“I...uh...um...,” Ashley stammered. There was no way in hell I was going to go out with this guy. However, that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun. I didn’t even realize I was acting just as I did with Dutch, Locke and Sheila. It didn’t even occur to me that maybe this was the life I wasn’t cut out for.
“You don’t think I’m pretty?” I challenged Ashley.
“Well, I hardly know you,” he replied.
“You don’t want me to get you naked and suck your cock? Maybe let you fuck my big ass until you fill me with your orgasm?” I asked him. Ashley was beet red and looking at his feet. I shook my head and took another swing of beer. “Is Ashley your real name?” I asked suddenly disgusted by the whole situation.
“Yes! My parents felt a non-gender specific name would allow me to grow in the way I felt best. They didn’t want me to feel pressured to grow into one gender or sexuality,” Ashley told me. I closed my mouth after I realized it had fallen open.
“Apparently, you still haven’t made a choice,” I said with more sarcasm that I had intended. Becky had taken notice and she came around to face me.
“What are you doing? This isn’t some loser biker bar. You need to get a hold of yourself, Shauna. You owe Ashley an apology,” she said through clenched teeth. Ashley looked like he was on the verge of tears.
“You’re right, Becky. I do owe him an apology,” I told her and then faced Ashley. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re so pathetic. I’m sorry Becky thought I was so desperate that I’d even begin to find a man,” I said using air quotes, “like you attractive. I’m sorry she wasted our time.” Ashley literately ran away.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Becky asked angrily.
“Becky, did you really think I’d like that guy?” I pushed.
“Well, yes. He’s a nice guy, respectful and stable. Not like that loser you were dating. Besides, the woman he was with was, well, full-bodied like you. I thought that...,” Becky tried to explain but I cut her short.
“You thought what? That I have to settle for a guy like that because I’m fat?” I asked her.
“You’re a big girl, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but not every guy wants a girl that doesn’t respect herself enough to make herself attractive. You know it and I know it. I was only trying to help,” she said. Wow! I guess Becky’s digs at my weight after I began seeing Dutch weren’t just angry insults.
“Becky, let me explain something. I’m beautiful and some men do like my curves. Men! Not these panty-wearing, gender-confused, metrosexuals,” I said loudly and a few of the guys turned to look at me. I didn’t care. “I’ve been with a man that was ten times the guy these losers will ever be. He did things to me you only dream about, Becky,” I finished.
“Then why aren’t you with him?” she asked smugly. That hit me hard. I realized then what I had just said. The words just came out. I didn’t consider them before I said them, just like I didn’t think about the way I acted towards Ashley or when I ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer instead of wine or a fruity martini. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for a life with Dutch, but I wasn’t cut out for this either.
“Becky, you’re a cunt. I usually don’t use that word, but it applies. I’m going home,” was all I said and walked away, pulling my painful high heels off as I went.
“I never! You’re going to regret...,” Becky shrieked but her voice was lost in the lousy acoustic guitar and incessant whining of the coffeehouse music as I left her behind. Outside I hailed a cab and went home. Maybe Dutch and his lifestyle weren’t for me, but Becky and that bunch weren’t either. I guess when I left one life, I went back to the old one assuming that was the right thing to do. It wasn’t and now I felt even more depressed. I felt as if I was adrift between worlds with no real place I could call my own.
It was still early when I got back home. My little exchange with Ashley was mean and I felt bad but more than anything, it made me horny for some reason. I hadn’t so much as accidently brushed a hand over my pussy since I was last with Dutch and I felt the need for a little relief. Oh sure, I wanted to remind myself what sex was like with Dutch, but I wasn’t going to let myself do it. Instead, I stripped and went to my bed, grabbed a vibrator, purposely not the one Dutch had used on me a few weeks ago, and went to town.
