by Tia Siren
“Amazing,” he said softly, taking them in. She knew he was used to bigger and faker, but she was proud of her body, and she was glad he seemed to enjoy it.
Next went her pants, sliding down her legs slowly, and then she turned, still wearing her blue boy shorts, the crotch of the panties a darker blue, so soaked with her primal juices. She let the man take in her ass, taut and round. He sat up, reaching for her, his strong fingers digging into her ass cheeks. He groped at her and then ripped the boy shorts down, and she turned.
“Lay down,” she said again, and he did. She pulled his pants fully off, and he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor before laying fully down again. His cock jut straight into the air, veins thick along its side.
Vanessa crawled atop him, straddling him with a knee on the bed on either side of his pelvis, and then, using her hand to guide him into her, she lowered herself onto his massive member.
She moaned aloud as she came down fully on him, his cock buried to his pelvic hair and balls in her tight pussy.
“Fuck,” he groaned, taking the word right out of her mouth. She rocked up and forward, his cock sliding out of her, slick with her juices, and then, right as the domed head of his penis threatened to slip out of her snatch, she rolled her hips back and came down.
As she rode him her hands lay on his chest, fingernails digging painfully into his pecs. His hands were on her breasts; each nipple rolled between a thumb and forefinger. He leaned up, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping as his other hand slid around to her back, and then fell to her butt, where he grabbed and squeezed her as she rocked atop him.
She leaned back, bracing herself by putting her hands on his calves while she looked up at the ceiling. He reached down, using his thumb to rub her engorged clit as she rocked back and forth. It didn’t take long for her to come, she yelled out as she did so, the orgasm rolling in from the pit of her stomach, moving down her extremities, causing her toes to curl and her fingers to grip tightly onto his legs. When she was done, he pushed her roughly off, and she fell onto her stomach. She went to roll over but he was too fast, and he kept her facing down but then pulled her up onto her hands and knees. He grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them, and for one shocking moment Vanessa was sure Tank meant to shove his massive cock into her ass, something she had never done, but he just rubbed the head off his cock against her anus before dropping it lower and sliding into her gushing cunt.
He took her hard and fast, pounding her at a furious rate. Her tits swung back and forth painfully, and he kept a solid grip on her ass as he fucked her doggy style. It wasn’t long before he was about to bust, his breath rapid, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Come here,” he groaned, and he pulled his cock out of her, and she turned, helped along by his hand on the back of her neck. She got her mouth onto his cock just as he came, spraying long strands of sticky, salty come into her mouth. She tasted his spunk, and tasted her own pussy; his cock was wet with her juices, and when he was finally done spraying she lay back, covered in sweat and panting. She swallowed him and smiled. “Show me,” he said, and she opened her mouth to reveal that his spunk was long gone, on it’s way to her stomach. “You’re a hell of a girl,” the biker said, and she laughed.
3
Vanessa saw a lot of Tank for the next few months. She felt dumb asking if they were dating, but she didn’t see him with any other girls in the bar, and they spent a lot of nights together. Their sex life was amazing, and she opened up in ways she never thought she would with him. She would suck his cock in a fast food bathroom; they fucked under the stars a few miles outside of town. They fucked a lot, hard pounding sessions that could stretch for hours until they were both sweaty and she had a couple of loads on her and in her. They never made love, but Vanessa was alright with that. She didn’t think Tank was the kind of guy who would ever be gentle with her.
He wasn’t romantic at all, but she could tell her cared for her. He treated her well, never raised a hand to her, and they never argued. The only source of contention in their relationship that first few months was the night Vanessa was sure she was about to see her boyfriend killed. It was A Thursday night, pretty slow for The Devil Dog, but Tank and a few of his Python friends were in the corner, laughing and drinking, and she was at the bar when three men came in. They had denim and leather, and all three had big bushy beards. They were obviously bikers. Two of the men went to get a table while the third came towards the bar. Susan was there too, and she mumbled under her breath.
“Oh shit,” she said.
“What is it?” Vanessa asked.
The man was almost to the bar, so Susan didn’t say anything, but she motioned to the two other men. They had turned so Vanessa could see the back of their vests. Here the Python’s had the snake and skeleton sigil for their club; these jackets had a hornet on the back. These men were Yellowjackets.
Even in a short time being with Tank, Vanessa had heard all about the Yellowjackets. They were a somewhat local club and a rival to the Python’s. The Yellowjackets popularity had gone down in recent years, but just a decade or two ago the two motorcycle clubs fought often. More than a few men had died in those scraps, and getting a Yellowjacket in the same room with a Python was sure to lead to trouble.
“Three beers,” the man who came to the bar, said.
“Get on out of here, we don’t want to be cleaning broken chairs up,” Susan said, not batting an eye. “You know this is a Python’s place.”
“They don’t have claim to bars now, do they?” The man asked. “Just looking for a drink babe, why don’t you get a few for me.”
“Get on outta here,” Susan said. The man grinned and turned his attention to Vanessa. She had been looking over to the corner, where Tank and his friends sat. There were four of them altogether, and they had certainly noticed the Yellowjackets who had come into the bar.
