Softail Curves (A Big Girls & Bad Boys Erotic Romance (2 page)

“I guess I should have known. Look, last night I was probably a little drunk. Nothing personal, but I’m not really into guys like you,” I said and it sounded convincing.

“I suppose you were waiting for one of those coffeehouse yuppie boys to come over and invite you out for sushi, huh?” Dutch said. That felt more than a little condescending.

“You know, I get it. You think you’re all that. Fine, I’ll admit it. You’re kind of sexy. But yeah, I was waiting for a nice guy with some manners to talk to me until you ruined the evening,” I retorted. Dutch just laughed.

“Well, I didn’t notice too many of those boys talking you up,” he said, and correctly I might add. Becky and I had been there for over an hour and not one guy had approached us. Or rather, none of them approached me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. Was he pointing out that I was overweight or was he saying something about the guys at the club? Honestly, I wondered what Dutch was doing there to begin with. It wasn’t a biker bar by any means. In fact, it was as far from a biker bar as you could get.

The club had an eclectic crowd, but I’d never seen bikers there. We’ll not those kinds of bikers. The guys that hung out there had bikes but they were the kind you peddled. There were plenty of guys that rode bicycles or scooters. Plenty of guys in skinny jeans, fashionable glasses, hoodies and knit caps. Plenty of guys that worked as baristas, software engineers or were getting their Ph.D., but no bikers.

“I’m here to tell you, it’s not you. You’re fucking sexy as hell. Aren’t you getting sick of waiting for those sensitive momma’s boys to grow a pair and man up? I felt how you responded last night. You’re just begging for a man to show a little interest, real interest, and take you bed. You don’t want one of those sissies to take three months to get up the nerve to hold your hand. You want a man to take control and fuck you senseless,” Dutch said.

I wanted to slap him but not nearly as badly as I wanted exactly what he said. I guess I knew that already. It bothered me when the guys I thought I wanted would get all sensitive on me. Overly nice guys were kind of boring, fawning over me and asking permission to show me how they felt about me. I know they were a product of modern sensibilities that said men were supposed to be more like women but that was anything but sexy.

Beyond his assessment of modern, refined men, I didn’t miss what Dutch had said about me. He said I was sexy. In fact, his exact words were, “fucking sexy.” I’d always assumed the lack of men sweeping me off my feet was all about me. However, now that I thought about it, the guys were nearly as tepid towards Becky and she was thin and pretty. Maybe it was them instead of me. I wanted to believe that despite my extra weight, I was attractive but men weren’t exactly throwing themselves at me. Well, not until Dutch did.

“You want a beer or something?” I asked suddenly. I could hardly believe I said it. It was impulsive but my pussy was wet and apparently had taken over the thinking duties. Dutch pushed the door open and walked past me. I closed the door and leaned against it. What the fuck was I doing? I could hear Becky warning me to be careful and I silently told her to shut the fuck up.

“Nice place,” Dutch said as he plopped on my sofa and put his big boots on my coffee table as if he owned the place. I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“Let’s see. I have some Michelob Ultra, Bud Light Platinum and I have one bottle of Coors. Where did that come from?” I said wondering how a bottle of cowboy beer got in my fridge.

“I’ll have the Coors, thanks. Is that other stuff what your yuppie boyfriend’s drink?” Dutch asked.

“No, it’s what I drink. I’m on a diet...sort of. But yeah, they probably drink it too,” I said. In fact, I knew they did. Those that drank beer, anyway. A lot of the guys I knew preferred wine or fruity martinis. I handed Dutch his beer and sat in my rocking chair across from him. I couldn’t quite figure all of this out. I mean, why was this biker pursuing me? Why go to all this trouble?

“Why are you after me?” I asked. Dutch looked at me as if I was stupid.

“I thought I made the pretty clear. I want fuck you,” he said crudely but his words made my pussy swell.

“No, I mean why not just pick up a girl at some biker bar or wherever it is you hang out at. You know, a skinny girl,” I clarified.

“Look, I like a woman with some meat on her bones and I like a challenge. Your friend likes those so-called men at the club you were at. Why not? She’s a bitch and they’ll put up with her. I wouldn’t touch her. You, on the other hand, aren’t looking for some sweater wearing metrosexual to dominate. You’re a real woman and you need a real man,” Dutch explained and his ego was as unbelievable as it was exciting.

