A Wild Ride

© 2000 by E.Y. Cain

 
At 2:30 in the afternoon, in September, in Eastern Nebraska during a bout of the most heavenly Indian summer, I came close to believing in reincarnation.  Lust this strong and an orgasm this powerful couldn't be contained in one lifetime, and I had just rediscovered it.

It all started when the guy I was dating showed up at my house riding a Harley.  Jamie was the nutcase who introduced me to this marvelous madness. He loved his Harley and lusted after me, which was great because I loved his Harley and lusted after him. Both of us had a somewhat reckless temperament, and we would get into so much trouble, but heavens help us, we did have fun!

We'd been to lunch in Fremont, taking our time on the ride home when he pulled off on a barely paved road and asked me if I remembered what I'd told him the last time we'd been on the bike. I played coy and dumb, batting my eyelashes and acting like a twit and replied, "Why, whatever do you mean, darlin'?"

"You know, you little tease, about the different positions we could try it on the bike. You said something about facing forward on me and the bike…"  his voice trailed off.

I got instantly, almost painfully wet, my pussy clenched down so tightly I thought I'd come right then. My vision hazed over and I might have drooled, and Jamie started laughing. 'You've got it bad, doncha babe? You can't wait to get on that beast and ride me, and it, until you freak completely out. D'ya wanna get adventurous? C'mere." His voice got husky as he grabbed me and swung me over to lay face down on the tank of the bike.

"You're gonna hafta get some new undies, sweets, these are mine. Now stretch out and put your hands on the front fender. Damn, I can't wait ‘til I get this sucker chopped out.” His hands were busy, stroking my pussy through my panties and trying to pull them off while he was trying to unzip his pants and get his mostly hardened dick out. I wasn't much help as I was already roaring towards a really excellent climax. All I could do was rub my breasts back and forth against that shiny, hot, metal flake blue tank, feeling the very slight ridges of the purple and fuschia flames painted on it. I felt like the Wicked Witch, I was melting all over that bike.

Jamie laughed and said, "You look like a sweet little pussy … cat I mean, sunnin' yourself on top of my bike. C'mere kitty kitty." He kick started the bike, then grabbed my hips just below my waist and pulled me back, raising me slightly as he ripped the crotch of my panties away and slid deep inside me. "Put your feet over mine, the boots are steel toed." I grunted than gasped as he rammed deep inside me, the tank vibrating under my belly, the edge of the seat rubbing my clit and upper lips, his cock surging in time to that syncopated two-stroke beat.

Ba-dum-bump-bump-bump, ba-dum-bump-bump-bump, ba-dum-bump-bump-bump, at idle the throb was driving me crazed. His zipper was scraping the insides of my thighs, his bike was pulsing in time with my blood and then he reached forward, moved my hands to the inside of the handle bars, and revved the engine. I came unglued. He sped up his pounding and one by one my senses left me.

The first to flee was sight, then hearing. My sense of touch narrowed down to that hot half-ton of metal and leather under me and the man I was impaled upon behind me. Smell abandoned me, overwhelmed by gasoline, leather, and my own juices. Taste was a melange of dust, heat, gas fumes, and the breeze. Then he put the bike in gear. I have done things and ingested things that have given me such a rush that I thought my heart would give out. They paled in comparison to this orgasm. I was bucking back into the corded leather seat, onto his granite penis, at about half or quarter time to the engine and I exploded. It may have been several orgasms, it may have been one long continuous ride on the O train, I have no clue. All I know is that I came gallons, and begged for more.

Jamie was a crazy, wicked man. He sent us over a highway that had potholes from hell in it. Every time he'd swerve to avoid one, his dick would attack me from a different angle. Every time he didn't swerve, he'd drive so deep into me, I could feel him at the back of my throat. I honestly don't know how he kept control over the bike. I was writhing and shuddering and bucking back onto him, and all I can remember is that he didn't wreck us.

I think I may have lost consciousness a few times during that ride. I know he came several times and was almost in pain from the sustained contractions, but he had a smile on his face, I could see that in the mirror.

The next thing I knew, that jerk had pulled off to the side of the road, and an officer was walking towards us. He had the biggest shit-eatin' grin, next to Jamie's and mine, that I have ever seen. My face, among other body parts, felt like it would split in two, I was that happy.

