Chapter Three
Alex
I get it.
I know.
I’m difficult.
That’s just it, though – my whole life has practically been a cakewalk. As soon as I realized that my parents could never say no to me – and believe me, I got that pretty fucking quick – I stopped caring about what I said. I stopped caring about what I did, or how I acted. Knowing I could get away with anything made my life fun…for a while.
But sometime, it all changed. I don’t want to be a cynic, but I think it was somewhere around the end of high school. By the time I was eighteen, I’d been laid hundreds of times with dozens of different girls. Being a popular football player didn’t hurt my case, either. And when I started volunteering with the local fire team…well, basically I always had my dick wet. I never had to work for it. Girls came onto me like gangbusters, each one of them more eager to prove herself than the last. Getting laid was easier than snapping my fingers.
It got old.
Of course, I never told anyone that. I never told anyone how bored I was becoming with my life, how badly I wanted some excitement.
But then I met a girl who I knew would ever have me. My sister’s best friend, Molly Peters. She was fat, shy, and awkward…yet, there was something undeniably hot about her. Even from the first time I saw her, I knew she would be my greatest triumph.
But after gently teasing and negging her for years, nothing worked. She remained aloof and shy.
That’s okay, I told myself as I straightened the knot in my tie. I hated wearing a tie. The best thing about being a firefighter was never having to worry about looking good for the job: it was more about staying alive. But sometimes, women liked to see me get all cleaned up.
I was feeling hornier than ever before as I pulled on a blazer and brushed my blonde hair away from my forehead with a little gel. I had a date with Sara Johnson. She was hot with bright green eyes, red hair, and a huge ass that I wanted to spank until she couldn’t walk. She was also a single mom – and rumored around town to be more than a little slutty.
Good, I thought. Giving my wrists a dab of cologne, I grabbed my wallet and shoved it in my pants. My cock was semi-hard already, just thinking about the way Sara’s tits would bounce when she rode me. I desperately wanted to get my dick wet, and I knew sweet little Sara was a good start.
When I picked her up, I climbed out of the car and smirked. Sara was standing in front of her house, looking nervous. She was wearing a tight black dress and her tits were on full display, proudly standing up and looking perkier than ever.
“Babe, you look so hot,” I said, looking over my sunglasses and making a show of trailing my eyes over Sara’s tight little body.
To my surprise, Sara grimaced. “I hate being called babe,” she said in a stiff way.
“Oh, well, sorry,” I said. I shrugged. “Most women like that.”
Sara’s green eyes flashed with anger. “I’m not like most women,” she said, shaking her head.
“Feisty,” I muttered under my breath. Feisty’s good, I added in my head. She’ll be a real hellcat in the sack later.
I opened the door for Sara, then reached across her curvy tits and buckled her in. She stiffened when my arm brushed against her chest.
“Hey,” she said. “Don’t be fresh with me, Alex. We barely know each other!”
I smirked. “I know quite a lot about you,” I said as I shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. And you’re going to suck my cock damn well later, I can tell just from looking at those fat lips of yours.
Thinking of lips made my cock swell with desire. I tried to think about what Sara’s other lips would look like. Pink, brown? Loose from having that kid or still tight and luscious? I imagined her soaked slit, visible through the white panties I wasn’t even sure if she was wearing under her dress.
She’s one hot bitch, I thought, glancing sideways at her as I pulled onto the highway. And tonight, she’s mine.
“So,” Sara said, clearing her throat and shifting in the seat. I couldn’t help but stare at the curve of her breasts. “Have you ever been to La Casa Miso before?”
I shook my head. “No, but a buddy told me it was good.”
“Oh, someone you work with?”
I nodded. He was the same one who told me about how easy you are, I thought as I gracefully steered my Mustang across two lanes without slowing down. And he told me your trick – all I have to do is tickle the back of your knee, and I’m in.
“How long have you been fighting fires?”
“Years. Uh, ten, I think,” I said. “I started volunteering back when I was seventeen, and I knew it was the only thing I wanted to do.”
“Why?”
“Excuse me?” I turned and looked at her, surprised. Most women loved hearing that I was a firefighter. It was like they got wet instantly, just from thinking about my brawny self-rushing into a burning building and coming back with three children tucked under my arms, their chubby cheeks smeared with ashes.
“I just have no idea why anyone would want to willingly put their life in danger like that,” Sara said, frowning. She sighed and stretched, pushing her breasts out even further. “I mean, it’s scary.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “When I was eleven, my parents’ house caught fire. We were all okay – I mean, even the cats survived. But it was so scary, I still remember how hot it felt to be trapped in that house before the firetrucks showed up.”
I laughed dryly. “Well, without people like me, you wouldn’t have been okay,” I said.
“So that’s why you do it, then? To help people?”
