately the ragtop was pretty roomy, thank you American Auto Industry. I got him to push his seat way back; I would start from the side, but I knew for the final dash I was going to have to squeeze down onto the floor.

"How about some lube!?" I shouted as we got ourselves settled.

"They didn't have lube in the fifties," some smart ass shouted back, and they all laughed.

The car was very low so the audience was looking down on us as they crowded around on all sides; "I always carried hand cream in my purse," I replied, which was true, I used to do it that much.

"Probably bought it by the case," someone shouted.

"We ain't hand cream kinda people," someone else added to more laughter.

"A bottle of water at least," I pleaded.

"This will have to do ya," someone said and handed me a can of beer.

Well that was better than nothing, I popped it and gulped down about a third of it to lubricate my bone-dry mouth, swished it around, put the can in the holder, and then leaned over and dribbled some onto Robbie's cock. Everybody cheered.

All the prancing around and cold water had shriveled him up alarmingly, "Jesus Robbie, come on," I complained as I started working the warm beer over his shaft.

"Help me out a bit Frankie," he replied moving his butt forward in the seat so that his hips were raised a bit.

Well this wasn't going to be a completely historically accurate-enactment, but then it wasn't nineteen eighty something either. Perching precariously, with one knee on the console and the other on the side of his seat I lowered my mouth down onto the head of his cock. I hadn't done this to any other man or boy for a long, long time, and only a few times with Mike if he was slow to get started and something good was coming on TV. But I didn't think about that, didn't even cross my mind at the time; I was more aware of my generous, naked ass sticking up behind me in front of god knows how many people and their dammed phone cameras.

Supporting myself with one hand on his thigh, I started massaging his hairy balls, took the head of his cock into my mouth and started sucking on it for all I was worth. The effect was immediate; he grew quickly in my mouth, filling it, coming up almost to the ten inches he had boldly promised.

"Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a hand job," somebody complained.

I dribbled out as much saliva and pre cum as I could and lifted my head off of his dick; "Hey, You jerk your way, I'll jerk mine," I replied and that got some laughs.

Now I was able to sit back a bit on the edge of my seat and lean over and start working his slippery cock with one hand. I have pretty big hands for my size; almost freakishly big, and very long and strong fingers. I put them to work in the tried and true Frankie Fingers manner, squeezing his shaft hard from base to head in a twisting motion, applying focused pressure to the underside all the way to the head, really working over the sensitive edge of his helmet with whole length of my strong thumb. And while that hand was working the shaft, I was steadily "polishing the knob," with the palm of my other one.

I wanted to get it over with; Hey, I'm lazy okay. I had always wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, but I also liked the feeling of a hard dick in my hand; I had forgotten that, forgotten the wonderful rush of power I got from being in control, of making a guy squirm. So I didn't rush, if this was going to work then I was going to have to give him time to build up a lot of pressure, and at the same time I had to make sure that he didn't blast off too soon. Robbie was on my side with this, he wanted to be part of a legendary act too.

The crowd was pressing close around the car, a couple of the chicks had actually gotten up on the hood and were peering down over the windshield, that was a bit distracting so I kept my eyes on Robbie's face, and his cock. He had his head thrown back a bit, a silly grin on his face and was watching me with half closed eyes.

"You gonna be my big stud today Robbie," I asked in my special sexy voice.

"Oh ya Frankie, you bet."

"You like me stroking your big, hard cock?"

"You know I do baby."

"Are you going to shoot a big, hot load for Frankie Fingers?" I asked keeping up a slow steady stroking on his cock, keeping it in rhythm with my words.

"All the way Frankie; all the fucking way to the fucking moon," he replied.

FRANKIE FINGERS

"That's it Robbie, God I love the feel of your hard cock, it's so freakin big," I said.

Now I never talk that way, ever, not now, not even when I was in high school, but Frankie Fingers did. I only ever saw any porno movies once. Some girlfriends of mine got hold of her brother's VHS tapes, bad copies of copies. The picture was so degraded that it made everything look totally gross, but the sound was pretty clear, and the things that those porn sluts said stuck in my head. Of course we laughed about it, I mean really, nobody would fall for that phony stuff, right?