“Why don’t you get us the beers you sweet little thing,” the man said to Vanessa. “Then come on over to our table, I’d love to see how you feel on my lap.”
“Get lost,” Vanessa said, but the man just laughed and reached across the bar for her. Vanessa yelled out and tried to twist away, but he was too fast and got his fingers curled around her arm.
“Come on babe,” the man said. Vanessa opened her mouth to say something, but she never had the chance. Tank came out of nowhere, slamming into the man. And just like that, the fight was on.
There were a handful of patrons other than the men in the two clubs, but they stayed out of it. The three Yellow Jackets took on the four Python’s. Punches were thrown, kicks taken to the stomach. And then one of the Yellowjackets pulled out a knife, and he went after Big Tim, the oldest of the Python’s present. The blade sliced through the side of his neck, and blood sprayed in a crimson arc across the bar. Vanessa screamed, and Big Tim went down.
Susan was quick, on the phone with the cops. Earl, a big man who cooked three days a week came out from the kitchen, and he kneeled next to Big Tim and pressed dishrags to his wound. Big Tim was screaming, and incredulously, trying to push Earl out of the way so he could get back to the fight.
Vanessa couldn’t take her eyes off of Tank. She wanted to go to him, to help him, to tell him to forget it and run, that the fight had taken a horrible turn and she was scared for his safety, but she couldn’t. Her man fought with ferocity, his fists landing again and again on the man with the knife’s face, the blade dropped and forgotten on the floor after it was kicked accidentally under a table.
It was only forgotten for a moment, though. Another Yellowjacket found it, and he advanced on Tank, coming up behind him. He raised the blade, and Vanessa was sure she was about to see the man she was growing to love be killed. She grabbed the first thing she could, a beer bottle from under the bar, and she threw it.
The glass bottle shattered when it slammed into the back of the man with the knife’s head, and he crumpled to the floor, knocked out cold. Vanessa felt sick, watch
ing that man fall to the ground. She didn’t know if minutes had passed, or hours, but without warning red and blue lights were flashing through the front windows as three cop cars came flying into the parking lot, icing up dust and gravel. The cops came into the bar with guns drawn, and the fight was over. Tank and the other bikers were arrested and carted off separately as more cop cars came onto the scene. Big Tim was taken to the hospital, and the bar closed. Vanessa went home, frightened and worried, and wanting to hear from Tank.
Instead, when he phone rang just after four in the morning, it was Susan. “Big Tim is dead,” the woman said, and then she started crying, and it was only then that Vanasse remembered that Susan had mentioned dating Big Tim once, years ago. She hung up after trying to console the woman and found herself wondering if she would cry if any of her exes died. She wasn't sure she would. And then she wondered if she would be crying if Tank had died. She was pretty confident she would be. She really did care for the man. He had a heart, underneath it all, one he was just starting to show her.
The other week he had opened up about his family. His father had left when he was a kid, and he lost his mother to cancer when he was fifteen. She told him about losing her own parents. They had something in common. He had kissed her then before he left her apartment, and it was soft and sweet and lingering.
The next morning she did get a call from Tank. He sounded tired, almost bored.
“Are you alright?” She asked.
“Yeah, can you come get me?” He said.
“What’s happening to you? They’re letting you out?”
Tank laughed. “Come pick me up and I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Vanessa hung up and then splashed water on her face and got dressed, pulling on jeans and a tee shirt. She hurried out to her car, and within twenty minutes was parked beside the county jail, rushing to the door there. She was let into a small room with white linoleum floor tiles and bright lights which buzzed audibly overhead. She signed a clipboard and told a grumpy looking man who sat behind a glass window who she was there to pick up. She waited for ten minutes, sitting on an uncomfortable chair and tapping her foot impatiently on the linoleum. Finally, there was a buzz and a heavy door swung open next to the glass with the grumpy man behind it, and Tank was led into the room by a large man of about fifty in an ill-fitting guards uniform. She went to stand with her boyfriend while he was passed his belongings through a slit under the glass by the grumpy man. It was just his wallet, a pocket knife, and a pack of gum. Then he turned and smiled and swept Vanessa up into his arms.
“You alright?” He asked, and Vanessa laughed.
“Are you okay?” She countered. “You’re the one who spent the night in jail.”
“Old shit,” Tank said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”
She led him out to her car and laughed as she watched the man squirm uncomfortably as she drove to the bar so he could get his bike. He really wasn’t at home on four wheels, only on two it seemed. She asked him a few questions, but he didn’t really seem to want to talk, so she fell silent. She wondered if he was upset about Big Tim.
When they pulled into the lot, parking at the front of The Devil Dog, next to his bike, she had to ask.
“Are you thinking about Big Tim?”
Tank smiled softly and looked to her. He seemed to want to say something, but his lips remained touching for a long time. Finally, he shrugged and opened the door, swinging his foot out. She reached out and took him by the arm before he could get away.
“Talk to me,” the young woman said.
