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

  “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 breas
ts. 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.

  “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<<<br />
  “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 al
l 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.