It was the perfect fall day; in mid-October, the leaves were turning and temperatures had not yet begun to drop into the uncomfortable range. I had my arms wrapped around your waist, pressing my breasts into your back, and my thighs squeezing around your hips, as I leaned with you around tight curves hugging the cliffs and peaks of Shenandoah. The hum of the bike's motor vibrated beneath me, wind whipped around me, exhilaration coursed through me. For so long I've wanted to ride with you, to feel the thrill of speed and freedom of the open mountain air, mixed with and compounded by the near constant electric charge produced by the close physical contact of my body pressed against yours. Now, this euphoric mix of sensations hummed through me as we rode the hills and valleys, going nowhere in particular.
The scenery was exquisite. Each passing mile seemed more beautiful than the last, though after a while we needed to take a break. You began to slow down, and as you did, I relaxed my grip on you. Released from the necessity to hold on, my hands were now free to take full advantage of my fortuitous position behind you and explore that to which they had heretofore gripped so tightly.
Through your heavy leather jacket I could feel little save for the obvious strength, the pillar of easy confidence that anchored me to the back of that bike and yet caused butterflies to flutter deep in my stomach. I slid my hands down to your thighs and relaxed against you, inhaling your intoxicatingly masculine scent, letting it take my mind to a place where nothing existed but sweat-glistening skin and fevered heartbeats racing together toward a common goal. I lightly rubbed my hands along your thighs, lost in the fantasy. Feeling my fingers squeeze a little firmer and my breath on the back of your neck, you knew exactly what was going through my head at that moment, and almost automatically your body responded in kind.
A few minutes later you turned off the main road and drove us down a secluded trail that twisted and turned through a blur of golds, greens, and burgundies, now and then passing though a break in the trees that revealed a steep drop off and views of the valley below. Another mile or two, having not seen anyone in quite some time, we came to one such clearing, this one with a grassy area beautifully shaded by an overhang of low branches reaching toward the mountain ledge. You pulled off under those trees and killed the engine. Placing your hands over mine on your thighs, you took a deep breath and relaxed back against me. I trailed light kisses on the back of your neck for just a few moments, then reached up to loosen my hair, and run my fingers through it. The wind picked it up and brushed it across your cheek, and as it did, I leaned back reflexively to get it out of your face.
You reached back, however, grabbed a fistful of it, and pulled me back to you. For several miles you had endured my subtle seduction, felt my body contoured against you, and my hands lightly kneading the muscles of your inner thighs, so expertly straddling the bike, and yet powerless to stop my roving fingers. Now it was your turn to take control. With your fingers tangled in my hair, you pulled my mouth to yours, your tongue seeking entry past my lips. I opened to you and eagerly my tongue met yours; I felt my stomach flutter and my breath catch in my throat. Blindly my fingers worked to unzip your jacket. You quickly shrugged out of it, tossing it haphazardly into the grass, and took the opportunity move me into a more favorable position. Before I could register what happened, or how, you had me sitting in front of you, my legs draped over your thighs, your hands on my back, pulling me closer, and your mouth assaulting mine.
Though I had started this game, perhaps even subconsciously, finding myself now situated practically in your lap gave me pause. It was not lost on me that we were in a very public place, even if somewhat remote, and there was every possibility that someone might come by. Your effortless dominance, however, left no room for protest; any resistance I might have had melted away as a rush of heat rolled through me, settling deep in my pelvis. My purple lacy thong quickly became saturated with my arousal, the scent of it mingling with the heady aromas of earth and grass and dew. I gave way to my desire, allowing my body to fully take over. With a small whimper belying both my surrender and my need, I melded my body against you, my hips instinctively seeking yours. There I felt the proof of your own desire straining against the confines of your jeans.
Sensing my growing need, evidenced by a low moan deep in my throat, you loosened your hold on me; you ran your hand up the length of my back to the nape of my neck. Your fingers intertwined in my hair, you abruptly shifted from pillaging my mouth to making love to me with soft lips and gentle tongue. A slow and simmering seduction ensued; I ran my tongue along your lower lip, reaching the corner of your mouth and dipping in to again dance with your tongue. You met me and countered, easily and naturally, your lips soft but commanding on mine. I wrapped my arms around you, my hands explored the contours of your back, pausing here and there briefly, unknowingly striving to pull you closer still, though it could not have been possible. My hand then settled on the back of your neck; my thumb stroked your earlobe. Our lips parted only now and then, when you trailed your mouth along my throat and to my ear before returning to my waiting, wanting lips. I was utterly lost in that kiss, unhurried, focused, intimate. Every stroke of your tongue pulled a part of my soul, my very being, into you.
The next time you ventured to nibble at my collarbone, however, your fingers preceded your lips. Lightly you traced a line along my shoulder, down to the front of my blouse, and made short work of the buttons to reveal an enticing cleavage. My skin was practically tingling in anticipation. I could feel my nipples harden before you even touched me, pebbling against the rough lace of my bra, aching for your lips, your teeth. You pulled away to admire the sight of me reclined on your bike, hair blowing in the breeze, my shirt opened and half pushed from my shoulders, the swell of my breasts threatening to spill from the purple lace, my face flushed with need, my eyes betraying the depth of my desire, and my lips still wet and glistening from your kiss.
The look in your eyes took my breath away, though not nearly so much as when you ripped my blouse from me, grabbed my tits, and buried your face between them. My head fell back, my hands blindly reached for you and urged your head to one aching nipple as soon as you relieved me of the confines of my bra. With one hand you played with one side, while the other lifted a needy nipple to your mouth. I felt you flick your tongue over it, then draw it into your mouth, gently sucking and biting at it until a moan escaped my lips. The feel of it sent electric spasms shooting into my belly.
My hands fell to my lap, seeking to soothe a need that had been growing, focusing its epicenter between my legs. Given my position, with my legs straddling the bike and you, access was not an issue, though I could feel that even my jeans were damp by now. I pressed down against my clit and rubbed my pussy through my jeans for just a moment, seeking some relief from an ache that would not abate. Instead, the contact sent a swell of heightened arousal through my pelvis, a sweet heat pooling between my legs.