I shrugged. In truth, that wasn’t the reason at all. I did it because it was like being in fraternity, even in my late twenties. I did it because chicks dug it, because I couldn’t go anywhere in the tri-county area without getting free drinks or pizza…or snatch, for that matter. I still remembered one time, years ago, when I’d gone to a strip club for a buddy’s bachelor party. The girls had been all over me, just because I’d still been wearing my shirt from work. They’d given me free lap dances (and more) all night long. If I closed my eyes, I could still remember the perfect pink lips of a stripper named Bunni wrapped around my hard cock, sucking like her life depended on it.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said, after a long pause. “What do you do?”
As I pulled into the parking lot of La Casa Miso, I shoved my car into park and climbed out, waiting impatiently for Sara and her tits to join me. She climbed out, almost stumbling in her platform high heels.
“I’m a teacher,” Sara said. “Elementary school. When I first had Josiah, I dropped out of college, but then I went back to night school and finished up.” She looked at me, obviously proud of herself.
“That’s nice,” I said.
“Yeah,” Sara replied. Her voice took on a dreamy tone. “I just love the little kids, you know? They’re all so sweet and eager to learn. It’s like, who could possibly turn them down?”
I snorted. “I’m not really a kid person,” I said.
“Oh.” Sara sounded wounded. “I love them. I love being around kids.”
“So I take it you want more, then?”
Sara flushed, giving a delicious pink undertone to her pale skin. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe when Josiah is a little older…but I don’t know that I could go through the whole baby and toddler thing again.” She made a face. “I like kids, but really when they’re only old enough to take care of themselves.”
I forced a laugh. God, she’s boring, I thought. A maître d appeared and showed us to our table, right in the middle of the room.
“Look,” I said to Sara. “We’re on display.”
Sara looked around, clearly embarrassed. She didn’t say anything, and I realized she was waiting for me to pull her chair out for her. Smirking, I slid into my seat and raised my eyebrows.
“Waiting for something?” I asked snidely.
Sara flushed again before sitting down and scooting closer to the table. “No,” she said. “Do you like wine?”
“Wine is for chicks,” I said. “But I’ll get you a bottle if you want. You just have to promise to be good.” I leaned forward and raised an eyebrow.
Sara shot me a confused look. “What does that even mean? And I don’t want a whole bottle,” she added. “God, I’m not some lush. I have to get home to my son!”
Smirking, I reached for the wine list. “I think you deserve something nice,” I purred. “Just tell me what you like and I’ll get the most expensive bottle.”
Sara flushed. “I like pinot noir,” she said. “Something about red wine always makes me feel sexy.” She gave me a look that set my balls aching with lust.
Good, I thought. You’re going to be ripe for the taking by the time we’re through with the first course. And then I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked in your life.
The sommelier appeared and I ordered a bottle of wine for Sara, plus a beer for me. When he returned with our drinks, I clinked my bottle against Sara’s thin glass.
“To new friends,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “And promising beginnings.”
Sara giggled. She closed her eyes as she took a sip of wine, making an ecstatic face. I smirked as I imagined what she would be like in the throes of an orgasm, riding my cock until I was soaked with the juices from her pussy.
With that delicious image fresh in mind, I reached under the table until my fingers grazed Sara’s knee. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.
“Alex! What are you doing?”
I grinned and took a long swallow of beer, pushing my fingers higher and higher on her soft, creamy thighs.
“I told you,” I said. “I think you deserve something nice. What, did you think I was talking about wine?”
Sara’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise and she pushed my hand away, looking indignant.
“I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am,” she said hotly. “But I would never sleep with someone on the first date! I don’t even kiss on the first date,” she said, standing up with such force that her chair fell to the ground behind her. “That’s just not decent,” she said, glaring at me.
I shrugged. “Baby, you fucked Ernie Cousins and had his kid,” I said. “You’re a single mom, what the hell do you think guys think when they see that?”
Sara didn’t reply. She looked stunned – almost like I’d slapped her across the face.
“They think you’re an easy slut,” I said. “That’s what men think when they realize a woman is a single mother.”
Tears sprang to Sara’s green eyes and her chin began to wobble.
“I hate you,” Sara spat. “And don’t ever call me again!” Turning on her heel, she stalked out of the restaurant. I settled back against my chair, half-enjoying the rude stares from all of the other patrons. When Sara’s heels hit the marble foyer floor, she went crashing down in a tangle of limbs. Her tits popped out of her tight dress and my cock sprang into action at the sight of her big, pink nipples and round white tits.
God, I’d love to put my cock between those, I thought as I watched Sara burst into hysterical sobs. The maître d rushed over and grabbed her arm, hauling her up as she fumbled with her dress. The whole restaurant was silent as Sara rushed out into the bright afternoon.
“Nothing to see,” I called loudly, smirking and turning my face around the room. “Just a little too much wine, that’s all!”
The waiter approached and gave me a cautious look. “Sir? Would you like the bill?”
I burst out laughing. “Fuck no.” I said. “I’m starving! Bring me the escargot and veal parmigiana.”
The waiter narrowed his eyes for a brief second and I relished the hatred I saw there.
“Very good, sir,” he said. “I’ll be right back with your escargot.”
So I’m not getting laid tonight, I thought as I took a long drink of beer. But at least I got a free show!