“Uhhm. Okay,” she responded.
“You like that big cock, don’t you?” I asked.
“Oh fuck, I love it. It’s just. I don’t know, it just feels different. You know, good different. I’ve never come so hard in my life,” she said as she stepped away from the shower.
“Ever had two cocks at once?” I asked as I turned toward the door.
“Huh? Two at the same time? Uhhm, no,” she snapped back.
“If I ask you to, you’ll do it for me, understand?” I said over my shoulder.
“You mean two guys fucking me at the same time?” she asked as she attempted to catch up with me.
“Yep,” I responded as I reached for my shorts.
“I dunno. I mean…” she began.
I shook my head. “If I ask you to fuck me and one of the fellas, you’ll do it. Understand?”
“I’ll uhhm. I mean I might,” she said as she picked up her bathing suit bottom.
“If I ask you to, you’ll do it for me, understand?” I repeated as I pulled up my shorts.
“Okay, yeah. I’ll do it. Just don’t, I mean, just don’t like…tell anybody,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.
I forced a smile. “It’ll be our little secret.”
“Cool. So, what now?” she asked.
“Now? We’ll swim for maybe fifteen minutes or so, and then we’ll fuck again. How’s that sound?” I responded.
“Again? Oh wow. You can do that?” she asked as she pulled her top around her cute little titties.
“Sure can,” I said as I dove into the pool.
As the icing on the proverbial cake of life, God graced me with one more gift, the one that convinced me my time on this earth was to be spent doing nothing other than fucking women.
Within fifteen minutes of having sex, I would recover fully; and be ready for another round. There was really no other reason for me to possess this quality but to fuck like a rabbit. I swam the length of the pool, smiling to myself, knowing I had added yet another woman to my long list of willing sexual participants.
As my lungs began to burn, I came up for a breath of air. After catching my breath, I stared up at the clear summer sky and smiled.
Thank you, God.
I won’t let you down.
BISCUIT
I stood in the corner of the shop with a bottle of beer dangling loosely from my fingers as four men stood in a semi-circle listening to me tell a story. If there was a way I could get paid for telling stories, I’d damned sure quit building Harley engines and give it a try. For now, I did it to satisfy me and entertain those I enjoyed spending time with. As I waited for someone to prompt me to continue, I raised my beer bottle to my lips and took a slow drink.
“So what happened?” Pete grunted. “God damn, you always do that. You fucking start and then make us beg ya to continue. Just tell the fuckin’ story, asshole.”
“Watch that mouth, Brother Pete. My lips was parched, and I needed a drink. I’ve been tellin’ this fuckin’ story to everyone I bump into since last week when it happened. My fuckin’ throat’s raw from all the talkin’ I been doin’,” I said as I lowered the bottle of beer.
“So I tell this bitch follow me to the truck, and I turn for the door. Now I don’t know if she’s followin’ me or not, but I keep on fuckin’ walkin’ like I know she’s back there. When I step through the door and out into the rain, and I don’t hear the door slam behind me, I know she’s comin’.” I paused and glanced around the group. “So I walk to the truck, open my door and climb inside. Like a trained pro-fuckin-fessional, she just glides right into the truck and leans back in the seat. Bitch don’t say a god damned word. She just fixes her eyes on my crotch and stares. So just how big is it? She asks. Well, now’s a fine time to ask I respond. She glances up and rolls her fuckin’ eyes at me. Right there in my own god damned truck, this gal’s fuckin’ rollin’ her eyes. So I’m thinkin’ fuck it. I reach for my belt, unbutton my pants, and pull out the hankster. She lays eyes on it, and all of a sudden they’re bulgin’ out of her head like one of them fish at the store you can buy in a little plastic bag. That’s right, lady. Every inch of it I said. Every fuckin’ inch.”
I paused for effect and took another drink.
“Damn it, Biscuit. Get to the fucking punch line,” Corn Dog said.
“Ain’t no punch line, brother. This is the damned sacred truth. I skin it,” I said as I slapped my hand against my forearm.
As soon as I slapped my arm, Pete’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, what happened?”
