Tracy's Revenge on the Ice Queen

Harry decides to have some fun. He pulls out of my ass to my great disappointment, but then delights me by telling cumbucket "Clean my cock with your mouth, and no hands!"

Cumbucket stops licking my clit and bends his head so he's looking at Harry upside down. He opens his mouth wide and sticks his tongue out.

"Shit, you've trained this pussy wipe well!" says Harry, as he slides his glossy cock all the way down cumbucket's throat. Cumbucket locks his lips around Harry's cock to vacuum off every drop of fluid.

Cumbucket's cock is jerking up and down on its own, which indicates his highest level of excitement. Anything doing with my asshole hits a "10" on the pervert's Richter scale.

Harry positions his newly cleaned cock at my asshole. Cumbucket takes hold of Harry's erection and guides it into my asshole, all the while licking the underside of Harry's cock. That's first rate service.

Harry continues pistoning in my asshole and cumbucket is laving my clit with his tongue. We're all about to hit escape velocity. Harry goes first, signaling his orgasm with an "Oh ssssshit!"

I'm next. My thighs are vibrating from my shaking and I think I'm going to drop a load of squirting pussy juice on cumbucket's face. I do. My squirting fluid not only drenches cumbucket's face, but soaks the duvet cover on the bed and Harry's legs. God I love a good ass fucking!

I reward cumbucket by immediately deep throating his cock. Even without permission (he'll pay for this later), he fires a big wad of cum into my mouth. I wrap my lips tightly around the base of his cock and pull up slowly so I make sure I have all of his cum in my mouth. His cock is so sensitive he is bordering between the pain and pleasure threshold.

Now for the fun part. I don't think Harry has seen this before. First, I contract the muscles in my ass and push Harry's cum out of my ass. Cumbucket's (isn't he aptly named?) mouth is open, and a steady drizzle of cum flows into cumbucket's extremely grateful mouth. I prefer a well-aged California cabernet. Cumbucket prefers cum directly from my ass. Again to each his own.

Second, I get up and lean over cumbucket's face and snowball his cumwad slowly into his mouth. I let it hang lewdly off my lip to achieve the maximum score on the nastiness scale with Harry. He is impressed. The cumwad reaches cumbucket's mouth, and he savors it as an aperitif before the final course.

Third, cumbucket rises up and go balls deep with Harry's cock in his mouth. Harry's balls hit cumbucket's chin. He then tightens his lips around Harry's cock and pulls of all the combined juices from our primal mating.

Finally, cumbucket crawls behind me, licks the cum off my asshole and pussy (and all of the squirting juices he can collect off me and his face) and then pushes his tongue as deep in my now distended and relaxed asshole as he can get so he can retrieve any cum that I may have failed to push out.

Harry stands and applauds. "Bravo Tracy. That is without a doubt the nastiest, filthiest, most degrading and disgusting display of raw sexual dominance and submission I have ever seen. It was awesome. Me and my now spent cock thank you. Consider your debt paid in full."

I push cumbucket on the floor so he is lying flat face down. "There's some cum that came out of my asshole that hit the ground here (I point). Lick it up."

As he's doing it, I take one of my 5 inch heels (yes, I did wear my heels through all of this action -- didn't I look good?) and grind it into his back. "This is a thank you for being such a good cuckold, you piece of shit."

As I'm grinding my heel deeper into the small of his back, I step forward to increase the pressure so that cumbucket has to yelp like a scared dog. "That's for cumming without my permission."

That's the new Tracy, and that's the new Tracy's idea of a good time.

Chapter 7 "Tracy Gets Reinforcements"

The next morning Harry has breakfast with me at a nearby diner. I'm having a carbo meal -- pancakes, hash browns, and toast, along with eggs and bacon piled on the side. Sex makes me hungry.

Harry and I decide a frontal assault on Julie is risky, and that the best way to get to her is through her husband Steve and her daughter Brienne. Everything's fair in love and war.

"Steve has a coke habit. Steve's dealer is a local lowlife named Freddy Lewis. He doesn't appear affiliated with any gangs or organized crime family. He's just a small time dealer who is probably buying, selling and using. The Coyotes have connections in that business. And they have a Northwest Chapter. Let me talk to Tank," said Harry.

"Remember, money and pussy dollars are available," I remind Harry.

"I'm all over that one girl," replied Harry.

"What about the daughter?" I ask.

