Wolf's Den - A BBW Shifter Romance Novel

by D. H. Cameron

  “You’ve never asked me what I do for a living,” he said.

  “I guess I haven’t. Honestly, I didn’t know you did anything but I guess being a sexy biker isn’t a career, is it?” I said playfully.

  “You want to see?” he asked. I did. Dutch opened up to me the night before and I was grateful for it. Up until then, we were just playing around. Hanging out, drinking, having sex. Suddenly, he felt like a boyfriend.

  “Yeah, right now?” I asked.

  “Right now,” he said. I wondered suddenly what a man like Dutch might do to earn a living. I might have guessed he did something with his hands, but that was obvious by the way they looked, rough and calloused. But what, I wondered. We rode into the industrial part of town. The streets were lined with warehouses, garages and small factories. Then we pulled up in front of an old red brick building with a single glass door and a big roll up door next to it. On both doors, the words “Softail Customs” were painted.

  “You work here?” I asked.

  “No, I own it and the only employee,” Dutch told me. It wasn’t pretty, an old industrial building in the middle of other industrial buildings, but it still was kind of cool. Dutch led me inside to a small but clean office area. It had a counter with stools, a leather sofa and motorcycle memorabilia on the walls. It also had its fair share of posters and calendars with half-naked women posing on motorcycles. Every one of them was curvy like me.

  “What do you do here?” I asked. Dutch led me through another door and into the heart of the building. It was a shop, not overly large but filled with tools, machines and motorcycles.

  “You were wrong. Being a sexy biker is a career,” Dutch said and slapped my ass playfully.

  “Do you fix these or what?” I asked.

  “I build custom bikes and restore factory bikes. I built Locke’s bike. I restored mine from barely a frame. It’s one of the first Softail Harleys they made. I found it in some guys garage all torn apart,” Dutch told me. The thought of him building the bike he drove me around on with his bare hands was making me rather horny.

  “So is that why you call the place Softail Customs?” I asked him.

  “Partly,” he said before wrapping his arms around me and squeezing my soft, round ass. “That and I like big, soft tails, especially yours,” he said and then slipped his tongue into my mouth. Oh yeah! I loved it when Dutch told me how much he enjoyed my curvy body, even more so when he touched it. I pushed Dutch away.

  “You ever get a blow job in here?” I asked but didn’t wait for an answer. I dropped to my knees on the concrete floor and began working at Dutch’s jeans. It didn’t take long to get his warm and quickly hardening cock out and wrap my lips around it. I stared up into his eyes as I slowly sucked him. Dutch stared back as he stroked my hair. It didn’t take long for him to become fully erect.

  I started using one hand to stroke his shaft as my lips caressed his crown. God, his cock felt like an iron pipe within a velvet sheath. I placed my other hand on his ass, his hard, muscular ass, and pulled him in deeper. I never took my eyes from of his. My pussy was begging for attention in my jeans but I was going to wait. This was about my daddy and his pleasure. I really did love it when he told me how much he loved my plump body and I wanted to show him how much.

  Alone in his garage on a Sunday morning, I gave Dutch a long, loving blowjob. I took my time, letting his orgasm build slowly and enjoyed how sucking his cock made me feel. Sexy, beautiful and a little submissive. I basked in his gaze and he obviously enjoyed watching his cock disappear over and over between my red lips. His eyes were so sexy. I swear I almost had an orgasm just pleasuring Dutch while I stared into his eyes. However, all good things come to an end and this thing came to warm, wet and tasty end.

  Dutch stiffened, he never said a word the entire time, and suddenly he erupted into my mouth. I could feel his cock surge as his orgasm filled my eager mouth and I dutifully savored every drop. I stroked him, coaxing every last bit from Dutch and then I pulled my mouth free, showed him the treat it held and then swallowed it all. Dutch smiled and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he appreciated that as much as the blowjob that led up to it.

  I stroked his cock and I could feel Dutch’s heart pounding in my hand. I continued to play even when he had gone soft, our eyes never parting. Finally, I stood, helped Dutch put himself away and then let Dutch wrap his arms around me and just hold me. That’s all I really needed. Sex with him was amazing, mind-blowing, life altering, but all I really needed was to be in Dutch’s arms.

  “You’re not the girl I met in that club anymore,” he said after a while. I looked up at him.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You’ve really embraced all of this. I knew you were different. I told you didn’t I? You didn’t belong there. You belong here, with me,” Dutch told me. He was right. It hadn’t been that long ago that I rolled my eyes as he approached and joked with my friend about the out of place biker. I felt it too. Almost instantly. When Dutch told me I could call him daddy, it the most preposterous thing I’d ever heard but deep inside, I wanted to do as he suggested.

  I did finally call him daddy, just a week later, and I never looked back. I was having the time of my life. I was falling for Dutch, had found new friends in Locke and, especially, Sheila and was living a completely different life. I still slaved away in an office, still lived in the upscale apartments and frequented many of the same places, but I had changed. I discovered I wasn’t happy, that I was living for others instead of myself. Dutch, the biker with the sexy blue eyes, changed all that.