“I’m fuckin’ tryin’ to tell ya, and I’d be done with the story and halfway home if you rude pricks wouldn’t be interruptin’ me every time I took a breath,” I said.
“So, anyway. She stares at my cock for a while, exhales a breath for so long she fogs up my windows, and then she looks up. You ain’t gonna punch me in the face are ya? She asks. Why the fuck would I punch you in the face? I ask her. She shrugs her shoulders and stares at me. You’ve bet me twenty bucks you can deep throat my cock I say to her. Before I can even try and decide why she’d ask such a thing, she tells me why. Pete, run and get me a beer, I’m fuckin’ dyin’ here,” I said as I raised my empty beer bottle.
“Don’t tell any more of it till I get back,” Pete said as he turned toward the fridge.
“So what bar was it?” Otis asked.
“That one on Douglas. The Shamrock,” I responded.
“Truck parked in the street?” he asked.
“Yep,” I nodded.
Otis shook his head as he raised his beer to his lips.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Toad said as he shook his head from side-to-side.
“I said don’t tell anymore till I got back,” Pete grunted as he stepped to my side.
“I ain’t said a word. Now hand me that beer before I got to admit myself in the hospital for strained vocal cords,” I said as I reached for the beer.
“So anyway. This gal says well, most guys end up smacking me at some point in time. I was just checkin’. I stared down at her and said what the fuck you mean most guys smack ya? She shrugs her shoulders and says well, I’m just a magnet for that stuff. So do you promise you won’t hit me? I stared at her for a long minute and shrugged my fuckin’ shoulders. I can’t make any promises, but I sure ain’t plannin’ on it I tell her. Then I studied her for another second and said If it’s any reassurance, you’d be the first. She sticks her hand in her mouth and…listen up Pete, god damn it, this part is crucial,” I barked as Pete turned to face the door.
“Sorry, thought I heard somethin’,” Pete responded.
“I’m sure you did, you weird prick. There’s twenty Sinners in this shop, I’m sure you heard a lot of somethin’s. If you wanna go play out in the street, go ahead. If you wanna listen to me, pay fuckin’ attention,” I growled.
“I’m listenin’,” Pete nodded.
“Okay, so this gal is hot. Maybe forty, got long brown hair, big fuckin’ titties, long legs, and a pretty face. So she turns kinda to the side where I can’t quite see her, sticks her hand in her mouth, and pulls somethin’ out. Now at this point in time, I can’t see it. But when she looks up.” I paused and took a drink of beer. “She ain’t got any teeth on top. Nary a one. Nothin’ but fuckin’ gums. Now I start thinkin’ about how much extra room there’s gonna be in her mouth for my fat cock, and what it’s gonna feel like getting a gum job, and…”
Otis scrunched his nose and bit his lower lip as he interrupted, “She pulled out her fucking dentures?”
“God damn it, Otis, if you want to tell the story, I’ll let ya. But don’t fuckin’ interrupt me when I’m tryin’ to,” I said.
“Continue,” Otis said.
“Dentures?” Pete asked.
“Listen up, fellas. At this point in time, she’s agreed to suck me off for a twenty, got in the truck, asked me if I’m going to punch her face, and pulled out her dentures and has ‘em in her hand. Is everyone caught the fuck up?” I ask
ed.
Four heads nodded.
“Alright. So she looks up and says got anywhere I can put these? And she opens her hand. I act like it’s a daily occurrence and I shrug my shoulders. Put ‘em in the glove box I say as I reach over and open it. Now remember fellas, I got my cock out, and I’m in the middle of the fuckin’ street in my truck. She glances at the glove box, reaches in her mouth and pops out the bottom row. So now she’s sittin’ there without a tooth in her god damned head. Hell, most fellas would be grossed out, but I just wanna feel it. You know, smooth gums on my cock. So, she shuts the glove box door and says I like it rough. I want you to force me to suck you off. My eyes widen and I grin at her. After a second I ask just how rough?” I lifted my beer and took a long drink.
As I lowered the bottle and hooked my thumb on my belt, all eyes were on me.
