A Biker who is a Psychic sounds like a contradiction in terms, but that describes me. Except that because of a busted up leg, (a country road, a farmer on a tractor - but that is another tale) these days I ride a trike.
Being a Psychic, people say that I should have seen it coming, but I did not. Until she walked out I thought Laura's cunt was wet with anticipation when I got home from work. Now I know her snatch had been lubricated by one or other of my so called bro's. - So much for biker solidarity.
Then the bitch went to her lawyer and in no time she was set to walk back in, and I would have to support her and the kid!
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!! I decided.
I have always had a dream, and it was time to make it come true. I jacked-in the Call-Centre job - no more having to talk to a script.
I went back to the house. My former home, now her home. "Sure you can stay for a night or two, until your ready to go." She said. To which I assured her I was leaving next day.
It was almost a romantic scene, as by candle light we watched TV, smoking some grass and drinking the couple of bottles of wine I had bought. Everything was going to plan, Laura could never resist a smoke or drink - or sex!
By eleven Laura was stoned, I had hardly drunk anything, nor had I smoked much of the grass. She did not resist when I pulled her T-shirt over her head, nor when her breasts fell free as I removed her bra. One brush of my palm and her nipples sprang erect.
She mumbled a half-hearted protest when I pulled down her jeans and panties. I picked up the bottle tipped some more wine into her mouth. I put my hand between her legs. As always her cunt was dripping.
I fingered my broad belt. I imagined the joy that I would get from leathering her. I imagined the heavy leather cracking loudly, leaving broad red/blue-black stripes where it cut and bruised her ample tits. The marks and damage the heavy brass buckle would inflict as it slammed into her hairy mons.
Excited by the thought I knelt by her head, got out my prick and began to jack myself off. I opened her mouth and came into it. There was a feeling of delightful lasciviousness seeing her lying there, spunk dribbling from her parted lips.
To work getting my revenge. I had no intention of permanently harming her in a physical sense, but I wanted her to remember for a long time. I wanted her to hurt like I hurt.
I have a penchant for bald pussies, sometimes Laura shaves, but then she lets it grow again. If it was not for my insistence I don't think she would shave. From the density of the growth, I reckon Laura had not shaved for the last couple of months. With a bald pussy she would remember me. I was going to fetch a razor when I caught sight of the candles.
I collected together the other paraphernalia that I would want later. She would not forget me or tonight for a long time.
I lay her on her back, legs open. I picked up the candle holder, the well of the broad candle was a pool of molten wax. I held the candle about two feet above her and tilted it. The wax cooled as it fell, setting hard as it touched her skin. Eventually from her navel down she was covered in a multi-coloured sheet of wax that ran between her legs terminating in a pool on the carpet under her ass. I smoked a cigarette while I waited to be sure the wax had set. I straddled her pinning her shoulders to the floor. She awoke protesting. "Shut-up bitch." I snapped. I dug my fingers between her skin at her waist and began to slowly lift. I could feel each individual hair let go. She screamed. I continued to lift. Her struggles were a turn-on, the old man was twitching into life. I continued peeling the coating away. Her screams reached a crescendo as the wax pulled free of her labia.
From waist down her skin was as smooth as a freshly plucked chicken and glowed every hue of red. Beneath me Laura was screaming comments about my illegitimate parentage, something that never worries me. I got my throbbing prick out and jacked myself off, the creamy spunk landed sizzling on her abdomen. "Feel that. Now you really are naked bitch."
I dragged her to her feet, pushed her over to the back of a fire-side chair. Non too gently I draped her over it. She tried to get away when she saw the rope, a nudge in the ribs dissuaded her. "Do as I say or you will really suffer."
"Don't hit me. Don't use your belt or the cane." She pleaded.
She relaxed when I assured her I was not going to hit her. I roped her forearms to the wooden arms of the chair. I parted her legs and roped them to the rear legs of the chair.
