Asses on Fire
The brush rig rattles over the rutted service road, suspension groaning as Taja navigates a washout.
Carmen grips the door handle, her thighs pressing together with each jolt.
"Rough ride," Taja mutters, downshifting.
The engine whines.
The water tanks slosh.
"These bastards better appreciate the coffee," says Carmen.
"Rather, they share what their pants are packin'. "
Carmen face blushes like a lit flame.
"Don't panic, sweetie. The new code book. They'll look at your boots not your hooters."
The new extended firebreak clearing opens ahead, where four men work methodically, professionally.
Taja knows the crew by name.
Dwayne's the first to straighten, his shovel planted like a flag.
Six feet of muscle and sweat, dark skin gleaming under the rising sun.
The others follow—Joshua, Rueben, Carter—each one built like they were carved from the ridge itself.
Their olive work shirts cling to backs and chests, damp with honest labour.
Taja kills the engine.
The silence feels charged, cicadas screaming in the heat.
"Hot coffee," says Carmen, her voice smooth as runny caramel.
The crew is polite as Carmen fills steel cups.
Eyes on the liquid, not her swaying hooters under a T-shirt.
The four dudes a large stump.
Rueben gestures to the ladies to use the two folding chairs.
Positioned to avoid the widow-maker they've flagged—a dead ponderosa leaning wrong, ready to crush someone.
The conversation fast becomes workplace boring.
Metres cleared.
Pit gouged.
Debris to remove or backburn.
Utterly safe.
God, only Carter can remember the good old days of innuendo and dirty gags.
The forty-something dude sneaks the longest peek.
Everyone is aware Carmen's huge boobs are sweat-shaped, visible under her light T-shirt.
Wearing a bra never designed to hold flesh cantaloupes.
Instead, two guys watch ants scurry over boots.
Or pretend to find something in a cloudless sky.
Taja hates boredom.
Bored never gets her arse punished.
She rises and leans against the brush rig's fender, one boot crossed over the other, her own coffee cup dangling from two fingers.
"Hot," Taja says.
Not to anyone. To everyone.
She pushes off the fender. Her boots crunch through the clearing's dust. The water tank's hose coils on the rig's side, industrial-grade, pressure-fed.
Taja's hand finds the valve.
"What the fuck!" Dwayne starts.
"She's burning up," Taja says, and fires the jet.
The water hits Carmen's chest like a wall of ice and force.
Perfect wet T-shirt competition hit.
And her camel toe for good measure.
Nipples immediately pebble.
"Whoa! Fugh!" from a cutie-pie mouth.
Her gasp tears open the morning—shock, then laughter choking in her throat.
The olive T-shirt goes transparent instantly, plastered to her skin, her nipples hard, pointed and visible through the soaked fabric and whatever useless bra she's wearing.
All the dudes' eyes are focused in one direction now.
God, the buxom girl's tits are revealed, shaped divinely under flimsy cotton.
Carmen's arms spread wide, coffee cup forgotten, and she spins once like she's caught in a rainstorm she can't escape.
"Jesus," Joshua breathes.
The politeness cracks.
Well, big schlongs are straining in light shorts and summer pants.
Taja adjusts the pressure.
The jet softens, becomes almost caressing, playing over Carmen's shoulders, her collarbone, tracing the silver ring on its chain where it lies flat against her sternum.
The curvy girl is drenched like she has participated in a fem-squirt bukkake.
Carmen's head drops back. Her mouth opens. The water runs down her chin, her neck, pooling in the hollow of her throat before continuing south.
Runnelling in the expanding gap between her water-saturated melons.
"Take it off," Taja instructs.
Praise the Lord!
Carmen's tits find the light.
The guy's hands rub their crotches.
Carmen's hands at her sides.
"Oh, for God's sake, cupcake, lift them, spread ' em, lick 'em."
The joy in the clearing is like the energy in a religious revival.
Carmen lifts her bazookas.
The weight of flesh is plain to see.
Carmen separates her beach umbrellas.
Hallelujah, as cocks are tugged in a circle.
Carmen licks her nipples in turn.
The envious bounty of a girl with twin kettles.
Meanwhile, Taja has removed her T-shirt.
Glances at her chest.
Well, Grandma Moses ain't Rubens.
Taja is a hoe.
Slutette since college.
Girls with mosquito bites for boobs know they have something compelling just a tad lower.
Taja in her birthday suit draws everyone's eyes.
She's a fetching lass where it really counts.
"How long since you dipped the wick, guys? Brutal, no pussy in sight; work out here."
Carmen lets her noogies bounce and jiggle.
Water droplets fly from her flesh whoopee cushions.
