Long Shift

Bridget arched her back and sighed contently as Michael slid his large cock deep into her from behind as Doug hammered into her from below. Her eyes narrowed as she felt the two pricks jockey for space inside her and a smile parted her lips. She leaned back into Michael's chest as she raised her arms over her head so Doug could pull her shirt off. Michael slowly pulled back before driving forward with a slow, but forceful thrust. Bridget's legs started quivering immediately.

"You flirtin' with me, Mikey?" she said with her Irish accent on hot breath. He smiled, and kissed her neck as his hands snaked around to pull on her hard, pink nipples. Bridget savored every second of having him inside her. She loved the feeling of her body engulfing his thrusting member, the feeling of fullness and the intensity it added to Doug's haphazard thrusts. It wasn't long before she was moaning and gyrating, driving herself onto them as her pussy was soaking wet.

Doug was grunting beneath her, and she felt Michael's hands on her biceps, drawing her arms back and behind her. She looked up at the ceiling, a small orgasm rippling through her as she anticipated what was to come. Doug's hands slid from her breasts up over her collarbone, and onto her long neck. She took a deep breath as his greasy, powerful hands encircled her tender throat and began to tighten. Her lovely ivory hued face began to change colors as her carotid artery was blocked. Her cheeks flushed red and her eyes began to water as his grip on her tightened even more.

She let out a small gasp as her pussy clamped down on Doug's cock. She whimpered, trying to hold her breath as Michael's slow, deep thrusts turned to fast, brutal ones as he drove his cock into her ass again and again. Doug drove up as hard and fast as he could, spewing cum from his pulsing cock as her face turned bright red.

Finally, he released his grip. Bridget took a deep breath, the rush of oxygen and the combined sensations washing over her. She arched her back and let out a long, raspy moan as the devastating orgasm tore through her body. She desperately fucked herself on Doug's slowly softening member as Michael buried himself in her ass, filling her insides up with his hot, thick semen as her muscles spasmed and contracted as she came. He stumbled slightly, but never left her body as the tension evaporated from his muscles. He chuckled as he leaned forward, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before patting her ass. She chuckled as well, and brushed a strand of hair away from her face as he drew himself from her.

She slowly lifted herself off of Doug and knelt on the ground, laughing in her post-fuck silliness as she sucked and licked the cum from his coated shaft before turning to Michael to do the same. He messed up her hair, eliciting a fake angry look from her as she took his entire length into her throat and massaged his testicles. She swallowed what cum she could get from him, and patted him on the thigh.

He stepped back and fumbled with his pants as she walked over to the fridge to retrieve her Pastrami on Rye sandwich. When she bit into it, she could taste the cum someone had "generously" added to the mayo. She tilted her head, rolling it on her tongue. "Hmm. Not Sid. Must be Johnny's." she thought as she swallowed the bite, a bit of cum dribbling down her lips. She hadn't seen him yet today, which meant he was probably making a supply run to West Spire, the shipping and receiving hub in this part of the city. She had barely finished her sandwich when the air horn sounded. Lunch time was over.

As usual, the guys left her alone after they had used her. She installed the catalytic converter on Fat Bob's chopper, leaving the charge sheet for her services with Sid in the front office. She could tell from his demeanor that he was in no mood to use her, so she didn't linger long. Not having an immediate project of her own, she lent Michael a hand welding a massive spiked bumper plate to a decommissioned military vehicle that had once been a jeep.

Judging from the colors and skull-and-crossed-shotgun motif, it seemed to belong to the Rolling Thunder Boys, one of the largest motorcycle clubs in Diesel City. She resented having to work on their gear, as they just dropped off their wreckage and expected it to be repaired. Sid was too much of a wuss to stand up to them and didn't want them tearing up the place, so he went along with it at his own expense. Bridget tack welded it in place instead of her usual full weld, and didn't take the time to make sure it was level. "Screw 'em" she thought to herself as she worked, careful to avoid the rusty spikes.

Ten hours later, the final air horn sounded. She sat her wrench down and sank forward, exhausted after her standard 14 hour shift. Doug walked up behind her and rubbed her shoulders for a minute before patting her on the shoulder and punching his time card. She followed him out, lighting a cigarette as she did so. 'See ya' tomorrow, Birdie." he said as he walked toward the rusted staircase that led up to the train terminal. She waved as he had to hustle to catch the steel monster of a train as it screeched to a stop. She wished she'd learned how to work on train engines, but she just never had the time to get certified. Train Rigging was good money and less hours, only ten, and Baxter Engines had a helluva reputation for taking care of their workers.

"Maybe some day." she thought to herself, as she did every day, before mounting her Intimidator and pulling out onto the street. She was just glad it was summer, as she could enjoy the gray, diffused light of the setting sun on her drive home. It was the only sunlight she got. She revved the engine a little more as she saw it disappear behind the massive, art-deco inspired skyscrapers of Northspire. She didn't want to get caught outside in this part of town before the Night Shifters came out of the woodwork like cockroaches in a dark room...