“She turns to me and grins. Then she says rough as fuck. Hell, I felt like I won the jackpot. You got the right man I said as I grabbed her head and shoved it into my lap. So, I got her head in one hand and my cock in the other. I’m tryin’ to force feed this bitch my cock, knowin’ she ain’t gonna get half of it down her throat, and then…I’ll be dipped in shit…here comes the huge fucking shocker, fellas…”
“Husband shows up?” Pete said.
I shook my head as I took a drink of beer.
“Barfed?” Corn Dog said.
“Nope,” I said as I lowered my beer bottle.
“She swallowed it?” Otis said.
I nodded my head. “All the way to my nuts. Now remember, she said she likes it rough. But I swear to God himself. Fuckin’ this gal’s throat was like fuckin’ a jar of jelly. No resistance at all. She says she likes it rough, and I can’t force her to do a damned thing. Hell, her face just falls down to my lap and back up she goes. Now I know why guys smack her in the mouth, there ain’t nothin’ else to do if she likes it rough. Fuckin’ gal’s a human jackhammer. So she’s goin’ to town on my cock, and moanin’ and groanin’ and my nuts are covered in slobber, and I’m thinkin’ this is the best twenty bucks I ever spent – and because it’s a bet – I can still say I ain’t never paid for pussy. Anyway, I’m about to bust a nut, and I get all grabby…”
“So I reach under her shirt for a fist full of them titties, and she starts gruntin’ and tryin’ to pull off my meat. I’m two seconds or three strokes from a happy endin’ and I ain’t havin’ it. She’s gruntin’ no no no, and I’m forcing her head down on my junk thinkin’ yes yes yes. So I got an elbow on the back of her head, and I reach up under her top and pull on that wire at the bottom of her bra to let them big titties out. You know, just pull it up and over the nips and let ‘em pop out,” I took a sip of beer as I glanced at each man.
Standing with their eyes wide and waiting for the next bit of the tale, they stared in awe.
“And I lift that bastard back, and pop. Out comes two fake rubber titties. Fell right out onto my dusty ass truck floor. I’m starin’ at these rubber fuckers tryin’ to decide what happened, and she’s tryin’ to pull off my cock, so I just bury my elbow into her head and blow a load into her throat – you know, because she says she likes it rough. I’m thinkin’ this is all part of the I like it rough act. After I let her up for a breath, she’s cryin’ and all embarrassed.”
I shook my head lightly. “I’m feelin’ bad for her. She’s got cum dribblin’ from her lips, and she ain’t got a tooth in her head, her god damned teeth are in the fucking glove box, and the only tits she has are layin’ on the dusty assed floor of my truck beside my boots.”
“Flat chested gal, huh?” Pete shrugged.
“Nope,” I said. “Fuckin’ cancer.”
“Oh God damn. No shit?” Toad asked.
I nodded my head. “Yep. Said she had a double whatever they call it. Hell, I felt terrible. We sat for a long bit afterward and talked about it. God damned shame anyone has to go through that, if you ask me. I told her it didn’t matter as far as I was concerned; I told her she was pretty with or without tits. You know, it’s god damned sad about the cancer, but she’s a great gal. Her name’s Billie Jean. Hell, I ended up gettin’ her number and added her to the list,” I said.
“But here’s the really good news,” I said as I lifted the bottle of beer.
“What’s that?” Otis asked.
“She said she’ll do club parties. Ends up she gets some weird satisfaction from sucking dude’s cocks. Anyway, if any of you fellas want a gum job, she’s ready,” I said as I raised my bottle of beer.
“I’m out,” Toad said as he turned away.
“Me too,” Otis said.
“Count me in,” Corn agreed.
“I’m good as long as it’s Wednesday or Thursday,” Pete said.
“See, you two fellas are going to miss out,” I said as Otis and Toad walked away.
“They don’t know what’s good for ‘em,” Pet. hissed, “A blowjob’s a blowjob.”
“Amen,” I said. “And one without teeth is a rare occurrence indeed.”
“Agreed,” Pete said.
“Now huddle up, fellas. I’ll tell ya about my run in with a skinhead gang while they had me locked up,” I said as I raised my beer bottle.
As I gazed blankly at the bottle, I realized it was empty.
“Pete, get me one more,” I said as I raised my empty bottle in the air.
