“The windmill,” he chuckled.
“Hits that magic spot each time, huh?” he asked.
“Uh huh,” I moaned.
“You get ten more strokes, little girl. You better get your business done by the tenth. Ready?” he bellowed.
What? Ten? Why?
He pulled his hips rearward until the tip of his cock was resting against my outer pussy lips.
“One,” he said as he slammed his cock into me.
My g-spot tingled all the way up my spine. I hadn’t even realized he pulled out until his voice echoed into the room.
“Two,” he shouted as he thrust himself deep inside of me.
Oh god.
“Three,” I heard him shout.
My entire body began to tingle and my mind went strangely blank for some time. With my ears ringing and my head tingling, it was as if I had been transported into some other galaxy altogether. Outer fucking space or somewhere. Although I could still hear him, it seemed he was distant. His shouting continued.
“Four,” he bellowed as the underside of his cock pressed against my throbbing clit.
His war-like cries into the empty room added to the entire sexual experience. As he shouted numbers and filled me with cock, my body began to rush into an orgasm that was certain to kill me.
“Five,” he screamed as his lower torso slammed between my widely spread ass cheeks.
The anticipation of the tenth stroke was killing me. Something about his counting did exactly the opposite of what I expected. Instead of making me nervous, it caused me to focus, making the climax much more satisfying than anything I had ever experienced. The build up to the climax exceeded any orgasm I had previously experienced.
And I began to explode.
As my pussy started to contract heavily, I felt it.
From deep within my soul, it wanted out. To be released. I began to climax heavily, my entire body convulsing and tingling. With my eyes closed and my mind as focused as I could make it, I bit my lower lip and hoped for the best.
“This big fat cock is gonna ruin’ you, girl…” he growled into my ear.
He was right. Incapable of responding, I attempted unsuccessfully to open my eyes. As I began to nod my head, his thickness filed me repeatedly.
“Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,” he screamed as he bucked his hips back and forth, the tip of his cock dancing along my g-spot with each inner thrust.
My body shattered into a million sexual pieces all over the kitchen with the last stroke. Although I initially didn’t realize I was doing so, after a few seconds I heard myself screaming. I finally regained control over myself, attempted to bite my lower lip, and the screaming stopped.
At that instant I realized he wasn’t even close to being done.
“My fucking pussy,” he grunted as he thrust himself into me again.
Yes yours.
“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…” he shouted as his cock continued to take ownership of what was already rightfully his.
And his already thick cock began to swell to twice its girth.
My body convulsed into an orgasm completely capable of causing world peace, ending a holy war, or turning water into wine.
And he exploded inside of me.
As I shook and blubbered like a mental patient, I felt as if my mind had turned to jello. I knew very little for certain.
But I knew one thing.
Once a girl gets fucked right, there isn’t any turning back.
She’s ruined.
BISCUIT
Axton Bishop was without a doubt one of the best motherfuckers ever allowed to walk this earth. Dealt a shit card in life as a kid, and growing up with an abusive old man, he earned the nickname Slice from the kids on the street. They taunted him for the scars that littered his back where his old man had cut him as punishment for doing nothing more than being a kid.
Most kids exposed to the punishment would have turned to a life of crime, drugs, or both. Axton? He quit drinking, never used drugs, and picked up the books. His home filled with bookshelves of books he’d read at least once from cover to cover, he was one of the smartest men I had ever met, and the president of the MC for one reason and one reason only.
No one on this earth was more capable of keeping the Sinners in line.
I respected Axton as if he was my father, and in many respects, he was.
“When are you going to grow up,” Axton chuckled as he closed the ledger and slid it to the side.
“Grow up? Shit, Slice,” I said as I stood from my seat.
“I grew up when I left home at the ripe old age of fifteen. Ain’t nothing wrong with a man havin’ a little fun,” I said over my shoulder as I walked toward the door.
