HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  “You said you were going a hundred and fifty down Kellogg. A Harley won’t go a hundred and fifty,” she grinned.

  “The fuck you say. Mine will, and it’ll do it in a damned hurry. And in the lap of luxury, I might add. It ain’t one of them uncomfortable crotch rockets,” I said as I took a sip of vodka.

  “It’s nice, huh?” she asked.

  I nodded my head. “It’s like ridin’ a marshmallow down the road. And not one of those little bastards you put in a cup of hot chocolate either. It’s like one of them big fuckers you toast over a campfire. Now my man Otis here and I got to discuss some business. Here’s two questions for ya. When do you get off work, and what was the statement you were gonna make?”

  “I get off at three,” she said.

  She leaned down and rested her elbow on the table. After looking over her shoulder, she cupped her hand to the side of her mouth. As I turned my head to the side and tilted it her direction, she responded.

  “You won’t have to ask my permission. You know, for the thing you said earlier. I’d just let you,” she whispered.

  I raised my hand to my mouth and responded as if telling her a secret. “You know what? That’s the funny part. I’d ask for permission anyway. It’s just how I roll.”

  “See you at three,” I said as I leaned into the seat and glanced at my watch.

  After what seemed like all of an eternity, but was no more than a second or so, she stood, smiled, and walked away.

  “You make me sick sometimes,” Otis said as she disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Organizing a piece of puss is natural for most men. You ought to try it sometime,” I responded.

  “You and I both know all you’re going to do is fuck her. That’s it. You ask me, it’s fucking mean,” he said as he reached for his beer.

  “Ain’t nothin’ mean about it. If I lied to her, it’d be different. I gotta live with myself, so lyin’ is out of the question. She’s a big girl, she’ll be fine. So anyway, where was I?” I asked as I grabbed my second glass of vodka.

  “The cookie,” Otis responded.

  “Oh yeah, the cookie. So this dumb fuck with a swastika on his forehead walks up and stops right in front of me. I got a chicken leg in my hand, and I glance up at this Jew hatin’ skinhead and cough out a laugh. Can I help you? I ask. He reaches over, grabs the cookie off my tray and promptly takes a fuckin’ bite. I’m sittin’ there in fuckin’ shock; my eyes as big as a couple of pie tins. Who the fuck does such shit?” I asked.

  Otis raised his eyebrows, apparently wanting to hear the rest of the story. “Obviously some dumb fucking skinhead. So what happened?”

  “Well, first of all, the cookie was a chocolate chip. I mean, had it been oatmeal or some nasty ass shit, maybe things would have been different, but it wasn’t, so it ain’t. So he’s holding my cookie and getting’ ready to take bite number two, and I know I gotta make a move and make it quick. And, I know from bein’ around fuckers like the Corn Dog and some of the other fellas who’ve done time in the joint not to smack this fucker with my hands. So, I stand up and head butt this prick. Busted his nose open like a ripe fuckin’ plum. After that, I commenced to whip the shit out of this stupid fucker. Hell, he didn’t know what hit him. Afterwards, I picked my cookie up off the floor and sat down like nothin’ happened. Whole thing didn’t take two minutes. I finished my half eaten chicken leg and ate what was left of my cookie with this bloody fucker lying next to me. Hell, I thought I was in the clear. Was I? Fuck no.” I paused and shook my head, frustrated that I got caught.

  “Cameras?” Otis asked as he lifted his beer bottle.

  “You been in this jail down here, have ya?” I asked.

  “No, just stands to reason they’d have ‘em,” he said.

  “Sure as fuck do. God damned chow hall is littered with ‘em. But at this point in time, I don’t know that. Not yet, anyway. So, they came around checkin’ everyone’s knuckles for cuts, and when they didn’t find any, they let us all go back to our cells. Then, they took that fucker to the hospital. Five minutes after I got to my cell, they came and arrested me. I said what the fuck you fellas gonna do, put me in jail inside the jail? They didn’t bother anwerin’. Took me and locked me in the drunk tank till the next morning.” I paused and took a drink of my vodka.