Tank looked over to her. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, and she pulled her hand away from his arm, and he got out. She waited until he was atop his bike and roared out of the parking lot without even glancing back to her before she put her car in drive and headed to home.
The next few days were strange between the two young lovers. Big Tim was buried, and Vanessa went, although she went with Susan and not Tank. He rode his roaring bike, along with the rest of the Pythons. Seeing all the members of the club in one spot was a bit of an eye opener for Vanessa. There were well over a hundred of them. The most she had seen at one time in the bar was twenty or so. They rode in a long, slow progression through town, up a winding, dusty two-lane highway until they got to the cemetery, a green oasis which stood out amongst the Utah brown and orange. A priest was there, one like Vanessa had never seen before. He wore the collar, had the robe on, but he also had a tattoo on his neck, a spider which crept out past the collar. He said a few words though Vanessa wasn’t listening. She was looking at Tank.
He didn’t weep, though a few men did openly, which surprised the young woman. She thought these guys would bottle up their emotions, would try to be tough, but they all seemed genuinely devastated. It turned out that Big Tim had a couple of kids, two boys, one fifteen and one in college. Vanessa felt for them. She knew how hard it was to lose a parent. Their mother was there, so she took solace that they, at least, had her.
After the burial, there was a wake back in town. The Devil Dog was too small to hold everyone, so the back door was thrown open and the wake spilled out into the lot. It wasn’t a wake as much as a party, where the bikers drank and laughed and remembered their dead friend. Vanessa had to work, and she didn’t get a chance to speak with her boyfriend.
The next morning she went to see him. He lived in a trailer just outside of town, in a small mobile home park which was at least eighty percent Python. She knocked on his door, and it took him a few moments to answer. When he saw her, he sighed.
“What?” He said.
Vanessa felt defensive. “I’m worried about you,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be?”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t be. I’m a big boy, Vanessa.”
“Fine,” the young woman said, anger boiling up inside her. That anger was quickly replaced by pure rage when she heard another voice, a feminine one from inside Tank’s trailer.
“What is it Tank, come to bed.”
The woman who had spoke came into view. She was wearing nothing but a pair of panties, her big breasts fake and covered in dried sperm from the night before. She was blonde, and wore too much makeup, and her lipstick was smeared.
“What the fuck Tank?” Vanessa said, and then, without a warning to him, and without being able to stop herself, she hauled back and hit him. She always thought if she ever struck a man it would be a slap, but maybe it was the influence that Tank had on her the last few months, she didn’t slap tank. She hit him. Punched him. With her fist. She curled her fingers inward, and drove her fist forward, right into his nose.
The blonde bimbo screamed and rushed forward, and this time, Vanessa had time to think. Why the hell not? Is what flashed through her mind, as she punched the bimbo too. She left them then, Tank not speaking but standing there wide eyed with blood pouring from a broken nose, and the girl crying on the floor with an angry welt already growing on her eye.
4
Tank didn’t even try to call that day, and that hurt Vanessa. She sat at home and cried, and called off that evening. The next morning, or, at least, morning for Tank, it was just after noon, he called.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Vanessa said when she answered, recognizing his number on her cell screen.
“Then why did you answer?” He asked.
“What do you want?” The young woman sighed.
“Look, Big Tim… it fucked me up, alright? I was close with him. He took me under his wing when I first joined up.”
Vanessa snorted in derision. “So you fucked some slut because your fake dad died? Grow up, asshole.” And then, before he could respond, she hung up.
She worked that night, and expected him to come in, but he didn’t. For the next week, he seemed to stay away from the place, and that suited Vanessa just fine. She felt her anger over the situation fade, and she was fairly certain that she didn’t need or want him in her life.
That changed on one of her off days
. She was over a week late on her period. She hadn’t thought about it until the day before, but since it dawned on her it was all Vanessa could think about. She went to the local drugstore and bought a pregnancy test. When she got home, she didn’t take it right away. It sat on her kitchen counter, but she ignored it. She ate lunch; she watched TV; she worked on a book she was trying to write.
Finally, as the sky grew dark outside her windows, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She took the box into her bathroom. Inside was a plastic white stick, and she sat on the toilet and held it between her legs. After she sat it on the edge of the bathroom sink and waited. Slowly, two blue lines formed. She was pregnant.
Vanessa immediately ran out to the drugstore and bought three more tests. She took them, one after the other. All three told her she was pregnant. She sat on her toilet and cried. She was off the next day too, and she didn’t leave her apartment. She considered calling off the next night, but she went in. She pulled Susan aside when she got there and told her everything. About Tank, about the baby. The older woman hugged her.
“It will be okay,” Susan said. “These things have a way of working out. Are you going to tell Tank?”
Vanessa sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t seen him, or talked to him; I might not have to decide just yet.”
Of course, things did have a way of working out, and Tank came walking through the door that night. He looked over to Vanessa, but he thought better of approaching her. He sat at a table while Dipstick, who he had come in with, went to grab them a bucket of beers.
Vanessa tried to keep herself busy, so she wouldn’t have to think about the baby, and the fact that she was pretty sure she hated Tank now, even if he was the father, and for most of the night she managed pretty well.