Chapter 2
So you see, motorcycles have always held a central place in my sex life, right from the very beginning, and so it should come as no surprise to hear that my first real boyfriend was a biker.
I guess I should explain that he was no Hell's Angel type or anything like that. As a matter of fact, he was just a very sweet, unaggressive guy who just happened to love motorcycles. In all other respects he seemed to be a total prude, to tell the truth. His family was even more conservative than mine, and, except for his having a motorcycle in the first place, he showed ho signs of rebelling against them. So when I started going out with him, it was purely because I thought he was a nice guy-and of course because I wanted a ride on his bike, I never expected any other kinds of excitement from him-and to tell the truth I didn't know if I could've handled anything heavy anyway. I mean I had felt very sexy and curious after my hairbrush-defloration, but it seemed worlds away from actually having sex with someone.
Anyway, he asked me out and I said Sure. Why not?-which is pretty much my feeling about everything-and when Saturday night came around, he picked me up to take me for a ride.
Now you have to realize what a thrill it was for me even to climb onto the bike. I mean, given my feelings about motorcycles in general, try to imagine how I felt when I finally got to swing my leg over one, when I felt the warm leather of the seat against my bottom, and the girth of the frame between my legs. I must've shocked poor Jim (that was his name) by hugging him so hard when he climbed on-really squeezing my breasts against his broad back, but I was just so happy that I couldn't help it.
When he started up the engine, the noise and the vibration penetrated my whole body, and I really felt like I was merged with the bike, like there was some magic sex connection between the bike's strength and power and some untapped and wild energy that I had within myself. Even before we started moving, I could feel my pussy start to get wet-just from that first roar of combustion, and from the subtle but thorough rumble that climbed up my legs and lingered between them before carving its sensuous vibration on up through my belly.
Well, we took off through the early evening air, and the motion of the bike and the wind in my hair made the sensation even more exquisite. The sun was going down in the fields alongside us, and the last red rays cast every thing in a gently sexy glow, and the roar of the engine changed to a lascivious purr as the sound spread out through the open space.
I hugged Jim tighter, without even thinking of it, just holding on to his strong, mute, and apparently oblivious body, communicating to him some of the joy I was feeling. And at the same time as I hugged him, I swiveled my hips forward so as to get my pussy down onto the seat as firmly as I could, so that I could pick up the strongest vibrations coming up through the bike. I got wetter and wetter as we sped through the mild night, and I began to worry that I might soak through my favorite pair of faded old jeans.
That first night Jim and I did nothing but ride. I realize in retrospect that those hugs I was giving him were a definite come-on-sure I was communicating my joy to him, but I was also communicating to him the fact that my joy was sexual, the fact that the bike turned me on, and that a nice outdoor fuck would be the perfect complement to the evening's activities. To me, there "was something perverse and special about hugging him that way-from the back, with him facing away from me, maybe not even caring, just sitting there so I could feel his tight young body with my hands and press my breasts against his broad tense back. I was being the aggressive one, and that excited me.
But Jim was very shy-he didn't even try to kiss me goodnight-and I realized that I would have to be the aggressor in much more direct ways if I wanted to make the transition from riding to writhing. The funny part is that I'm not even sure, that I found him attractive-I mean he was strong and handsome enough, but those things were secondary-the main thing was that he was the owner and the operator of the motorcycle, he was the one who had power over the machine that had such a mysterious power over me. That's a highly perverse notion, now that I think back on it... very mechanical and perverse....
Anyway, when I got home after that first ride, I settled down into the bathtub for a nice bout of masturbation, during which I began to make my plans about seducing Jim. I lay there in the hot soapy water, dreamily fingering myself, absently watching the hair of my thickening bush curl and float in the water, trying to figure out how one goes about seducing a man. My naiveté was amazing, and yet my animal instincts steered me right every time. My intuition told me just what do to, just where to touch him as we were speeding along, just exactly how to wrap my hands around his hips and rub his groin while he drove ... I pictured his stomach tense with the concentration of driving, my hands running firmly over the layers of muscle, and then diving down into his pants, past the resistance of his belt, into the heat and sweat of his underwear, down through his matted hair till my fingers found his startled and already stirring cock ... and all of this happening as the bike sped along, with the red sun glowing, and the night air licking at my thighs and nipples.
