Max, my best friend, Taylor, and her gal, Kelsi, our buddy Hugh and club brother Utah’s dick, my parents, River’s parents, other people’s parents, that ancient couple that walks past my house every day.
So many people are awash in love or, at least, lust. Hell, even Max’s sister and my newest buddy—aka “I’m done with men” Maude Leroux—got herself knocked up. Literally everyone in the entire world is rubbing against someone else except for me! I might be the loneliest, horniest person on the planet, and I’m including nerdy fifteen-year-old boys in my equation.
All I need is to enjoy a few sexy minutes with a man—specifically wildman Goliath—to fix what ails me. Then I can return to my comfortable existence of chilling with the Fearsome Foursome, babysitting my nephews, helping with the local Reapers’ chapter, and hunting a serial killer.
Goliath doesn’t even need to say anything during our romp. Not that I would understand him anyway. He apparently only speaks bear, and I haven’t found a quality grizzly-to-English translation software yet.
Yes, I’ll just show up at his trailer in the woods—not creepy at all—and offer up my virginal vagina. I bet I could complete the entire porking in between running errands too. No fuss and only the most minimal of muss.
Now I have a plan. Once I sate my lust, I should be content for a decade or more of celibacy. Yes, I’ll no doubt be considerably less crazy after a good, hard screw with a giant jerk who thinks my name is Shelly.
DEAN MIDKIFF, AKA THE GOLIATH
Five years ain’t that much time, but it felt like a fucking eternity. During my lockup, I got educated on what I wanted in life. In the past, I cared about club shit. Not just doing my job and watching my brothers’ backs. Nomp, it was more than that. I really gave a flying fuck. I wanted the best for the Crushed Skullz Motorcycle Club.
What did all that caring get me? Those fucking five years in prison, of course. I don’t suffer any delusion over why I got nabbed by the pigs that day just outside of town. Someone didn’t like me caring so much over club business, so away I had to go. Two of my club brothers—Swamp Thing and Grabby—suffered the same fates. That’s what caring got us.
Now I don’t do shit except what I’m told. I ain’t losing any sleep over someone dying. Before I got out of prison, I had people fighting for me to take their side in a battle that wasn’t about me.
There was my old vice president, Cum Shot, and the new president, Go-Go. Swamp Thing tried winning me over too. They all had plays in motion, and I was the guy they wanted for their big move.
By the time I got paroled, Cum Shot and Swamp thing were dead. While that Go-Go fuck is prettier than a girl, River Majors sure knows how to end a motherfucker. Wiped out a dozen guys in one night. I returned to Shasta to find only one play in motion. Didn’t matter to me who won that pissing match, though. I’m done giving a fuck.
As for women, I learned there too. Didn’t need to go away for that lesson. I’ve always had shit taste. Oh, I can find the sweetest pussy to fuck. No problem there. Ask me to find a good woman, and I’ll always choose the turd floating in the punch bowl. Other people can see the woman’s trash, but never me.
I blame my mom. I grew up thinking she was a cold bitch because life made her complicated. Except she wasn’t a mystery. She was just a cold bitch.
But I got that idea in my head about how women were complicated, and I needed to dig deeper to find the better woman hiding under all the drama.
The first of my mistakes was named Becklyn. After two years together, I realized I was fucking my mom. Becklyn wasn’t complicated. To be fair to the bitch, she was always honest about what kind of woman she was on the inside. I’m the one that wasted time looking for a good woman hiding deep in her heart.
Learned my lesson, I thought. When I hooked up with Jaymes, I figured she was the exact opposite of Becklyn. That oughta fix shit. But Jaymes nagged me about every fucking thing—where I was going, when I would be back, who would I see when I was out? Everything was a question. The