Let's face it motorbikes are sexy. All that power throbbing between your legs is a hell of a turn on. But a beautiful woman on a motorbike, dressed head to toe in tight leather? Now, that's even sexier.
*****
Light streamed into the room through the crack in the curtains on the warm spring morning. I was feeling particularly horny after a wonderfully sexy dream. It had been about that biker chick again, the one that passed me every morning on my way to work.
I unconsciously reached down and wrapped my fingers around my erection. I stroked it slowly and reached over to the bedside table with my free hand to fish a tissue out of the box. I needed to wank but didn't want to make any mass.
I pulled my foreskin back slowly, revealing the shiny purple knob. From that cautious start I built up into a steady rhythm, wanking harder and faster. I could feel an orgasm building at the base of my balls. When the sticky white cum shot from the end of my knob I did my best to aim it at the waiting tissue.
An orgasm is a good way to start the day, even if it is self-induced. But if I thought that having an early morning tug would quell my urges for the day, I was sadly mistaken. Young, horny and under-fucked, that was me.
An hour later I was driving to work along the dual carriageway when a sleek, black motorbike overtook me. It was her. I've always been fascinated with motorbikes, but never had the courage to buy one. This was a fine machine, but it was the long blonde hair flying from underneath the rider's helmet that always caught my eye. That and the red leather she wore. The one-piece suit hugged her slim figure. There was no doubt this was a female biker.
She passed me every day, and every day I did the same thing. She pulled away from me and I unconsciously pushed down a little firmer on the accelerator and chased after her.
I was normally quite careful on the road, but there was something about that vision in red, that always turned me into a Grad Prix driver. Unfortunately, my little Citroen was no Ferrari. I lost her when the traffic got heavy and her bike was able to weave in and out of the cars. Damn, I thought.
I didn't have a clue what I would have done if I ever caught up with her, but my cock certainly had an idea.
Like I said, I was horny that day, and all morning I couldn't get the image of that biker chick out of my head. It left me with an annoying erection. Eventually I had to beat off in cubicle in the gents. Obviously, I would have preferred to satisfy my needs with one of the girls working on the checkouts, but even if I had the authority to get them a few minuets break, I doubt any of them would have obliged me.
Locked in the cubicle, cock in hand, jerking it madly, I hoped nobody would come in and catch me. I didn't know how long it was going to take me to come, having already done so once that day. But I shot off really quickly, and powerful, healthy spurts they were, too. It seemed that my gonads had a touch of spring fever.
At lunchtime I had to go to the bank to pay a couple of bills. The girl who served me had long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. I stared closely at her while she processed my documents.
I wondered.
She finished up; I thanked her and bid her good day. Outside the bank I surveyed the street. Nothing unusual. I trudged slowly back to the supermarket, which took me past the car park at the side of the bank. There was a sleek black motorbike parked in one of the spaces. I stopped and read the number plate. I couldn't be sure but it looked like it was the same as the bike that had sped past me each morning. I re-entered the bank and queued up all over again.
The girl I wanted to talk to wasn't the next available cashier when I got to the front of the queue, and I had to let three people past me before she was.
"Hello. Again. Forget something?"
"Oh, no," I said. "I was just wondering... Do you have a Suzuki?"
"Yes, why? You haven't hit it, have you?" She frowned.
"No, of course not. Nothing like that. It's just that you speed past me on it each morning. It's a nice bike. I'm thinking of getting one myself. Any chance I could meet you when you finish tonight so you could tell me a little bit about it?"
My brain was disengaged and it was my cock doing the talking. She was looking so very demure in a little white fluffy jumper, its short sleeves showing off her slender, pale, upper arms. She looked nothing like the leather queen I saw in the mornings.
"Yeah, why not?"
*****