“I’m gonna toss this empty in the shop before you tell me to. You know why? Because I’m all grown up and I don’t need you to remind me, that’s why,” I said as I opened the door to the office.
One of Axton’s pet peeves was people throwing empty beer bottles in the trash of his office. I didn’t know one thing that made him angrier than having someone do it, and we all knew it. From time to time someone would forget, and when they did, the wrath of Axton came down on them like a lightning bolt.
After tossing the empty bottle in the shop trash, I got another beer from the fridge and walked toward the office. I’d brought Axton up to speed with stories of jail, Billie Jean, Cassie, and Kat, and as always, he found minimal humor in my actions. It had been a week since Kat and I met, and in that week we had fucked no less than ten times. If God ever produced a woman built solely for fucking, Kat was definitely her.
In many respects, she was a female version of me.
Put on this earth to satisfy the needs, wants, and sexual desires of men.
And I intended to use her for what God placed her in front of me for.
Fucking.
“So anyway, I’m thinkin’ this gal’s a shoe in for the 2015 twat of the year award,” I said as I walked into the office.
“I’m sure she is,” Axton sighed.
“Get her name up on the garage wall if she ain’t fuckin’ careful,” I grinned.
“From what Avery can tell me, you’ll have your name carved on the stalk of her father’s rifle if you’re not careful,” Axton said as he tilted his chair back on its hind legs.
“Pffft,” I hissed as I waved my hand his direction.
“A thirty-three year old man – and a 1%er at that – fucking the twenty-two year old daughter of a cop isn’t a great fucking idea in my book, Biscuit,” Axton sighed.
“I ain’t thirty-three yet, and she’s twenty god damned two,” I said as I lifted the beer bottle.
“Well, shit. That fixes everything,” Axton chuckled.
I shrugged my shoulders and took a drink of the cold beer.
“Look, I’m not trying to raise you, but you’re one of the few men here I’m close to. Toad’s still about half his former self from the shooting, Otis is worried about Sam’s mom and who fucking knows what else, and I sure as shit don’t need you spending any more time in jail or getting shot by a biker-hating father of a god damned college girl,” Axton growled as he lowered his chair to the floor.
“I’m with ya, Boss,” I said as I tilted my bottle his direction.
“I’m god damned serious, Biscuit,” he responded.
I’d never been one to allow any man to tell me what to do, but I certainly gave Axton’s wishes good long consideration. He was as wild and as rough as any man, but he was an extremely sensible human being, and seemed to have a sixth sense about trouble. Although I was pretty damned sure Kat would never say anything to her father, a man could never be positive of anything when it came to a woman.
“I’ll have another talk with her about the cop,” I sighed.
“Be a damned good idea,” Axton nodded.
“What you thinkin’ about Sydney’s brother? He’s a stand up fella, ain’t he?” I asked as I leaned into the edge of the table.
“
Well, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be asking for him to be brought in as a patch if he wasn’t,” Axton hissed.
“Just checkin’. He seems like good people. Hell, you know me, Slice. Hard for me to trust anybody except you, the Toad, Corn Dog, and Otis. We’ll see how he does, I suppose. Big fucker though, ain’t he?” I asked.
“That he is. I think he’ll surprise you. I’ve spent some time checking him out, and he got nothing but good reports from everyone I could talk to. I think he’ll not only make a good Sinner, but he’ll damned sure become one of the short list,” Axton said as he stood and picked up the ledger.
“Good to know,” I said as I stood.
“I’ll have another talk with Kat,” I said as I lifted my bottle in the air.
“You do that,” Axton said over his shoulder.
“Alright, Boss. I’ll leave you to it,” I said as I opened the door to the shop.
“Few days here, and we’ll have a vote on Jack,” Axton said as he turned to face me.
“Sounds good. I’m gonna go build a 103 incher and try to rekindle my shoe box. Fuckin’ cops got fifty grand and it ain’t settling too well with me,” I shrugged.
“Cops are going to have a lot more than that if you don’t talk with that girl,” Axton chuckled.