I kept it physical. I refused to admit that if I let my mind wander, I knew right where it would end up. I might have made a decision to cut ties with Becky and that life, but I wasn’t ready to run back to the other. It was still frightening and I had my pride. I’d look like a fool. Not that I wanted to run back. No, I was done with all of it. I was on my own, no friends, no direction and I stubbornly clung to that idea.
I took out the frustration of the evening and the last couple of weeks on myself. It wasn’t long before the vibrator I stroked in and out of my soft tunnel and the fingers tormenting my swollen nub brought me to a forceful yet somehow unsatisfying orgasm. I could have just gotten drunk, eaten a gallon of ice cream or watched a tear jerking chick flick to help me forget. Instead, I chose to masturbate.
I had orgasm after orgasm, each stronger than the last and each as unsatisfying as the first. The more I pleasured myself, the angrier I got and the louder I screamed and wailed. Soon, my hands were a blur and my body was burning from the effort. I was awash in sensation but none of it truly pleasing. However, my emotions were welling up and before I knew it, I was crying. Still I refused to stop, trying to find something that wasn’t there.
I sobbed as I tortured my poor pussy. The frustration was overwhelming. Not just the vague, unsatisfying pleasure but everything. Why did it have to be so hard? Why couldn’t I just figure this out? Why was I being so damned stubborn? I screeched, took the vibrator and threw it. It shattered against the wall. I fell back to the bed and cried. I didn’t even know why. My thoughts were too scattered, to clouded, but through all of it there was a clear feeling of deep sadness and I let it all out.
>>O<<
I woke up on top of my comforter, still naked and my cheeks crusted with the salt from my tears. It was late, almost ten in the morning. I didn’t feel any better but my head was clear for the first time in weeks. I had a single thought. I’d fucked up big time and ruined everything. I wasn’t deluding myself any longer. I loved Dutch. Nevertheless, that conclusion didn’t make anything better. It just made me feel worse.
I had it all and I threw it away because I was scared. I was still scared. I was scared of my feelings, afraid Dutch would come to his senses someday and leave me and I was frightened of living on the edge. I felt like a fool, a failure, for screwing this up. Sheila never said it. She never said Dutch wanted me back and I didn’t know if I wanted to try. My pride was getting in the way too. How could I go back and face Dutch and his friends?
I reluctantly got up, showered and dressed. I wasn’t sure if I was going to throw myself into housework and laundry to forget or spend that day sulking and feeling sorry for myself. Rather than make that critical choice, I made some coffee and a bagel. When I was finished, I still wasn’t sure how to proceed but when I found the shattered sex toy in the bedroom, I picked it up. I never stopped.
I cleaned, polished, dusted just about everything at least once, rearranged my closet and even went through my spare room and unpacked boxes that had been sitting in there since I moved in. By that evening, I was wiped but I still felt edgy. The orgasms, more than I could even remember, hadn’t been satisfying and even after all the housework I had no sense of accomplishment. I had the vague feeling that there was some other need I had yet to satisfy.
I lay sprawled on my sofa in leggings and a tank feeling depressed and tired. I regretted reconnecting with Becky. I should have known better. Did she really think I’d go for that man, and I use that term loosely, she introduced me too? Did she really think that’s all I could get? Damn, did she not see the guy I was going out with before I...
I was roused from my thoughts by a knock at my door. Thankfully, I didn’t fi
nish that thought. My mind was wandering and it almost went somewhere I didn’t want to go. I dragged myself off the sofa and went to answer the door. I opened the door and the sight that greeted me completed the unfinished thought for me. Dutch stood in my doorway.
He looked like he always did, in other words, amazing. The tight blue jeans, the black t-shirt with a half-naked woman all but making love to a motorcycle, the leather jacket and a bandana around his head of shaggy blond hair. However, it was his sexy blue eyes that I couldn’t ignore. They bore into me, intense and demanding. I was too shocked to say anything and simply stood in the doorway staring.
