Not that I’m into kink or anything. Sure, I like restraining a woman’s hands when I fuck her, above her head with my own, nothing more. I love fucking them from behind. Pounding into the usually nameless body in front of me. I even spanked a few women that have begged me for it. I don’t need that shit to get off, but it changes things up, in a normally average, boring round of nameless sex. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell women that I’m not looking for a relationship. That I’m not interested in dating, friends with benefits, multiple hook ups with the same woman, they all expect more in the end. That’s why I took to fucking them from behind in the first place. I don’t have to look at them, they can’t look into my eyes and make up some kind of a connection between us. There’s nothing but all out, carnal fucking. Just how I liked it. There’s only one woman that will get more from me than that, and she’s far too young and far too good for me.
I wasn’t like that in the beginning of my move to Dallas, fuck no. This is a realisation that came with time; came from experience. It came after a particularly crazy bitch named Cynthia, decided that after dating me for a few months it was time to move shit along and get engaged and move in together.
What in the holy fuck? Not only was the idea abhorrent to me when she mentioned it countless times, it scared the fucking shit out of me, too. I’m not scared at the thought of moving in with someone eventually, or getting married someday, no. What scared the shit out of me was the woman asking, no demanding, this of me.
Cynthia was fucking hot. She was a sexy seductress that played her part well. I just wished I hadn’t been blinded by her beauty or her pussy, long enough to open my eyes and realise she was bat-shit crazy. At five foot seven with long platinum blonde hair, it wasn’t natural, but who gives a fuck, nice big, but again fake tits, small waist and a pretty face, she was the first woman I asked out since arriving in Dallas, five months earlier.
I met her when she came into the mechanic’s I was working at, ‘Custom Restore and Rebuilds,’ looking to have repairs done on her classic sixties era car. We got to talking when she picked it up, and one thing led to another. I asked her to dinner and ended the night with her legs over my shoulders fucking her like an animal. I hadn’t dated or bothered going out looking for pussy to satisfy me up until then. I missed Ronnie like crazy and I was doing everything I could to distract me from calling home, or racing back to see her. This meant I worked fucking insane hours at the shop, exhausting myself until I went home to my sad, lonely, cold fucking apartment, where I crashed until morning and then repeated the process.
Ronnie had been, shit, she still fucking is, even though she probably hates me by now for leaving her with no word, my best friend. The person I told all my secrets to. The girl that patched me up after the run-ins with my dad, if I needed it. The kid I taught to skateboard, the one that no matter how many times she fell off, grazed her knees, elbows, chin, got back up and tried again. Ronnie was the only person that could make me full out belly laugh, smile when I really didn’t want to, and light up my day like a ray of sunshine through the clouds. I loved that girl like crazy. Not in that way, not yet, that would happen much later. No, I loved Ronnie in a way that I would never stop. A way that no matter what happened in my life, where I went, how long I was gone, it would be forever. I loved her for saving me, for being my everything. For being my world.
As time went on, I made the choice to start living a bit more. I couldn’t stay locked up in my apartment or working myself to death forever. That was when the, what is now called, ‘Unfortunate Fucking Meeting,’ of Cynthia transpired.
One date turned into two, turned into three months of dating, when I finally decided I needed to cut her loose. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t just kick her to the curb because of all the talk of moving in together and marriage. Fuck no, although that was the final straw. I broke up with her ass because over the course of our relationship I caught her taking money from my wallet, flirting with every man in hearing distance of her, taking my brand new, Boss 428, without asking and running it into a letterbox. And finally, because she was a pain in my fucking ass, and not worth the shit she was doing just to get my dick wet regularly.
She constantly bitched that I wasn’t taking her out enough, we never did anything fun, and I was always tired. Fuck. I worked sixty to seventy hours a week, of course I was fucking tired. I didn’t buy her nice things all the time, I didn’t pamper her like her friends boyfriends did? I’d like to meet those fuckers and have a word because I’d bet my left nut that was all bullshit she was feeding me. I knew I didn’t love her the second she started spewing all that shit. If I was honest with myself, I knew I’d never loved her. She was a filler, someone I was passing time with. I wasn’t looking for love. If it found me, then so be it, but I wasn’t opposed to it either. When the time was right it would happen.
Thank fuck, I wasn’t jaded by the example my parents set with regard to love. That was one thing I was truly grateful for. After years of beatings and my mom promising that my dad loved me, most kids would have turned off to the prospect of love. Never believing that it existed in the first place, and certainly not taking the pragmatic approach I was that it would come about when the time was right.
So, after getting rid of Cynthia; a long drawn out process that took months longer than we even dated, and consisted of numerous violent tantrums with property destruction, and damage to my car. I decided no strings fucking was the only way to go for the time being. Meeting women in bars, clubs, even at the gym I frequented; I took them back to their place, never mine, I’d never make that fucking mistake again, hotels, back alleys and bathrooms. I fucked them, once, twice, however many condoms worth I had and left. Simple, easy, no drama. Exactly what I wanted. That was until I went home the summer four years after I first left.
