Frida's Military Gangbangs

"Frida's Military Gangbangs"

by J. D. Savanyu

Frida McMasters was the highest-paid news anchor in America, beloved by millions of armchair politicians and conspiracy junkies. Those obsessive "Frida heads" jerked off every single night after watching their favorite busty blonde "challenge the corrupt status quo" on the Patriot News Network. She was the most quoted "journalist" in the post-truth era, riding a tidal wave of collective cluelessness.

But now Frida was a kinky fuck toy for rebel foreign soldiers in a tropical hellhole. Stripped bare and bound by ropes to a wooden platform at their remote base, thousands of miles away from the USA in a steamy rainforest. Sweat poured down her amazing naked 34-22-33 figure, crossing a few leather straps en route to her pussy, which they kept neatly shaved for optimal erotic pain. She'd been held captive there for nearly three weeks, so she knew the drill. They always left her alone in bondage for a full hour before commencing their long domination sessions. Fucking around with her mind before playing rough with her body.

The harsh natural sounds of the jungle night filtered in through the open windows of their makeshift dungeon room. She recalled the afternoon of her abduction, when all her comfortable first world illusions were shattered in one fell swoop. She was asking for trouble after venturing deeper and deeper into that lawless region full of ruthless rebels. Eager to expose their cruel atrocities against many innocent people, and cement her celebrity legacy. Twelve masked guerillas in camo fatigues ambushed her small PNN field crew with AR-15's and machetes, tying her up and stealing their Ultra HD camera. Their commanding officer addressed the american president in the far-distant White House, telling him how much they'd enjoy whipping and fucking her on a daily basis. "Just like you wish you could!"

Frida's mind drifted farther back to her college years at Syracuse, where had many kinky flings with students and professors. Letting them indulge whatever weird sexual fetishes they wanted with her, in exchange for straight A's and glowing job references. She had many more submissive adventures over the next decade while shattering the journalistic glass ceiling in Manhattan. Whining about greedy immoral politicians on PNN, then leaving the studio and having wild domination orgies with upper class New York sleazeballs. Frida's hunger for fame was utterly insatiable, in equal measure to her perverted erotic appetites. Hundreds of men bound and whipped her hot body, but nobody could put a ring on her finger.

She secretly fantasized about getting caught and getting ravaged by those crude jungle soldiers, so she couldn't help enjoying it when that crazy dream come true. She wanted to go home to her family and friends in the land of the free and the home of the brave, yet she never wanted this masochistic tropical adventure to end.

Ten minutes later, a door finally opened behind her. Three guerillas marched into the dungeon, with exaggerated footsteps resounding against the creaky wooden floorboards. Sargeants Khusugtun, Enkhjargal and Uuhai entered her field of vision, wearing nothing but leather combat boots. Khusugtun held a long genuine leather riding crop, and Enkhajargal brandished an equally intimidating leather bullwhip. Uuhai held a battery-powered "erotic zapper" in one hand, and the stolen PNN camera in the other. Their fully erect manhoods pointed long and proud toward Frida's pretty face. She whimpered fearfully, but dishonestly. Well-rehearsed "RPG fear" to get her pussy nice and wet, and get their kinky motors running.

"Khaltar shargal yanki mini, rok khiikhed belen baigaarai! Bid tany khaluukhan ögzögiig ene udaad mash sain shiitgekh bolno, sormuus büriig, khökhökh büriig, mön novsh bolgonyg shuud damjuulna!" Enkhjargal grunted angrily. Frida didn't understand a single word he said, so Uuhai translated for her.

"Get ready to rock, you dirty blonde yankee! We will punish your hot ass real good this time, livestreaming every lash and every fuck!"

The camera was linked up to a VPN-shrouded computer, ready to capture the hardcore BDSM action and livestream it on the dark web. Archiving the videos in the cloud and posting links on underground blog sites. Millions of perverts masturbated to Frida McMasters' kinky rebel gangbangs, despite the best efforts of Silicon Valley tech wizards to block access at the insistence of POTUS (who was hardly a choir boy himself.)