But deep down I wasn't so sure, and once I embarked on my hand job career I started throwing out a line or two and was amazed by the results. It cut my time in half, and I'm all about that! It didn't have to be original, a few special phrases were all I had to remember, and if you used their names and timed it right they blew their stack every time. After a while, the voice, the language, even the hand job and the little bit of licking, wasn't me at all, it was all Frankie Fingers; when I needed her she appeared and got the job done. I hadn't seen her for a long time; that stuff had stopped working on Mike by the time we were married, but she was back now, coming through for me in my hour of need.

I was short enough to lay across the console, with the stick shift pressing uncomfortably, or at least distractingly against my pussy, put my head on his knee for balance, and get to work with both hands. Once you get rolling, you pretty much have to keep one hand on the balls at all times if you're gonna get any results, and I kept one there, squeezing, massaging and occasionally getting my hard thumb up into the sweet spot between the balls and the asshole. I had learned that you had to be pretty rough, so at that point I went to my secret weapon. I took Donna's elastic out of my hair and wrapped it around the base of the two middle fingers of my right hand; it gave me a hard surface to increase my stimulation powers, something I had learned by accident years ago after I discovered that guys tended to get less sensitive the longer you worked on them and needed a little extra something that would have been too rough at the beginning.

I kept everything as wet as I could, even resorting to getting him to spit in my hand a couple of times. I kept changing it up, long twisting strokes, polishing the knob, then going to really fast with half strokes more or less just over the head, and squeezing hard and tossing out gems like "Oh Robbie, you're making me so wet, oh I just want to suck you right off!"

His cock looked okay for a guy like him, no sores or anything like that, and I had cleaned it up good, and like all the guys our age he was circumcised, which was good, because I think it looks better and it's what I'm used to. So I used my mouth a lot more than I ever did before, getting in the odd lick up the shaft, and sucking on the head a bit, but not enough to draw any more fouls from the crowd.

We were well on our way now so clambered over top of him and squeezed down onto the floor at his feet. He spread his legs wide to help me out with the right one sticking a little way put the window. This pushed his ass right to the very edge of the seat and tilted it up a little, putting everything I needed to work with; his cock, balls, sweet spot and asshole, right where I needed them. Taking the last gulps from the beer can I dribbled more onto his cock, enough so that it ran down through his sparse pubs and into his asshole, I used some to keep my mouth wet, and poured the rest over my tits.

Pressing my pliable boobs together I wrapped them around his cock and used them for a while, I did it because I knew guys liked it and it gave me a chance to rest my hands and fingers before then final push. I was feeling okay and he was responding well, his balls were tight and heavy with a pretty good load, his helmet head had gone a bit purple which was also a good sign too.

Now I slipped the elastic off of my fingers and worked it down the length of his hard shaft, right to the bottom and then I drew the bottom down under his balls; it was a tight fit.

"Oh ya Frankie," he moaned and there were cheers and clapping from the audience that I had practically forgotten.

"You gonna give me that big load you have in there?" I purred and squeezed his balls.

"It's comin baby," he replied.

"Not yet, not just yet."

"I know it," he replied.

With an eye to the target which was now over top of my head, I had him pull up his seat as far forward as it would go without crushing me.

"You're gonna have to aim it," I called up to him, "That's on you."

"Roger that Frankie," he replied.

I pressed my tits against his balls and started going at his shaft two handed now, the bottom hand tight around the base and my right hand squeezing the hell out of his head and dragging each strong finger hard over the edge of the helmet getting him on the upstroke and the down. I started doing this faster, and then got my other hand doing short twisting strokes at the base. Try it some time, it ain't that easy. Not just anybody can be Frankie Fingers.

When that thought came into my mind I suddenly felt horny, aroused like I hadn't been in years. My pussy was suddenly pulsing and starting to drip, and I unconsciously started to bounce a little and kinda grind against the heel of my foot that was tucked under me.

Okay, I lost control a little, and for a while there I was pretty much just sucking his cock. I mean, I got my mouth all the way over the head, bobbed up and down on it, sucking with all my might while I stroked his shaft with one hand, worked past his sweet spot and started fingering his asshole with the other. He was moaning and groaning, the crowd was shouting, I was gulping and slurping, and down below... I was building towards a very naughty and unanticipated orgasm myself.