“And you’re a real man?” I challenged. Dutch laughed at me.

“I’m a man. I’m not trying to get in touch with my feminine side, I’m not denying my instincts and I sure as hell ain’t crying to some head shrinker. I grew up like you probably did. I was middle class, went to public school, all that. However, my old man was old fashioned. He taught me to be man, to take control, lead and live for myself,” Dutch said. I’d never really heard a guy talk like he did. Almost every man I knew was trying to please everyone around him, trying to prove he wasn’t like Dutch and trying to convince the world he was sensitive, passive and submissive. It was kind of refreshing and most definitely attractive to hear Dutch lay it out as he did.

“And so you’re here to give me what I want?” I asked.

“Come here,” Dutch said, more of a demand that a request.

“Why?” I asked but I already knew why.

“Get your ass over here,” he said softly but forcefully. He wasn’t mean about it, even wearing a small grin. I set my beer down and walked around the coffee table. I stood in front of Dutch and his eyes swept up and down my body. That made me even hotter than I already was. Damn him, he was right. Becky may have liked the power she had over the men in our circle, but I wanted a man to be in control. I wanted a man to dictate, to dominate even. I wanted Dutch.

“What are you going to do?” I asked and I couldn’t hide the nervousness in my voice.

“You’re frightened, aren’t you?” he asked. I was. I didn’t feel threatened but I was still afraid of what might happen.

“A little,” I answered.

“Kind of exciting, isn’t it?” he asked sitting there just staring at me as I stood before him. Dutch took another sip of his beer but his eyes never left my body.

“Yes, it is,” I told him. For moment, he just looked at me, or rather, devoured me with his eyes. I think I was shaking but it might have been in my head. Finally, he downed his beer, leaned forward and set it on the table behind me.

“Take your clothes off,” he said as he sat back and got comfortable. I hesitated, not expecting that. I could tell he wasn’t going to ask again. He expected me to do it and I found I wanted to. I pulled my tank top off and tossed it onto my rocking chair. Then I shimmied out of my jeans and did the same with them. I stood there in my pink panties and bra, my chest heaving and my breath ragged. I felt like there was no way a man like Dutch could find me attractive, but his eyes said different.

“All of them?” I asked but I knew the answer. Dutch knew I did too and just stared at me as he waited for me to comply. I reached behind my back and unfastened my bra and let my heavy breasts free, then slid my panties down my shapely legs and off. They too wound up on the pile of my clothes behind me. I stood in front of Duke as he appraised my naked body. I’d never felt more exposed than I did right then.

His eyes looked me over from head to toe, pausing at the apex of my thighs where just a tiny strip of dark hair was left and then again on my full, round breasts. I wasn’t exactly pasty-white, but next to Dutch’s sun drenched, weathered skin I looked absolutely pale. I nervously played with my long, dark hair as he drank me in. The longer he looked, the more excited I became. Then his boot slipped between my feet and gently pushed my legs apart leaving me even more exposed. Dutch reached out and ran his rough hand over my puffy mound. I sighed and shuddered despite myself.

“How long has it been since a man ate your pussy? I mean really ate your pussy,” he asked. God, his language was coarse yet exciting.

“It’s been a while. Too long,” I answered. My last boyfriend found it distasteful. He said it had something to do with transmission of bacteria or some such utterly unromantic thing.

“Sit down,” Dutch ordered. I sat on the sofa next to him and he immediately turned and stroked his hand down my naked belly and between my soft thighs. He smiled as I sucked in a sharp breath and then he kissed me. His tongue invaded my mouth and explored aggressively as his hand massaged my pussy. It only lasted for a moment, however, as Dutch slid off the sofa and onto the floor between my legs. He settled onto his knees, grabbed my hips and pulled me towards him.

Then he pushed my legs into the air and his head dove between my thighs. I squealed despite myself as his tongue swept up through my velvet folds and over my clit. The two or three days’ worth of stubble on his firm jaw scrapped my inner thighs and felt amazing. Dutch’s mouth engulfed my clit and his tongue quickly brought me to the edge of orgasm where he held me wanting.

I writhed and bucked as Dutch tormented my hard nub with his tongue and teeth but he wouldn’t let me come. I ground my pussy against his tongue hoping the extra stimulation might allow me to orgasm, but Dutch wasn’t having any of it. He pulled away and his hand smacked my pussy hard. I cried out as the delicious pain radiated from between my thighs. Dutch lifted a finger and wagged it at me to let me know he was in control. I nodded and he went back to work, bringing me to the precipice again and holding me there.

