It was a biker bar on the outskirts of town
- a little bit out in the sticks.
Michaela had just greased up some almost skin-tight jeans, put a few rips in
them and then pulled on a pair of thigh high leather boots over them. A crop
top, and a little leather jacket with dangling chains with little padlocks on
finished her look. She looked like a biker chic even if she wasn’t one. Her
thick main of hair left what looked to be unkempt and untidy - kind of that
dragged through the hedge backwards look. And she made herself up like a biker
as well. Plenty of blood red lipstick and heavy eye makeup. She even gave
herself a little facial scar via her expertise in makeup, to finish her look.
And in fairness she did look the part. She didn’t ‘look’ like Michaela at all.
Rather the opposite. She looked like the product of a state comprehensive
school and a broken home. But that was what she intended. She didn’t want to
look, or need to look like anything else and she certainly wouldn’t want to be
identified from any CCTV at a later date if it all went pear shaped.
It was probably after about
a week that she spotted him. A greaser who had sauntered in. Heavy set, maybe a
little obese but definitely not a regular. He dressed the part and looked the
part in general but he didn't know anyone here. He didn't acknowledge anyone or
no-one acknowledged him. He just got a beer, and came back out. For some
reason, Michaela knew that he was the one. There was no other reason than this
guy fitted the profile that she had in her mind. A loner, a lurker.
"Never seen you here before." And she flashed that almost too perfect
lipstick smile at this guy. If she hadn't been who she was, doing what she was
doing she might have been scared off by this guy's serial killer looks. There
was no smile back, just an icy stare. The eyes made contact but it was very
brief and very short-lived. Then the eyes dropped down to Michaela's cleavage
and hung there. She didn't put him off. Rather she thrust back her shoulders and
pressed out her sizeable breasts more for him to look at. "I only came
here for the view." That was his response as his eyes remained fixed on
her fleshy tits. The thoughts running through her mind - 'ignorant cunt looking
at my tits when he's talking to me'. And it wasn't just what he said, it was
the way he said it. He wasn't local either - the accent was all wrong for him
to be local, but for her that was good. A drifter. "Really? You like what
you see?" And she stood her ground, let him feast on her breasts, even
making sure that she heaved them around a bit, giving them those
puppies-trying-to-get-out-of-a-sack look.
"I'm warming to it.
Why don't you come a bit closer, let me get the view from different angles." Immediately Michaela knowing what this low life was
up to. Making her make the move into him so that it didn't look all wrong to
those around them. It was ok though, as long as she was on it, she could cope.
She smiled again and moved in close. She gave a little girly giggle that didn't
really fit the biker chic she was, but would appeal to this guy in that he
would have thought he had some bimbo up for anything. His arm wrapped around
her straight away and he pulled her in close, crushing her tits against his
chest. Then she could feel his big hands on her tightly denimed ass and he was
'smoothing' that ass. Squeezing and then smoothing. He was 'feeling' her flesh.
In her mind, and more than likely his as well, he was sizing her up for later.
Wondering how she liked to be handled and trying to imagine if she liked to
take it up inside that fine ass of hers. She was imagining that he was
intending to find out all of this. She couldn't have imagined that what was
going through his mind was that he would fuck her, all of her holes completely
with his thick cock. And then once her ass was prolapsed and fucked he would
piss all over her and just leave her. Another chic fucked in another town. She
wouldn't have got all that, not yet. This was a guy who would let his
personality and intentions slip out ever so slowly. To an unaware streetwise
girl, she wouldn't have a clue. This was a man who was a predator in his own
right. A man who moved around and did what he did and then moved on again.
"Wanna
go somewhere more private? I've got a place nearby. We can have some fun?"
Michaela was playing the biker chic with some girly mixed in there because she
knew it would appeal to the mindset of this gorilla. She ground herself into
him from the hips, let him know that he could be inside her. At least let him
think that he could be inside her in any way that he wanted. And it was her
that kissed him first. She didn't wait for his response to her question. It was
like she was underlining the question before he needed to answer it. She sealed
her red lips to his and then she immediately snaked her tongue into his mouth
and explored freely. Her immediate thought was that he was 'lazy'. He didn't
kiss back, it was like he couldn't be bothered. Like he didn't 'need' to kiss
her back. He had got what he wanted, he was set up for the night and now he
could just kick back and let the slut pour herself over him and that was all he
needed to do. She knew the kind of guy he was. But she played the game because
she knew that in a few hours this particular cunt of a guy would be screaming
like a little girl and begging her to let him go.
But then, that was much like this man was
thinking. He was thinking that he'd let this girl slut herself up for him, let
her make that exhibitionist show of herself in the crowd and then later he would
fuck her mind and body into a complete and utter standstill. The question was
which of these was the most switched on. Which was the most switched on to what
the other might be thinking. Obviously, Michaela, or Micky the biker chic was
several steps ahead of the meathead and although she couldn't know the depth of
what this man was thinking, she would have got the gist from the way he handled
her, or manhandled her. And she would have got the laziness of him. Not needing
to make the effort. Taking for granted that it was all there for him - whatever
he wanted, however he wanted. In reality he had no
clue.