My opinion on women hadn’t changed. Not at all. I never believed a woman had a place in the club, nor would I ever consider it. Therefore, having a woman become an active part of my life wasn’t an option. Women become mentally attached to men through simple exposure and much more so when sex is added to the equation. For me to think for one moment I could have a relationship with a woman, even a friendly one, without her developing some sort of feelings or expectations would be foolish on my part.

I’ve never considered myself to be a foolish man.

My experience with women and sex in the last ten years had been a mountain of one night stands. I’d made every effort to be certain that each and every woman I had been with understood what we were agreeing to. I fuck you, I leave, and there’s no chance of seeing me again. Growing up the son of a Hell’s Angel father, I quickly learned the value of making rules and following them.

It takes a true outlaw; a person who refuses to be governed by the established rules or practices of any group, a rebel, a nonconformist.

Being a member of a motorcycle club requires that all members adhere strictly to bylaws and rules, yet the men place minimal value on the law. A club filled with and based on contradiction. The absolute adherence to the rules allows each and every member to immediately develop an understanding of one’s ability to be trusted. To be dishonest on the side of the law, but brutally honest on the side of being a member of the club takes a different type of man.

Most of the men who rode with the Sinners, or any club for that matter, had their own rules and regulations. Things they hold sacred. At any cost, they’ll adhere to the rules they’ve developed or put in place. Their doing so allows the members of the club to see their strong will, and slowly a trust develops unlike any other.

In the last decade, I had not seen any woman more than once. It was one of my rules. I had not received the phone numbers of any of the women I had sex with. It was another rule of mine. Having the ability to call a woman and have her come suck my cock or fuck me would create temptation to do just that. I’m tempted enough by simply living life, and I wasn’t interested in making my life any more difficult than it already was.

Going to see Avery a second time wasn’t breaking a rule of mine, but it was certainly out of character for me. As long as I wasn’t fucking her, I was convinced I had no rule in place to prevent me from seeing her. I, not unlike other men, tend to try and find a way to manipulate rules to allow a loophole big enough to slide through without being able to be criticized for having broken it.

In being honest with myself, I found Avery to be an extremely interesting person. If she were a man, I could see us developing a solid friendship. The fact she had a pussy between her legs made things fractionally more difficult. A man having a friend with a pussy is like a wolf being friends with a chicken.

Not impossible, but highly fucking unlikely.

“No, she said it was like riding an eight-hundred-pound vibrator. She said she was soaked when she got to town. And never heard of Winfield, huh? You lying fucker,” Avery said.

I shook my head lightly. “I was joking. Yeah, we’re based out of Winfield. I prefer the small town atmosphere; it makes life simple.”

“Well, now you know. Or if you don’t, I’ll guess I’ll tell ya. Sloan and I both live there. We’re roommates. I drive back and forth to this shit-hole to work, but I’m going to move here when school’s out, and she’s coming with me. I like the excitement of a large city.”

“Grow up in a small town?” I asked.

“Yep, Marietta, Ohio,” she responded.

“Hell, never heard of it. Marietta, Georgia, I’ve heard of that one, but not Marietta, Ohio. How big is it?”

“About the size of Winfield, 13,000 people maybe,” she said.

I felt a little relief knowing she would be moving in a matter of weeks. Having her in Winfield, and knowing it, would make not seeing her more difficult. Having her live in a city of 400,000, and being twenty-five miles away would be better for us both.

I chuckled. “Big city life will be an exciting change, I’m sure. And an eight-hundred-pound vibrator, huh?”

She nodded her head and laughed. “That’s what she said. I’d really need to tell you what else she said, but…”

I leaned into the bar and lightly pressed my right fist into my left palm. As I rested my chin on top of my clenched fist, I cocked one eyebrow. “Let’s hear it.”

She looked around the bar. “Give me a minute, I might.”