"I'd ask you two to step off the bike and lean against my car, but I don't think you can right now." He was a big ole boy, about 6'4" and tippin' the scales at 350. "Son, you have any ID you can reach? And Miss, you might wanna pull that skimpy excuse for a dress back down, and sit up when you can. You're flashin' the world, layin' like that, not that I don't appreciate the view, y'understand." Jamie pulled out his wallet and smacked me on the butt with it to quiet my giggles, then handed the officer his license.

"Y'know how fast you were goin' there?" We both laughed and I piped up.

"Not a clue. I don't even know where we are." I smiled up at him and tried to smooth down my wind whipped hair. "Please don't give Jamie any grief over this, officer. It was all my idea, and I had to talk him into it. He's not really at fault, I am."

The officer laughed so hard he had to lean on the trunk of his car. "I betcha had to talk real long and hard to get him to agree to it, too. I'm gonna give you a ticket, if only because you were putting others at risk, but I gotta say, I admire your ingenuity and agility. Next time, well, just don't let me see you, okay? I'd hate to be the one to scrape you off the blacktop."

"No problem," we chorused, then attempted to repair our clothing and appearance. Jamie's jeans were soaked from the crotch almost to his knees with pussy juice, and my panties had ridden so far up the crack of my butt, it felt like it would take exploratory surgery to bring them back to the light of day. The front of my dress was soaked, part from our juices, part from sweat, and the neckline had pulled out of shape so far, it was all I could do to keep it on my shoulders. It was a good thing the skirt of the dress was so flared; I might not have had enough dry material to wipe the seat off so the leather wouldn't stain.

We drove a few miles and found a pond fairly close to the road, pulled off and dove in, fully clothed. That took care of the clothes and the, er, scent, sorta. It was a breeze getting dry, literally. The ride home was good for that. When we finally pulled into the garage, all we could do was sit there, the bike idling, our bodies so drained that the responses were all automatic.
 
Jamie grinned at me and asked, "So, didja get off?” We both fell off the bike when I swung at him and he ducked.

"What, you couldn't tell? Let's go take a shower and a nap, then I'll tell ya what I wanna try next.” He looked shell-shocked then hung his head, body braced on the bike.

"You just want me for my bike, right? You're trying to kill me so you can have the bike, aren't you? Aw hell, I've created a monster!" He grabbed me and pulled me into the house, muttering all the way.

On our way upstairs to the bathroom, I looked over my shoulder and leered. "Remind me to tell you about that fantasy I dreamed up with you in chaps and me in nothing but a fur coat…"
 
Copyright © 2000 by E.Y. Cain - All Rights Reserved This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this work are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. No part of this work may be reproduced by any means or used in any form without expressed written permission from the author.
 
Read the next installment of this story, Ride Me
 
About The Author:
Like name of the site, I'm erratic, neurotic and erotic. I like writing smut for a living, not that I'm making much more than a pittance, but it satisfies my inner woman. I'm 42, married for 17 years, owned by two neutered male cats, both of whom consider me to be a fine mattress and wonderful scratching machine, and a bit on the scattered side, especially when I'm writing.
 
I'm childless on purpose, (with 2 cats and a husband, who needs kids?) and have far too many books for my house to hold. We're currently considering adding on another room to our house just to hold books as we've run out of shelves and walls to hang them on. I've even gone so far as to tear out the panelling in one room and nail boards between the studs to get extra shelf space.
 
I live in a house that started its life as a chicken coop, was added on to 5 times and is bursting at the seams with craft junk and books. I read, write, draw, watercolor, sew, crossstitch, embroider, weave, make jewelry, and paint glass to look like stained glass.
 
I have Fibromyalgia, which leads my DH (darling husband) to keep sharp things out of my hands or leave the room when I'm intransigent enough to play with them. I'm also a recovering alcoholic with 7 1/2 years of sobriety and a practicing paranomasiac. All in all I'm a mess waiting for a place to happen, and quite happy with that.
 
I've had works on this site and on the ERWA (Erotica Readers & Writers Association) and am currently looking for a buyer for the rest of the Ride series. Yes, Tango has many more stories to tell.
 
If you want to contact me, please feel free to email me. I love to hear what people think about my stories and I can tell you now, the answer to the most often asked question is yes, I have road tested the sex scenes to see if they are possible. They are. (sorry about the pun, but what can I say? I told you I was practicing. Sometimes I get it right! LOL!)
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