Straight Male / 60
He's Gone. Finally I Can Tell.
This story would have had me taken out decades ago, if it was revealed. I'm still anxious about admitting it, even anonymously here now, but I have kept this in for too long. I have never disclosed these details out of genuine fear for my safety. I need to be careful how I say things, because there are a few terrifying individuals who might be able to identify me if I don't use caution with details.
Despite a some very aged tattooed arms and upper body, that I mostly keep covered, there is nothing that shows that decades ago, I was in a OMC for a few wild years. I won't mention actual places, but despite only 5 of our members (including myself) living in a small town, the remaining 31 were from the closest city which was about 2 hours drive. It was decided years before I thought of becoming a member, that our town would be the ideal location for the clubhouse as one of the founding members (a family) had a large property there. So being a local, I became involved with that family because of weed. I loved it and still do. Anyway, I have to give him a name, so "Beast" will do. It describes him well. Not very smart, extremely big, and you'll struggle to find any tough guy who isn't careful to not anger him. He is a monster of a man. So covered in leather, tattoos, chains, and more, that he almost looked like a human Harley Davidson. In fact, his old Fat-Boy Harley looked small when he was on it. I hope I've painted the picture for you? You don't fuck with Beast. I've seen him vanish under a pile of enemies in an attack, then rise up, with big guys flying everywhere, as Beast began to defeat them like some one man army, swatting them like annoying pests. He was a force to be reckoned with. We became buddies, as the 1% lifestyle became appealing to me. I wasn't tough though, far from it, but I could act the part, rarely needing to go beyond that. I was a fake thug. I just loved weed, tattoos, biker moles, and riding Harley's. There was nothing fake about the OMC I was now a part of.
Anyway, Beast had a daughter. A very sexy daughter. One you'd better not look at the wrong way if you had any brains and liked stuff like, breathing! I'll call her "Bait." She was actually used as bait by Beast to lure guys to getting robbed and bashed. Bait loved playing the part of a hooked for her father because he allowed her to dress inappropriately. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I foolishly took the bait myself one day. Obviously, she was irresistible that day. I wasn't set up like others were, but I foolishly took the bait without being baited. To say that screwing Bait senselessly was amazing, doesn't change the fact that it was easily the riskiest thing I have done. Within a few days, Beast came to me wanting help. He suspected that someone within the club was sneaking around with he daughter behind his back. He wanted me to help him figure out who this traitor was, then help him deliver a just and worthy punishment, enough to set an example to warn the other club members off being next. I told him, I bet whoever it is, they are already regretting what they've done. I was referring to my own predicament without him even realising. Then I assured him that I would help him work it out. He was pleased, and told me that he knew I was the right person to trust with this, and to not let anyone know what he'd told me. I said I promise, I wouldn't let a word out, and we continued with the night. The hardest thing I did later that night when I was comfortable everyone was sleeping, was walk out of the compound, with just a few rush-packed things in a bag. Too frightened to start my pride and joy up. Yes, that's right. I cowardly left my precious Harley behind, never to ride one again. I was about 5 hours drive from the clubhouse by sunrise, thanks to one fast lift hitching. A young couple in some Italian sports car. They were holidaying and were continuing until lunchtime where I could finally begin to stop looking over my shoulder every few minutes. I knew the cameras on the clubhouse worked, and I knew it wouldn't be long before Beast would be out hunting for me, I needed distance. I sold my gold necklace, which also identifies me easily to pay for a flight to, "get me the fuck outta here, immediately." Then I began to use a new name, shaved, cut my hair short, and basically went into hiding for decades. Just recently, I saw a news item that confirmed he was shot by police in a seige incident. I can say, that it was the best news for me personally, but I shouldn't rejoice in the news. I do feel, that can now finally begin to relax as I age. One moment of weakness and I have escaped detection since. It changed my life forever, possibly saved it, as I avoided anything to do with any OMC or criminal activity since.