"Chinii khuvid uridchilj kharakh züil baikhgüi, shargal üst. Guravkhan tsereg chinii khoyor aluurchin khökhööröö togloj baina," Enkhjargal growled. (No foreplay for you, blondie. Just three hung soldiers playing with your two killer tits.)

He smacked her killer tits nice and hard with his bare right hand, five times each. Making her groan delightfully. Then he whipped her breasts harder with that genuine leather bullwhip, and she groaned louder, with her naked sweaty body shuddering against the brown leather restraints. Uuhai stepped closer with the camera, getting a good tight shot of her pale jiggling DDD's, turning redder and redder. The microphone recorded every blow in TrueHD audio, along with her harsh moans and slurping drool. Frida surged with intense masochistic arousal from head to toe, desperate for more sweet pain and rough sex.

"Bid chinii tom khuuramch khökhiig tamlakh durtai, novshiin yanki novsh!" Khusugtun roared. (We love torturing your big fake tits, you fucking yankee cunt!) He joined in the fun with his intimidating riding crop, lashing her (all natural) DDD's aggressively. Frida couldn't pretend to hate it anymore. Her kinky pleasure finally burst out after three long weeks, in a caterwauling crescendo.

"Oh fuck, yes, yes, YEEESSSS! I fucking love the way you torture me! Whip my dirty pussy, soldiers!"

"Fuck you, bitch! You will not give us orders!" Uuhai shouted in english, slapping both sides of her face.

"I'm sorry, sir," she groaned submissively.

"But yes, that is exactly what we will do."

They aimed their implements downward, lashing every millimeter of her neatly shaved snatch. That smooth leather felt so good on her sensitive pink folds, pounding them over and over and over. This was better than Frida's best kinky college experience, when she got dominated like hell by five freaky professors from the Syracuse Newhouse communications school. (After turning them on with her thesis defense about "Ann Coulter's Alt-Feminist Legacy.")

Khusugtun squeezed her clit between his right thumb and index finger, plumping it upward and outward like a little pink rose. He smacked that "flower" repeatedly with his left hand while Enkhjargal whipped her pussy with his riding crop. She voiced her intense pleasure like a crazed opera singer.

"God damn, that hurts so goooood!" she wailed toward the camera. Picturing thousands of guys around the world spanking their monkeys to this jungle abduction fetish spectacle. "You hard fucking rebels really turn me on!"

"Khövgüüdee khajuu tiishee yav. Bi ter shargal üst gichiig ünekheer ergüülekh bolno," Uuhai grunted. (Step aside, boys. I'll really turn that blondie bitch on.)

His fellow rebels reluctantly moved back, then he swooped in with the camera and that purple wireless electroshock wand. He zapped her pointy pink nipples relentlessly, driving her insane. Frida thrashed violently in bondage on that muggy jungle night, and thrashed even harder when he zapped her whip-raw clit. The electric popping sounds were so damn kinky, whipping everyone up to a militant frenzy. The other two hunks took turns shocking and whipping every square inch of her porn star caliber body.

"Novsh tiim ee, zaluusaa! Bid ene amyerik novshiig ööriin galzuu Frankyenshtyein bolgoj baina," Khusugtun cheered while zapping her flat sexy abs. (Fuck yeah, boys! We're making this American skank our freaky Frankenstein.)

Incredible stimulation raced across Frida's slender frame from every possible angle. She literally saw stars on the dingy white ceiling of the rebel base. It didn't take long for her to reach a massive earth-shattering climax; squirting five feet across the room and splashing the camera lens. Roaring like a tiger burning bright, in the forests of the night.

"Good giiirl!" Uuhai cheered in english. "We made you cum with pain... and now we'll make you cum harder with pleasure."

He passed the camera to Enkhjargal, then he hopped up on that wooden bondage platform and slammed his thick eight-inch penis all the way up her tight soaked vagina.

"Oh fuck, just like that!" Frida wailed. "Keep pounding my All-American twat!"

