Softail Curves (A Big Girls & Bad Boys Erotic Romance (3 page)

“Friday. Seven. Be ready,” he told me and then he walked out. I stood there naked, covered in his orgasm and left wanting. I should have felt used, demeaned and embarrassed, but I didn’t. It was the hottest sex I’d ever had and I wanted more. Don’t get me wrong, I was desperate for an orgasm but every experience I’d ever had before paled in comparison. Being denied and pleasuring Dutch was somehow satisfying.

I’d never been with a guy like Dutch. I was used to guys who were too afraid to touch me without begging. Guys too scared to ask me to do what they wanted for fear of offending me, much less demanding it. Dutch had no problem demanding what he wanted from me and I found I had no problem giving it to him. I couldn’t wait for Friday to get here so I could give Dutch what he wanted and get what I needed from him. I hoped that’s how it would work out anyway.

>>O<<

“You’re joking, right?” Becky asked after I told her Dutch came to see me. I didn’t go into details, not right away. I met Becky at the coffeehouse the next morning as we did every day before work.

“No, he just showed up out of the blue,” I told her as we waited for our lattes.

“You called the cops, right? That guy makes my skin crawl. All that leather and stuff is so lame,” she said. I kind of took offense to that.

“He’s not that bad,” I said but wished I had been more forceful in my defense. However, I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to defend Dutch. He showed up, had his way with me and left. He never showed me any real kindness and left me without so much as an orgasm. Still, I kind of liked Dutch and Becky had no right to judge him like that.

“What, did you invite him inside or something?” Becky asked with a look of disgust on her face. After our lattes were ready, we found a table outside.

“Um...yeah, I did. And we kind of...had sex,” I ventured. Becky looked as if she might pass out.

“Shauna, are you crazy? You hardly know him and he probably has some kind of sexually transmitted disease. And what do you mean you kind of had sex?” she said. I probably should have played it cool – too late – but I gave her the short version of my tryst with Dutch. Becky looked on in horror as I described how he made me get naked, teased me and then made me suck him off but it was the last part that really bothered her.

“That is absolutely disgusting! I would never let a guy do that, especially if he failed to get me off. Ick!” Becky exclaimed. I was beginning to regret saying anything but then she went on. “You need to get tested. He’s a dirt bag. I can’t believe you did that. I thought you were better than that,” Becky announced.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“I mean, your way too good for a guy like him. He’s a loser. I realize you think your weight is an issue but you should respect yourself more than that,” Becky said. Now she was being downright mean. The more she talked, the more I wanted to defend Dutch and myself for that matter. He wasn’t mean or hurtful. He might have taken control but wasn’t that how men were supposed to act?

“Becky, you don’t even know him and you’re judging him. Honestly, it might have been the best sex I’ve ever had and I didn’t even have an orgasm. Do you really like the guys we meet? There so...submissive and overly sensitive. Maybe Dutch is a throwback but in bed, I kind of like that,” I argued.

“You’re going to see him again, aren’t you?” Becky declared. At first, I was hesitant to tell Becky any of this. I knew she would react badly. Suddenly, however, I wanted to tell her. I wanted her to know everything.

“Yeah, I am. I was kind of hoping for a little support from you instead of a lecture,” I said defiantly. Becky rolled her eyes.

“Don’t expect me to sit by and watch my friend be humiliated by some Neanderthal on a motorcycle. I’m not OK with this. Frankly, it’s embarrassing,” Becky said.

“Embarrassing for you or me?” I asked.

“Both of us. I’m embarrassed for you and if you don’t feel humiliated or ashamed, you should. Just because some loser comes on to the big girl because he thinks she’s easy, doesn’t mean you need to jump into bed with him. Are you that desperate? You’re overweight but you’re still pretty. There’s bound to be a nice guy out there for you somewhere,” she explained but I’d had enough of her.

“Thanks, Becky,” was all I said in reply. I grabbed my latte and left Becky sitting there as I stormed off to work.

“You’re going to regret this, Shauna,” Becky called after me, but I ignored her. How could she be so judgmental, so smug? I knew Becky looked down on certain people, but I had no idea how deep her prejudice went. Now she was judging me because I wanted to have a little fun and explore. I’d seen it before. I’d seen Becky shun someone because they didn’t think the way she did or because they didn’t see the world through her unique prism. Nevertheless, I thought I was different. I thought I was her friend.

