by Tia Siren
“No, that would still be giving a ride. I like the girl on top,” Colt said, and he winked at her.
“Tell me those terrible lines and winking doesn’t really get you laid,” Sherry teased.
“All the time,” Colt said. And it was true. He had always done well with the ladies, even while he had been in a pretty serious relationship which recently ended.
“So what’s your real name?” Sherry asked.
“Colt,” the man said with a grin.
“You said it was a nickname.”
“It is. I don’t tell people my real name,”
“You’ll tell me, won’t you?” Sherry asked
“I don’t know. It depends.”
“Depends on what? If I sleep with you?”
“If I say yes, will you sleep with me?” Colt asked.
“No,” Sherry said.
“Okay, well no, that’s not what it would depend on.”
“Then what would it depend on?” Sherry asked.
“If I fall in love with you or not.”
“You only tell people what your name is if you love them?”
“Yeah,” Colt said.
“So who knows?”
Colt smiled. “My momma and dad.”
Sherry rolled her eyes. “I think you’re full of shit,” she said.
“I’m not, scout's honor,” Colt said, holding his hand over his chest with one hand while he flicked a finger in the air for another beer with the other.
“There’s no way in Hell you were a boy scout,” Sherry said, and they both laughed.
They drank together all night, and then it was time for the bar to close, so they headed into the parking lot.
Sherry was too drunk to drive, so she called a cab. It had to come from the next town over, so she had a bit of a wait. Colt offered to give her a ride again, but she was pretty sure he didn’t need to be driving either, so he waited with her, sitting on the back of her car next to her.
The cab came, interrupting idle chit chat, and she climbed into it. Colt watched her go, and then walked on wobbly legs to his motorcycle.
He straddled the machine and kickstarted it. He headed home, which was a ways out of town, a small house built of brick that stood in a dirt yard. Texas, this close to the Mexican border, was practically desert, and he even had a cactus in his front yard. Colt was used to other Viper’s coming and going, and he wasn’t disappointed that night. There were three men and two women there, one a little young thing named Ashley who was always good for a quick lay. He did just that, but even as he was inside the girl, he was thinking of Sherry.
Colt wasn’t used to women turning him down, and Sherry had managed to do it twice in two nights. Damn. Colt fell asleep thinking of her.
3
When Colt awoke, it was past noon, and the Sun was high in the Texas sky, angry and hot. He walked out into his living room in nothing but his boxers, where he found his best friend, Davey, sitting and talking on the phone. Colt sat next to him, and Davey soon hung up.
“You remember that little shit Greg Hosson?” Davey asked him.
“Yeah I do,” Colt said. Greg was a wannabe biker, with a crappy little motorcycle and a bad attitude. He had stolen some money from the Vipers, hoping it would make a name for himself. Instead, it had just gotten him sent to the hospital, and banished from Happy once he could walk without crutches.
“He’s back in town,” Davey said. Davey’s real name was Michael, and Colt had no idea how he had gotten to be called Davey. Davey was a big man, ten years older and fifty pounds heavier. He wore his hair long and had massive sideburns that wrapped down to his chin before stopping.
“Where’s he at?” Colt asked. “Who were you talking to?”
“One of the River Horses saw him, wanted to know if he was still supposed to be gone.”
“He’s always supposed to be gone,” Colt said. “Where is he?”
“Rosebud Apartments,” Davey said, and Colt grinned. That was where he knew Sherry lived, since he had dropped her off two nights ago. And it was Sunday, there was a good chance she would be home. He knew roughing up a snot nosed punk would get him riled up, and if she were there to help him come down from a fighter’s high, all the better. He wanted the woman, and he would get her.
That was a problem, though. He really didn’t want a woman, not in the long term. He had just had a taste of that, and it had been too much for him. He had tried to be good in the relationship, had tried to stay faithful, but it all went against his nature. And then the woman, a beautiful Latina named Christina, had started making her demands, and Colt had called it all off.