“I might be half stupid, but I got good ears. I heard you the first ten times,” I laughed as I walked into the hallway.
“Ears with extra fucking holes in them,” Axton said as he closed the cabinet door.
I finished my beer and tossed the bottle into the trash. Axton was right, I needed to talk to Kat and make sure she didn’t tell her dad anything about me. Having a cop on my bad side wasn’t something I wanted, needed, or could deal with properly.
Bikers and cops didn’t mix well.
Bikers and the daughters of cops, on the other hand, seemed to mix real well.
Maybe too well.
KAT
Certainly no newcomer to having sex, I found it remarkable that Biscuit had left such an impact – sexually speaking. I was incapable of ridding myself of thoughts of him fucking me, and in all of my time away from him, I spent the majority of it thinking about the last time we had sex.
Convinced his big cock, long tongue, stamina, and willingness to try out every sexual position in the book was the reason for my mindless stumbling through the hallways of my college campus, I wandered aimlessly to my next class.
“You look like shit, Hooker,” Jennifer said with a laugh as I sat down beside her.
“Haven’t slept in a week,” I said over my shoulder as I lowered my book bag to the floor.
“Still boning that biker every night?” she whispered.
I nodded my head and grinned, “Oh yeah.”
“You’re crazy. He’s going to cut you in little chunks and put you in a steel drum in his basement,” she said under her breath.
I scrunched my nose, narrowed my eyes, and tilted my head her direction, “He’s a biker, not a serial killer.”
“What’s the difference?” she shrugged.
Her shit talking was beginning to annoy me. I realized Biscuit and I were only fucking, and we weren’t technically in a relationship, but to hear her talk the way she was about him irritated me.
“Seriously, he’s pretty demanding when we’re fucking, but he’s really a nice guy. And he’s funny,” I explained.
“Get a picture of him yet?” she asked.
“Yeah, I took some the other day. He had on a wife beater, jeans, and some cool red suspenders. We were in the parking lot of the bar. He was just standing there and glanced over his shoulder, and I snapped a few pics. He got half pissed and made me suck his cock for it…Hold on,” I said as I reached into my book bag.
“He made you suck his cock because you took pictures of him?” she shrugged.
“Uh huh,” I said as I scrolled through my phone for the pic.
“Here,” I said as I handed her my phone.
Her eyes widened as she stared down at the screen of the phone.
“Holy Jesus. He looks mean. In like a really hot way. Dear god. Have one of his face?” she asked.
“Yeah, here,” I said as I flicked my finger across the screen.
A pic of his face I had taken on the same night appeared. She stared at it for a few seconds, flicked back to the pick of him glancing over his shoulder, and back to the one of his face. After a few seconds, she lifted my phone slightly, licked the screen, and handed it back to me.
“What the eff, Jen?” I snapped.
“Nothing. Good lord. I’m a sucker for guys with beards. Holy shit, Kat. Sorry. But yeah, I might need to borrow that later,” she chuckled as she reached into her book bag.
“Nope. Not gonna happen,” I said as I stuffed the phone into my bag.
“Text it to me,” she said over her shoulder.
I shook my head and laughed, “No.”
“Hooker,” she said between her teeth.
“Skank,” I responded under my breath.
Jennifer and I had been friends since my freshman year. We not only played varsity volleyball as teammates, but shared the same major, and had virtually every class together. We were close, but we didn’t share the same views on all subjects, men included.
She was relieved when Kyle and I broke up, and even more at ease when he was placed in jail for abusing the girl he was fucking on the side. In the grand scheme of things, she wanted me to be happy, safe, and loved. Personally, I was willing to settle for happy, safe, and being fucked really hard, but that was a different story altogether.
As Mr. Salisbury walked into the classroom, I blinked my tired eyes and tried to remember where we’d left off. A lazy glance over my shoulder toward Jen revealed her jokingly reaching for my book bag, and I responded by kicking at her hand playfully.