Uuhai fucked her fast and hard as usual. Bouncing her big white tits like hell. He growled fiercely and smacked those flailing hooters like speedball boxing bags.

"Call me your fearless leader, bitch," he growled while thrusting vigorously.

"You're my fearless leader, soldier."

"Louder!"

"You're my fearless leader, soldier!"

"LOUDER!"

"YOU'RE MY FEARLESS LEADER, SOLDIER!" she roared, squirting hard on his big rebel rod.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, twelve American Navy SEALs cruised northward in a Blackhawk helicopter. Leaving the safety of USS Carl Vinson on the open sea, and heading right toward the danger zone.

"Hell yeah, boys," Jackson beamed while stroking an HK416 assault rifle like an extension of his penis. "This is some real superhero G. I. Joe shit. 'Be all that you can be...'"

"I never thought I'd have this much fun when I signed on the dotted line," DiPietro agreed.

"Our job ain't 'fun,' DP," Gomez grunted. "No matter how many innocent civilians those freaks robbed, raped, and murdered. They still got families who love them."

"Fucked-up third world families," Pirelli chortled.

"Shit, man. The Pentagon wouldn't have put our asses on the line for Frida if she wasn't a sexy blonde news anchor with ninety million dollars," Smith uttered snarkily.

"Damn right," Sauer agreed. "The president is a real manly-man, so of course he sent in the cavalry to save one busty bimbo."

"Even if the president was a non-binary trans commie, 'they' would still rescue that busty blonde bimbo," Carson retorted. "Trying to lure some straight white dudes over to 'their' side."

"Yeah, whatever," Sauer muttered.

"I am one of those straight white dudes, and I got a major hard-on for Frida McMasters," O'Reilly beamed.

"Fuck yeah, bro. I wanna 'master' that hot bitch every fucking night," Tompkins added.

"We all wanna have a 'bipartisan caucus' in her cunt," Acevedo snickered.

Two hours later, the Blackhawk finally descended toward that disputed jungle region full of hardcore guerillas. The SEALs put their game faces on, gripping their assault rifles like tomahawk axes. Eager to defend the red white and blue against all enemies: foreign, domestic, and delusional.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Khusugtun fucked Frida hard in the ass while smacking her big hooters. Sweat poured down his ripped body in the muggy "playroom," splashing all over her slender voluptuous body. He screwed her brains out for a solid five minutes, while Uuhai and Enkhjargal shoved their cocks down her throat. She gagged and groaned loudly against those long thick thrusting shafts. Ekhajargal shoved his dick up her pussy while Khusugtun kept ramming her asshole, raising her pleasure to the Nth degree.

"Novsh tiim ee, kharaal idsen Yanki ütree! Chamaig khüleegüi baigaasai gej bi möriitsöj baina, tegekheer bid khoyor bokhir nükhiig chini darj baikhad ta belgiin khavitagchaa tatna," Enkhjargal growled. (Fuck yeah, you goddamn yankee twat! I bet you wish you weren't tied up, so you could jack your clit while we slam your dirty holes!)

"Bi Patriot News-iin tukhai Hustler novsh elegleld durtai. Gekhdee bid tüüniig muusain Jyeims Dinees ilüü davamgailj baina," Uuhai remarked. (I love that Hustler porn parody of Patriot News. But we're dominating her way better than that little douchebag James Deen.)

He pulled his cock out of her mouth and slid it between her ample whip-raw breasts, squeezing them together and titty-fucking her rapidly while the other guys dominated the rest of her body from every possible angle.

"Ene gichiig salgaya. Bi tüüniig khaluukhan suudald ni tevrüülmeer baina," Khusugtun grunted. (Let's cut this bitch loose. I wanna fuck her in the 'hot seat.')

Those battle-hardened rebels quickly untied their kinky American sex kitten. Uuhai yanked her off the platform and shoved her against the top of a wooden bench. He stood up on the seat, hoisted her right leg up on his shoulders, and slammed his prick up her dripping wet slit.

"Oh god, just like that! Breaking my fucking pussy in half!"