But he wanted Sherry, and he would get her, and then he could be done with it. Fucking her didn’t mean he needed anything else.
“Let’s go pay Greg a visit,” Colt said, and he went to get dressed.
By the time Colt and Davey rolled into town, they had been joined by two other Vipers, a strong black man called Blade, and a skinny bald white man they called Wizard. They rode their noisy machines over to the apartments and pulled to a stop in front of them.
“You gotta an apartment number?” Colt asked Davey, but he shook his head.
“Got to do it the hard way,” Davey said.
“I like the hard way,” Wizard spoke up as they made their way into the building. Colt knocked on the first door they came to. After a moment, a little old lady opened the door.
“You know a guy named Greg?” Colt asked. The old woman shook her head, and the bikers moved on to the next door. Eventually, they found Greg himself after knocking on a door upstairs. He opened the door, his eyes went wide, and he tried to slam it shut, but Colt was already stepping forward, wedging his foot against the door so it wouldn’t shut. Greg gave up trying to shut it and turned and ran, heading into his small apartment, and into his bedroom. He slammed the door shut and locked it, just before Colt could grab the doorknob and force it open.
“Come on Greggy,” Colt called from the other side fo the door. “Don’t make me break the door down.”
Sherry didn’t know her neighbor well. He was a young guy that looked to be too skinny, and he always had dark circles under his eyes. When he smiled at her, and he usually did, she saw he was missing one of his teeth, and the ones that remained were yellow. Still, he was a nice guy, always offering to carry groceries for her if he saw her hefting them up the stairs. She could never remember if his name was George or Greg, but on Sunday morning, while she was watching TV and drinking coffee in her living room, she heard someone on the other side of the wall yelling his name and pounding on something.
Sherry set her mug on the coffee table in front of her and went to her door. She opened it a crack and peeked out into the hall, but she saw no one. She hesitated. She could tell Greg’s door was open ten feet down the hall to her left, right next to the stairs. And the banging and yelling was coming from inside. She could hear Greg, pleading for someone to stop, and then there would be sickening thuds that she was pretty sure was fists slamming into Greg’s body and face.
And then she heard a voice she recognized, and she made up her mind. She swung her door open and marched out into the hallway, and over to Greg’s open doorway. Inside was Colt and three of his friends. They were all wearing their little vests with the snake and skull on the back. Colt was standing over Greg in the living room, holding him up by the collar of his tee shirt. Greg’s face looked like a pile of hamburger meat: shapeless and red.
“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” Sherry asked, and the men turned and looked at her.
“Mind your business lady,” Wizard said, but Colt let go of Greg and turned to face her.
“Hey, I forgot you lived here,” he said slyly.
“I doubt that,” Sherry said. “What are you doing?”
“He stole from us. We told him not to come back. Here he is,” Colt said as if that was a good reason to be beating the life out of someone.
“Leave him alone, he’s my neighbor.”
“I
’ll tell you what, let me take you out for a ride tonight, and I’ll let it slide with Greg here.”
Sherry folded her arms over her chest. “You aren’t being serious.”
From the faces of Colt’s friends, it looked as though they wanted to say the same thing. The men were breathing heavy, adrenalin coursing through their system. They had come to kick some ass, and it looked as though it might be ending too quickly.
“I am being serious,” Colt said.
“Fine,” Sherry said with a sigh. “Pick me up at seven.”
“Let’s go, boys,” Colt said, and he led the way out. “See you at seven, Love,” he said as he passed Sherry, and she tried but failed to hide a small smile. When they were gone, she helped Greg to his couch, and then cleaned his face as best as she could.
“Thank you,” Greg said, and when he spoke Sherry saw he was missing another tooth.
4
Seven came and went, and Sherry sat waiting for Colt in her living room. Finally, at eight ten there was a knock on the door, and she thought about not answering it, just to show the man that she was annoyed with him. But she didn’t want him getting angry and knocking on Greg’s door instead, so she opened it and looked up at Colt.
“You’re late,” she barked.
