Bruce
I lick my lips. I can’t believe my fucking luck.
When I first see the car, a beat-up old thing, I’m tempted to call for backup. No lonely cop wants to come face-to-face with a bunch of scumbags doing a drug deal or some other dirty shit.
Something stops me, though.
I inch a little closer. In the dark shadows of the wall, even my extra-large frame stays hidden, and that’s saying something. Some of the guys who work with me can’t believe I made the cut.
Fuck the fitness, I tell them, it’s brains you need.
It’s dark, fucking dark, but with a half moon, I catch a glimpse of what looks like two people in the car.
My hand finds my gun.
How dangerous can two people be? What’s more, two people are hardly here to plan a heist.
I inch forward, comforted in the knowledge of my own protection in the black of the night.
My black leather jacket was a stroke of genius. It gives me added camouflage. When you weigh in at about two hundred and fifty pounds, you need all the help you can get. I stopped wearing the uniform when I hit the two-hundred-pound mark and someone said they no longer catered for my size.
Back then, I received a letter. I still recall it word for word. Lose weight or lose out.
But I have my own connections and ways. Whoever thought they could get rid of Bruce played with the wrong man.
Fucking dickheads, some of the boys.
It doesn’t take me long to work out what’s going on in the car.
This might become my lucky night.
God knows I deserve to be lucky. Women barely look at me, and when they do, it’s with that sort of sour lemon face. Think they’re so fucking superior. Fucking joke.
To make sure I get the best vantage point, I creep forward slowly, snail like. A loud crunch makes me flinch.
I stop dead in my tracks. My eyes are fixed at the car the whole time.
Shit.
Nothing happens.
My dick is getting agitated. It hasn’t seen action since the last time I paid a visit to Contessa Amore’s place. I pretended to be there on official business, nothing like throwing my weight around a little.
The girls there are mostly young and of some ethnic background. But I don’t give a fuck. A man has his needs, even a man of my size.
But from what I can see, this fucker in the car has caught himself a goddess.
I can see the back of her ass, and all I want to do is spank it with my large hand. My fat fingers want to find that pussy of hers.
If I want to make the most out of this gift sent from the universe, I need to make sure I plan this absolutely to perfection.
No need to strike too early.
I can already see the smirks from the other guys when I return to the station at the end of the graveyard shift. And I might share my story with them. Then again, I might not.
I’m so close now I can hear the dude moaning. And I can see the chick’s tits.
My dick is threatening to explode. I resist the temptation to use my fingers to help myself along.
No. Don’t spoil it, big guy.
This one is for you. In a little while, she’ll be all yours. And you can do with her what you want.
In my mind, I’m already playing the scene out of how I’m going to fuck this chick. She can pay for all the insults I’ve suffered at the hands of women like her. And the best part will be there ain’t anything she’ll be able to do.
As the guy looks like he’s about to cum, I’m finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on the plan. I have my hand on the gun already.
There’s no doubt I’ll need plenty of persuasion for this dickhead to give up his chick. And no doubt the chick will need some…persuasion to participate in what I’ve got planned for the two of us.
I play with the idea of simply kicking the guy out and driving off with her. We could go somewhere, somewhere more comfortable, somewhere with plenty of mirrors.
The idea of seeing myself with this fucking hot babe has a certain appeal to it. Wouldn’t it be awesome to see my flesh drown the delicate skin of this floozy?
All women who hook up with assholes like this one in the car are floozies as far as I’m concerned. Decent women wouldn’t hang around dark deserted parking lots in the dead of night fucking a guy.
Briefly, I think of my mother. My dick loses some of its hardness. What would my mother think of me now?
Who gives a fuck? An inner voice pipes up. She left you when you were six years old.
I turn my attention back to the car. Now is not the time to dwell on my mother, who ditched my father for some fucking asshole who took her away.
Maybe this chick in the car has a husband and kid somewhere at home. She probably told them some lies about a girls’ night out, when really she was here fucking herself stupid with another man.
Fucking bitch.
My cock is back to full attention and ready for action.
I watch with a little drool coming from my mouth as the chick grabs her tits. Any second now, I’ll make my move.
The timing is going to be everything. I don’t want them to drive off, and I don’t want to do it too soon. Although my dick is getting impatient, it wants some of the action.
“Easy, boy,” I purr, and I pull myself up to my full height.
And then I make my move.
It’s Bruce time.