Taken by Bikers(9)

By: Meg Jackson

I jumped out of bed and hurriedly threw on some clothes, then ran out to the hallway to go downstairs. I paused and turned into the bathroom instead. I washed my hands in hot, soapy water; I still thought I could smell my own pussy juices on my fingers. I splashed some cold water on my face, hoping it could wash away any sign of guilt. Looking at myself in the mirror, I only hoped that Mom and Dad wouldn’t notice anything different about me. I certainly felt different.

I was ashamed, it’s true, but I also felt sexy, and my pussy was aching. I wasn’t sure, at the time, what an orgasm felt like, but after the way I felt playing with myself that morning, I knew that it had to feel amazing. I wanted to feel that. I wanted to come; my body wanted it. And I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t just an orgasm I wanted. I wanted Cash.

He was old, and dirty, and probably a major criminal; but I wanted him. He was strong, and he made me feel safe, and his eyes on mine had felt so…dangerous. I wanted to feel his eyes on mine again, his lips against mine, his eyes on every inch of my body, and his hands…

“Sara!” my mother called again from the bottom of the stairs, making me jump. I realized I had been standing at the sink with the water running for at least a minute, thinking about Cash and the things I wanted him to do to me. Blushing again, I turned off the taps, took a few deep breaths, and headed downstairs.

“Well, there she is!” Dad said, looking over his newspaper with a smile. “Oversleep? Or just daydreaming? About Briiiii-aaaan?” Dad loved teasing me about having a boyfriend. The truth was, he really liked Brian and thought he was a good guy. High school football hero and straight A student, he was exactly the type of guy you wanted to bring home to your parents. I felt a rush of anger remembering what he had done to me the night before. But I couldn’t exactly tell Mom and Dad the story.

“What’s wrong with you this morning, you’re so quiet,” Mom said, pouring me some coffee and setting a bowl of cereal in front of me.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, doing my best to smile back naturally. It didn’t seem to quite work, because Mom gave me a weird look.

“Well, whatever, honey, just make sure you get to class on time,” Mom said, turning back to the dishes. I felt like I was wearing a shirt that said “slut” in big letters, the way my parents were just going about their normal morning while I was upstairs fingering myself and dreaming of some stranger’s tongue dancing around my clit.

When I checked my phone that morning, I had ten missed calls from Brian, and about 15 “I’m sorry” texts. I deleted them all without reading them. I was so done with Brian. I went to class, as usual, did my homework, as usual, and came home and had dinner, as usual. What wasn’t usual was the way I couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. Inevitably, I would feel my attention drifting back to Cash.

After a week, nothing had changed. I didn’t have dreams every night, but often enough to drive me crazy. Finally, my will just broke. I realized what I needed to do, and decided to do it quickly, before I could change my mind and try to just endure the torture.

On the Saturday after first going to the biker bar, I woke up determined. Jumping out of bed, I immediately got dressed and headed out. I knew there was nothing in my wardrobe that would make me fit in, and I didn’t even think I could ever fit in no matter what I was wearing, but I decided that if I was going to do this, I needed to go whole hog.

I drove through town, rejecting all the cute little boutiques and name-brand stores that were my usual haunts. Instead, I pulled up next to a store called “Wyld Thing” that had leather jackets and chaps displayed in the window. In the store, I ignored the snickers and comments from the burly men behind the counter.

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