"Her boyfriends are local college kids. A bit older, probably 21 or 22. They seem to be part of a fast crowd, and are clearly into some kinky shit. She's also starting to experiment with her girlfriends. It's only a matter of time before Brienne is involved in group sex and anal. She seems to be at odds with her Mom about her association with these boys. They are into hot cars and motorcycles as well as hot women" Harry comments.

"That's an interesting angle. Dave knows a lot about cars. He keeps a '64 Mustang in one of our parking spots under a car cover. His Dad gave it to him when Dave turned 16 and he's had it ever since. And of course we have the motorcycle angle covered, " I tell Harry.

Two weeks later, on a Friday morning, I get a text from Harry. "Tank riding up from LA. I'm flying in tonight."

That evening, there is a knock on the door. It's Tank, Three Fingers, and Harry. Tank and Three Fingers rode up on their Harleys. I'm so happy to see them and give each of them a warm hug. I'm sure they still have a warm glow from the all night fucking and sucking in their clubhouse, courtesy of me.

Tank starts the conversation. "We're expecting a fourth shortly. He's the President of the Northwest Chapter of the Coyotes." Dave goes to the refrigerator and takes beers out for everyone. As we're settling into the living room there's a knock on the door.

"Bear!" says Tank. "We miss you down in LA!" They hug. Tank turns around and informs everyone, "This is Bear Muller. He was a member of the LA chapter for about 15 years before he moved up to Seattle. If there's anyone who can help us up here it's him. He's saved my life more than once."

Bear is aptly named. He has a big red bushy beard, massive biceps, and a 40 inch waist. He stands about 6 foot, and sports size 14 or 15 feet and big hands with stubby fingers. You would no more mess with him than you would a real bear.

"What's up?" asks Bear. Harry explains the situation concerning Julie, Steve and Brienne Anderson. "No problem. I have a couple ideas how we can get to both of them. I throw $10,000 in cash on the table. The group then spends the next hour strategizing.

After the hour and three or four rounds of beers, I decide to get up and stand on the coffee table. I pull my hard earned Coyote Club t-shirt over my head and fling the shirt over my shoulder. My braless tits are exposed to the room. I give a shimmy with my shoulders that shakes my DD's back and forth. The conversation in the room stops.

"Now that I've got your boys' attention, your efforts are being rewarded by the cash on the table and pussy dollars," I announce. The boys hoot and holler. "I'm going to give you part of your bonus tonight and a substantial additional bonus when the job's complete, right Harry?"

Harry nods his head vigorously, acknowledging the night of debauchery he recently experienced.

"Bear, you're the new guy. You're first." I climb off the table and get on my knees in front of Bear. Bear leans back in the sofa with his hands behind his head. I help myself to his zipper. Bear lifts up his substantial ass and I pull his pants down to his knees. Bear's cock matches the rest of his physique. His cock is about 6 inches long but bigger around than a beer can. It's the thickest cock I've ever seen.

I can barely get my lips around his cock. I pull back and spit twice on Bear's hardening cock. I'm up to this challenge. I take most of his cock in my mouth and then push mightily to get in the last inch. My eyes are bulging in their sockets, and there is a significant amount of drool dripping on the sofa. I finally manage to open my throat to get down to the root of Bear's cock.

"Fuck me Tank. You weren't shitting about this slut. She can suck cock." Bear reaches for my swinging tits while I'm working away at his cock. "And she has awesome tits. I could get lost in these!" One happy customer.

I finally coax Bear to cum in my mouth and spit it into Dave's. "Fuck, that's nasty dude," Bear says to Dave. Dave smiles and swallows.

I then whisper in Bear's ear, "I'll be looking forward to having that beer can in my pussy and ass." I take his paw and rub it against my crotch.

I repeat the same process with the other guys in the room and they go away happy. My mouth is sore but my heart is warmed, knowing that I have the "A" team on my side to battle with Julie and her cunt ass family.

Chapter 8 "Tracy Fucks Steve's Dealer"

I'm riding in a rented van in a run-down neighborhood on the outskirts of downtown Seattle. It's a dark cold wet morning (like many here). There's a heavy mist as we get out of the van. Bear and Tank exit the driver's and passenger's seat and they help me out of the back.

We go to the front of a shabby duplex and climb three rickety wooden stairs to a small porch. There are a number of empty beer bottles and cans strewn on the porch. I'm glad I'm with Tank and Bear. This is par for the course for them.

Bear pounds on the door. "Freddy!" Bear roars. "Open the fucking door."

A scrawny kid who couldn't be more than 21 answers the door. He peers through the screen door to see two mountains of men and a woman with big tits.

He recognizes the Coyote Club logo on Bear and Tank's vests and figures he ought to open the screen door to let us in.