I moaned and sobbed as every time I thought he might send me headlong into bliss, he slowed the magical gyrations of his tongue and left me unfulfilled. He continued to deny me, somehow knowing just how much pressure I could take without climaxing. He applied just enough to drive me crazy while not allowing me to come and oh, how I wanted to come. After nearly twenty minutes, twenty long, wonderfully frustrating minutes, Dutch pulled away and slapped my pussy again. This time, however, he massaged my pussy digging his fingers into my succulent flesh.

I was sure he was going to fuck me and I couldn’t wait. He stood and slowly unzipped his jeans and fished his long, thick cock out. It wasn’t fully erect and still it was the biggest cock I’d ever seen. I waited there, my legs still spread and expecting Dutch to pounce and fuck my brains out but he didn’t. Instead, he held his cock, looked down at me and said, “What are you waiting for? Get up and suck my cock.”

For a moment, I lay there stunned but then I assumed this was just a prelude. He teased me, I teased him and then we fucked until we both were fully satisfied. That’s how it went, right? I did as he asked, sitting on the edge of my sofa and taking his cock in my hand. My fingers didn’t even fully encircle his girth and I could easily get two hands on his shaft, one on top of the other, with some left over. His shaft was shaven but trimmed hair grew above his cock and covered his balls. He was a magnificent work of manly perfection.

I eased his cock into my mouth but then Dutch took a hand full of my hair and pushed his cock deep between my lips. I’d never had a man do that to me and everything I knew told me I shouldn’t let a man treat me like that but I ignored all of it. No man had ever made me feel the way I did right then, sexy, womanly and most of all, desired. I eagerly clamped my lips around his shaft as he began to trust into my mouth. I slid my hand along his length as he fucked my mouth and my other hand snuck between my legs and found my clit.

Dutch pulled his cock out of my mouth and slapped me with it. Shocked, I looked up and I saw the warning in his eyes. I pulled my hand from between my thighs and instead played with his balls. Dutch looked satisfied as he sank his cock into my mouth again and fucked me even harder. I nearly gagged on his thick cock as he used me to pleasure himself and I loved every moment of it. No man had dared treat me like this and I wondered what else I was missing.

I began to take over and Dutch let go of my hair as I sucked him as forcefully as he wanted. My mouth created the most obscenely arousing noises as I sucked Dutch’s hard cock, stroked his shaft and squeezed his balls. Dutch growled and then grunted and I knew he was going to come. I had all but forgotten about my own pleasure, wanting instead to satisfy Dutch and swallow his load. However, just as he was about to ejaculate, he pushed me away and took over.

He stroked his cock, taking my hair again and holding my face near his swollen cock. He sucked in a sharp breath and then cried out as his cock erupted and covered my face with his orgasm. His hot, thick cum ran down my cheeks and dripped onto my pendulous breasts. Dutch watched as he covered me in his seed and when he was done, he held his cock and waited.

Somehow, I knew what he wanted. I proceeded to lick and suck him clean. I savored the small amount of his precious orgasm that leaked from him wishing I could have tasted it all. When Dutch was satisfied, he put his hand under my chin and coaxed me to my feet. He stared down at me as his eyes ate me up. Up until that moment, I’d forgotten about my own satisfaction but now my need called to me.

“You look sexy with my load all over you face, Shauna,” Dutch said. I wanted Dutch inside of me. I wanted to feel his thick cock thrusting into me as I exploded in ecstasy. However, I was sure he had no intention of giving me what I wanted.

“What about me?” I asked boldly.

“What about you? You want to come? Is that it?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“I’ll pick you up next Friday at seven. Wear something sexy and we’ll see what happens,” he said.

“But...,” I began to say, however, Dutch stopped me, grabbing my jaw and holding it firm.

“You know what you need to do to come,” he said but I had no idea. Suddenly, I remembered back to the night we met. He told me his name was Dutch but that I could call him daddy.

“You want me to call you daddy,” I said. Dutch chuckled and let me go. He tucked himself into his jeans and zipped up, then walked to the door and opened it. I was naked but he didn’t seem to care if anyone saw me. He paused and looked back at me.