  I slid the glass to the side and leaned half-way across the table. “Next morning comes, and they let me out. Maybe an hour after I got back to my cell, one of his little minions comes up and asks you the one who beat the shit out of Zippy? Fuck, I didn’t even answer. This brain surgeon had some shit about Hitler tattooed on his neck, it was pretty obvious who he was and why he was at my cell door. So I grabbed this walkin’ abortion by his ears and head butted his ass. About ten kicks to the gut and a head stomp later, and his ass was done. You know, finding out his partner’s name made it all worth it. Hell, had I known his name was Zippy; I’d have whipped his ass just for that alone. Anyway, this pile of shit is layin’ at my cell door, and to make sure no one else would to try and fuck with the Biscuit during my little stay, I glanced around the cell block and pulled down my little orange suit. All these fuckers are staring at me wonderin’ what I’m gonna do. You wanna guess what I did?”

  I leaned back in my seat and waited wide-eyed for Otis’ response.

  “You pissed on him,” Otis responded as he lifted his bottle of beer.

  “See? I can’t get one by ya, Brother. You god damned right. I pissed on that motherfucker while the whole cell block watched. I hadn’t so much as stuffed my hankster back into my little suit and the goon squad came running in, tackled me, and cuffed me. Left me in the shackles and chains till I went to court,” I said as I recalled trying to walk in the shackles.

  Otis gazed at me silently, waiting for the rest of the story.

  I picked up my glass of vodka and stared at the half melted cubes of ice. “You know, if you try and take a normal step in them fuckers, you’ll fall flat on your nose.”

  “What’s that?” Otis asked.

  “Them shackles they hook to your feet. Tricky little fuckers to walk in, I’m tellin’ ya,” I responded as I lifted my glass and drained the remaining vodka.

  “Fifty grand seems kind of high for speeding through town. You must have really pissed some people off,” Otis said as he slid his empty beer bottle toward the edge of the table.

  “Ten more minutes,” the waitress said as she reached for Otis empty beer bottle.

  “You need another?” she asked Otis as she lifted the bottle from the table.

  Otis glanced at me and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I think we’re good. If you’re talking ten minutes, that is,” I responded.

  “Ten or less,” she said.

  Well, I guess now’s a good time to test you.

  “Make it less, understand?” I barked.

  “Uhhm, okay,” she responded immediately.

  Yeah, she’ll do just fine.

  Chapter One Hundred Fourteen

  BISCUIT

  Many years in my younger days were spent wondering if something was wrong with me. I had never been in a relationship, and never really wanted to be for that matter. As far as I was concerned, trying to tie myself down to fucking one woman was like deciding which one food I wanted to spend the rest of my life eating on a daily basis. If the world offered me various foods, eating only one seemed senseless. Consequently, if there were women who were willing to fuck me, forcing myself to be satisfied with only one made absolutely no sense what so fucking ever.

  “Oh my god…I’m going…to do it…again,” she wailed as I continued to flick my tongue against her clit.

  With my index finger sliding in and out of her well lubricated ass and my thumb doing the same with her pussy, I continued to wedge her clit between my upper lip and tongue. As I rolled her little nub between them with precision, she moaned as if she were dying.

  “Holy fuck…holy fuck…” she bellowed as she bucked her hips up and down.
>
  As she lowered her hips and relaxed, collapsing onto the lounge chair, I pulled my head from between her legs and gazed down at her motionless body.

  “I can’t believe…you can do that…for so long,” she breathed as she attempted to sit upright.

  I cleared my throat and coughed a light laugh. “If licking pussy was a crime, I’d be doing life in prison.”

  She sat up in the chair and sighed. Her hair was a mess. The sun beat down on us through the cloudless sky, and her body was covered in sweat. Her swimsuit bottom at the edge of the pool, and her top askew across her b-cup titties from all the writhing around in the lounge, she looked young and confused.

  “You alright?” I asked.

  “Just kind of dizzy. Holy crap, you’re really good at that,” she said as she ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Oh wow.” she said as she pointed toward my crotch.