I could feel him rumbling and I got a hold of myself; "Ready to go for it?" I panted.

"Yes, yes, let's do it," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Make sure you call it!" I warned and then dropped all the way down his shaft and got my face right into his balls so I could lick his sweet spot. My right hand, fingers rippling one after another over his dick head worked the top while my left hand worked his hole.

Quickly I got one finger in up to the knuckle in his ass hole, and then the second. I started to stroke and probe and faintly heard the cry, "Now Frankie, now!"

I whipped my right hand down, inserted a finger through the elastic and pulled it away from the pipe, then watched as the juice pumped through. He was steering his shaft now, I kept licking his sweet spot until his ridged body sagged back into the seat. Tucked down under his balls, I was sheltered from the blast, so to speak, and had no idea what had happened, except that with all the concentration, I had lost my own orgasm. I reached down, grabbed the seat catch and gave it a shove backwards and then unwound my stiff body. "Did we make it?" I asked.

He was lying back with his eyes closed, his semi-hard dick resting against his belly; "I think so," he said.

There was a general subdued hubbub around the car; I turned around to see the chicks carefully examining something on the very top of the windshield. I pulled myself up, gripped the top of the windshield and leaned over to join them, my naked, sweaty ass stuck out, sweat dripping off my hard nipples, my red face covered in juices. Nobody noticed, all eyes were on the faint smudge on the windshield.

"We did it!" I shouted with glee.

"That's not his cum, it's bird shit," someone shouted from the crowd.

"Well is it?" they demanded.

The two chicks each took some of the small sample on their fingertips and tested it with their tongues. After a second of reflection they both started nodding; "Oh ya, that's definitely cum," one of them announced loudly.

Given that indisputable expert testimony the crowd burst into wild cheers, and I sank down and straddled one of Robbie's thighs with a big grin of pride and relief on my face.

The celebrations probably would have lasted for the rest of the day and through the night, except they had to get on the road, which was really for the best. I was lifted out of the car and thrown on some guys broad shoulders. With my pussy rubbing up against his flowing locks, he carried me through the crowd, where I received many congratulatory whacks on my exposed ass.

They were all chanting "Frankie! Frankie! Frankie!" So what the hell, I raised my fists high above my head and shook them like a prize fighter, just letting my big boobs bounce and sway. I mean, what are you gonna do? After all, I may have become boring and lazy, but I wasn't a prude. Hell, I was barely a respectable citizen at the best of times. It was bizarre, but life can be like that sometimes, well at least mine can anyway.

They set me back down by the hose and let me wash myself off, and after a few more cheers, and a few more hugs and slaps on my bare butt, they all scrambled off to their chores. Robbie had said that they were on their way to Arizona and didn't know if they would be coming back this way again.

By the time I got out of the bathroom and had squirmed back into my damp costume they were all ready to go. I went out to the car and removed the blankets and then stood and watched them stream by. They all cheered and waved and shouted my name, and I waved back. I saw the woman who had carjacked me riding behind Teddy; she waved and called out, "Sorry Frankie!"

I gave her a dismissive wave; "I hope your kids get out of jail soon," I called back like a good sport.

As the last of them were filing by Robbie pulled up, got off his bike and gave me a hug. "That was FUCK...ING... EPIC, Frankie," he said emphatically, I don't think I've ever seen a grown man so happy.

"A real trip down memory lane," I replied dryly, but it was kinda true.

"Man, bikers are gonna be talking about the legend of Frankie Fingers for years."

"Great. Those pictures aren't going on the internet are they?"

"No way Frankie, they're personal," he replied.

"Ya, I kinda hoped so."

He squeezed me again and then got back on his hog; "Anytime you need it Frankie, you got a home with the Nomad Outlaws," he said.

"I'll keep that in my back pocket," I shouted back waving. These days who knows, I thought. He waved and roared away, the last one out of the yard. I should've been mad, I was thinking about being mad, then I looked down at my watch; "Damn!" I shouted, I had just had enough time to drop off the car at Elhert's and go pick up Brik from school.