The meaty head of his nine-inch cock is engulfed by her mouth. Filling the air with loud sucking noises. Big reaches down and combs his fingers through her hair.

  “I’ve got to go,” I mutter and turn to leave, only to be stopped when Big’s hand shoots out, grasping my forearm, forcing me to stay in place.

  “No. Stay. It won’t last long.”

  “But…”

  I lose all sense of thought as he tightens his hand around her long hair. I want to look away, but I can’t seem to do it. I don’t know why, but it’s turning me on. My pussy is getting wetter the longer I see her sucking on his massive cock. I find myself wondering if I could beat the impossible - to fit his cock into the back of my throat without choking on it. I never gag. I’ve taken thick seven-inch cocks in my mouth and deep throated. They were never a challenge for me.

  I continue to stare intently, watching her pathetic attempt at sucking the head and using her hand around the rest, which is somehow even more pathetic because her fingers can’t even close around it. I glance at my own hand in comparison. Well, neither could mine.

  The thick veins in his cock swell, even in the dimness of the backyard I can see his rapid pulse beating through them. Unconsciously, I lick my lips.

  Bucking forward, Big Dick shoves his cock further into her mouth and she violently gags. Again, he thrusts harder and she releases his cock from her hand, pushing both of them onto his thighs to keep him from fucking her face.

  “If my balls don’t touch your chin with my dick buried in your throat, I’m not fucking you,” he states, almost nicely, as though he already knows what to expect.

  She nods, his head still between her lips, her cheeks streaming with mascara-laden tears and a determined expression covering her face. I respect the hell outta her for even attempting what we all know is systematically improbable. His cock in her mouth in no world would fit. It’s like shoving an elephant through an airplane window.

  Thrusting into her mouth again, she wails a muffled cry, squeezes her eyes tightly shut and gags, hastily pulling Big’s cock from her mouth and puking all over the grass beside his boots. Heaving for breath, her hands planted in the grass, her shoulders sink as they hold up her drooping head.

  Big doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even seem to be fazed by the club whore suddenly falling ill from his cock. He just replaces her mouth with his hand and starts to stroke. I watch his hand slide up and down his spit-slicked rod, and I have to force myself to stay on my feet when my body wants nothing more than to give in to temptation and try to defeat the impossible. The logical side of me is screaming that it’s purely a matter of educational evaluation to see if I can or not, while the naughty part of me doesn’t care about the other part and is only paying attention to the throbbing cock I am watching being stroked. That, and the fact that I am loving every single bit of it. Controlling bastard or not, his dick is hands down the sexiest one I’ve ever seen. And my pussy agrees as she begins to weep from neglect.

  “This is wrong,” I mutter, to myself.

  “Yes. But he likes you watching. Come over here.” Big continues to leisurely stroke his cock like he has all day and takes a few steps over to the side of the clubhouse. Leaning his shoulder against it, he tugs me to stand in front of him, concealing me from prying eyes, in the darkened corner.

  “Finger yourself,” he demands, in a husky whisper.

  “What?”

  “I can smell you. If you don’t get off in front of me, I’m not going to be able to come. Now drop your shorts and finger yourself.”

  “I… I can’t get off that way,” I whisper, embarrassed.

  “You only get off riding on a motorcycle?”

  “Yes.” I look away, ashamed. His warm hand is quick to turn me back to face him, tilting my chin up to look him in the eyes.

  “I could smell your pussy when you came on the back of my bike the other day. I didn’t know that was the only way you got off. Has a man ever made you come that way before?”

  “With his fingers?”

  He nods, barely playing with his cock any longer. Big’s eyes are watching me, observing my reactions, which I am sure are steeped with a mixture of confusion, and recognizable shame.

  “No. But it’s not for a lack of trying,” I levelly admit.

  “Okay,” he states, bobbing his head, momentarily deep in thought. “Drop your shorts.”

  “Why… Why would I do something like that?” I am beyond mortified.