"Novsh tiim, shargal okhin! Chamaig khajuu tiish ni nyatslakhdaa tom khökh chini yaaj üserch baigaad bi durtai." (Fuck yeah, blondie! I love how your big tits bounce when I fuck you sideways.)

"Harder, soldier! Fuck it like you bought it!" Frida growled.

Khusugtun couldn't understand a word she said after dropping out of middle school a decade ago, yet he obeyed her order. Pounding away in that precarious pose while the other guys skullfucked her even more. Enkhjargal grabbed Frida's legs, turned her body 180 degrees, and hammered her neatly shaved vagina with his feet firmly on the floor. Khusugtun hopped off the chair and lashed her flailing DDD's repeatedly with a bullwhip. Uuhai grabbed a bigger bullwhip and doubled her painful pleasure.

"You're gonna be our fuck slave forever, blondie!" he roared in english. Uuhai tapped out Enkhjargal and pussypounded her with his usual glee.

"Bi chinii bokhir amyerik novshind amidarmaar baina gichii mini!" he growled.

(I wanna fucking live in your dirty american cunt!)

"Nökhör mini, nüürend ni bultsuu. Bid tany degjin syekundyg üzen yaddag gedgiig ta medne," Uuhai ordered him in his native language. (Blow your load on her face, soldier. You know we hate getting your sloppy seconds all over our cocks.)

"Tiim ee, erkhem ee, Aidasgüi udirdagch," Enkhjargal chortled with a mock salute. (Yes sir, Fearless Leader.) He shoved Frida down on her knees and fired away, splattering her pretty pale face with gobs and gobs of hot rebel spunk. She moaned pleasantly, stroking her throbbing clit.

"Oooh yeaaah, I needed that cum so bad. It's the only cure for jungle fever," she remarked in delirious ecstasy.

"Taashaalyg ni khoyor dakhin nemegdüüleerei, nökhör mini!" Khusugtun beamed toward Uuhai. (Double her pleasure, comrade!) They lined up like a two-man firing squad and pumped her fair features full of jizz. She stuck her tongue way out and savored the bitter taste. After their "rifle chambers" were emptied, she grabbed two "barrels" and stroked them gently while sucking the other one nice and slow.

"Smile at the camera, bitch," Uuhai ordered dreamily. "Show the president how much of a kinky cum slut you are."

"Yes sir," Frida giggled. She put her sploogy face real close to the UHD lens, grinning sweetly and licking that stuff slowly off her lips. Just like Alexis Texis, her favorite blonde porn star with an equally stupendous ass. Five seconds later, the sound of high-caliber gunfire rang out on the perimeter of the base.

"Yamar novsh ve?" the soldiers shouted in unison. (What the hell?)

"Kheden vintov avaad baazyg khamgaalaarai! Bi end üldej, baritsaalagchiig khamgaalna," Uuhai ordered. (Grab some weapons and defend the base! I'll stay here and guard the hostage.)

Two naked rebels grabbed some bootlegged AR-15's from a wall rack and ran out of the building while Uuhai stayed with Frida, grabbing a smaller M17 pistol as the last line of defense. They gazed at each other with awkward half-horniness and half-terror, while the camera kept recording and the computer kept livestreaming her nude whip-striped body to the dark web. All those horndog perverts living in their parent's basements were like, "WTF, bro?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Navy SEALs landed a mile away, next to a rushing river. They exited the chopper and used compact GPS devices to stealthily approach the rebel base through a dense rainforest. The element of surprise was of critical importance to "Operation Golden Griffin." They crept up to the edge of the base twenty minutes later, opening fire and slaughtering the entire perimeter patrol in just thirty seconds. Ten more enemy soldiers burst out of the headquarters with assault rifles blazing from two hundred feet away... but those cheap inaccurate weapons were no match for the elite American gas-operated HK416's. The computer-enhanced laser sights located the rebel scum with ease on that dark tropical night, and their souls were quickly sent to hell by frangible lead slugs, with zero casualties on the American side.

"Close ranks and invade the building!" Captain Bradley barked. "Keep your eyes peeled for hidden hostiles!"

