Rocker (Rockstar BBW Romance) (2 page)

“Yeah, more to love, right?” I said.

“Uh, no,” he snapped. “I’m sick of this crap. Not you. I’m not sick of you. What I mean is, I see it everywhere we go. You’re supposed to have big breasts and a flat stomach or you’re not hot. And if you do have big breasts and flat stomach then you don’t need anything else, like a personality. Give me a break.”

“Well?” I egged him on.

“Well, it leads directly to the plastic surgeon’s office for some plastic breasts. Then you can starve yourself thin, bleach your hair blonde, and go get a fake tan. I’m all for people who want to look good,” he continued, “I’m just tired of the way media has pressured us into thinking a certain look is what’s hot. There should be a million definitions of what’s hot.”

“What do you think is hot?” I asked him, not noticing the server with her order pad in hand approach our booth.

He looked at her, her name tag, and said, “Hey, Renee. We’ll have two Number 4’s please.”

She smiled at him a little too long, said, “Yes, Sir,” in a friendly tone, and walked off.

Stevie turned back to me. “I think
you’re
hot,” he said.

It seemed like I could feel the revolution of the earth, maybe its journey around the sun, too, and possibly the sun’s movements around the galactic center. At the same time I could also feel a burning blush rising to my pale cheeks. He gently rubbed the top of my hand with his index and middle fingers. He caressed the part of my hand between my thumb and forefinger.

Just because I had fantasized about a guy like Stevie my whole life did not mean that it could come true. “Is this a sick joke?” I said, looking around.

He chuckled sincerely, “Oh, April. You don’t even know how attractive you are.”

I felt my blush deepen. Maybe I did have a chance with him.

“You’ve never heard of Peter Paul Rubens?” he asked.

I looked at him blankly.

“Rubenesque?” he asked.

“Fat, you mean?”

“Rubens was painting the most beautiful women of his time,” he said softly, “Now we call them fat.”

“OK,” I said.

“
Well
, that is just what I’m talking about. Ever since I was a kid, I thought those Rubens paintings were way hot. I don’t know, maybe I’m reincarnated from that time or something. Those are just the kind of women that really do it for me.” He stopped and gave me a suggestive look.

I went back to blushing. I was speechless. He was making sense to me. Had I been in a cloud of culture that had me believing I was hideous?

The food came. I was famished. I had been trying to diet all night, but for once I had trouble eating. My stomach just wasn’t up for it. I was way too excited
by my own life
.

As Stevie wolfed down his meal and some of mine, I nibbled. Stevie took a sip of black coffee. He licked his full lips. His clear brown eyes looked intently into mine. He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. A jolt of fire traveled up my arm, down my spine, and caused my clit to hum like a tuning fork.

“We’re called
Mercury 7
,” he said. His arm was around my shoulders, in the false dawn, as we walked toward the Best Western. I knew he had to be an artist of some sort. He was in rock band.

It was the most bittersweet moment of my life. He was more wonderful than all my fantasies combined, but I knew he would be gone in a breath.

This was just the way my life had seemed to go along for 23 years. Here, in the middle of nowhere, I found a real Prince Charming. I found a real hero who liked me, big thighs and all, but he was just passing through with his band.

“Mercury 7,” I said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, we’ve been together almost 2 years. We just played a club in Tahoe.
The Empire
?” he asked. I shrugged. He continued, “We’re heading down to Sacramento tomorrow for another gig. It’s at a place  called Rocky’s, an outdoor venue. You should come see us play, April.”

“I’m having a little car problem right now.”

“There’ll be more shows,” he said, smiling and squeezing my shoulders.

That was
all
Placerville was good for, passing between Tahoe and Sacramento. I’d probably die here, like my dad, watching people with real lives as they passed between Sacramento and Tahoe.  My friends all lit out of here as soon as they could; all except for Tara. She already had a toddler and was living in a big house with a husband that adored her. Tara and my relationship wasn’t anything to brag on though. The only thing she and I ever did was sit talking over coffee. She would do the talking. It alternated between how great her life was and what I needed to do with mine.

“So, rock ‘n’ roll, eh?” I asked Stevie innocently.

“It’s called garage ska,” Stevie said as we crossed a deserted side street between a gas station and a Burger King, the stop light flashing red in the dewy fog.

“Garage ska?” I queried.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s a cross between pretentiousness and I want to save the world.” He took his arm off my shoulder and put his hand into mine.

“Oh, ho! Humor,” I said, a little too enthusiastically. I tried to tone it down. “I’m a little slow on the musical genre comedy bits.”

Stevie smiled. “I've always loved to play guitar. Obsessed with it I guess.”

“So, it’s just rock ‘n’ roll, then?” I asked looking at his plump lips in the light of the streetlamp.

“Yeah, just rock ‘n’ roll,
Just April
. Nothing fancy, just music for people to get out of their heads for a while, hopefully. Move around a little bit, maybe. We just want it to be good. We work hard. The people come out into the night and spend money and listen. What about you, April? What do you do outside of Ben’s Food Place?”

“Read,” I blurted. “I just read everything.”

In the wide driveway that led up to the Best Western parking lot, Stevie swung me into him, chest to chest. It was the warmest moment of my life.

His soft lips, surrounded by stubble, brushed against mine.

I know the cliché of fireworks going off when lovers kiss. Mine was more like a lightning bolt. It hit me. It knocked me senseless. It left me tingling all over.