"What's up?" the Kid says in a respectful voice. He is standing there in blue jeans and no shirt or shoes. He's about 5' 10", but can't be more than 140 pounds dripping wet. His nose is running. I don't think he's taken a shower or washed his hair in a week.

Bear starts. "We have some business to conduct with you."

"Yes sir," answers the Kid.

"Steve Anderson," says Bear, not one to embellish.

"And?" says the Kid.

"And what the fuck do you know about him," says Bear in a more menacing tone.

"Never heard of him," volunteers the Kid, testing the limits of Bear's patience.

Tank pulls out his trusty blackjack. "I've got a memory enhancer right here. If I apply it to your skull then you'll magically remember. Would you like to try it?"

"No thank you," says the Kid, backing away. "I think I do remember him. I deal some coke to him."

"Right answer," says Bear. "How much is the fucker into you for?"

'Twenty large right now and growing," says the Kid. "He's got a drug problem. He ought to get counseling," volunteers the Kid.

"We're going to buy that debt off you right now. And ten grams of coke," says Bear. He pulls out $5,000 in hundreds and throws them at the Kid. "You'll get the other $15,000 tomorrow."

"What about the ten grams?" asks the Kid, again politely.

"See this slut here?" says Bear. "She's going to fuck your brains out and we call it even. Or we beat your brains out. Your choice."

The Kid looks at me. I smile and pull up my Coyote Club t-shirt (I've been getting a lot of use out of that), and show him my fabulous tits. He doesn't get the courtesy bounce, but he gets the idea.

"I think I'll take the slut," the Kid says wisely.

"Good choice," says Bear. "Kid, you got any beer in the fridge?"

"Sure," says the Kid. "Help yourself. Kitchen's back there (pointing to the back of the house).

"Take your time," says Bear. "Gotta get your money's worth. We'll be out in the living room drinking your beer."

The Kid takes me upstairs to his bedroom. It's a small room with a bare light bulb in the middle of the ceiling and has newspaper taped to the window. There's a bare mattress and a pillow (without a case) on the floor. There's an ashtray and a mirror on the floor next to the bed. I know what he does in his spare time. I've seen prisons with better accommodations.

"Well slut, I guess it's me and you," the Kid observes wisely. "Got a name?"

"Tracy," I answer. "You want to fuck my tits, pussy or ass?" I ask, getting to the point.

The Kid's a sharp one. He answers "Yes."

"Let's see the ten grams of coke first" I say. He pulls up one of the floorboards (very original) and shows a bag to me. "Want a sample?" says the Kid, wanting to be a good host.

"No thanks, I need a clear head to give you the fucking of your life," I answer.

"Great," says the Kid and lowers his jeans to his ankles. No underwear. Fucking A. This scrawny kid's dick is at least 8 inches limp. It's not thick, but could probably be used by a pole vaulter.

I strip off my shorts and my shoes (he doesn't get the royal treatment, so the shoes come off), get on my knees, and find out how long the Kid's dick is going to get. It only takes me a minute of sucking before I find out. Looks like 11 inches. I give him a couple minutes of in and out with my mouth, but don't attempt to invade my throat. I know my ass is going to be sore tonight.

For a kid of 21, he's seen a lot. "Tracy, push your tits together," he says. "And by the way, those are first class tits."

"Thank you," I reply as he musters a huge wad of spit in his mouth and spews it in the valley between my tits. I've never been complimented and spit on at the same time.

He slides his now erect cock between my tits. I help it along by pushing them together. He's happily sliding his dick through my tits and trying to hit my chin with the head of his dick. How fun.

Not more than two minutes later he gives me the high sign that he's going to blow. "Go ahead," I say.

I'm rewarded with the proverbial pearl necklace as this Kid's bottomless reservoir of cum spews on my face, neck and tits. I'm about to use his jeans to wipe off my face.

"Not so fast," says the Kid. "Ain't done yet. Just give me a minute to reload. I want to fuck you with my cum all over you.

"That's some kinky shit for a kid," I observe.

"Fuck you whore," says the Kid. "Those goons downstairs are taking away one of my best customers. I at least want to get a good fuck out of it."

I feel about as sympathetic as you can for a drug dealing scrawny ass bastard who just unloaded a massive amount of cum on my face. I get on my knees again and suck him until he's hard. As promised, it takes one minute.

"Get on your knees bitch," says the Kid. I guess we've lost that warm and fuzzy feeling between us. And God damn it, he is going for my ass.