  “I didn’t belong back there, that’s for sure. Here, with you I feel like I can be me,” I said. I shouldn’t have expected Dutch to go on, but I did. However, true to form he remained quiet. I tried hard just to enjoy the moment but I couldn’t stop my mind from overthinking things. Did Dutch really want me all to himself? He almost said as much...almost. I knew he liked me but I wondered if there might be more and if there were, how long would it take the quiet biker to say so.

  The strange moment I shared with the other biker in the hallway the previous night weighed on my mind too. Dutch seemed to take it in stride and I was glad for that but why did I do it? Why would I let a man kiss me like that? Why would I respond the way I did? I suppose I knew why. I loved the way Dutch looked at me, the way he touched me and the things he said. I’d never felt so wanted or pretty in my life. Then here is this other man looking at me the same way. It felt good. It felt really good.

  Sheila was right. I could look, maybe even flirt. This was all so new to me. The freedom, the way it made me feel, all of it. Maybe I should let myself enjoy it. I mean, I wasn’t married. I’d only known Dutch for a few weeks. I liked him, I liked him a lot, but maybe I was expecting too much from him. He was a free spirit and maybe I should be too. Or maybe I should just stop thinking so much.

  “So where do you live. We always end up at my place,” I asked suddenly trying to shut my brain up.

  “I live here. I’m either riding, hanging out or working. A house would just be an unnecessary expense and hassle. Besides, sometimes I get a burst of energy in the middle of the night and living here, I can just come down and start wrenching,” Dutch told me. So he didn’t even have a place to live? I suppose it made sense but it was so foreign. In the city, amongst my old friends, having the perfect apartment or house was a status symbol. It signified your success. Practicality had little to do with it.

  “Don’t you ever want to just get away?” I asked.

  “From what? I love being here. I love doing this. Why would I want to get away?” he said as if it were painfully obvious.

  “Oh, I guess,” was all I said. Now my brain was working overtime. I suddenly had visions of myself walking around the office, barefoot, suckling a baby as Dutch worked feverishly on some bike. Was he just going to strap our baby’s car seat onto his bike? Jesus, where did that come from? I must be going nuts. My God, I barely knew this guy and suddenl
y I was worried about where we were going to raise our kids?

  “I should get home, I’ve got stuff to do,” I told Dutch and he only nodded. Sometimes his quiet nature was sexy but when my mind was running off on its own, it was frustrating. Wasn’t he going to tell me it could wait until another time? Wasn’t he going to beg me to stay? Dammit, why was I having these stupid thoughts? I was having so much fun and suddenly my head wouldn’t shut up.

  Dutch took me home. The fresh air in my face, the feeling of holding on to Dutch as we rode made all the negative thoughts recede. This is what I loved. Just being with Dutch. I did have stuff to do but it could have waited. I don’t know why I made him take me home but maybe it would allow me to remember why I so enjoyed being with Dutch and work through all the crazy thoughts. Or maybe it wouldn’t.

  >>O<<

  I didn’t see Dutch for a couple of days. That wasn’t unusual. I had to work and so did he, though now I knew what he did. However, a couple of days by myself proved to be too much. In retrospect, I know why I did it. I know why suddenly everything went from being so right to being so wrong. My life had taken a sudden and unexpected turn and I was having buyer’s remorse, so to speak. I was questioning everything.

  I stopped feeling sexy and started feeling self-conscious about my weight. I wondered if Becky had been right. Maybe this was some desperate attempt to feel good about myself. Dutch wasn’t a loser, like Becky claimed, but he lived in a garage. Part of me thought that was sort of cool, but another part was judging Dutch for it. I was seeing things through the prism of my old life and my old friends.

  I was worrying suddenly about what people might think. I was dating a biker who lived in a garage that treated me in ways some people would find demeaning. I loved it, I really did, but I knew so many people that wouldn’t see it the way I did. Only one thing helped. Thinking about being on Dutch’s bike, carving up the road as I held on to his rock hard torso made it all go away, but getting a clear vision of that in my head became harder and harder.

  “Dutch, I need to get out of here,” I told him when I called him after I got home from work.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I just need to see you and get out of my apartment. Can we go out?” I asked and wondered if he could hear the desperation in my voice.

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in half an hour. What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “I want to ride. That’s all,” I answered. It was getting cooler in the evenings so in addition to my black jeans and long sleeve t-shirt, I wore a light jacket. Dutch showed up looking like I’d hoped. Tight blue jeans, a red t-shirt with a half-naked girl all but humping a bike on the front and a leather jacket.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked when I hugged him tightly.

  “Nothing, I just missed you,” I lied. I did miss him but there was so much more. I didn’t want to tell him. I felt foolish for all of my negative thoughts. I just wanted to be with him.

  “I missed you too,” he said and led me out to his bike with his hand on the small of my back. I strapped on my helmet and straddled the bike. Everything melted away and I slipped my arms around Dutch as we sped off into the evening. I didn’t know where we were going and I didn’t care. I just wanted to ride and feel right again.

