Deviant Killer
Nov 19, 2011

You're at a biker bar, nothing out of the ordinary. The smell of leather, stale smoke, beer, sweat, and piss permeate every corner of the place resulting in a smell that makes you horny just inhaling it; that's why you spend all your time there, something your woman doesn't understand. You're an older man, somewhat built, classic leather jacket opened revealing your dirty stained white tee, your leather gloves to your side on the bar, next to your helmet with the black mirrored face, heavy leather pants, motorcycle riding boots, and what most don't know, leather underwear with a codpiece. You've been out too late and the woman has probably gone to bed pissed, no sex tonight, which sucks because the smell of the bar and the alcohol have gotten you ready to fucking horny as hell. You stand up to go to the restroom to piss when you notice me staring at you, our eyes lock for a few aeconds.

I nod at you. I'm younger, about 34, racing leather jacket, gloves still on, racing pants, boots, and what you can’t see is I'm wearing a leather shirt and underwear as well. You head to the restrooms, take a long satisfying piss, zip up and go back out into the bar.

You sit down in the booth opposite me not sure if you know me or not. "Nice leathers," I say. You reply "Yeah, same to you." I offer to buy you a beer and you accept. "So what's going on?" I ask. You say “Not much,” that you're about to head out to avoid trouble. I say, “You know, we can come up with some of our own trouble.” You ask what I had in mind. I get up and slip over to your side of the booth, right up against you, and put my hand firmly on your thigh, feeling where your hard cock is, and rub it some. You're incensed that a some fag leather punk is not only hitting on you but rubbing your cock, but you're so drunk and gotten so horny that you decide to go along for now. You say "Alright, lets head out some fuckin’ place in the woods. Where’s your helmet?"

I reply that I don't have a bike, that I just come to the bar to pick up biker guys. I say that I'd do anything for a ride on a bike with a really hot biker. You nod towards the door and we head out. You say you haven't seen me before and I reply that I never came to this bar before, trying out new place. I see you smile and you hand me your helmet. We get on your bike, I wrap my arms around your leathered chest, inhaling the same aroma of leather, smoke, beer, sweat, and piss from the bar and I become rock hard. I feel you startle a bit as my cock becomes hard against your back but you seem to relax to it.
As we are driving out of city, I rub your cock some, trying to keep the time interesting. Your cock responds with a hardness and size I never expected. My hand drifts to the side once and that’s when I feel something much harder, I explore the shape and realize to be a gun. A few seconds later we arrive at an intersection, and I say to you "Nice rod, both of them," and you reply "Yeah, and you're going to taste both of them tonight."
“Fucking hot!” I reply.
We finally arrive out on some dirt road by some trees in a field in the middle of nowhere, nearest house a small bump on the horizon. I get off the bike, busy myself with taking your helmet off with lovely aroma of sweat, still slightly damp from when you wore it last and turn around to you. One shot. You're standing waiting for me, you're gun drawn. I see the flash from the gun and feel your hot lead ripping through my leathers and into my gut. I clutch my stomach, looking down at the blood in my hands. I look up at you and see the evil grin, your yellow teeth showing in a big smile. I get turned on by the sight on your face.

"Bitch, how fuckin’ stupid are you? You fuckin’ dare you hit on me, I'm fuckin straight. Goin’ to teach you a lesson. Don't worry, you're gonna get fucked tonight, just be the last time," you say as you unzip your pants. “Bend over the bike” you tell me. I do so, and then feel something narrow and hard rubbing against my crotch. At first I think its your cock but then I realize its your blade as it cuts through my pants, then I feel your cock rubbing against my ass. You position me better and then ram your cock into my ass. I scream. Violent thrust after violent thrust. I start to become used to the pain and cry out for more, which you oblige. “Fuck yeah.” Hard thrust. “Feeling …...your fuckin’ hot lead.” Thrust. ….”Rip into”… thrust ...”me, so fucking."… thrust …"Hot! Please" …thrust ….”fill me full" …thrust…. "of your hot"….. thrust… "cum too."… thrust…. "Kill me"…. thrust …"and replace"….. thrust …."my blood"…. thrust"…with your".. thrust… "cum"… thrust… "make" ….thrust…. "me"…. thrust… "YOURS!" as you explode into my ass. I slouch forward onto your bike and you pull out.

You order me to my knees, and I do, with one hand still holding the gunshot wound you put in my leather jacket. You approach me, grab my hair, pulling my head up, and slam your cock into my mouth. You start face fucking me slowly. I inhale the smell of your crotch and the smell of your leathers. I grab one of your leathered legs with one bloody hand, rubbing it, feeling your leather. But soon I give in and use the other hand too, leaving my blood to drain and smearing my it all over the back of your legs. You approach climax again but pull out, stepping backwards several feet. You raise your gun again. "Thank you UFFF sir.. make.. me...."

Two shots ring out, one bullet in my chest and one in the middle of my forehead. I never finish my sentence, as I'm dead before I finish it, dead at your hand before I hit the ground falling backwards. My blood and brains ooze into the ground from the exit wound in the back of my head. You kick my legs out from underneath me and ejaculate on my body. You pull out your cigs from your jacket and light one up, stopping to savor your kill. Hot fuckin’ leatherboy, sprawled out on the ground, killed by you. The three bullet holes in him, contrasted so well by his black leathers, his blood pooling. You took his life and he begged for it.

You're so turned on you decide to honor my last wish, to be filled full of your cum. You straddle the corpse you made and kneel, you position your cock with the first bullet hole and shove it in. You start thrusting; pounding my corpse with your cock in the bullet hole, looking at my face slumped to the side, smile on it, such a look of happiness; beautiful leatherboy. Just the thought of fucking a guy through a bullet hole in his leather jacket is fucking blowing your mind. The feel of the blood and guts as a lubricant is intensely exhilarating. You blow your load, feeling your cum mix with the blood for what seems to last forever and yet is not even nearly long enough. You pull out, your cock dripping with my blood and your cum. Zip back up.

You decide to take a memento, my jacket, something to wear and jack off to the memory of this the next time you're woman's being a bitch, which will probably be tomorrow. Maybe next time you won't kill the hot leatherboy who hits on you, unless they beg for it too. You grab my car keys to dispose of my car still parked at the bar. There are always coyotes around, so no need to dispose of my corpse.
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