I feel like the story has ended with him gone now. Sure, I might bump into another old member, but they're all older as well now. It's only Beast that would have still wanted revenge. Be aware of Bait guys..
Despite a some very aged tattooed arms and upper body, that I mostly keep covered, there is nothing that shows that decades ago, I was in a OMC for a few wild years. I won't mention actual places, but despite only 5 of our members (including myself) living in a small town, the remaining 31 were from the closest city which was about 2 hours drive. It was decided years before I thought of becoming a member, that our town would be the ideal location for the clubhouse as one of the founding members (a family) had a large property there. So being a local, I became involved with that family because of weed. I loved it and still do. Anyway, I have to give him a name, so "Beast" will do. It describes him well. Not very smart, extremely big, and you'll struggle to find any tough guy who isn't careful to not anger him. He is a monster of a man. So covered in leather, tattoos, chains, and more, that he almost looked like a human Harley Davidson. In fact, his old Fat-Boy Harley looked small when he was on it. I hope I've painted the picture for you? You don't fuck with Beast. I've seen him vanish under a pile of enemies in an attack, then rise up, with big guys flying everywhere, as Beast began to defeat them like some one man army, swatting them like annoying pests. He was a force to be reckoned with. We became buddies, as the 1% lifestyle became appealing to me. I wasn't tough though, far from it, but I could act the part, rarely needing to go beyond that. I was a fake thug. I just loved weed, tattoos, biker moles, and riding Harley's. There was nothing fake about the OMC I was now a part of.
Anyway, Beast had a daughter. A very sexy daughter. One you'd better not look at the wrong way if you had any brains and liked stuff like, breathing! I'll call her "Bait." She was actually used as bait by Beast to lure guys to getting robbed and bashed. Bait loved playing the part of a hooked for her father because he allowed her to dress inappropriately. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I foolishly took the bait myself one day. Obviously, she was irresistible that day. I wasn't set up like others were, but I foolishly took the bait without being baited. To say that screwing Bait senselessly was amazing, doesn't change the fact that it was easily the riskiest thing I have done. Within a few days, Beast came to me wanting help. He suspected that someone within the club was sneaking around with he daughter behind his back. He wanted me to help him figure out who this traitor was, then help him deliver a just and worthy punishment, enough to set an example to warn the other club members off being next. I told him, I bet whoever it is, they are already regretting what they've done. I was referring to my own predicament without him even realising. Then I assured him that I would help him work it out. He was pleased, and told me that he knew I was the right person to trust with this, and to not let anyone know what he'd told me. I said I promise, I wouldn't let a word out, and we continued with the night. The hardest thing I did later that night when I was comfortable everyone was sleeping, was walk out of the compound, with just a few rush-packed things in a bag. Too frightened to start my pride and joy up. Yes, that's right. I cowardly left my precious Harley behind, never to ride one again. I was about 5 hours drive from the clubhouse by sunrise, thanks to one fast lift hitching. A young couple in some Italian sports car. They were holidaying and were continuing until lunchtime where I could finally begin to stop looking over my shoulder every few minutes. I knew the cameras on the clubhouse worked, and I knew it wouldn't be long before Beast would be out hunting for me, I needed distance. I sold my gold necklace, which also identifies me easily to pay for a flight to, "get me the fuck outta here, immediately." Then I began to use a new name, shaved, cut my hair short, and basically went into hiding for decades. Just recently, I saw a news item that confirmed he was shot by police in a seige incident. I can say, that it was the best news for me personally, but I shouldn't rejoice in the news. I do feel, that can now finally begin to relax as I age. One moment of weakness and I have escaped detection since. It changed my life forever, possibly saved it, as I avoided anything to do with any OMC or criminal activity since.
I feel like the story has ended with him gone now. Sure, I might bump into another old member, but they're all older as well now. It's only Beast that would have still wanted revenge. Be aware of Bait guys..