  Big takes a step forward, pushing my back against the wall. My body is pinned by his. His warmth washes over me, and his scent, both comforting and arousing, hits me hard, like a pure shot of addictive ecstasy straight into the heart of my pussy. As his hard cock comes to rest firmly between us, pressed into my stomach, my knees go weak with want and I accidentally groan.

  “Shorts, Bink. You take them off willingly, or I will do it myself.”

  “This is so wrong.” I shake my head, my stern resolve fading fast. My hormones taking over, controlling my every want, whim, and desperate need. Big’s demand to take my shorts off suddenly doesn’t seem so much like a demand anymore and is replaced with a feeling of lust. The desire to have a man, any man to touch me between my legs. To relieve the incessant need to come. To shatter. To feel a level of pleasure only evoked by the ability to lose myself in unbidden desire.

  “It’s not wrong, Sugar Tits. It’s just right.” The smooth confidence in his voice leaves me breathless, gasping for air. My chest heaves for breath as my large breasts thrust into his stomach like a piston.

  “You’re old enough to be my dad. You raised me.” I’m not sure if I am talking to convince him or myself that this is wrong.

  “A dad wouldn’t want to eat his daughter’s pussy like I want to eat yours. Now take off the shorts before I blow my load all over your shirt.” He backs away and I unbutton my shorts, dropping them to pool around my feet.

  “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans a whisper, raking his molten gaze along my body, forcing an icy-hot shiver to ripple down my spine. “It’s been a while.” A smile curls up from his beautiful lips, the one dimple accenting his cheek. An intense flutter of butterflies consumes my stomach, a foreign feeling that I’m quick to relish. What this gorgeous, infuriating man does to me and my body is scary, yet amazing at the same time. I don’t know what to think. All I do is feel. Feel his power, his strength, and the palpable surges of desire that are eating me alive with his eyes.

  Dropping to his knees before me, Big holds onto my hips. “I’m going to need you to kick out of your shorts and hook your legs over my shoulders.”

  I comply without protest, kicking my shorts off into the grass. I hook one leg over his shoulder with ease, and he helps me with the other. His face is stuffed in my pussy, and my back supported by the wall.

  “Mmmmmm.” He inhales.

  Big’s tongue skims the hood of my engorged clit, and he groans. Licking the hood again, my eyes roll into the back of my head, and I shudder. My hands finding their way into his hair, I pull the rubber band from his ponytail letting his thick locks flow freely, and I run my fingers through them.

  “I need a kiss.” Big’s words come out muffled.

  “A kiss?” I whisper, confusion setting in.

  His lips kiss my pussy lips, and a wave of beautiful realization transpires.

  “More kisses,” he mumbles, driving his tongue deep into my core, and I squeal, tugging on his hair as my body falls further into a new world - a world where I live with pleasure enveloping me from all angles. Swirling his tongue inside my pulsing core, my knees, resting on Big’s shoulders, begin to shake. Big’s groans of satisfaction vibrate through me. His tongue is plunging into the depths of my tight hole, French kissing it, drinking down my free-flowing juices that I know are dripping from me, coating his tongue with every deepened kiss. Suddenly I begin to feel his body jerking below me; Big’s hand is rapidly beating his cock. The faster he masturbates, the firmer he plunges his tongue into me. I lose all thoughts as I feel the walls of my pussy clamp down around his thick tongue, driving me further to the edge of the earth-shattering precipice. The exquisite pleasure stops abruptly, and his body freezes. Thrusting his hips forward, I hear him lowly growl his release, with his face stuffed into the sensitive folds of my sex.

  I open my eyes to see him, with sated, glazed over eyes, smiling into my pussy. Backing away, he lifts my one leg off of his shoulder and I nearly protest, but he stops the words about to fall from my lips with a single look. A look that tells me he isn’t going to leave me hanging. A look that glues me to the wall, my legs wobbly below me, spread open for his pleasure. Big stands up from the ground, wiping the back of his hand over his drenched mouth. A satisfied smile adorning his handsome, relaxed face. Stepping forward, our bodies inches apart, he gazes down upon me. My toes curl as I inhale his scent. The scent of man, of crisp leather, of him, it owns me. Wordlessly, he cups my pussy with his hand. I glance down to see how huge it is in comparison, and nearly come on the spot. The sight of his S. S. ring on the middle knuckle fills me with a kind of warm pride.

