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I wanted fun and exciting.
I wanted a guy with big dick energy that could fuck, but also didn’t get on my damn nerves.
*****
Landen~
Ihad to count to ten and remind myself of all the reasons that I loved my job. Now, normally, I didn’t have to do that, but when one of my workers compromised safety for efficiency, I tended to get irritated.
Growing up, there’d been no room for mistakes. While I’d had a great childhood, my father hadn’t been the type of man to fuck around. Martin Rush had owned his own autobody shop, and he had taken his shit very seriously. To this day, he still had all his fingers and toes, and he was proud of that. He had taught me the importance of safety at a very early age, and I’d done my best to hold on to those important lessons. Whether at work, at home, helping a friend out…it didn’t matter; safety always came first.
Unnecessary risks were the stupidest thing that a person could do, and as far as I was concerned, my hands, fingers, toes, feet, and arms were priceless. I did what was required of me as a man, but I also did my best to do it all safely. Dad hadn’t let us get away with not doing our part, so there hadn’t been much of a choice growing up.
A man’s man, the gender roles in our household had been very defined, and Dad had made it clear that he expected the men in the family to take all the risks. My mother, Donna, had been a schoolteacher, and I couldn’t recall a single time that the woman had ever had to lift anything heavier than the laundry.
Herlaundry, mind you.
As soon as we’d been old enough, my older brother, Wilder, and I had been responsible for our own shit. Dishes, laundry, rooms, etc., had all been on us. Sure, Mom had maintained the household, paid the bills, cooked for us, had driven us to all our sports shit, and all that stuff, but anything laborious had been all us.
Granted, in this day and age, that shit was frowned upon, but there was no changing my chauvinistic ways at this point. I was already thirty-one-years-old, and it would probably take an act of God to allow me to sit back and let my woman take out the trash. Tragic, I know. Still, there you had it.
My appearance didn’t help, either. Wilder and I had taken after our father, and the three of us were six-foot-two of tatted up muscle and attitude. With all of us sporting black hair and grey eyes, Mom was the only odd man out in our family. She was a petite brunette with kind blue eyes and a firm hand. Of course, she had needed it with me and Wilder being the shitheads that we’d been growing up. However, knowing that she’d had Dad standing behind her, we hadn’t gotten too crazy.
Now, while Dad owned his own autobody shop, and mom was a teacher, Wilder owned his own tattoo studio. At thirty-three, the man was a success in that he was happy. Though he’d gone to college, he’d only done it to get his business degree. Since high school, Wilder had always known that he’d wanted to open up a tattoo shop. Having been in the military at an early age, Dad had been covered in a lot of them, and Wilder had always found the stories behind the art captivating. So, with a business and art degree under his belt, he had opened his shop, and it’s been paying his bills ever since. It was also where I got all my work done, even if the fucker did refuse to give me a discount.
Wilder was also happily married where I wasn’t.
Oh, I was happy, just not married.
While I had nothing against marriage or commitment, at only thirty-one, I wasn’t exactly panicking with the thoughts of being alone forever. I had a pretty good thing going, and that included a very satisfying sex life. I was lucky enough to not care what people thought of me, so whenever I found a woman attractive, I had no problem laying all my cards out on the table. I always made it a point to let her know what my expectations were and what I was into. Communication was the number one key to a successful night, so I communicated the hell out of my wants and needs.
I also wasn’t the sensitive type. If a woman wasn’t game, then I had no problem letting her be. I’d never been the type of guy who believed that womenowedmen sex, so if a woman found my expectations to be a bit too much, then no harm done. Luckily for me, there were plenty of women that liked rough sex. There were plenty of women that liked it hard, deep, rough, and in public if that’s what was happening.
Now, did I have anything against cuddling or soft kisses on the forehead?
No, of course not.
However, I was mature enough not to confuse good sex with love, and since I’d never been in love before, it was straight fucking for me. I didn’t just hand out cuddling and forehead kisses all nilly-willy. Those things were fucking sacred, and not just any woman would be getting those from me.
At any rate, whenever I started having thoughts of domestic bliss, I’d just go over to Wilder’s, and I’d be magically cured. While I loved my brother and his family, they were a rowdy bunch. Though my brother was the quiet, brooding, thoughtful type, his wife, Palma, was the complete opposite. She was loud, friendly, energetic, and I likened her to a mini-whirlwind of lust for life. She was also a stay-at-home mom, and she was teaching their kids to be just as energetic as she was.
While I had no kids, I had twin nephews and a niece. Baron and Kingston were eight, and little Brantley was five, and even though there was only three of them, their household sounded like they had a whole classroom in there.
I loved the shit out of them all though.
There was also the fact that my sister-in-law was a beauty, and she came with her own set of hot female friends. My dick had been inside a few of them over the years, but it wasn’t anything that Palma had ever held against me. Like I’d said, there were a lot of women out there that liked rough one-night stands. Most of them were just too embarrassed to say so.
That was the thing that most men were too stupid to understand. A lot of men were out there looking for a virgin needle in a virginless haystack, but I always chalked that up to insecurities. As tight as a virgin pussy might feel, I couldn’t see much fun in it. It sure as fuck wasn’t fun for the virgin. I’d had a couple in high school, and that shit had been miserable. Even with knowing what I’d been doing, that shit had hurt for the girls, and it’d been hard not to feel bad for them the entire time.
Yeah, I preferred women that knew what they wanted in bed. I preferred women that had enough experience to make it feel good for the both of us. I didn’t want shy in the bedroom. I didn’t want reserved between my bedsheets. I didn’t want a woman that held back because she was afraid of what I would think of her. Now, did I want a slut that slept with every or any guy that looked her way? Of course, I didn’t.
No one did.
However, if she was selective, safe, open-minded, and liked a big dick, then I was all for it. As for where her experience came from, I really didn’t give a fuck. It was none of my business. All I cared about was safe sex, and I always made sure that I was safe. It was also important that I had her consent ineverything.I didn’t need the police called on me afterwards because I’d gotten carried away.
Now, did I get carried away often?
Hell, yeah, I did.
