him; the attendant used to be younger. He smiled at me.
“Dropping off?” he called up to me.
I nodded. “Yep,” I replied. “Just let me through and I won’t be more than a few minutes.”
“Got it,” the man said. He flashed me a grin and I felt another wave of self-consciousness pass through my body. What was going on? Why did I feel like everyone in the universe was conspiring to play a prank on me?
Chapter Two
Mickey
I tried to stretch but the crate constrained my motion. An ache that had been building at the base of my spine didn’t let up, and I shifted uncomfortably on the wooden surface. Rolling my eyes, I thought about how Jimmy and Mason had pitched the escape to me: “It’ll only be for a few minutes,” they’d said. “Come on, Mick. Do it for us.”
I’d had to do it; I didn’t have any other choice. After months in Ireland, I was dying for home. Home. Dos Palmos, California. A small, sleepy little town on the northern coast. It was about as different from Ireland as anything else could be, and I’d never been more fuckin’ relieved to get home than I was right now. Ireland. Rain, bland food, dark beer, pale, scrawny, religious women. Sure, there had been some good times. I closed my eyes and remembered little Kiley MacNamara, who I’d fondled and kissed until she ripped my pants open and sucked my cock for hours. I shivered just thinking about it. Kiley had been exceptional; she was the only Irish lass I’d ever met who claimed to like sex. But aside from her, the months spent in Ireland had been wholly unimpressive and dry. I couldn’t wait to get home, I couldn’t wait to bury my cock deep in the willing, supple, pink pussy of an American girl. There are no women on earth as sexy as American women. I knew a lot of guys went nuts for an accent, but there’s just something so fresh, so coy about American pussy. And I was aiming to get as much American pussy as possible. I’d had a major dry spell, but Mickey Jameson was back and ready to get his fuck on.
I couldn’t wait to get out in the sun, to stretch my limbs and really take in the fact that I was home. At last, I was home. After months of running and hiding, everything was finally going to be okay. I knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to return, but I had my hopes up. After all, Mason and Jimmy had done a good job convincing me that now was my time. They wanted me to head the MC again, and soon, I’d be back on top of the world, where I belonged. I’d been a member of The Irish MC for years. The club was the most important thing in my life. It was the only thing that I’d risk my life or my safety for. Mason, Jimmy, and the others weren’t just like friends. We were a family, a brotherhood. It was comforting to know that I was riding with other outlaws in this insane world. Even Dos Palmos, which was basically heaven, could be rough as hell sometimes.
I was a pretty simple man. I likes what men likes: drinking, good women, sometimes more than one good woman at a time. The only thing that mattered was The Irish. I didn’t care what I had to do to keep the club afloat, but I’d always done it. I would have taken a bullet for any of those guys in a second. But the club had been going in a different direction. I had a feeling that, in my absence, they’d gotten into illegal activity. I hadn’t been involved with the MC’s chapter in Ireland, but I’d been keeping in sporadic touch with Jimmy and Mason in my absence. I knew that they’d do whatever it took to keep the club afloat. Even if we got into some bad shit, we’d be able to pull ourselves out of the wreckage and make things right. I didn’t like the idea of my club getting involved in illegal shit, but sometimes it was necessary to make ends meet. Leaders who weren’t as strong would depend on illegal shit, but people like me, well, we were stronger. We could pull our weight without having to delve into anything unpalatable. I
“Dropping off?” he called up to me.
I nodded. “Yep,” I replied. “Just let me through and I won’t be more than a few minutes.”
“Got it,” the man said. He flashed me a grin and I felt another wave of self-consciousness pass through my body. What was going on? Why did I feel like everyone in the universe was conspiring to play a prank on me?
Chapter Two
Mickey
I tried to stretch but the crate constrained my motion. An ache that had been building at the base of my spine didn’t let up, and I shifted uncomfortably on the wooden surface. Rolling my eyes, I thought about how Jimmy and Mason had pitched the escape to me: “It’ll only be for a few minutes,” they’d said. “Come on, Mick. Do it for us.”
I’d had to do it; I didn’t have any other choice. After months in Ireland, I was dying for home. Home. Dos Palmos, California. A small, sleepy little town on the northern coast. It was about as different from Ireland as anything else could be, and I’d never been more fuckin’ relieved to get home than I was right now. Ireland. Rain, bland food, dark beer, pale, scrawny, religious women. Sure, there had been some good times. I closed my eyes and remembered little Kiley MacNamara, who I’d fondled and kissed until she ripped my pants open and sucked my cock for hours. I shivered just thinking about it. Kiley had been exceptional; she was the only Irish lass I’d ever met who claimed to like sex. But aside from her, the months spent in Ireland had been wholly unimpressive and dry. I couldn’t wait to get home, I couldn’t wait to bury my cock deep in the willing, supple, pink pussy of an American girl. There are no women on earth as sexy as American women. I knew a lot of guys went nuts for an accent, but there’s just something so fresh, so coy about American pussy. And I was aiming to get as much American pussy as possible. I’d had a major dry spell, but Mickey Jameson was back and ready to get his fuck on.
I couldn’t wait to get out in the sun, to stretch my limbs and really take in the fact that I was home. At last, I was home. After months of running and hiding, everything was finally going to be okay. I knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to return, but I had my hopes up. After all, Mason and Jimmy had done a good job convincing me that now was my time. They wanted me to head the MC again, and soon, I’d be back on top of the world, where I belonged. I’d been a member of The Irish MC for years. The club was the most important thing in my life. It was the only thing that I’d risk my life or my safety for. Mason, Jimmy, and the others weren’t just like friends. We were a family, a brotherhood. It was comforting to know that I was riding with other outlaws in this insane world. Even Dos Palmos, which was basically heaven, could be rough as hell sometimes.
I was a pretty simple man. I likes what men likes: drinking, good women, sometimes more than one good woman at a time. The only thing that mattered was The Irish. I didn’t care what I had to do to keep the club afloat, but I’d always done it. I would have taken a bullet for any of those guys in a second. But the club had been going in a different direction. I had a feeling that, in my absence, they’d gotten into illegal activity. I hadn’t been involved with the MC’s chapter in Ireland, but I’d been keeping in sporadic touch with Jimmy and Mason in my absence. I knew that they’d do whatever it took to keep the club afloat. Even if we got into some bad shit, we’d be able to pull ourselves out of the wreckage and make things right. I didn’t like the idea of my club getting involved in illegal shit, but sometimes it was necessary to make ends meet. Leaders who weren’t as strong would depend on illegal shit, but people like me, well, we were stronger. We could pull our weight without having to delve into anything unpalatable. I
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