  “You’ve never come this way,” he seductively whispers, sliding his middle finger through the cleft of my pussy and resting on the outside of my wanton hole. “Eating your pussy was for me a selfish need that I had to fulfill. I’m a selfish fucking bastard.” He shrugs, “But this.” His finger encircles the outside of my hole and I shiver at the pleasure even that causes. I love his hands on me. Skillful, deft hands that know how to evoke pleasure. He’s not an ignorant man with no experience, no desire to please. Big, in every way, is pleasuring me. My mind, my body, and my soul. The mere presence of the man I spent all those years looking up to is now, in my time of desperation, filling a void I didn’t know was there. A void where I am desired, pleasured, and made weak in the knees by a man of the club that I have been a part of for so long. Nothing in this world could ever compare to the way his eyes bore into mine, the bold way he suggestively licks his lips, as his finger slowly enters the walls of my whimpering pussy. His touch is calculated and effortless. Curling his finger into my core, he rests on my g-spot and ever so lightly he massages it. I moan fiercely through parted lips, never stopping to look down at his hand, locked only into his glazed lust-filled eyes that are equally entranced with mine.

  “You feel that?” he grunts, softly. “That is your pussy milking my fuckin’ finger.” My walls keep clenching and unclenching around him in their own desperate way to take the burning ache of desire from my loins and fill me with the sense of release I am willing to beg for. “That pussy is a muscle, Sugar Tits, and that muscle wants my finger inside of you. Do you want that, Bink? Do you want me to give you the orgasm I’ve been dying to give you?”

  I nod my response.

  “Tell me that you want it.”

  “I want it.” I don’t hesitate to let the words fall wherever they may. I will tell him or give him whatever he wants. In this moment of weakness, of nothing but hormones and a desperate pussy filled with the warmth of his hard yet soft finger, I will give him anything. Tell him anything. Do anything just to keep this feeling. To hold onto it and lock it up tight and store it in a safe box to look back on forever. A night that would have never happened if I wasn’t here with whiskey steeping my veins. A night where my inhibitions have been crushed. A night I will cherish, even if that makes me sound like a needy club whore, like the rest of them.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to come.”

  “And who is going to make you come?”

  “You.”

  “Who am I?”

  “Big Dick.”

  “No.”

  I flash him a fading look of confusion.

  “This isn’t Big Dick pleasuring you, this is Richard pleasuring his Eva. This isn’t club shit. This is us. In our home.” He glances over to a group of bikers still drinking around the fire. “Well.” He shrugs. “Outside of our home.”

  My heart warms at his words, the butterflies battling inside of me more powerfully than ever.

  “Put your hand over mine,” he orders. I listen and cup it over his, which is between my legs. “Feel me, feel you.”

  “I don’t think I can wait. Just do it, Big, I can’t. It aches. My pussy aches.” I know I’m whining, and I don’t give a shit. My body is pushed to its limits physically, emotionally.

  Deliberately, he shakes his head with a smirk. A fuckin’ smirk! My sexual need turns into frustration, and I have the urge to push him away. To stop toying with me. To just fucking do it and get it over with for Christ sake, or leave me alone and let me try to do it myself.

  “Big—”

  “Shut up.” His tone is clipped, and I frown unlocking my eyes from his, turning away. “Fuck…alright…I’m sorry…just let me feel you…okay?” I glance back up to see a distinguishable expression of worry. “Just let me do this. Please. So just shut up and deal with the ache. I want to do this. I need to do this.”

  For a fleeting moment, I have this deep-seated feeling that shoots straight to my heart. That this isn’t about me and my pleasure. This is about Big being the one to control it, like he does everything else in his life. To give him a part of me by letting him control the outcome. Like this experience might actually mean something to him beyond the confines of inhibited lust, which is an absurd notion.