That summer changed everything for me. I never expected what happened back in Patterson, but I can tell you I wouldn’t have changed a thing, not until the events at the very end.
I made the decision to go home after talking to Braydon, the only guy I considered a true friend, the only person whose opinion mattered, other than Ronnie. Agonising over the decision, I asked for his take on it. He told me that this might be my last chance to see Ronnie for a while, seeing she was leaving for college, and I should take the opportunity while I still could.
Braydon also knew exactly how much Ronnie meant to me. He’d listened to many drunken rants about how much I missed her, missed talking to her, missed hanging out with her. He agreed it was for the best that I not keep in touch, if all it would do would make it worse, making me want to turn around and run home to her. The choice to cut all ties with Ronnie was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. It was the right choice, but I couldn’t help feeling like I’d abandoned her. Fuck. Honestly I had abandoned her, and it had eaten me up every day since.
Biting the bullet, I put in for the time off. There was no problem there, I’d worked with no holidays, sick days, and they owed me more overtime than I could keep track of. I packed my shit and drove back to Patterson. Pulling up outside the house I used to live in, I couldn’t have been more shocked than if I had been licking a telephone wire at the sight that greeted me.
On her front lawn, in the tiniest pair of fucking shorts known to man, tight ass green workout top and sneakers is Ronnie. My Ronnie. The little girl that had turned into the awkward teenager; has now grown into the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I fight my dick getting hard, really I do, but I never had a hope in hell of controlling it when I watch her stretch in those tiny shorts showing off her magnificent ass. I adjusted my cock and climb out of my car, shutting the door as quietly as possible. I don’t want her noticing me, just yet. I want to watch her. Watch her lithe body move as she stretches those long toned legs, arching her delicate spine.
She is fucking breathtaking. I know because I’m struggling to force the air into my lungs. All that long, silky red hair tied into a pony tail on the very top of h
er head, and her graceful movements as she contorts her spectacular body into what looks like effortless positions for her. When she spears me with her phenomenal green eyes something shifts inside me. The eyes that years ago captivated me, held me hostage as her friend, mesmerise me again.
This time she captures me with the eyes of a woman though, and trapped in her gaze, I don’t want to get free. I need her to look at me, so I can read her expressive eyes, they are the one thing about her that tells the truth no matter what. Everything else about her; her posture, the words coming out of her mouth, even the way she takes steps to move further away from me, tells me she doesn’t want me here. Her eyes, they tell me the truth. Ronnie missed me as much, if not more than I’ve missed her.
After getting our first meeting out of the way, fuck me, it was touch and go for a while there, because at the time I didn’t know whether she would ever talk to me again, let alone spend any time with me, we fall back into our old routines, with one exception. Every time I’m near her, I want to make love to her. I want her touching me, her legs wrapped around my waist, my mouth on hers. It’s fucking painful being so close to her and not making a move on her. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want Ronnie. The desire to have her, hold her in my arms, kiss the breath out of her is consuming me. Every waking and sleeping thought is of Ronnie. I’m fucking obsessed. I swear I can even smell her on my sheets when I lay down at night.
Over the weeks that follow I spend every day with her, from the time we wake until it’s time to say goodnight. I think these are the hardest times of all. When I have to hug her, kiss her temple or the top of her head, sending her off to bed without me.
I can’t tell you how many cold showers I’ve had. How many times I’ve jacked myself off to the images of Ronnie on her knees. Images of her releasing my cock from my jeans, taking it deep, in her hot, wet mouth, all the way to the back of her throat, while I play with her tits, grab her hair in my fist, and fuck her mouth. Let’s just say I don’t think a day went by when that exact scenario doesn’t play out in my mind.
Kissing Ronnie for the first time is like coming home. It’s a day I lost all willpower and finally give into the desire coursing through my body. It’s nothing short of magnificent. I could kiss her for eternity and never get enough. To find out later that I’m her first kiss, that she’s never been touched by a man before is like winning the fucking lottery.
At first I thought she was lying. How can a woman that looks like Ronnie, curves in all the right places, beautiful, more than a handful of tits, long, sculpted legs, not have been chased by every fucking jackass in school?
Ronnie tells me then she has been pursued by guys, but she turned them all down. It kills me to think of all those horny teenagers sniffing around my girl, but I’m somewhat mollified by the fact that she hasn’t taken any of them up on their offers. Knowing my woman’s also a bit of a bookworm that cloisters herself in her room, only further convinces me she’s telling the truth. Ronnie hates being the centre of attention. I’ve always been puzzled as to why, now I’m more than happy she actively sought her own company or Carmella’s, over the dicks that want in her pants.
The way she blushes when I questioned her about whether she’s a virgin or not, whether any other man has put his hands on her is fucking adorable. I swear she can blush from the swell of her tits to the tips of her ears. She is no less than mortified to answer me, but she knows somehow it’s important to me so she battles through the embarrassment and does it anyway.