“I know,” he said, stepping inside. She put a hand on his chest.
“I thought we were going for a ride?” Sherry asked. She had dressed for that, jeans and a hoodie.
“I was thinking of staying in,” Colt said, and he put his hands on her hips and bent to kiss her. Sherry was going to turn her head, she was going to deny the man a kiss, but she didn’t, and his lips pressed against hers. He was strong, and his kiss was strong, forceful, his tongue pushing past her lips to explore her mouth. He tasted of beer and whiskey, and Sherry realized she didn’t want him to stop kissing her.
His hands rode up her side, lifting her sweatshirt with it. Sherry lifted her arms, letting the man pull the hoodie up and over her head. She was wearing just a bra now, black and lacey with cups that were semi-translucent. He palmed her breasts, one large hand on each cup, and she felt her nipples harden at his touch. He hadn’t broke the kiss yet, and she was unwilling to do so.
His tongue danced with hers, his hands groped her, and Sherry felt a warmth spread in her loins, and as her slit moistened, she knew the kissing and groping would lead to sex, and she wanted it.
Colt was a strong man. Sherry put her hands on his stomach, up under his shirt, her fingers tracing along his well-defined abs. He was hotheaded. A bad boy. He wanted her, and she knew he was going to take her. She stepped forward, grinding her hips against his and she could tell that he was already hard, even through his blue denim jeans.
Finally, Colt broke the kiss, and Sherry opened her eyes to look at him, expecting him to speak. He didn’t say a word, he just lowered his head and used his fingers to pull the front of her bra down, so her large pale breasts spilled up and over the cups. One hand continued to grope and squeeze the fatty tissue of her tits, rough fingertips pinching her nipple, while his mouth went to the other breast, and the tip of his tongue danced over her nipple there.
Sherry threw her head back in ecstasy. Her nipples had always been sensitive, and she remembered one time in high school when her boyfriend fumbled awkwardly under her shirt in the back seat of his car. Just his fingers on her nipples, pinching and pulling them was enough to make her orgasm. She had rewarded the boy with his first blowjob. It looked as though something similar was on Colt’s mind. He pulled from her breasts, looked her in the eye, and then moved one powerful hand to the back of her head. He gripped her hair and pulled her down, so she was forced to drop to her knees. She looked up at him, taking in his bulging package, his hard cock pushing against the fly of his jeans. He was watching her. He still hadn’t said a word to her. She knew what he expected her to do, and she was eager to do it.
Sherry reached up and unzipped his fly. Then she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down, taking his boxer shorts with them in one motion. Free from the denim and cotton prison, his hard member swung out, throbbing and bobbing in front of him, ending at the base in a wiry grouping of pubic hair.
His cock was huge and the tip red, angry and demanding just like the man it belonged to. She wasn’t going to let it or him down. She took him near the base of his hard on, her small fingers wrapping around his considerable girth. She began to move her hand back and forth in small, slow strokes, jerking him off as she leaned forward and teased the tip of his cock with her tongue. The man groaned and tilted his head back as she parted her lips and took his dick inside her wet, hot mouth.
She tried to take him all in her mouth, the head of his cock pushing against the back of her throat, but she couldn’t. She didn’t even need to move her hand from the base of his cock. He was by far the biggest man she had been with.
He let her suck him for some time, standing in her living room, guiding her to a quick pace by holding her hair, his hand at the back of her head still. Then he couldn’t wait anymore, he pulled her away and pulled her up, tugging on her hair painfully. He pushed her over to the couch and stepped out of his jeans and boxers that had been around his ankles. She went to sit down on the couch, but he stopped her by grabbing her by the hips, and he turned her around and bent her over the edge.
He reached around and unbuttoned her jeans with a practiced hand, and then yanked her pants and thong down quickly. She spread her legs for him, and he pushed his throbbing cock inside of her tight snatch. She was wet and hot, and he fucked her hard. Colt gripped onto her ample ass, a hand on each cheek, and his fingers left red marks in her pale skin there.