I’ll admit that Dutch was a bit extreme but maybe Becky needed a little of that. I know I did. Dutch was like a breath of fresh air. Even as I walked to work, men that had been trained to deny their masculinity surrounded me. It wasn’t proper to be aggressive, strong or competitive anymore. At least not in the circles I ran in. Sometimes, it was hard to tell the guys apart from the girls until they opened their mouths. Maybe Becky desired metrosexuals, but I was finding them boring.

Dutch, however, was anything but boring. He made me feel things the so-called men I was supposed to like never could. Dutch was dangerous and a little scary, but I found myself thrilled by it. My instincts told me he would never harm me, but he wasn’t going to submit to me either. Honestly, it bothered me when guys always deferred to me, asking and pleading instead of taking and demanding. Maybe I was a closet cavewoman or maybe I just wasn’t buying into the whole idea that men and women should be the same.

In any case, it bothered me that Becky hadn’t just judged Dutch but was judging me too. Honestly, I didn’t think Dutch gave a damn what Becky or anyone else thought, but I did. Beyond the way Becky treated Dutch, she implied that Dutch was after me because I was a big girl and, therefore, easy. Then she made it sound as if I waited long enough, some guy might begrudgingly accept me despite my weight. Damn, Becky was on a roll.

The week couldn’t go by fast enough. I made excuses to avoid Becky. I wasn’t in the mood for her lectures and condescension. Finally, five o’clock Friday arrived. I usually walked home from work when the weather allowed but I took a cab instead to get home quickly. I was honestly excited to see Dutch. I’ll admit it wasn’t all about him. I wanted the night to go well to prove to myself that Becky was wrong. I admit that what she said bothered me a little.

What if she was right? What if Dutch and his friends showed up at that club and as soon as he saw what he thought was an easy target, he pounced? But if all he wanted was a roll in the sack, why didn’t he just move on? He didn’t have to track me down. As hard as I tried to deny my insecurities, they were there whispering that Dutch could never really like me, telling me I wasn’t worthy. I knew that wasn’t the case, or at least I hoped it wasn’t.

I showered and dressed. I had no idea what to wear. I’d never been out with a biker or any guy even remotely like a biker. When that guy last year showed up on his Vespa to take me out, I insisted we take a cab. Dutch had given me no indication of what we might be doing but he wore jeans and a t-shirt to the club where I met him. It was kind of a casual place and plenty of guys wore jeans but usually designer jeans with shirts that cost a couple of hundred bucks. I guess I couldn’t go wrong with jeans and a simple blouse.

I admired myself in my jeans. I looked pretty good. If I had to be big, at least I carried my weight in the right places. The jeans hugged my round ass and thick thighs just right. The blouse was loose enough to hide the rest but still show off my deep cleavage. I wondered if Dutch really found me attractive. The way his eyes took in my naked body made me think that he did.

Dutch showed just up a little early. I answered the door and there he was, even sexier than I remembered and so much hotter than the guys I knew. I’d paid attention after my evening with Dutch and Becky’s lecture. They weren’t all metrosexuals, but a lot of them were. Designer clothes, waxed eyebrows and lord knows what else, electric cars and all lacking any hint of masculinity. Sure, they went to the gym and watched football but where it really mattered, in other words in the way the related to women, they all failed miserably.

I guess Becky enjoyed the way those guys treated her. It was always with kid gloves as if she was breakable. They fawned over her hoping that she might deem one of them worth of her presence and he might get the chance to have uninspired sex. Ug! I’d done that and it was boring. I guess I knew that but when Dutch came on to me and then made the effort to pursue me, not to mention our sexual encounter, I realized what I’d been missing.

“You ready to go?” he asked and I nodded. He didn’t speak much, but that was kind of sexy too. As we walked through the buildings of my complex, Dutch led me out to the parking lot with his hand on the small of my back. He didn’t ask, he didn’t beg, he just did it. I liked that. As we approached the parking lot, I was glad I wore jeans. Dutch had brought his bike and a skirt would have been tricky at best.