Dutch didn’t say a word as he pushed his way past me. He went to my refrigerator, got himself a beer and then plopped onto my sofa and set his big black boots on my freshly cleaned coffee table. I shut the door and attempted to gather my thoughts. I stood opposite the coffee table as Dutch sipped his beer. His eyes started at my feet and swept up my body slowly, drinking me in. His expression was empty, no sadness, anger or frustration showed in his eyes.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking at you,” he said.
“I mean what are you doing here? I texted you and told you I didn’t want to see you,” I reminded him and tried not to feel bad for being such a coward.
“Yeah, I know. I guess I got tired of waiting for you to come to your senses,” he told me. I felt like I was at a fork in the road. I could heed my baser instincts, my deepest desires, and let Dutch back into my life. It would be so easy. On the other hand, I could let my fears and stubborn pride take over. That’s the path I took.
“My senses? You’re the one that’s lost your mind. Love and marriage? Really? Are you nuts? We barely know each other. You live in a fucking garage. You don’t even have a real car. You and I are from different worlds. It was fun, Dutch, but it would never work. I’m not who you think I am,” I said. It sounded better than it did in my head. I’d managed to take the million thoughts and excuses and form a fairly coherent statement. At least I thought I did. I wasn’t so sure when Dutch began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
“You. You’re funny,” he said calmly and coolly.
“Don’t make fun of me. Fuck you,” I said. Dutch laughed softly again.
“There’s the Shauna I fell in love with. There’s the girl that let Shelia do body shots off her. There’s the girl that got under that big biker’s skin. The girl that let me tie her up with her own nylons and fuck her in the ass. Quit pretending you’re some stuck up yuppie girl. You’re a biker, you’re a sexy, curvy biker bitch with an attitude and a taste for adventure. You’ll never be happy until you embrace that,” Dutch said. My anger flared in an attempt to mask the feelings those words brought on.
“You think you’re all that. Like I’m just going to do whatever you think I should. Well, I’m not. I’m not your puppet, I’m not your pet. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t love you. I’m not who you think I am and stop telling me I am,” I said almost yelling as I finished. Dutch smirked. Fuck, why was this so funny?
“I never made you do anything. You did it all. You might have been surprised or frightened, but you never protested. You did it all. You’re operating under the assumption that you did what I wanted. You didn’t. You did what you wanted. I just showed you the way. I know who you are. I saw it that first night when I found you waiting for some guy to come up and beg you to grant him permission to talk to you. I saw the light in your eyes, the fire,” Dutch said. I thought of Ashley and the contrast between him and Dutch was stark.
However, Dutch wasn’t finished, “You’re letting all the bullshit get in the way of what you really want out of life. The other people and what they think, your own doubts and fears, the so-called norm. Well, fuck that. My dad lived the way everyone else wanted him to. He had dreams, but never lived them. He died before he could. I don’t want to die wondering what life might have been like if only I lived it on my terms. Do you?” he asked.
That hit me hard. I remembered the night Dutch told me about his dad. His mom told him that she regretted waiting to enjoy life with his dad. I felt for her, though I’d yet to meet her, and now that story broke down my resistance. What was I doing? Did I want to be her someday, wondering what could have been? Still, I wasn’t quite ready to give in but my anger and pride were defeated. Fear was the only foe yet to be conquered.
“I don’t know what I want. Sometimes you scare me, Dutch. You scared me when you told me you loved me,” I told him. It was a vague fear that I couldn’t quite pin down but it was there and it was intense.
“Shauna, everyone is scared. I’m scared. I just don’t let it get the best of me. It’s motivation. Life is scary, Shauna. I promise, it’s really fucking scary. Either you face it head on or you curl up into a ball and die inside. But we can face it together. I can’t promise everything will work out but I can tell you that if you don’t give it a shot, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering,” he said.
I bit my lip to stop from crying. I wanted to go to him. I wanted to be in his arms. However, the doubts and fears tugged at me, a sea of what ifs that I couldn’t quite bring myself to cross. What if things didn’t work out? What if I got hurt? What if, what if, what if? As if Dutch could read my mind he said, “Shauna, what if this is the best thing that ever happens in our lives? What if you and I are meant to be?”