As she held her index finger in the air, she turned and walked away. After mixing a drink, she carried it to the other end of the bar and handed it to a man who was nursing his last sip from the glass on the bar in front of him. Completely the opposite of most every other biker I had ever met, I’d never been a man who preferred a little meat on the bones of my women. Given an opportunity to decide on my own, my preference was a thin attractive woman with small tits. Watching Avery walk to the other end of the bar was nothing short of painful. Yet more proof I had almost no business continuing with this little friendship we were developing.

As she turned around from her short visit with the man, she wadded up a napkin, stood firm, and shot it like a basketball at the trashcan which was almost twenty feet away. As the ball of paper fell directly into the center of the can, she pumped her fist alongside her hip.

Early spring in Kansas can bring snow, ninety degree days, or a tornado. It’s anyone’s guess and changes from day to day. Today, thankfully, was clear skies, sunshine, and almost eighty degrees. Avery was dressed in shorts, a baseball tee, and canvas sneakers. As she quickly walked back to the end of the bar where I was seated, I found myself admiring her.

Get your shit and go, Slice. This girls gonna cause nothing but trouble for you, and for the club.

As she stepped in front of me, she pushed her hands into her rear pockets and twisted her hips playfully. “So, wanna hear it?”

No, truthfully, I want to leave. If I stay here much longer I’m going to make a mistake.

“Huh?” I stammered as I snapped the rubber band against my wrist twice.

“You want me to tell you what else she said?” she asked as she twisted back and forth.

You cute little bitch.

“Sure,” I said as I continued to stare at her tanned legs and smooth skin.

She s=coughed a laugh. “Your boy Cash has a choad.”

“A what?” I laughed as I sat up straight.

“A choad. It’s a short fat cock. I guess it was about as big around as her wrist, and from what she said, it might have been an inch long. Maybe. Basically, she said it’s this huge head, and no shaft at all,” she giggled as she clamped her thumb and forefinger around her wrist and made a fist.

“Choad?” I chuckled.

“Yep, a choad. Short fatty. Look it up,” she said.

“Hell, I believe you. Just haven’t heard that one,” I responded.

She closed her eyes momentarily and started laughing. As she got the laugh down to a light chuckle, she continued. 

“So I guess she’s all wet from the ride, and thinking she wants this Cash guy to fuck her. So they go to his house, and he’s all acting like he’s going to fuck her brains out. He’d been telling her that as they rode slowly through town to his house. I’m going to fuck you ragged, he told her. She said he ripped off his pants like he had no idea he had this fat little mushroom head thing going on. She said she looked down at it, thinking it was soft, and when it got hard she’d be in for a hell of a ride, because it’s so fucking fat you know?” She paused, shrugged, and started laughing uncontrollably.

Her continued laughing and my thinking of the situation caused me to begin to laugh. As I chuckled at the thought of Cash’s choad, she finally continued her story.

“So, she said she got down on her knees and started sucking, and realized that was it. She said deep throating him would be taking the head in her mouth, because there was nothing else. No shaft. Seriously, when she told me the story we were at Taco Bell. I spit out my fucking burrito. No lie, right on the table. I almost pissed my pants. Sloan’s my best friend, don’t get me wrong. But she really, really, really likes cock; the bigger the better. And this dude pulls out the head, and it’s the size of a fucking apple, but that’s all he’s got.”

“So what happened?” I asked as I wiped the tears from my eyes.

“That’s the funny part. Sloan’s kinda like me. She doesn’t really pull any punches. Maybe that’s why we’re friends. But she’s not like mean. She said when she realized it was hard, and all of an inch long, she spit it out and got like grossed out. She said she stood up and pointed at it, and just started laughing. Like uncontrollably.” She paused and began giggling again.

“And your boy Cash acts like he had no idea. So she left; like walked home. That kind of left. The I’m walking home kind,” she said.

“Holy shit,” I said as I shook my head.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I said. Holy shit. So, anyway. That was her first ride. She’d never been on the back of a bike. And now? She’s hooked. It’s all she can talk about. And, just so you know, she’ll probably start stalking your man Otis. She’s guessing there’s no way he’s got a choad.”

“Stalking, huh? That’s probably not a healthy thing to do. And good luck finding him, he kind of keeps to himself,” I said flatly as I looked around the bar.