  We rode out into the flatlands beyond the city and into the night. God, I loved this. I could do this every day. The rumble of the motorcycle, the wind in my face and the exhilaration of the road gliding by beneath my feet. Finally, we pulled off the highway and parked. It was nowhere special, just a wide spot in the road. Dutch leaned against his bike and I fell into his arms and buried my face in his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around me and I felt safe.

  This is when I loved his silence. He didn’t talk, he just held me for as long as I wanted. I felt sexy and wanted again. I felt free. I let Dutch hold me, soaking up the feelings and hoping they would overwhelm all my fears. That’s what they were, fears. I knew that and I hoped coming to that conclusion might help me dismiss them.

  “We should eat,” Dutch finally said. I realized I was hungry as soon as he said it.

  “Yeah, I’m famished,” I said looking up at Dutch. He had a strange look in his eyes as if he could read my mind and knew everything I had been thinking. I didn’t want him to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. This was all so amazing and I was ruining it by overthinking things. I didn’t want anyone to know how foolish I was being.

  We rode back towards the city and found a lousy looking pizzeria. I looked at Dutch as we got off the bike wondering what he was thinking. He chuckled.

  “Trust me,” he said. The inside of the place didn’t do much to alleviate my concerns. It was dark and dingy, not dirty really but not exactly clean either. There were four tables and a counter. Behind the counter was a big, round man with a bald head and a handlebar mustache dressed in a white apron.

  “Dutch, how are you?” he asked in a vague Italian accent.

  “Good, Louie. How about a couple of pies and beers?” Dutch said.

  “Anything for you and the lady,” Louie said and held his big meaty hand out to me. I took it and Dutch introduced me.

  “This is Shauna,” was all he said. I tried not to read anything into that fact I wasn’t introduced as his girlfriend but I failed miserably. Louie took my hand and kissed it.

  “Nice to meet you. The works?” he asked us. Dutch told him that would be fine. We took seats at a table and a few moments later, Louie brought us two draft beers and then went in back to make our pizzas leaving Dutch and I alone.

  “What are we doing, Dutch?” I asked suddenly and part of me regretted it.

  “How do you mean?” he asked.

  “You and I, what are we doing?” I reiterated.

  “I’m not sure what you mean, Shauna,” he said. I thought better of pursuing my question. Honestly, I didn’t want to know. I was afraid his answer wouldn’t be the one I wanted.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m just being silly,” I said. I was being silly but I couldn’t make myself stop it. Dutch glared at me and for a moment, I thought he might try to get me to talk but he didn’t. I put on a smile and sipped my beer. Louie brought our pizzas and I was thankful for the distraction. They were personal sized and they smelled heavenly.

  “This is really good,” I said after the first slice of my pizza.

  “I told you to trust me,” Dutch said I could have sworn he meant it in a broader sense.

  “I know. You were right,” I replied. Louie checked on us and we both raved about the pizza to his delight. He humbly accepted the compliments and then left us alone. We finished, or rather Dutch did. I couldn’t eat all of mine but I wanted too. We let dinner settle as we sipped our beers.

  “I’m going to be gone for a couple of days,” Dutch said suddenly.

  “For what?” I asked.

  “I have to deliver a bike. I’d ask you to come, but it’s a long drive and I figure you have to work anyway,” he said. He was right. I probably couldn’t get away from work.

  “I’ll be home Friday. We can go out, maybe with Locke and Sheila,” Dutch offered. I nodded. I wasn’t looking forward to being alone with my thoughts again. I had to find a way to get past all this but sitting around my apartment for two days wasn’t going to help. Dutch, as if he could hear my thoughts, said, “Maybe you and Sheila should go out. Something tells me you could use a friend,” he said.

  “That’s a good idea,” I told him. I was sure he wasn’t just saying that. He knew something was up with me.

  “Good,” he said. That helped. He knew something was wrong and he was trying to help me. I smiled at him and he smiled back.

  “I need you, daddy,” I said. Sometimes I could just sense how Dutch felt about me. I wished he’d just say it but right then, I was going to take what I could get. Dutch cocked an eyebrow and my pussy tingled. My desire was almost as good at banishing my demons as Dutch’s embrace or riding on his Softail. Dutch threw some mo
ney on the table and out we went. I eagerly climbed onto his bike and slid my arms around him, one of my hands grabbing the hardness in his jeans.

  Dutch pushed his bike harder than usual. I could feel his eagerness. The rumble of the bike and the exhilaration of speeding down the highway went right to my loins. My pussy was warm, swollen and wet. I wanted Dutch to go down on me, to take me and fuck me silly. Little did I know that he had other ideas. I knew Dutch liked to take control, and I loved to let him, but tonight he was going to take it to another level.

  Back at my apartment, all the negative thoughts, the silly fears, were gone. I was naked before we made it to my bedroom. I crawled onto my bed and waited for Dutch to join me. He didn’t, however. He didn’t get undressed other than shedding his leather jacket. Instead, he went to my dresser and rifled through my drawers. I watched curiously as he opened one drawer and then the next. Then he found what he was looking for and came to the bed with two pairs of pantyhose and a pair of my panties.