Those well-trained doughboy commandos carefully entered a small one-story building that was camouflaged with branches and leaves. After turning a corner, two more guerrillas opened fire, grazing the helmets of Tompkins and Shaw. The Americans ducked back behind a thin plywood wall, located the rebels through the barrier with their heat-seeking scopes, and pulled the triggers. Those fools were dead before the sound of shattering plywood could reach their eardrums.

"This room is clear, Captain!" Conner shouted.

"So is this room, Captain!" Chang echoed from across the hall.

"POP-POP-POP!"

"Shit! That other room ain't clear!" Acevedo grunted. They all ducked behind a metal platform covered with BDSM porn magazines and DVD's.

"That must be the room with the hostage, by process of elimination," Bradley muttered. "Approach with caution, men. You better not shoot that hot news broad!"

Three brave SEALs skulked toward that room like prowling jaguars. They shot that guy three times in the neck, leaving his head hanging by a thread on the floor. Peering around a corner, they saw the last rebel standing, naked except for a pair of leather jackboots. Uuhai was pointing a small handgun at the shiny blonde head of Frida McMasters. She was still butt fucking naked, gazing at her countrymen with an oddly blank expression.

"Put those guns down, yankee motherfuckers!" Uuhai growled desperately. "No sudden moves, or I swear to god I'll kill this talking head cunt on livestream video," he added, pointing at the PNN camera on a nearby table. "You know I'm fucking crazy, so-"

POW-POW-POW-POW-pish-squash!

Uuhai was cut short in mid-sentence by four frangible slugs, fired simultaneously by Sargeants Smith and Jackson. One slug blew his right hand off at the wrist, taking his gun with it to the floor. The other three slugs completely disintegrated his head, splattering his brains six feet back against a shelf full of kinky toys.

"Shiiiit!" Frida shouted in terror. Uuhai's lips kept snarling at the SEALs as gravity tilted his lifeless body away from her. Sprawling out on a bondage platform, assuming a grimly artistic Hannibal Lecter-esque pose.

"Are you okay, Miss McMasters?" Bradley uttered awkwardly, wiping rebel blood off her face with a tissue from his pocket.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she croaked.

"Damn, girl. You're the luckiest talking head on the face of the earth,'" Acevedo remarked. He couldn't help admiring her amazing bare body, and neither could the other hunky SEALs.

"You're a real American hero," she replied slyly, getting a nice little ego boost from their admiration. She really missed hanging out with well-fed witty American alpha males.

"Where are your clothes, Frida?" Sauer asked, gazing at her neatly shaved crotch.

"They burned 'em," Frida grunted. "Perverted rebel scum."

"Whatever. Let's get to the choppa," he grunted like vintage Predator Schwarzenegger. "We'll dress you up in a sharp sailor suit when we get to USS Carl Vinson. That'll make a great patriotic photo-op for your fellow news hounds."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," she giggled, saluting the SEALs.

Bradley radioed the Blackhawk captain down by the river and ordered him to fly over to the yard in front of the now-defunct rebel base. It landed there a minute later, surrounded by dead guerillas. The elite commando squadron hustled Frida into the cramped passenger compartment. They couldn't help staring at her big jiggling boobs as that naked nymph scampered across the metal floor and plopped her nice heart-shaped ass down on a thinly cushioned blue bench. She fastened nylon seat belts across her chest and waist, feeling another twinge of kinky desire between her panty-less legs. The SEALs strapped themselves in and gazed at her with stupefied expressions as the twin-blade helicopter jerked upward into the dark tropical sky.

"Wow, Frida. You're still your usual perky news anchor self, despite getting whipped and fucked like hell for a fortnight and a half," Bradley mused.

"Well... don't tell this to anyone in the media, but... I actually enjoyed it. I'm a kinky freak," she replied sweetly, tossing her shiny blonde hair.

"We've all seen your rebel bondage videos on the dark web, so we know you ain't lyin'," Sauer snickered.