It’s the day before her eighteenth birthday that I finally cave and make love to Ronnie for the first time. Now I know what you’re thinking, it’s illegal, she’s a minor being that it’s the day before, not after her birthday. That’s where you’re wrong. Texas has this little law called the ‘Romeo and Juliet Law.’ I can tell you, I’m fucking glad for its existence now. It’s not like you’re thinking, either. It has nothing to do with fucking each other’s brains out, then mistakenly offing yourselves like the tragic Shakespearian novel. No, this protects couples where one or the other person is seventeen, and the partner is over eighteen, and they’ve been dating, culminating eventually in a sexual relationship before the legal age.
This isn’t something I knew about before Ronnie brought it up. I would have been happy to wait, however long she wanted, to make love to her. Ronnie heard about it from her friend, Carmella, who happened to overhear her parents talking about another couple in their high school that used it when the girls’ parents found out she was fucking a twenty-year-old from the college four towns over. Now that I do know however, it doesn’t help me keep my resolve.
Straddling me in only her emerald green, lacy bra and panties, Ronnie explains what Carmella told her and begs me to make love to her. We ended up in this position, on her bed when she told me that her parents have taken Verity shopping in Dallas for college supplies. They are staying overnight with family before arriving home the next day to do the usual dual birthday celebration. That leaves us alone. For the whole day, and an even longer night. Giving in to her at this point is a forgone conclusion.
Seeing Ronnie above me, her nipples beaded into tight peaks through her bra, her wet pussy leaking against my abs, there’s no way in hell I can say no, my restraint is a thing of the fucking past.
Rolling her over so she’s beneath me, I look into her eyes expecting to see a little fear, anxiety, or trepidation. What meets me though, is a look of hunger, lust, and desire. There are no shy looks, and no second thoughts. Ronnie grabs my head and brings me to her mouth for a scorching hot kiss.
Pulling back slightly, I haul my t-shirt off and expose my skin to the first touch of hers. Sure, we’ve made out a fuck ton, some of it gets pretty hot and heavy, but we’ve never been chest to chest, only separated by the delicate lace of her bra before. Flicking the front clasp open, I practical rip the offending piece of fabric from her phenomenal tits. I want to see them, taste them, fucking worship them. Dipping my head to her nipple, I lave it with my tongue, licking it lightly before pulling it deep into my mouth.
I give the opposite side the same attention releasing it with a wet pop as Ronnie writhes beneath me, chants my name, and tugs at my hair. Fuck yes. My woman is hot for me. I continue to suck on her tits as I ask,
“You sure, Baby? We can wait. We can just do this.” I chuckle a little before going on, “Well, this and I’ll make you come so hard your eyes roll back in your head. But, I can wait, Sunshine, until you’re ready. However long that takes, I’ll wait.”
There’s part of me that hops to God she doesn’t want to wait. I don’t know how the fuck I’ll get rid of the highly uncomfortable hard-on that’s making itself known by trying to punch its way through my zipper. Tugging on my hair to gain my attention, attention that I’ve returned to her tits, Ronnie replies, “I don’t want to wait Nate, I want you to fuck me, now.”
Fucking hell. Those are the magic words. I climb off her, kick off my boots and socks, unbuckle my belt, and drop my jeans and boxers in a puddle on the floor. Ronnie’s intake of breath at the sight of me naked in front of her is enough to boost a man’s ego for life, and make my cock throb.
I didn’t have any tattoos or piercings when I left Patterson originally. Thinking on it, this is the first time I’ve been completely naked in front of her, so I should have mentioned something first. I’m silently shitting myself that she won’t like what she sees. Snapping me out of my thoughts Ronnie says, “Oh my God, Nate. You’re fucking huge, and where the hell did all of those tattoos, and that, that, that, I don’t know what that is, but where did that thing come from?” Looking down I assume she means the piercing through the head of my cock.
I got it when I turned twenty one. I was drunk out of my mind with Braydon one night, and did it on a dare. It’s a fucked up thing to do to a friend when you aren’t forewarned that your junk will be useless to you for a minimum of six weeks. Motherfucker. I gave him a good beat down after that. Not to mention, that shit fucking hur
t.
The tattoos began almost as soon as I hit Dallas. The first being Ronnie’s name curved across my chest, reaching armpit to armpit. Braydon thought I was fucking ridiculous, possibly insane, getting my best friend’s name tattooed on me. Maybe I was. Didn’t mean I was changing my mind though.
Ronnie was, is, and always will be, the most important person in my life. Before any of this happened, before it was even a possibility, or a thought: me coming home, getting to be with her the way I want to. I wanted her name to take pride of place on my chest. Regardless of what other women said, and you better fucking believe they’d seen and commented on it, no one can ever take her place in my life.
The rest followed not long after. A large fire breathing dragon sits on my right bicep, reaching from my elbow up to my shoulder and shooting fire part the way down my back. My left arm is wrist to shoulder, biomechanical. It depicts the Boss 428 engine and all its moving parts woven together seamlessly.
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