I selected her smallest vibrator put in brand new Duracell batteries. I smeared it with K-Y, turned it on, then carefully inserted into her anus. I picked up the thick wooden rolling-pin, anointed it with more K-Y and slowly worked it between her swollen red labia and into her cunt. She gasped with shock then ecstasy, moisture dripped from her cunt onto my fingers as slowly turning the wooden pin as I eased it deep into her womb. I wrapped a broad crepe bandage around her waist, then brought it under her belly, between her legs anchoring it to the bandage at the back of her waist. Now, try as she might she would not be able to expel either the rolling-pin or the buzzing vibrator.
I went into the hall picked up the phone and dialled. It rang and rang, but I hung on until eventually Sprocket answered. "Sprocket you'd better get over to Laura's she's in a bit of a situation."
"Hey I don't want no trouble man." My onetime friend whined.
"No trouble two minutes and I'm out of here. But Laura needs your help. She's a bit tied up at the moment or she would have called herself." I put the phone down before I started laughing.
I dialled her friend Chrystal and said more or less the same thing.
The night before I had loaded the trike, I went out and hitched up the folding caravan. Went back in checked Laura's bonds. "I'm gone, don't worry you won't be like this for long, Sprocket and Chrystal are on their way over."
I thumbed the starter button and moved off into the early morning. Before I reached the end of the street I saw Chrystal her high heel boots clicking on the pavement as she hurried towards the house. I grinned, now everyone would know Chrystal nice as she was could not control her mouth.
I was Peter Fonda, heading out on the highway - well twisty two lane British "A" roads, this is a "west coast biker story" as in Cornwall England.
A couple of phone calls and I was booked into a Steam Rally. It was only a small one but at short notice there was little choice. The night before the Rally started I set up my pitch. The trailer unfolded to become a scaled down gypsy caravan, a Romany varda.
The field was alive with the sound of asthmatic Traction Engines, wheezing stationary engines, music from superannuated fairground rides, crackling motorcycles, geriatric trucks and cars of all ages. The boiler-suited men walked around talking about Stephenson Reversing Gear, differentials and other mechanical matters. The women in the main were a disconsolate lot - who can blame them - the only nipples their men thought about were grease nipples.
As I made myself a cup of tea a woman stopped, looked at the varda. "Fortune Teller are you?"
I looked her up and down and up again. Long skirt, gingham blouse covering reasonable sized breasts, minimal make-up, her long hair was swept back and twisted up at the back of her head. Well passable for a woman in her mid-forties. I should be so critical, I was no oil painting myself. "If you say so."
"Will you tell me mine?"
"If you've got your money."
She sat down and I handed her a cup of tea. I was only being sociable, I read the cards or a crystal ball not tea leaves. I took the note from her put it in my wallet and handed her the cards. "Shuffle them, with your left hand cut them into three piles then put them together again."
I turned the cards up one at a time, before me sat one unhappy lady. Her husband was obsessed with his hobby. He was also mean with his money. When I told her this I had a twinge of guilt, I knew that she had scrimped and manipulated money to put aside the sum she had given me. I carried on with the reading. When I had finished I gave her back her money - sometimes it is wrong to take and this was one of them.
Many would say that I was not so ethical when I got her to hold my majic stone. I knew that she was a woman on the verge of having an affair a woman who wanted sex and affection. If I had been ethical I would not have used my powers, but I did. As she held the stone I closed my eyes concentrated my thoughts, projected myself psychically into her mind, my thoughts became hers. As my mind caressed her breasts she sighed. Her skirt moved her knees parted as my thoughts caressed her pussy. Her breathing became slower deeper as she experienced the delights I could induce. When I was sure that she had climaxed I slowly released her.
When she got up to go her eyes were all-knowing when I said. "If you need anything I'm here all weekend."
As always at these events the beer tent was doing a roaring trade, - I don't drink a lot when I'm working, it interferes with my psychic energy. I was nursing a glass of beer-shandy listening to the third-rate Country duo, guitar and keyboards, belting out all the old favourites. I was thinking their real problem was neither could sing when a hand fell on my shoulder, "meet me outside lover," I turned but she was gone. I downed the remains of my drink and made my way out.
"Here." She called from the shadow of a tarpaulin covered Showman's Engine. I went over.
She was like a bitch on heat, smothering my face with kisses, her hands urgently trying to loosen my belt.
