...a harley lovers erotic drive...
Desert Heat.......
..... my face cut the blistering desert wind like the rudder
of a speed boat.
The Harley was full out and the endless shimmering road
lay before me like a silvery ribbon of asphalt, beckoning
me ever farther into its web. I squinted, even protected
by the one-way mirrored sunglasses.
It was hot, sweat dried instantaneously in the rushing
wind. I didn't mind the heat. Alone, pulsing across
the endless wasteland, I was free, in control, and me. I
topped a small rise and caught sight of the steam erupting
from the radiator of the ragtop. My second, and far more
enticing vision was the woman leaning over the side of the
engine, staring down into the mesh of metal and wires. Her
hands busily toiled with a ratchet, pliers and a failing
temper. As I pulled closer, the image cleared. She was tall...
well built. Her hair was shoulder length and probably had
been neatly combed before the mishap. She was wearing a
denim dress, cut far enough in front to capture my gaze without
causing me to blush. I noticed her calves. Strong... arched
hard... raising her to the angle that would allow her to
best maneuver beneath the hood. As I killed the motor and
leaned the bike heavily against its stand, she looked up
from the shade. Frustration, anger, and concentration
painted her expression.
I smiled slightly. She didn't.
I stifled my own. I was wise enough to avoid the obvious having
problems?. What busted... line or pump?.
She eased her frown slightly... acknowledging that I had
given her credit for the knowledge she obviously possessed.
Pump... its shot. She stared down over the
fading steam.
Wanna ride... or can I call someone? Up to you.
I hesitated after speaking... wondering if I had stepped
out of line. She paused long... Too hot to sit here
and blister... guess I'll take the ride. She
slammed the hood hard, grabbed her keys, and straddled
the bike. I noted the exposed legs and grinned, hoping she
didn't notice it. Kicking the bike awake, we were off
in a cloud of road dust. As we purred along, she asked me a
stream of questions... ranging from name to zodiac sign.
Usual exchange of acquaintance. I liked her. She laughed
easily, and spoke smart. She was comfortable... if a person
can be. She didn't pry... and didn't spill over
every detail of her person. No... she left lots of treasures
to be sought.
After a hundred miles I noticed her grip had changed from
a cold hold to keep from falling off to a gentler touch. By
three hundred miles... her warm kisses trailing across
my neck... the warmth of her hands seeking my flesh was
unreal. I offered to stop twice and she refused.
.. said
she enjoyed the control. I didn't mind... at all. Shirtless
now... mine tucked away in a saddlebag... I felt her chest
press against me. A shiver rippled through me. Her hands
rubbed firmly against my jean legs. Her body rhythmically
pressed to me... she moaned softly in my ear. I'd never
experienced anything so erotic... so intense... so powerful...
The explosions rocking my sanity between us were deep and
penetrating. Her own were equal... if not more so.
At five hundred miles I stopped in a little no-name town.
She made her way to a cafe and a phone. I made mine onto the
next town. We parted with a simple kiss... and a smile. I'll
never forget that stretch of highway... as long as I live...
though I can't really recall the details of the view.