“Oh, Cash showed her where your clubhouse is,” she responded.

That dumb little cocksucker.

I tightened my jaw, and leaned into the bar. “Well, it’s no fucking secret. We ride in and out of there all damned day, but the clubhouse is off limits to outsiders. Without an invitation, no one’s allowed but members. If anyone comes there without prior approval, they’ll be escorted off the premises.”

“Sore subject?” she said.

I shook my head. “Club business is the club’s business, not public business. It’s a private club. If she finds Otis and fucks him, I don’t give a shit. Hell they can run off and get married for all I care, but she can’t come to the clubhouse without an invitation.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her. I didn’t know it was like a secret,” she said apologetically.

To explain to Avery my disappointments in Cash’s big mouth would make the club seem to be a little too eager, almost desperate, in the selection of Cash as a Prospect. To me, any club business was the club’s business. It wasn’t a huge thing that Cash had told Sloan where the clubhouse was, and we didn’t keep the location a secret from the public. It didn’t change the fact that I thought Cash was an immature waste of the club’s time. He had until August to show his ability to be an asset to the club. In my opinion, he’d need to change quickly.

I took a deep breath through my nose and exhaled. I studied her for a short moment and then responded. “It’s not. There are rules and we have bylaws in place. One is admittance into the premises of the club. It’s prohibited. The rules are a requirement, not a recommendation. Nothing against Cash, but it probably wasn’t very wise of him to show her where the clubhouse was and not tell her the rule regarding visitation.”

“Okay. Well, that doesn’t sound as bad. I’m not trying to get him in trouble, but I just thought if maybe you had some kind of new members must have an actual cock requirement; he’d like be out of the picture,” she said.

“We don’t. But don’t worry, you’ve done a good job of burning a mental image into my mind of his choad,” I said.

More than likely my entire problem with Cash was his immature behavior. Typically, with age comes maturity. Although he was thirty years old, he was extremely immature. As I sat and became angry at his childish decisions and behavior, I realized Avery was a senior in college. She, too, would be immature by mere design. Her lack of exposure in life would cause her to lack the maturity I’d need to even allow me to expose myself to her without placing the club at risk. As much as I enjoyed looking at her, and truly enjoyed talking to her, I knew what was in the club’s best interest. I stood from the stool, stretched reached into the pocket of my jeans.

“How much for the burger?” I asked.

Her eyes widened. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, I need to get back. I’ve got a business deal to finish putting together. Hell, I’ve been here for two hours. Time got away from me,” I said as I looked at my watch.

“Wasn’t anything I said?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house,” she said.

I pulled a twenty from my wallet and slid it below the cardboard coaster underneath my glass of water. “Well, this is your tip. Thanks.”

“I suppose I’ll see ya the next time I see ya,” she said as she pushed her hands into the back pockets of her shorts.

If you only knew…

As she started twisting her hips again, I almost sat back down. Avery was attractive, and would be so to any man. Her personality and her actions, however, made her almost irresistible. As she rocked from side-to-side and smiled, I started to lose myself in thoughts of my childhood, and my girlfriend at the time, Shellie. She was a cheerleader in school, and until she fucked the quarterback, and I ended up in jail for beating his ass, our time together was all memorable. She was probably my only real love. The only recollections I had of actually enjoying time with a woman involved her solely.

I stared at Avery, pulled against the rubber band, and released it into my wrist.

Snap!

I pulled against it again, held it, and stared down at her sneakers.

Snap!

“I appreciate it,” I said.

She grinned and nodded her head, unaware of what I truly meant.

I scanned her body from head to toe, and back up again slowly. I pulled the rubber band again, tightened my jaw in anticipation, and released it into my wrist.

With a mental image of her still burned into my brain, I turned and walked to the door.

As I pulled the door open, I chuckled at my increased vocabulary.

Choad.

As I walked to my bike I wondered if there was a name for one as big as your wrist and nine inches long. I threw my leg over the bike knowing I’d never know if there was; at least not from Avery.

There was no way in hell I could ever fuck her once and walk away.

None whatsoever.