  I glanced downward.

  My cock was rigid, and the fabric of my swim trunks was stretched as tight as a violin string. After a few minutes in the pool, she had wanted to sunbathe, which led to me betting her I could make her orgasm six times from licking her pussy. Whether I could or not was irrelevant, her accepting the bet got my foot in the door – sexually speaking.

  Standing in front of her with a cock so hard it could be used to cut diamonds; it appeared I had every ounce of her attention.

  “Tends to get excited when I do that,” I said.

  “You like it? Doing it?” she asked without looking up.

  “Love it,” I responded.

  “Can I see it?” she asked as she leaned forward and tilted her head toward the bulge in my shorts.

  “Thought you’d never ask,” I responded as I reached for the drawstring.

  I untied the knot, and pulled down on the waist of my shorts as she fixed her eyes on the prize. After gripping my cock with one hand and pushing down on my shorts with the other, I finally managed to pull it from confinement.

  “Holy crap,” she gasped as it sprung free.

  “What?” I asked, attempting to seem surprised by her shock.

  Her eyes widened as she leaned forward and gazed at my cock. After a long minute of studying it, she glanced upward.

  She swallowed heavily as she covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s huge.”

  “Yeah, it sure is. And we’re on a time crunch. Right now, your little twat is about as wet and ready as it’ll ever be. Come here,” I said as I kicked my shorts to the side.

  “Right here? In the backyard?” she said as she glanced over each shoulder.

  “I just sucked on your pussy for thirty minutes; don’t start that high and mighty shit now. And take that top off so I can play with your titties,” I said as I motioned toward the bathhouse.

  She stood from her seat, glanced around the pool nervously, and fixed her eyes on mine. As she reached up to remove her top, I began to stroke my cock.

  “Do you have a condom?” she asked as she tossed her top on the concrete beside her bikini bottom.

  “If God wanted me to wear a condom, I’d have been born with one wrapped around my cock. I don’t wear ‘em. Ever,” I said flatly.

  “I’ll take my chances with diseases. I know I’m clean, and I’m gonna guess your clean,” I said.

  “I am, but…” she said, the tone of her voice clearly conveying her concern.

  “You ain’t got to worry about gettin’ pregnant. I got fixed a long time ago,” I said.

  “Really?” she asked as she tip-toed across the hot concrete deck.

  Quickly becoming irritated at the fact I wasn’t already powerfucking her wet pussy, I sighed my response heavily. “Yeah, really.”

  “Uhhm, I dunno,” she said as she gazed down at crotch.

  Still gripping my cock in my hand, I shrugged my shoulders and grinned. “You gotta risk it to get the Biscuit.”

  That didn’t sound as good out loud as it did in my head.

  Standing just a few feet in front of me, she bit into her lower lip, shifted her eyes toward my cock, and grinned as she glanced upward. She nodded her head once. It was all I needed. I slapped my palm against the wall of the bathhouse. As she shifted her eyes toward my hand, I reached for her hair, pulled her into my shoulder, and breathed my sexual demands into her ear.

  I’d found out from nothing more than experience, trial and error, and being slapped a few dozen times what worked best for convincing women to comply with my sexual demands. Asking them to do things exposed me to the possibility of a no response. Demanding they do something could potentially backfire, and often did just that. Suggesting they do something seemed to work well; and proposing my desires in the form of a stern whisper rarely did nothing but satisfy us both.

  With her hair in my hand and my lips against her ear, I turned her head to the side with a slight tug.

  “Put your hands against the wall and brace yourself, Cassie,” I whispered into her ear. “I’m going to fuck you until you collapse into a pile, and no matter what, don’t move your fuckin’ hands.”

  I inhaled a shallow breath, exhaled into her ear, and continued. “Do you understand me?”

  “Oh fuck. Uhhm, yes,” she whimpered.

  As she turned to face the bathhouse, she raised her hands in the air and breathed her concerns in the form of a dry whisper. “But what if…what if it doesn’t fit.”

  “Press your hands against the fuckin’ wall, Cassie,” I growled into her ear.

