Boned by the Bikers: The Trilogy of Gay Bikers, Sweet Butts and Gang Bangs

By Tosh Turner

Hardball Gay Sex – Biker Style! 3 stories of bikers, bears and sex-brutes, butt-busting their young cum dumps, or sweet butts as the gangs call them. This is extreme gay erotica for all those who prefer true grit as opposed to romantic slush. Rough, brutal, pig sex: gangs and groups, and 2somes.

Please note that all 3 stories have been released before, some even making the best sellers lists, now bundled up to give value-for-filth, so please check titles

 '1st Time for Two Biker Bears', 'Five Riders for a 'Sweet-Butt', and 'Anal Surrender'.  Extreme and graphic content written to arouse and satisfy and specifically aimed at broad-minded connoisseurs of pig play and over 18's only.

Looking for something special? Something that won't disappoint? You just found it!  One handed reading guaranteed. Scroll down to order now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tosh Turner
• Release date: May 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393185949

Book preview

1st Time for 2 Biker Bears

Two solid black Harley Davidson motorcycles tore down the highway in the back country of Oregon. The men on them were the most reliable and dependable in their entire club. That was why they had been chosen for this special task. In the saddle bag of the lead motorcycle was small manila envelope, inside of that envelop was a standard white business envelope and inside of that was a single 1GB SD card. That card contained an encoded message from the president of the San Francisco Chapter of the Sick Bastards Motorcycle club to the President of the Vancouver British Columbia Chapter. The message was in the form of a video birthday greeting being sung by the members of the San Francisco Chapter while conducting a Striptease which left them in nothing but their boots and vests. The truth of the matter was that the video was encoded with a hidden file that contained all of the delivery and shipment information for the clubs Canadian arm of their gun running operation. The president of the Frisco Chapter could not trust the information being transported another way and he could not trust any other member of the club to carry out such a delicate and highly important task.

As the bikers made their way down the highway they kept a close look out for law enforcement and for members of rival clubs. They were getting close to Portland, they would be up on the city limits in less than two hours and that was not good news. They were coming into the territory that was claimed by the BASHERS MC, and they weren’t exactly what you would call friends. The man on the lead biker was Brutal a playoff of his given name of Brutus Jenkins, Jr. The Man on the trailing bike was Snake; the origins of his name would be obvious to any man who had the opportunity to stand beside him while he was taking a piss. They had been best friends and club brothers since they were both prospects for the SICK BASTARDS at the same time. They had both been patched now for almost 15 years. A decade and a half of friendship, brotherhood, companionship and more. They had been the best men at each other’s weddings; they had comforted each other when they each had lost those wives. One to a car accident and the other to divorce. They had sat up with each other in hospitals when they were injured; they had stood side by side in battles. They had partied with each other in the good times and cried with each other in the bad ones. They may not have had the same blood running through their systems, but they had a family bond that was closer than blood.

Brutal signaled with his hand that he needed to pull over and indicated that there was a turn off ahead. He looked back for Snake to acknowledge the gesture which he did. A few miles ahead Brutal pulled off into the turn off to an old campground that had been abandoned a couple of years ago. It had once been a popular destination in summer for families to go and rough it for a couple of days, the economic downturn had forced families to start roughing it at home, the campground tried to struggle along for a couple of seasons but it was no use, there was just not enough business to keep it running and the owners, who were on the verge of bankruptcy themselves anyway, decided to close it up and put it up for sale. It had sat now for almost three years and it didn’t look like anyone would be interested in opening it up any time soon. Brutal knew that they would have the place to themselves and that they could get to a spot far back from the road where they could crash for the night with a small fire and lots of coverage. Snake followed him through the gates of the campground which had been cut open, probably by teenagers looking for a secluded place to drink, and down the wide gravel roadway. They passed the abandoned offices, the camp store, the showers and toilets, and the other accouterments of a campground and made their way a couple of hundred yards further down the path. Brutal indicated that he was pulling over into a clearing off the main road and Snake followed him. He pulled his bike to a stop and sat astride it while his buddy caught up with him and pulled in beside him. Both men cut the power to their rides. Brutal looked over to his buddy, I think this will be a safe place to bed down for the night, we aren’t quite in BASHERS territory yet and ain't no one gonna come this far back in here for any reason. I figure we get up first thing as light breaks and get on the road, if we’re lucky we can get past Portland before most of the BASHERS even get their hands out of their shorts and get their eyes open.

Yeah I agree, I ain't happy about having to go this route. Snake said

"I know bro but this is the