I got myself so excited with my plans that I ended up giving myself a good solid frigging right there in the tub, working my gradually loosening hole with one finger, then venturing two, holding the lips open with my free hand, letting the hot water slosh lusciously against the exposed tissue of my inner walls, letting my clit relish the sting of the hot water. I held myself open as wide as I could, drawing the water deeply into my vaginal cavity, and then expelling it with a forced contraction of all my muscles, and then I lay back, both amused and excited about the strange things that my sex parts could do. I played, I pulled, I stroked, I admired the viscosity of my juices which stayed rich and slippery even submerged in the hot water. I fingered myself and thought of motorcycles, I tortured my clit and I pictured Jim. I wondered about the connection between cock and cycles-did the fact that I loved cycles so much mean that I would love cock equally? Or even more? Was a cock like a motorcycle, did it have the same kind of drive and power and mechanical cruelty? I wondered, and I hoped it did, and I rubbed myself harder and harder as the horny questions filled my head faster and faster, and somehow I found myself with three fingers inside myself, stretching and tormenting and creating a delicious fullness, a fullness to bursting, bursting between the legs and in the mind, bursting with the feel of three fingers inside my young overstretched pussy. bursting with the waves of filthy thoughts that flooded my brain and kept my cunt hungry, that occurred to me in rhythmic cruel succession, images of motorcycle-cocks, of driving and being driven, vibration, power, speed, and three fingers holding my red cunt sore and open.... I grit my teeth and finally relaxed in the warm water....
The next time Jim came to get me, I had my plan of action well mapped out. First of all, I wore a skirt instead of jeans. That was partially to allow me to feel the breeze along my legs and between them. I also intended to give Jim a nice view when I flung my leg over the bike, just to whet his appetite. Accordingly, I didn't wear any panties.
Well, he looked sort of pleasantly surprised to see me standing there in a short skirt, and I thought I saw him swallow hard, when I swung my leg good and high over the seat. I'll never know for sure whether he actually caught a glimpse of my snatch-or if he believed his eyes if he did-but it seemed like he was getting the message.
We took off through the night, and the air felt wonderful all around us. It was cool and warm at the same time, and we cut through it with plenty of power. The air was warmest coming right up off the road and the engine, and that was the air-moist and heavy-that blew up my legs and tickled my cunt. I was soaked almost immediately, as much from anticipation as from the actual feeling. Now I only had to enjoy the ride and wait for the right moment to put my plans into effect....
We rolled out of town toward the open road where there was nothing except wide miles of fields with a farmhouse here and there. The houses were so far apart and the crops were so lush and thick that I knew we'd be assured of perfect privacy. I knew we'd be able to pull off the side of the road and get right down to a nitty-gritty cornfield fuck-but still I had to gather my nerve to make the first move.
Finally my anticipation and the need between my legs, conquered the last traces of my restraint, and I started working my hands down the sides of Jim's body toward his crotch. I wanted to be subtle about it, I wanted him to know what I was headed for, but to know I was going to take my time about it. My hands traced out his waist and, hips, and then began their slow descent along his lower belly. Even through the thick, coarse material of his dungarees I could feel a sudden quiver of eager cock when I finally let my fingers dance over his genital bulge. But I quickly retreated again, teasing him along....
He sped the bike up, as if trying to urge me on with more speed; the wind whistled past us, and the vibrations increased....
My hand returned to his groin, and this time lingered there. I had never before felt a prick, you understand, and so it was with great fascination that I traced out the thick cylinder that was now fairly bursting out of his jeans. Its bulk seemed outrageous in my hand-it felt as unyielding as the brush-handle I had deflowered myself with, but much thicker. And I knew that once it started to fuck me, I wouldn't be able to control the violence of the thrusts-no, the cock itself would determine the pace, and it might drive with all the force and insistence of a motorcycle, pausing for nothing despite my cries of pain, despite my pleading....
I grew more and more excited as the possibilities of this thick piece of meat got clearer in my mind. I pictured the tightness of my hole, and I measured it in my mind against the girth of Jim's pulsing rod, and I knew I was in for an ordeal-an ordeal that I was desperately eager for.
Trying to get closer and to that piece of flesh that was now absorbing all my attention, I f. reached up and blindly opened his belt and the top snap of his jeans, thrusting my hand down his pants with a rough plunge. I half hoped that his cock would feel less huge, less menacing, without the protective layer of cloth over it-but in fact it was just the opposite-bare in my groping hand, the prick felt even bigger, hot and straining at its skin, as if' the inner workings of his sweet tool wanted to get at me directly. I worked him vigorously now as the bike sped on, squeezing the shaft, scratching at the head, reaching down to massage the heavy balls-just doing anything that my animal instinct told me to do. And all this toying got me so soaked that I could tell I was leaving a puddle of honey on the seat of the rumbling bike....
Then, without warning, Jim swerved sharply off the road into one of the fields, bumping and sliding in the soft plowed earth, scaring me half out of my wits, and exciting me still more. The bike bounced and Swayed, and all my organs bounced and swayed with it, my juices boiling and gurgling like heated oil....