  A jolt of carnal decadence seizes me, when he retracts his finger and slams it back into my pussy. I cry out, biting my bottom lip. Most definitely alerting the yard with my pleasure cry.

  “How does this make you feel?” He slams back into me again, and I wail a profound moan, reaching out, grasping the edge of his cut, my head dropping forward, stars dancing in my eyes. That was the most amazing feeling of my existence.

  Through heaving breaths, I weakly reply, “So good.”

  “I need more,” he demands, unmoving.

  “Your finger inside of me is amazing. I’m going to come, Big.”

  “Where are you going to come?”

  “On your hand.”

  “Damn fuckin’ straight, Sugar Tits. You are going to fuckin’ come all over my fingers.” He steps forward, pinning me to the wall, his knee coming to rest between my spread thighs. “You will scream my name loud and clear when you do. And the men of this clubhouse are going to hear it. Viper, that prick who touched your fuckin’ ass today, is going to hear it. The angels in heaven will hear my name fall in ecstasy from your beautiful lips. Then they will know. They will know, fuckin’ know that this pussy.” He jerks his finger inside me, and I groan. “This fuckin’ hot as sin, tastier than everything in this world pussy is off motherfuckin’ limits. Not a single one of these assholes will even think to touch a pussy that I’ve marked.” His words are knotted together with an edge of smugness, laced through with a dark feral possessiveness that makes me gasp, and my pussy drips with even more desire.

  Leaning his head next to my ear, he whispers, “You ready?” I hesitantly nod. The promise of finally being able to let go exhilarates me and scares me all at the same time.

  “Then you better hold on tight.” His hand comes out of my tightness, only to be replaced quickly as he rams back into me. Repeatedly he pounds into my pussy, fast and hard, the sounds of my pussy being finger fucked into paradise fall from my lips in loud moans with each thrust of his finger into my tightness. Working me higher and higher, my toes curl in my boots, my head falling forward, my hands gripping his cut so tightly they turn white. I let it all go. I feel it all. Each hot, short breath he expels that washes over the skin of my neck. The triumphant growls that garble from his throat the further and harder he pushes me. The feeling of my pussy being pounded into such a manic state of molten arousal that I can feel the edge nearing. The dam of my pent up need, about to break. Then he stops, stilling his finger, and my pussy tightens to pain around his finger.

  “It’s time,” he whispers and with the tip of his stilled finger, he jabs it painfully into my g-spot, and I lose it all. I explode all over his fingers as I scream out his name in a battle cry of pure white-hot ecstasy. My body spasms uncontrollably and he holds onto me, cradling me with one arm, as his finger stays seated in my wildly pulsating pussy. I heave to catch my breath, try to see something, anything, but my eyes are blank, matted with tears, my brain overcome with the deepest form of satiation. I go slack from head to toe and Big doesn’t miss a beat, as he sweeps me up into his arms, and I droop over them, lost in the new world that I’ve discovered. The world where my orgasms are owned and taken. The world where a man knows your body better than you know it yourself. A world where you don’t feel ashamed to feel your veins run rampant with desire and lust. A world where a man makes your needs his. A world where Big has ruined me for the rest of the men I’ll ever meet for the rest of my life. Never to be so completely satisfied as I am at this very moment, as he carries me, bottomless, into the back of the clubhouse, where he kicks open my bedroom door and tucks me into my neatly made bed.

  “Sleep well, my beautiful Bink.” His lips kiss and linger on my forehead. I hear him scent me just before he pulls away, walking out of my door and shutting it in his wake. A smile of happiness splits from my lips and I turn over in bed, cupping my pussy with my hands between my legs. I feel it radiating its warmth like the sun; my pussy lips are puffy, and my hole worn the hell out. I feel amazing, like a new person with a new lease on life. Closing my eyes with a blissful smile on my face, I am quick to drift off into a full night of peaceful, sated sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Sunday, September 8, 2013

  Awakening in the early morning, the sun drifting through my bedroom window, I turn onto my back. The dip at the edge of the bed startles me, and I nearly scream as my eyes shoot open, quickly adjusting to the light that is streaming painfully into my eyes.