"You have one hell of an ass. If I had more time I'd spend about an hour eating it, but I'll settle for a good ass fucking," says the Kid, telling me something I already know. He spits on his cock and pushes into my ass.

By the time he gets balls deep (and he does get balls deep with assmaster Tracy) I'm starting to feel some love. I might as well get off. I put my trusty right hand between my legs and start furiously rubbing my clit. The Kid might get me off big time with that long dick hitting the right places. In not more than a few minutes, that tingling starts in my toes, goes through my asshole, and up to my clit.

"Fuck me Kid!" is the best I can muster. The Kid comes in my ass. I have a massive orgasm and squirt all over his dirty mattress. Good ole ass fucking is the only way that assmaster Tracy is inclined to squirt.

"Ahh fuck!" says the Kid. "You've gotten my mattress all wet!" as he pulls his dick out of my ass, still dripping cum. Since cumbucket Dave isn't with me, I offer his jeans to him to blot the mattress and clean off the end of his dripping dick.

"No charge for the wash," I tell him. "Your mattress needed a hose down anyway. Now every time you smell your mattress you can think of my sweet ass."

"Fuck you bitch," says the Kid, apparently forgetting his manners. I pick up the bag of coke, put on my shorts, use my all-purpose t-shirt to wipe the cum off my face and tits, and with my tits a bouncing, walk down the stairs without looking back.

Chapter 9 "Tracy Fucks the Ice Queen's Husband"

I reach the bottom of the stairs, topless, the Kid's cum still on my face, tits and running down my legs. I walk up to Bear and Tank.

"Lookee here," says Bear. "The Kid fucked the shirt right off of the slut's back."

"Very funny you fuckwad," I say to Bear as I throw Tank the bag of coke. "Give me your shirt for the ride home."

Bear takes off his vest and t-shirt and throws the shirt to me. He puts his vest back on his bare chest.

Besides being about 15 sizes too big, there is hair stuck inside the front and the back of the t-shirt. "This is fucking gross Bear," I tell him. "You are one hairy motherfucker. I feel like I'm putting on a fur coat."

"Fuck you, bitch," says Bear. Apparently the Kid and Bear are on the same wavelength. "Just for that smart ass comment I'm going to take my shirt back. He lunges for my (his) shirt, stumbles forward, and I kick him in the butt as he goes by. Bear gains his footing and looks back at me. "You're playing with fire woman." I walk up to him, pull my shirt up and rub my tits against his partially bare chest, and say "the fire's down here baby," and grab his hand and rub it against my pussy. Bear is happy again.

We go back to my apartment so I can clean up and change into my "work" clothes. It's what I now wear to the office, but it is borderline slutty, and I leave off the bra. I also choose a "fuck me" pair of pumps with 5 inch heels. We have a meeting with Steve Anderson, but he doesn't know it. Harry's been keeping tabs on Steve through his handy surveillance camera, and knows that he's home early today.

We stop by his house mid-afternoon when no one else is home. I've never met Steve, but I have seen pictures of him in Julie's office, and he is frat boy cute.

The Anderson house is in a fashionable Seattle suburb, with a large circular driveway in front. Probably a 5,000 square foot house, so the Anderson's don't appear on the outside to be hurting. Steve's late model German sports car is out front. We park the van down the street. Bear and Tank go with me. Three Fingers waits in the van. We walk up to the side door that adjoins the kitchen. It looks like Steve is in the kitchen making a sandwich.

Bear knocks on the door. Steve peers through the front door to see our motley crew. A hot businesswoman and two thugs. Hmmmm. He cracks the door open and says, "Are you folks lost?"

Bear answers firmly, "No sir, we are at the right place. You're Steve Anderson, right?"

Steve nods.

Bear continues, "We have a delivery for you from Freddy."

Steve's ears perk up. "So where's Freddy?"

"We have bought out his position and are your new supplier," Bear informs him.

"Freddy never said anything about that," observes Steve.

"May we come in?" as Bear pushes his way through the door. We follow.

"Looks, let's cut the shit. Call Freddy and he'll confirm my story," says Bear. Steve pulls out his cell, and a minute later he nods his head in the affirmative at Bear.

"So here's the scoop," Bear advises Steve. "You're into us for twenty large, and with the vig you need to pay us $2,000 to stay on top of your loan plus our delivery of 10 grams of coke." Bear points to Tank, and Tanks throws a baggie on Steve's breakfast table.

Steve shrugs his shoulders and says, "Money's tight right now. My wife's high maintenance, my daughter's going to a private high school and I've got a car and house payment due. I could maybe scratch together $1,000 from money around the house."