When we finally came to a stop, Jim leaped off the machine and made a violent grab for me. His shyness was instantly transformed into a kind of total mastery, and I knew that he would be in total control from here on in. I felt a moment of fear as I realized that he could do anything he wanted with me-anything in the world. But this fear soon merged with my horniness, soon began to enhance my horniness by reminding me how thoroughly I could be used....
He forced me down onto my knees in the moist earth, and he stood there above me, grinning down, very casually undoing his pants. Then, without even taking them down, he just stuck his fat prick in my face, and, grabbing me by the back of my neck, he pushed my mouth down over it. I was amazed at the size of it-it filled my mouth from cheek to cheek, and though I had only half of it in my mouth, I felt as if I would gag on the hot thickness of it. But I savored the salty taste of his prick skin, and it was a delicious sensation to feel the head of his cock swell and puff in my mouth. I ran my tongue along the underside of the shaft, I nibbled at the tender head. I caressed the balls as I sucked the cock. I tasted the sweet drops of pre-fuck that dribbled from his slit as the pressure increased. I loved everything about it, and I loved the fact that he was forcing me to do it, directing me.
After a few minutes of sucking, he suddenly grabbed my hair and forced my mouth away, and he swayed his hips from side to side, slapping me on either cheek with the full length of his cock as he swayed. The slaps didn't hurt, and yet there was something exquisitely humiliating about being slapped in the face with a stiff cock. He told me to keep my eyes open and look up at him, and as our eyes met I saw a wicked and filthy grin on his face-he winced with delight each time his swollen member made contact with my reddening face....
Meanwhile I felt the juices running down my legs onto the fertile ground. My pussy twitched with heat and longing, and each time his cock crashed up against my face, I felt a new spurt of honey ooze forth between my saturated lips. I wanted desperately to get that thick prick up my hole, but I didn't dare ask for it yet....
Finally, seeing that I was almost hysterical with horniness, he consented to give it to me, but only if I would take it his way. "Yes, yes," I said, "I'll take it any way you like. Just give me some of your big long cock. Just ram some of it up my pussy." I was shocked to hear myself talking like that, and it excited me even more to realize I was so totally out of control.
He picked me up off my knees and led me by the wrist to where the motorcycle was parked. He looked me straight in the eyes and ordered me to bend over with my face laid across the seat. I didn't dare refuse. His eyes frightened me. So I bent over with my face on the still-warm seat of the motorcycle. The heat was still flowing off the engine, making me almost dizzy. I lay there bent over, waiting....
He lifted my skirt up above my waist and tucked it under my belt so it would stay out of the way. Then he took a few steps backward and stood there surveying my ass and dripping cunt in the moonlight. I could feel his eyes on me and it made me feel filthy and wonderful. I felt as if his eyes were fucking me, as if his glance was pumping itself into my cunt....
Then he approached and let the tip of his cock dangle against my slippery crack. I felt the heat of his cock through my whole body. He teased me with it, probed ever so lightly along the outer reaches of my pussy, making me rotate my hips automatically, mechanically, making me work my cunt over his teasing member. I wanted it so bad, and yet, feeling the puffy knob against my crack, I couldn't imagine how it would fit, I couldn't imagine that it would stretch me far enough to lay in me full-blown.
And then he rammed it. He rammed it so hard that it was several seconds before I could even scream-and when the sound finally escaped it was a blend of hurt and ecstasy, as the memory of the pain was already fading into the reality of the pleasure, of the good sensation of ample prick, of the wonderful feeling of being stretched a bit too far, fucked a little bit too deep, royally dicked so that every crevice gets its share of the good hot cock. ... I could feel my juices spurting now, pouring hot thick honey down over that shaft, keeping the works oiled.
He pounded me rhythmically, mechanically, and yet with a kind of music, a kind of dizzy -fucking music, trance music. I hugged the seat of the motorcycle, I rubbed my face harder against the warm leather, and I felt that big prick coming into me again and again. I could feel the head pushing past my pelvic bones, driving up through the soft canal, and continuing up toward the knob of my womb-running out of space, coming to the end of my cunt, and still driving on, making my whole body change shape to take it. His hard stomach slapped against my buttocks at the end of his thrust, and I could tell that his whole body was driving his prick-his whole body was-transformed into prick fucking me, ramming me....
I was peaking now, peaking past the point of even the brush fuck, peaking long and higher and higher, still feeling the cock rhythmically ramming, pounding, losing all ideas of space and time, growing dizzy, unaware, so that it was no longer even a prick fucking me-no, it was just a shaft, a piston, a piece of meat, a piece of machinery, I didn't know or care-it was meat, hot cylindrical meat fucking me, making me peak, higher and higher, making me come----
I fell over onto the cool ground and slept awhile, and when I woke he was prodding me with it again....