Two
I felt deliciously sore inside. He’d been nice and big. That biker had a lovely big cock, and I’d ridden him until it hurt. I’d used him for hours. Viagra was sometimes really effective, but last night was a real surprise. For a biker, who I’d assume regularly partook of many illegal substances, he’d reacted to it like I couldn’t have imagined.
Was that why I was still thinking about him now? Rather than planning my next conquest? He’d been hot. Rugged. Dark haired. Dark eyed. His skin tanned and firm. His body strong and fit. Toned. His tattoos the perfect adornment on a body so sculpted.
Did I take great pleasure in the fact that I’d forced a big guy like him into submission? That I’d taken what I wanted from him, while he couldn’t stop me? Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t even really partake in the festivities in any way apart from the obvious. He’d been pretty out of it. He couldn’t even enjoy it, because he didn’t really know what was happening to him. He woke up now and then, but mostly he was out of it. It didn’t make his cock stop working though. I mean, it couldn’t, could it?
I think I’ve found a new type though; big strong biker men. Or was it just that he’d made an impact on me, more than any other man I’d been with?
I hadn’t even found out his name, and how could I not find out the name of someone like him? Maybe I’d go find him again sometime, and try for round two. I mean, it’s not like he’d complain.