“April,” he whispered and kissed me again, harder. Our tongues did a soulful dance. My hands around his waist; his hands were around my shoulders.

My euphoria reached unknown (to me) heights. I mean I literally can’t remember what happened next. I remember our first kiss outside the Best Western and then I remember we were in his room. Beam me up, Scotty.

Maybe he
was
an angel. Maybe his kiss
was
a lightning bolt. All I know is, I was his.

The Best Western Placerville was a decent place. Old, but clean and sturdy. It was 3 floors. Stevie was on the 3rd floor with a king size bed. His door clicked shut. He grabbed the same wrist that Kenny had grabbed earlier and whirled me toward him again.  He kissed me rough and hard. His lips came off mine to attack my neck. He bit me. He unbuttoned the 2nd and 3rd buttons on my work polo and scraped his teeth down my chest. Then he was back on my mouth. In my mouth. I felt light headed.

He rammed his hips into mine, grabbed me by the upper arms and drove me into the hotel wall. I moaned. “Oh god, Stevie,” I panted, “Oh god.” I was alive for the first time. The universe made sense. It was all worth it.

He put his hands on my shirt where the collar was open at my chest and tore the fabric in two except for bottom seam. He brought the pieces up off my shoulders, scooted them down my upper arms, and the shirt dropped to the floor around my feet. He looked down at my breasts hanging in my old bra. I didn’t care. His mouth engulfed my open mouth. He grabbed under my chin and put my head back. His tongue felt huge in my mouth.

He got off me, but held me by the neck. He looked me up and down with sneer of lust on his face. He dropped his hand from my neck. “Don’t move,” he ordered. He slowly took his t-shirt over his head. His torso looked magnificent in the slight glow of the parking lot lights through the louvered wooden blinds on the little hotel room terrace. His abs and chest were hard. His biceps were tattooed and so lean they had indentations on the side.

He threw his t-shirt to the floor. He kneeled before me and unbuckled my belt. I leaned my head back against the wall, thrilled by the moment, and terrified that my thunder thighs were about to be exposed. He peeled my jeans down. Yep, I had worn big granny panties. He kissed those panties right on top of my pubic hair. Yep, I needed a trim. He brought my jeans on down, leaning to the side to kiss my hip at the panty line. He took me out of my old black Ked’s and had my Jeans completely off.

He was kneeling squarely before me. His hands went slowly up my outer thighs. He grasped the top of my panties and brought them down 1 inch. 2 inches. I was getting tunnel vision but managed to look at his face. His tongue was out and curled up over the side of his upper lip. He left my panties there, but pulled them out in the front. He began to lick me with the flat of his tongue starting just above my pubic hair. Slowly, he licked up my stomach, across my belly button and up just below my bra.

He stood up and leaned on me. His head was beside mine. He pushed off of me. “Get that bra off, April,” he ordered. I complied with slightly shaky hands. He looked at me in wonder. He put his hands onto my breasts and pressed the nipples in. I leaned my head back against the wall again, breathing hard. I tilted my head back up and we were eye to eye.

“Get on the bed, baby,” he said. He took a step to the bed and ripped the bedspread and blanket off. I crawled up onto the in pushed down panties and went to my side as he stood next to the bed. He unbuckled his belt, and began to lower his jeans and white knit boxers. His light brown pubic hair and the thick base of his cock appeared. It was thick alright, and long, too. Semi-engorged, it was intimidating to say the least as it hopped out at me in the dawn light.

He got his boots, jeans, and boxers off and turned his attention to me. He went to the foot of the bed, bent and grabbed my butt and positioned me onto all fours.

He slapped me hard on the ass. He got on his knees behind me and began rubbing the sides of my hips. At a snail’s pace, he slowly lowered my granny panties to reveal my ass. My vagina was buzzing as the earth revolved toward the roaring sun.

He bent and kissed my soft ass cheek. “Your skin is so beautiful,” He said. It was an otherworldly experience for me. Pushing my panties down to my knees, he got them over my calves, and threw them aside.

He stood on the bed and began pressing down on the sides of my butt. His hard cock was gently running along the top of my crack at my lower back. I gyrated slowly and noticed he was breathing hard. He smacked my ass again. “Flip over,” he ordered.

I turned over, he got between my legs and I saw him in all his glory. Just a bit of beautiful hair on his hard chest that tapered down to almost nothing at his rock hard abs; below was his huge cock sticking straight out. I looked up to his face, he was staring down at my vulva, spreading my legs apart at my knees, with a look on his face like he was going to destroy me. My heart was beating out of my chest. A ray of sunlight pierced the blinds and caught the front of his hair as he went down on me.

Danny Leonard had gone down on me in high school. Roger Perkins had gone down on me when I was 20, three years ago. Those episodes had not prepared me for my hero-lover-poet. He gently pushed my clit up and down with the tip of his tongue. I was already breathless from the excitement of being with him. He turned his head to the side of my clit and started to suck it in and out. I thought I would die. Is that me moaning? I asked myself from above myself.

I either blacked out from euphoria or my normal brain couldn’t process the state that I was in. Maybe it’s like those hippies that “trip” on hallucinogens. Some of them say that the trips are so wild that their normal brains can’t comprehend them. Maybe my normal brain can’t comprehend the heights that Stevie took me to. The next thing I remember was he was back to pushing my clit up and down with his tongue. It felt glorious. He had one hand pushing down slightly in the area just above my pubic bone. Two fingers of his other hand were curled toward him inside of my vagina.
Oh, lord.