Sherry was in a world built of ecstasy, and she felt her orgasm nearing, and then the man reached forward and cupped one of her breasts in his hand, her nipple rubbing against his rough palm, and it pushed her over the edge.
“Fuck!” she moaned aloud, and the orgasm overtook her, tightening the walls of her moist pussy as the orgasm bubbled over from the pit of her lines and caused her muscles in her crotch to contract.
The orgasm faded, and there was just him, fucking her, pulling on her hair, slapping her ass. She thought he was going to come in her, and the idea scared her, but then, just as he was about to come he pulled out and grabbed her hair, forcing her down to her knees once more and spinning her around. His cock was slick with her own juices, but she opened her mouth to it obediently, tasting herself on his rigid member just as he came, spraying sticky string after sticky string of hot semen into the back of her mouth, making her gag and her eyes tear.
She stood up, and Colt grinned at her. “Got anything to eat?” he asked, and Sherry couldn’t help but laugh.
5
Sherry and Colt had a purely sexual relationship. And it stretched on for just over three months. It was hot and heavy, and often it was just fucking. He liked to bend her over, and he really liked to have her on top, pawing at her breasts while she rode him. He came everywhere, in her mouth, across her face, onto her tits or ass, and often inside of her. Sometimes he would be gone for a few days or even more, and then he would be there late at night, knocking on her door and coming and taking her sexually. He was in control at all times, and she loved it. He got into fights, he drank too much, and she loved it. He wasn’t dating her, he didn’t take her out, he didn’t buy her anything, and it was just what Sherry wanted.
Sometimes he opened up to her. They lay in her bed one night, sweating and panting. He had been fucking her after eating her out, and then fucking her with her legs thrown over his shoulders.
“You aren’t like other girls,” he said as he got his breathing under control.
“What do you mean?” Sherry asked, looking over to him.
“Most chicks want things. Dates… commitment,” he said with a grin in the darkness.
“Fuck that,” Sherry said, and they both laughed. “I came here to get away from a bad relationship,” Sherry said. “I just want to be fucked. Make me come, and we’
re good.”
“See. You aren’t like other chicks.”
“That’s a good thing. Tell me your name.”
Colt laughed. “I don’t love you. I love to fuck you, but I don’t love you.”
Sherry heard that, and for some reason, it stung, even though she was pretty sure she didn’t love him either.
Colt went on. “I was in a bad relationship too. She was a nice chick. Good lay but she just wanted too much from me. Kids. Getting married. I’m not that type of guy.”
Sherry laughed. “I can tell.”
They laughed.
A week or so passed after that, and Colt knew he needed to break things off with Sherry. He was starting to really like her, and he was wanting more from their relationship. He wasn’t ready for all of that and wasn’t ready for another woman to be wanting him to change his ways. If there was going to be a future with Sherry, surely she would want him to stop fighting, and drinking, and worse yet, maybe hang up the biking gear and get a real job. Colt had barely graduated high school; there was no way he could hold down some nine to five.
He showed up to her apartment when he knew she would be done with work. The sky was the deep purple of evening, and when she answered the door, she was in a towel, fresh from a shower or bath. He hadn’t planned on fucking her one last time, but as soon as she saw him, she dropped the towel, and he was lost in her body.
He took it more gently, knowing it might be the last time he slept with her. His kisses were tender, as was his touch. His fingertips traced along her collar bones, down to her nipples. He planted a kiss on her lips and then trailed downwards, down over one of her breasts, and dropping to his knees just inside the door so he could kiss down her flat tummy, and along her shaved pubic area. She lifted a leg and hooked it over his shoulder, and bending his neck, he could trail his tongue along her wet slit.
The tip of his tongue was like velvet as it flicked back and forth over her engorged clit. No man had ever eaten her out while she was standing, and the whole thing was so exotic and tender, that it wasn’t long before she was coming, her juices flowing over his chin as he sucked on her clit and her fingers gripped into his hair.