Dutch unzipped his jeans and fished out his cock. It wasn’t hard, but still it was big, swollen and thick. He stared at me expectantly and waited slowly stroking himself. That wasn’t fair. However, that wasn’t what changed my mind. It was his words. The idea that I guess I hadn’t considered until right then. I worried about the downside of my choices without considering the upside. What if, Dutch and I were about to embark on a fairytale. What if marrying Dutch was destined to be the best thing that would happen to me? What if he was the love of my life, my soul mate?
I went to him and knelt between his legs. Somehow, I knew what was coming and I wanted it. I smiled at Dutch as a tear ran down my cheek. He smiled softly at me but as I went to touch him he wagged his finger at me. I wondered for a moment why he was stopping me but then I got it as his eyes went to my body. I pulled my top off and then released my breasts from my bra. Then I wiggled out of my leggings and panties.
Dutch nodded and I took his cock in my hand. God, I missed his cock. He was almost fully erect and I felt him swell at my touch. He looked at me, his blue eyes showing me the desire and love he felt. I moved to take him into my mouth but Dutch took my face in his hands and stopped me yet again. “Say it,” was all he said. I knew what he wanted. I sighed and pushed the fear aside and I saw what I really wanted beyond. I wanted Dutch. I wanted to be his wife, his girl. I always did.
“Yes, daddy. I’ll be your old lady,” I said. I was scared but for the first time in weeks, I felt good. I felt like things were right again. I took his cock into my mouth and began to suck him slowly. I couldn’t imagine a better way to accept his proposal. I knew how this was going to end. I’d be left wanting and Dutch would likely leave me covered in his orgasm. Fitting since that’s how we started this whole ride.
Dutch brushed my hair back and watched as I pleasured him. I missed his cock, the way it felt, the way it tasted and how I could please the biker with the sexy blue eyes with it. I fondled his balls as I took more and more of his length into my mouth, finally throating his hard shaft as a good biker bitch should. I never took my eyes from Dutch’s to let him know how much I enjoyed his cock. Dutch showed me how much he enjoyed the attention by leaking his delicious juices into my mouth.
Dutch suddenly pushed me away and pulled me up along with him as he stood. He pushed me down onto my knees, I bent over the back of the sofa and Dutch stuffed his cock into me. The force of his thrust made me lurch forward onto the back of the sofa as his hands took my lush hips and he pulled my body to meet his insistent, hammering blows. He didn’t even bother to undress, his cock pro
truding from his jeans. I rushed towards climax, panting and moaning, and just as I was about to fly over the edge and into bliss, Dutch slapped my ass.
I turned and looked at him over my shoulder and he wagged his finger at me. I knew it would be like this and I wanted it so badly. I wanted Dutch to take control, push me back in line and hold me there. I wanted him to leave me a hot, quivering mess of need while he got his rocks off, preferably all over my face. Dutch fucked me even harder and I bore down to resist my need. Resisting was so difficult but nothing worthwhile was ever easy.
“I’m so sorry, daddy. I was so stupid, so naughty. Punish me,” I said, a tease and apology all rolled into one.
Dutch’s hand spanked my ass again, hard and satisfying. He massaged my sexy, fat ass with his strong, calloused fingers for a moment and then he pulled from me and pushed me onto my back. Now he mounted me with one boot on the floor and the other on my sofa. I threw one of my legs over the back of the sofa and the other I laid on Dutch’s broad shoulder.
I pinched and twisted my nipples as Dutch fucked me as hard as he ever had. I wanted to come so badly, it would have been so easy, but I denied myself the pleasure. Sometimes, I’d found, denial was at least as much fun as release. Dutch turned his head and began kissing my ankle. I turned my foot and he eagerly took my big toe into his mouth and sucked it as his cock impaled me. God, why did I ever want to leave this man?
Wolf's Den - A BBW Shifter Romance Novel Page 36