"Ooh, you naughty little SEALs. Jerking off to illegal 'reality porn,'" Frida giggled. They looked at each other in awkward disbelief, with their dicks getting hard despite their best efforts.

"She's got a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome," Bradley surmised.

"What the hell's Stockholm Syndrome?" DiPietro replied.

"Damn, boy. You must have gone to a 'woke' public school," Bradley grunted. "It's when hostages start sympathizing with their captors, and even fall in love with them."

"How could anyone love those crazy fucking freaks?" Conner said.

"They kill people for a living, just like you do," Frida replied. "Both sides always find justification for their acts... and they both get lots of action on the side. By action, I mean... pussy."

"We get plenty of action, honey. Both kinds," Shannon snickered, getting hornier and hornier.

"We've banged lots of SEAL groupies back in San Diego. They can't get enough of us, especially after the Bin Laden raid and that Somalian pirate sniping," Chang chortled.

"I want some more action, right now," Frida uttered seductively. Her mind shouted "What the fuck are you doing?!" while her pussy shouted "Go for it, bitch!"

"Holy shit," the guys gawked in unison. Frida laughed under her breath, with her arousal growing unbearable. She unbuckled her seat belts and strutted to the middle of the passenger compartment, swinging her hips in an exaggerated hooker-like manner.

"Those crazy rebels really worked me over, right before you rescued me... but they forgot to whip my ass," she said slyly, wiggling her bare heart-shaped posterior.

"Fuck yeah, blondie. I wanna set your hot ass on fire," Smith groaned. His dick nearly ripped right through the zipper on his standard-issue camo fatigues. Frida giggled playfully at him, then she stretched arms high in the air and grabbed two of the metal handles that were bolted to the ceiling.

"Go ahead, punk. Make my day," she grunted like Dirty Harry.

"Our mission is accomplished, so let's celebrate with some good ol' fashion bitch slappin'," Bradley beamed.

"Time to commence 'Operation Golden Skank,'" Jones added comically. They all got up and took off their sweat-soaked uniforms, revealing twelve manly battle-forged bodies with long twitching pricks.

"Fuck yeah. Those are some nice cannons, sailors," Frida giggled.

"We're sending you back to basic training, you smart-ass talking head," Sauer grunted. He grabbed some rope that was designed for repelling off the Blackhawk over water, and used it to "repel" that hot blonde from the metal roof.

"Tie her feet up too, boys," Captain Bradley ordered. "I want that bitch fucking helpless."

"Sir, yes sir!" Acevedo beamed. He grabbed an aluminum rod with loops on the end for ropes, designed for rescuing sailors who fell into the ocean. He used it as a makeshift spreader bar, shoving her legs apart in a wide V-shape and tying it to her slender ankles.

"There you go, McMasters. All tied up and nowhere to go," Sauer uttered drily.

"You don't have a nice American husband to smack your naughty ass up, so we're picking up the slack," Pirelli remarked. They grabbed their two belts from the floor and swung them hard against Frida's heart-shaped rump, making her squeal in delight.

"Fuck yeah, sailor! Make it hurt!" she growled, with the other ten SEALs masturbating in a tight circle.

WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH!

Her sexy suspended body undulated wildly with every stinging blow; savoring yet another masochistic thrill ride. Yet another crazy dream was finally coming true. She'd visited many military bases and ships around the world during her career with Patriot News, interviewing incredible hulks and wishing she could live out her kinky Top Gun fantasies with their "top guns."

"Get your asses in gear, sailors!" she growled. "I want all of you to whip my ass!"

"Sir, yes sir!" Bradley beamed. They all grabbed their leather belts and wailed away, setting her ass on fire with sweet pain.

"Dirty fucking bitch!" Shannon growled. "Acting all high and mighty on PNN, then getting your freak on when the cameras are off."

"Until the cameras were finally on, showing your true kinky face," Chang chortled while swinging away.

WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH! WHASSH!

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yeeeeesss!" Frida screeched toward the night sky, high above a disputed jungle hellhole. "My pussy needs more pain, sailors!"

