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Snake Shapeshifter Rough Breeding, by Jezebel Rose

Sex is overrated. That’s what I used to think. All of the men I had ever slept with were duds instead of studs. The only time I ever orgasmed during sex was when I reached down to my pussy and rubbed my clit during penetration. It felt good, of course, but I wished the men in my life were more than enhanced masturbation partners.

Nice, respectable guys have usually been easy for me to find to date. At 26 years-old, I’ve been lucky in that respect. I hate to say it, but my relationships always fizzled because the pleasure was absent from the bedroom.

I was on my lunch break with my best friend, Sarah, when I first heard the idea. We worked at the same boring office doing mundane shit that I never envisioned myself doing when I was a kid with hopes and dreams. My sex life, as usual, was our conversation topic.

“Amanda, why don’t you try something wild?” Sarah said as we munched on our garden salads. “Something out of your comfort zone.”

“I’ve dated some bad boys before,” I said.

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “You think dating a guy with a tattoo is dating a bad boy. I’m not talking about dating at all. I’m talking about going to a bar and meeting some random hot guy and having your brains fucked out of you.”

“Oh my God, Sarah!” I couldn’t contain my laughter. I looked around to see if any co-workers had heard her. “Keep it down.”

“Have you ever tried something like that?”

“No way,” I said. “I’m a relationship girl. You know that. I’m not into taking those kinds of risks.”

“It’s the twenty-first century,” she said. “Women do it all the time now. Just go to a bar out in the burbs somewhere so you’re safe from any drama if the guy becomes a fatal attraction.”

I saw a devilish expression on Sarah’s face. “You sound like you’re an expert in this area. Is there something you want to share?”

Sarah leaned in closer to me and lowered her voice. “Yeah, I’ve done it … a few times.”

“You’ve cheated on John?”

“No,” she said. “I mean when I was single for a few months two years ago. I’d dress slutty or whatever and go to a random strange bar. I didn’t always fuck a guy there, but sometimes I met someone really cute and did.”

“And you were happy with this?”

“Hell yeah,” she said. “There’s something so hot about fucking a strange man with no strings attached. Worst case scenario, if you don’t meet a worthy guy to go home with, at least you enjoy a bunch of free drinks.”

Sarah made some good points. I was intrigued. “Any recommendations for bars I should hit?” I said. “That is, if I decide to give this a shot?”

“That depends on what you specifically want.”

“What do you mean?”

Sarah’s face turned more serious. She appeared to be mulling something important over in her head. “I’m not sure if I should tell you about my wildest spot. Not sure if you’re ready.”

I moved my hand in a fake slap toward her face. “Don’t be a bitch,” I said. “If I’m going out on a limb, then I expect the best advice you have.”

“Fine. It’s called the Summerville Viper Tap,” Sarah said. “It’s forty minutes south on I-9 and it’s a guaranteed den of hot guys.”

“Sounds like a biker bar.”

“It’s not,” she said. “But it definitely caters to a unique crowd. The men-to-women ratio is easily four-to-one and if you meet a guy there, he will rock your world.”

“Why wouldn’t I be ready for that?”

“These guys are not …”

“What?” I pressed.

“It would sound crazy if I tried to describe it,” she said. “You just have to go and see for yourself. I bet you a million bucks you’ve never met, uh, men like these guys.”

My pussy sizzled in my panties. The look in Sarah’s eyes betrayed a dark secret. I was never so sure of a statement in my life. She was letting me in on something hot and adventurous and I wanted to dive right into that world.

“I have to go there,” I said. “Give me the details.”

***

It was 11 o’clock on a Saturday night when I showed up at the Summerville Viper Tap dressed to kill. I wore a short red dress and highly impractical heels. I went heavier on the makeup than usual—I’m normally conservative. I styled my shoulder-length brown hair up and away from my face to balance my edginess with a touch of class.

The bar was a total dive. It was small and cramped. The walls had degraded wood panels and there were no tables—only a long bar lined with ripped stools. A scuffed pool table and retro jukebox were the only pieces of furniture.

I couldn’t believe I battled traffic and drove out to a secluded shithole. What was Sarah talking about? The décor screamed place where your grandfather grabs a cold one.

Three fat and middle-aged men sat at the bar looking like they were about to pass out in their drinks. The bartender was a sketchy looking young woman dressed in all leather. Sarah was normally good at recommending bars and restaurants. She seemed so emphatic about this place, too; I had to wonder whether it took a turn for the worse in the two years since she had last been here.

Even though I was convinced the place was a bust, I was feeling stressed and needed a drink. What the hell, I thought. I’ll take a seat in the corner away from the fat guys and have one drink.

I took one sip of my vodka martini before I saw him. Actually, I felt him first. Not just his warm breath on the back of my neck but his presence—as if he sent invisible beams to my core.

“You ordered too soon,” he said from behind me. “I would have bought you that drink.”

I swiveled on my stool to see the most gorgeous man I had ever seen before. He had a thick head of dark hair, golden tanned skin, and the greenest eyes. His eyes struck me the most. They weren’t just bright green but shining bright green like a rare jewel.

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” I said. “Hi, I’m Amanda.”

I held out my hand to shake but, to my surprise, he gripped it with his large hand and pressed his lips softly on my knuckles. His scent was earthy and rugged—reminding me of a pristine forest.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amanda,” he said as he sat in the stool next to me. “Your name is beautiful and I wish mine was, too, but it’s kind of weird. It’s Cobra.”

“That’s a cool nickname,” I said.

“No,” Cobra said. “It’s my legal name.”

Wow, his parents must have been hippies or something. “Nice to meet you … Cobra.”

“I’ve never seen you here before,” Cobra said. “What brings you to my place?”

“Oh, you own this bar?”

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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