As Pete walked toward the fridge, I glanced around the shop. For me, telling the stories was like reliving them. Another chance to have the same amount of fun as I had actually had doing what it was I told the story about.
And I was good at it.
Pete handed me the cold bottle of beer and I placed the empty in the trash can behind me. Telling stories about being in jail, drinkin’ a beer, and being surrounded by my brothers – hell, life couldn’t get any better.
Without a doubt, being a Sinner was my calling in life.
Well, that and fuckin’ bitches.
BISCUIT
I carefully pulled the brush along the edge of the wooden door trim, being cautious not to touch the wood with the bristles of the brush, but taking time to ensure the Revere Pewter paint underneath the new coat of Chelsea Red was covered completely. After I reached the bottom of the trim I took a few steps back and admired the room.
The red paint was a refreshing change. The pewter color had only been on the walls for roughly four weeks, but the red really set the room off and made everything pop. Masking off the trim was always an option - but I took pride in doing everything by hand - a steady hand and a little caution provided me with tremendous satisfaction. My nostrils flared as I took a long deep breath and gazed around the room blankly.
The smell of success.
After carrying the paint, drop cloths, and brushes to the garage I went into the kitchen and washed my hands. Alt-J’s Left Hand Free played from my iPod, providing further proof that the art of creating good music had not been lost in the modern age.
Music was my only outlet, my only escape. I hadn’t had a television in my house for almost fifteen years. Although I’d watched television at some of the Sinners homes, and when we were on the road I often watched it in the hotel, I viewed my life as much more simple if I didn’t have access to a television or watch the news.
As a teen I decided to stop, and I never regretted my decision since making it - when so many of my brothers were depressed about world events I was none the wiser. Often, subjects being discussed were several months or even a year old before I learned they had even happened. I lived with much less grief and seemed to have a fairly steady emotional state as a result.
As I dried my hands I heard my phone beep. Modern technology was without a doubt the downfall of society, but having a telephone was mandatory for a Sinner, and I accepted it as a useful tool.
I scrolled through the text message from Otis and typed my response.
Be there in fifteen, Brother.
I slipped the phone into the front pocket of my jeans, unplugged my iPod, grabbed my key
s, and walked out to the garage. After plugging my iPod into the pigtail on the stereo of my bike, I fired it up and opened the garage door.
As the Black Key’s Sinister Kid blared from my saddlebag mounted speakers, I pulled out of the garage and onto the street. My neighbors had come to accept the fact I was a biker and rode a loud as fuck Harley, but they’d never quite understood my need to play the music I did as loud as I chose to. As the thumping bass shook the handlebars slightly, I rolled back the throttle and leaned into the first curve leading out of my neighborhood.
Riding a Harley wasn’t something I chose to do because I thought it was cool, or because I felt a need to be surrounded by others who supported me. It became a way of life from the first time I rode a bike at eighteen years of age. From that very first day, I had ridden every day possible. To me, riding cleansed my soul. A thirty minute ride alone could take me from the foulest of moods and insert me in my own star-filled heaven. Whatever it might have been that had me upset quickly vanished – and never returned – after a full-throttle ride down the highway.
Riding and music, my two much needed outlets.
As I pulled into the parking lot I noticed Otis hadn’t arrived yet. I parked the bike on the sidewalk, kicked the kickstand down, and let Jimi Hendrix’s Red House finish playing before I turned off the key. Jimi’s music provided a constant reminder of the talent that was lost – never to be replaced – as a result of drug use. The talented musicians who had died as a result of drug overdoses over the years sickened me.
Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Nick Drake, Sid Vicious, John Bonham, Shannon Hoon, and Amy Winehouse, all dead for no good reason other than the fact they didn’t know when to stop using drugs and start living life.
Me?
Never used the stuff and never planned on starting.
As the music stopped and the next song began, I turned the key and stepped over the seat. After reaching over and locking the bike, I walked into the empty bar. After a quick study, it seemed four people would be joining Otis and me, none of which provided me a feeling of threat or a sexual interest. I walked to the bar, sat down, and ordered a drink.
CHEAP SMUT: Four Erotic Romance Novels (Boxed Set) Page 25