"Damn right, blondie. I'm gonna whoop your dirty twat American style," Jones snarled. He stepped around to her front side and swung that strap with a rapid underhand motion, lashing the full length of her sore cunt.

"AAAAYYYEAAAAH!" she shrieked. "Punish my pussy for Uncle Sam!"

"Damn right, bitch. I'm your dirty uncle from Alabama hick country."

THACK! THACK! THACK! THACK! THACK! THACK! THACK! THACK!

Five more soldiers moved the forward flank, assaulting her snatch from every angle. Sending her masochistic pleasure even higher.

"Ahhhh yeah, ahhhh yeah, ahhhh yeah! Oh god, I'm gonna cum so fucking hard on those belts! AaaaaahhhfffffUUUUUUUCK!"

Another tremendous orgasm surged throughout her body, even though her feminine fluids were completely drained after that rebel gangbang. She shuddered pathetically in vertical bondage, with the SEALs cheering like she just scored a touchdown for the Dallas Cowboys. The co-pilot Jameson emerged from the cockpit, with his cock jutting eight inches out of his pants.

"Damn, you guys got a crazy fucking party going on back here," Jameson snickered. "I'm totally gonna crash it."

"The more the merrier," Chang chortled. "But we already whipped the shit out of her."

"In that case, I'll fuck the shit out of her."

Jameson grabbed her red ass cheeks and rammed his penis up Frida's sopping wet vagina.

"Ooooh yessss," she growled gutturally. "Fucking slam my pussy with that co-pilot cock!"

He thrust away aggressively, bulging her busty body outward in a sharp C-shape.

"Fuck yeah, bitch! I'm fucking you just like I jerked off to you, watching PNN back home."

"Fuck me like a dockside hooker, sailor!"

"Here's another good 'soundbyte,' Frida."

Jameson smacked her ass nice and loud, making her moan louder. She swung limply from that metal Blackhawk roof, with more painful pleasure plunging her deeper and deeper into submissive ecstasy.

"Cut her down, boys," Bradley ordered. "We're gonna fuck that anchor bitch in every damn position."

"All the news that's unfit to print," Conner remarked. Acevedo and DiPietro quickly untied her arms and legs, then they hoisted her body laterally, holding it three feet off the metal floor while four other SEALs had their way with her. Conner fucked her face, Smith fucked her tits, Bradley pounded her pussy, and Pirelli pounded her asshole from the other side. She murmured loudly and incoherently, with her big blue eyes rolling back in her head.

"One more military gangbang for McMasters, before she goes back to her McMansion in Greenwich," Tompkins quipped.

"Hold that bitch upside down!" Bradley barked. "I wanna eat her pussy while she eats my sailor salami."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n!" Antrim beamed. He grabbed her left leg and Jones grabbed her left. They hoisted her ass up to face level, with her blonde head lolling near the floor. Bradley settled down to graze, slobbering her pussy with drool oozing all over.

"Fuck yeah, Captain! Eat my slutty twat like a g-"

Bradley shut her up in mid-sentence with his big cock. He grabbed her drooping golden bangs and skullfucked her real good. She growled fiercely on his man-meat while Bradley growled fiercely on her lady bits. Conner smacked her tits even more, and Jones smacked her ass harder.

"Change up!" Bradley ordered. "I wanna pump my big dick down her throat."

"Aye-aye, cap'n," Jones and Antrim replied. They were replaced by two more SEALs, holding up her legs while the other guys explored her caves. Frida never wanted the crazy aerial gangbang to end, and go back to her depressing (but well-paying) career as a "journalistic" spin doctor. Nothing could possibly top this over-the-top kink extravaganza, and everything else in America would seem disappointing. She'd probably settle down in Greenwich suburgatory with a "respectable" husband and 2.5 smart-ass kids.

They finally laid her down on the floor, but they weren't done yet. All thirteen sailors fucked all three of her holes and her big boobs in a revolving perverted carousel, sending her to cloud nine in that huge twin-blade helicopter.

"It's just like you always say on TV, Frida. 'Freedom ain't Free!'" O'Reilly remarked while fucking her face.