  “Oh shit. Okay,” she said as she slapped her hands against the wall.

  I let go of my cock and tugged against her hair hard enough to get her attention. After tilting my head to the side and inhaling a shallow breath, I pressed my lips lightly against her ear and exhaled heavily.

  “Spread your legs as wide as you can, slide your hands down the wall a little, but don’t you dare take them off that fuckin’ wall, no matter what,” I whispered.

  As she began to resituate herself, I continued.

  “Now, arch your back and stick that sweet little pussy of yours up in the air so I can shove my tongue in it. Understand?” I breathed into her ear.

  “Uhhm, okay,” she muttered.

  I released her hair, bent at my knees, and gripped her ass in my hands. As I spread the bottom of her butt cheeks apart with my thumbs, she slowly lowered her shoulders and bent over. Without warning, I pressed my face into her swollen pussy and began tongue fucking her as deep as I was able to.

  There was no doubt in my mind God put me on the earth for one thing and one thing only.

  Fucking women.

  For him to grace me not only with a cock the size of a cucumber - but a five inch long tongue - could only mean one thing.

  He wanted me to please women sexually.

  Not one to argue with God’s will or question his intention for having me on this earth, I decided to embrace his wishes and do just that.

  As my tongue slid in and out of her pussy, she moaned and groaned while she repeatedly bent her knees, pressing her ass into my face. After a solid five minutes of tongue lashing, she had no less than two orgasms, and was whimpering like a lost puppy. I pulled my tongue from her pussy, licked along the crack of her ass and up her back, and eventually rested my chin against her shoulder.

  “Turn your head to the side,” I said.

  Breathing heavily, and still confused from her repeated orgasms, she tilted her head to the right and blinked her eyes a few times.

  “Open your mouth,” I whispered against her earlobe.

  Without speaking, she opened her mouth.

  I slid my index and middle finger into her mouth as I reached down and gripped my throbbing shaft in my hand. As I slowly worked my fingers along the surface of her tongue, I pressed the tip of my cock against her dripping pussy.

  “If it hurts, bite down on my fingers,” I said.

  Her eyes widened and she attempted to speak.

  “Shhhh,” I whispered into her ear.

  “As hard as you want. Now
remember, no matter what, don’t move those fuckin’ hands,” I said through my teeth.

  She nodded her head as she began to suck my fingers.

  There’s no doubt some women have small pussies, while others have larger ones. My experience had taught me that regardless of size, preparation was paramount to my success. A good amount of foreplay and a little tongue fuckin’ allowed me to do what many guys with large cocks couldn’t.

  As I slowly pushed the tip of my cock into her wet pussy, she moaned in delight.

  A few slow shallow strokes with about half the length of my shaft, and she began to suck on my fingers like she was sucking a cock. Two or three strokes with three fourths of it, and she was wailing like she’d just won the lottery. As it was apparent she wasn’t going to be biting my fingers any time soon, I slowly pulled them from her mouth and allowed her to scream in delight as I continued to work myself deeper and deeper into her pussy.

  Now slowly and steadily fucking her with every inch of my swollen manhood, I reached up and began lightly pinching her nipples with my fingertips. With each light pinch, she groaned and twisted her body in pleasure. I pressed my face against hers as I continued to fuck her slowly and steadily.

  “Take that big biker cock like a good little girl,” I breathed against her neck.

  “Oh fuck…I uhhm…will…I will,” she moaned.

  The inner wall of her tight wet pussy working against every inch of my cock was almost more than I could handle. As I pulled my head back, positioning my mouth against her right ear, I slid my hands along her sides and down to her hips. Rubbing the tips of my index and middle fingers into the depressions of her hips while I continued to fuck her, she began to writhe against me.

  “When you get ready to come, I want you to scream, do you understand me?” I whispered into her ear.

  “Yes…I…I understand,” she murmured.

  I slowly fucked her as deep as I was able, my hips pressing against her round twenty-two year old ass with each stroke.

  “You like that big cock?” I grunted as I continued to thrust myself into her.

  “Oh fuck yes,” she responded.