His bike was all black and chrome except for the gas tank and a few smaller parts that were a sparkling metallic blue. The tank had ghostly silver flames on its sides. I didn’t know anything about motorcycles but Dutch’s bike was long and sleek and looked powerful. The engine almost looked too big for the frame. However, it was beautiful and exactly what I expected.

“I’ve never ridden a motorcycle. Is it scary?” I asked. Dutch turned and I half expected him to laugh or make fun of me.

“It can be. I like to think of it as exhilarating. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” he told me. I nodded and he straddled the big bike. He strapped on his helmet, more like half a helmet, and then handed me another one. Mine was black like his, but it covered more of my head and had a small face shield. He helped me strap it on and then I climbed behind him. I admit I was a little scared as Dutch started up the bike.

“Hold on!” was all he said and I slipped my arms around his torso and squeezed. Suddenly, the bike revved and I could feel the vibrations reverberate through my entire body and then we were off. I squeezed even tighter as Dutch weaved through the parking lot going way too fast in my opinion. He was probably actually going much slower that he could have. However, that was nothing compared to what it felt like when we hit the street.

The bike roared down the boulevard and I tucked as close to Dutch as I could manage. My heart was racing a mile a minute and it felt as if my bones might rattle apart. Dutch looked over his shoulder and chuckled. “Not too scary,” was all he said before he cranked on the throttle and the bike went even faster. I screamed despite myself and I could feel Dutch laugh again. Soon though, we left the downtown area and as the traffic became lighter, I ventured a look over Dutch’s shoulder and felt the wind hit my face.

Dutch seemed completely at ease as the pavement flew past under his tires. One wrong move and we’d probably be dead, but I trusted Dutch and his skill. His calm put me at ease and after a while, I was able to enjoy the ride. It was so different from riding in a car. Everything seemed so much closer and clearer and the wind hitting us as we rode was, well, exhilarating.

Just as I was learning to love riding on the bike behind Dutch, however, he pulled off the highway and coasted to a stop in front of a bar. There were a dozen other motorcycles and a few pickup trucks out front and a neon sign glowed up on the roof. It read, “The Oasis.” It looked like an old general store with a covered wooden porch, wood shingle roof and peeling paint on the clapboard siding. Neon beer signs hung in the windows and I could hear rock music coming from the wide-open front door. All I could think as we climbed off the bike was, “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

We went inside and I couldn’t help but feeling a little nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. Dutch wasn’t exactly forthcoming about what we were doing there. The only time I’d ever seen a place like this was in a movie and usually a fight broke out. However, inside the bar all my fears were quickly alleviated. It wasn’t the atmosphere that made me feel better. It was loud and rowdy in the bar. Smoke hung heavy in the air and the place smelled of beer. Most of the patrons looked scary, especially to a girl from the city who spent most of her time around urbanites.

Even though the people looked scary, they weren’t. Dutch’s friends, a few couples and a handful of single guys, all dressed like Dutch for the most part, greeted us. They didn’t give me sideways glances or sneer at me as I’d seen the people at my favorite coffeehouse do when someone that didn’t quite fit in walked through the door. No, these people seemed to accept me without question. One big guy with arms as large as I’d ever seen even picked me up and hugged me as if I was child.

His wife was quite large herself with breasts that were as big as the tank on Dutch’s motorcycle and barely contained behind her leather vest. Some of the guys I met looked rough and dirty. One was even missing several teeth. The other women in the small group were all pretty but in a natural sort of way. I was fairly sure none of them had seen the inside of a posh salon in quite a while and they all seemed to have a penchant for clothes that hugged their curves and showed off their bodies. Though a few were thin, many of the women were larger and seemed to wear that like a badge of honor.

Nevertheless, everyone I met was friendly and accepting. I could only imagine what Becky might think of this bunch but I liked them. They were loose, fun and loud but they seemed like a family of sorts. I’m sure they had their drama but this was nothing like my friends. I hadn’t realized how uptight my circle of friends was until I met Dutch’s friends.

Dutch and I took seats at a table with another couple. Dutch went to grab a round of beers leaving me alone with the couple. I couldn’t remember their names. I was inundated with names and faces when we walked in and there was no way I could retain them all. Thankfully, the couple reintroduced themselves.