Permission!
That happened with the water spray.
Dwayne's the first to move, but they're all moving, shedding shirts and belts, the clearing becoming a tangle of reaching hands and exposed skin.
Carmen sees it then—a pussy's promised land.
Above-average doesn't cover it.
Dwayne's cock hangs heavy and dark against his thigh, still thickening.
Joshua's already hard, curved upward in a way that makes Carmen's stomach clench.
Rueben and Carter flank her, two more, all of them massive, all of them reaching.
"On your knees," Taja says, and Carmen sinks into the dust.
The first cock fills her mouth before she can prepare—Dwayne, tasting of sweat and salt, stretching her jaw until it aches.
She gags, eyes watering, and Taja's hand is in her hair, steadying, guiding.
"Take it," Taja coaches. "All the way. Let him feel your throat."
Carmen breathes through her nose and pushes deeper.
Dwayne groans, his hips jerking involuntarily.
The vibration of his pleasure hums through her skull.
Then Joshua's there, tapping her cheek, and she's turning, spit trailing, to take him instead.
Back and forth, Taja counting rhythm, the men petting her hair, her shoulders, fingers trailing down her spine to where her cargo pants still cling.
"Up," Taja orders. "Bent over the rig."
Carmen's legs shake. She rises, water still dripping from her hair, and lets Taja position her.
The brush rig's fender presses cold against her stomach. Taja strips her pants down, no ceremony, leaving her curves and dimples naked.
Four men stare at her exposed snatch, her wobbling ass.
"Who's first?" Taja asks.
"I am," Dwayne says, and he's there, the head of his cock pressing, pushing, splitting her open.
Carmen screams into the metal.
"Fugh! Sweet Jesus! That's fuckin' big! Ooh, the stretch! Uhh! Uhh! Oohh!"
He's bigger than the grad students, thicker, the stretch burning so perfectly she can't tell pain from pleasure.
Dwayne sets a pace that rocks the rig, each thrust driving her hips against the fender, his hands gripping her waist like handles.
Yep, got to love— love handles.
"Good girl," Taja purrs.
The slitch ready to get chock full herself.
Carter and Joshua know how to manhandle an overheated trollop.
Two fingers in her box and one finger in her tushy.
Dwayne pulls out of Carmen, glistening, and Rueben takes his place.
Different angle, different rhythm, hitting spots that make Carmen's knees buckle.
But nothing stops her generous, bountiful, human udder sway.
The guys sense this chick deserves the total filling.
They lift her. Carter and Joshua combine; hands under her thighs, spreading her wide.
Carter's beneath her somehow, on the rig's lowered tailgate, his cock standing straight up like a challenge.
They lower her onto him, and she feels that stretch again, deeper now, gravity helping, his length pressing against places that make her see lights in the sky where none are present.
They ease her to accommodate more.
Joshua's rampant wet stick is nuzzling around her rilled starfish.
Taja has her own double dream.
Rueben and Dwayne.
"Orrghh! Fuck! Fuck! Ooff! Fugh! Uhh! Uhh! Uhh!"
Well, the ranger gets the double, big ebony impale.
Raw, direct and slamming.
Decadent and enlivening.
No space between stiffies.
Taja doesn't want any.
The slightest gap is the perfect partition.
Two drilling, thrusting cock, separate yet combined.
Sexual perfection.
"Orggh! Ughh! Rragghh!"
That's cutie-pie Carmen as she's twofold stuffed to the hilt.
A massive schlong in her tushy and the other in her snatch.
Her thin membrane embraces the double deal.
Her snuggle puppies cupped and kissed as her pussy and patootie are cock mugged.
Her private flesh is willingly flogged, stretched and over-extended.
The gangbang is a raw choreography of sexual delivery.
Both girls have zippy, buzzy mini-peaks.
In the immediate instance, they have more than their evolutionary fair share.
No such thing!
They are in the take.
The boys take.
The girls too.
Carter and Josh have to cream a huge titty each.
No other outcome would be fair.
Apart from ramming a finger in Carmen's arse and two in her pussy until she peaks.
"Rraaghhh!"
Taja has her own release.
The slitch fires off a squirt.
Her arse is so raw it feels on fire.
"Fugh! Uhhh! Ooohhh!"
Her back crack and her box are injected with man gravy.
A soothing salve as her orgasm meanders into general body warmth.
Well, no one wants cold coffee after fire-heated sex.
Best to play this by the manual.
Everyone dressed like professional rangers and a break crew.
Driving away, Carmen has to say to Taja, "Are we giving these dudes coffee tomorrow?"
Taja, avoiding a loose rock, replies, "Only if they provide plenty of milk."