“Stay out of there,” I whispered.
“I can’t,” she said through her teeth.
Her playful nature after seeing his picture made me feel better about everything between us. I realized not every woman would see Biscuit as being attractive, but the fact she did allowed me to feel my decision to spend time with him wasn’t some crazy childish decision I had made.
Maybe it was a childish decision, but at least I was doing it with someone hot.
Someone hot who also had a big cock.
Not just someone.
A biker with a big cock.
A biker with a big cock and a magical tongue.
As Mr. Salisbury began to speak to the class, my mind did what it had been doing for the last two weeks. It drifted off to thoughts of lying on my back with Biscuit’s face between my thighs and his tongue tickling my g-spot.
I didn’t know when he intended to stop fucking me, but if I had any say in the matter, it wouldn’t be any time soon.
He didn’t lie when he told me what he was going to do to me on the first night we had sex.
There was no doubt in my mind.
I was ruined.
BISCUIT
Being a patched member of a 1% club isn’t as easy as getting a tattoo, buying a Harley, and donning a pair of boots. It’s a way of life, a commitment, and more responsibility than most men can rightfully fathom. Select few men make it into 1% clubs, and even fewer are worth the salt in their sweat when it comes to being a true brother.
Jack’s being voted into the club went without a hitch, and now he was a fully patched member of the Selected Sinners MC. As Otis and Toad took him on a grand tour of the clubhouse, I stood in the corner of the shop doing what I did best.
“Alright. So I got her foot in my hand, and I’m stretching it up in the air like a rubber fuckin’ band. I’m about balls deep in this poor gal’s pussy, and I lean forward and bite the bottom of her ear and I ask her, I say,” I paused and took a swallow of my beer.
“You know why that twat of yours is throbbin’? So she turns her head to the side and her god damned eyes are watterin’, and she whimpers to me.”
I shrugged my shoulders, na
rrowed my eyes, and did my best to resemble a twenty-two year old college girl, “No, she says.”
“It’s throbbin’ because you got a foot of Sinner cock in ya, I tell her,” I lowered my shoulders and slapped Pete on the shoulder as I began to laugh.
Out of my peripheral I saw Toad, Otis, and Jack walking up to the group. As I started to turn their direction, Otis taped me on the shoulder.
“Biscuit,” he said as he patted my shoulder.
“What’s shakin’ O?” I said as I turned to face him.
“Man wanted to talk to ya,” he said as he patted Jack on the shoulder.
I glared at Jack, wondering what his problem might be. Big or not, he damned sure wasn’t big enough to fuck with me. There wasn’t a man on this earth who I’d ever backed down from, and my first sure wasn’t going to be some 200 pound swole up weight lifter. After giving him a good solid minute of the ole Biscuit stink eye, I sighed and shifted my eyes to meet his.
“What can I help ya with?”
He stood his ground, tilted his head toward me, and responded, “Heard you were the one who put the money on my books.”
I shook my head and started to turn away, “Money came from the club.”
“Heard you were the one who sent me the money. The money the club raised for me. You were the one who put it on my books,” he responded.
Wondering what his major malfunction might be, I glanced at Otis, turned toward Toad, and then back to Jack, “You got the right fella. Is there a problem?”
He extended his hand and narrowed his gaze, “Just wanted to personally thank ya for sending it. I appreciate ya. If you ever need anything, just let me know. Name’s Jack. Big Jack.”
That’s what I was thinking. You didn’t want none of this, did ya, big fella?
“Biscuit. Stick around and have a beer,” I chuckled.
He crossed his arms in the standard prison posture pose, “I’ll be back. Just got to see the boss about my cut.”
“I’ll be right here,” I said over my shoulder.
A few minutes later, they returned. As Otis and Toad stood behind, Jack approached me and stood quietly until I turned around.
Well, at least he’s respectful. He might not be all that bad after all.
Hung (Selected Sinners MC #4) Page 7