The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 1 (MC Chronicles #1) (11 page)

“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.