"Aww damn, boys," Acevedo growled while screwing her frantically. "I wanna shoot her right in the face, like a SEAL sniper."

"Fuck yeah, let's bukkake this crazy blondie," Bradley beamed. "On your knees, bitch. That's an order."

"Sir, yes sir!" Frida giggled. She dropped right down and tilted her head way back, gazing up at a blur of muscular hands pumping manly pricks. The first wad splattered across her forehead with almost painful force. Her head jerked back reflexively, but then she moaned pleasantly and opened her mouth to sample that hot soothing spunk. Four more wads blasted across her face simultaneously, making her squeal in delight.

"Oh god, that's so nice and warm. Gimme every fucking drop, sailors!"

"Aye-aye, ya fuckin' fame whore," Shaw grunted. "I'm gonna bust my nuts right on your big blue Aryan eyes."

He aimed his fat mushroom tip at point-blank range and fired away, completely clouding her vision with sour cream.

"Fuck yeah, boy!" she groaned. "I want that shit on every inch of my face!"

Seven more SEALs did just that, growling fiercely while emptying their rifle chambers on a blonde "yellow journalism" icon. A gallon of hot jizz oozed all over her sore tired body, like a perverted spa treatment in the sky. Better than her best bukkake experience on American soil, when she got tenderized and plastered by six Goldman Sachs executives at a Manhattan penthouse orgy.

"God damn, you dirty fucking whore," Jackson chortled. "Look at all that gack all over your newsworthy body."

"I want even more gack," Frida groaned desperately. "Get the pilot in here."

"Yes ma'am, Miss McMasters," the co-pilot snickered. He hustled back into the cockpit and took over the controls. Captain Balducci entered the passenger compartment with his pants and boxer shorts around his ankles, stroking his seven-inch rotor.

"This is your captain speaking. Please place your mouth in the fully open and locked position."

She opened her mouth as wide as she could, and he shoved that rod right to the back of her throat, making her gag. Balducci skullfucked her vigorously, gagging her like a machine gun.

"You think you're America's savior with that goddamn TV show, but you ain't shit," he growled while thrusting away. "We're the real heroes, bitch!"

He pulled back and shot a massive wad right on her tongue.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh FUUUUUUUUUCK!" he roared, smacking her sploogy face with his other hand. "Gargle that cum, blondie! Blow some fucking jizz bubbles!"

She tilted her head back and gargled that good hot cream like cum-flavored Listerine. Then she hawked it back into her mouth and blew out a big frothy mess, oozing down on her big tits.

"Ho-lee-shit. Frida watches way too much freaky porn," Bradley remarked in a heavy afterglow.

"Just like the rest of us," Jones snickered.

Frida scooped so much semen into her mouth, swallowing it with big greedy gulps. Then she masturbated frantically, using their natural lubricant to reach yet another staggering climax.

"Damn, girl. You just set the Guinness world record for most female orgasms in a single day," Jackson beamed.

"Makes me thirsty for a pint of Guinness," she giggled.

"You're stinkin' rich, so you better buy us all some tall cold stouts."

"Well, sailors... we still got a full hour till this Blackhawk lands on Vinson," Pirelli said. "That's a lot of time to kill."

"Let's watch some TV on my phone. My favorite channel, of course."

DiPietro pulled out his smartphone, connected to the military satellite internet service, and tuned into the Patriot News Network. Frida's sexy blonde replacement Victoria Steele was ranting about Washington corruption in a New York studio.

"Hang on, Victoria," her charming manly co-host Bill Bryson interrupted. "Hang on a minute, 'cause we're getting some big breaking news here."

Bill cleared his throat as a CGI "Patriot News Alert" logo washed across the screen.

"This is a Patriot News Alert. The Pentagon has just announced that our kidnapped colleague Frida McMasters has been rescued by a team of Navy SEALs."

"Wowww..." Victoria murmured, gaping in shock at the UHD cameras.

"YEEEAAAAAAAH!" the SEALs roared in that droning helicopter. "U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!"