Crotch Rocket

The engine roared between my thighs and I squeezed them tighter as we speeded up. Fulton Street along Golden Gate Park is deserted late at night, and the lights were with us all the way to the beach. We had nothing to stop us, no reason to slow down. I tightened my grip around Tommy’s waist and dipped with him as he swung the motorcycle sharply onto the highway heading south.

Frigid wind numbed my hands and insinuated itself up the sleeves of my black leather coat. My legs were exposed all the way up the thigh above my knee-high black leather boots and had turned from their normal warm brown to pink with cold. Tommy liked the boots, but he’d been skeptical of the idea of wearing a short skirt on a motorcycle ride.

“Uh, I don’t know about that skirt, Nikki,” he’d said.

“But I like this skirt. Plus it’s slit up the side so it’ll be comfortable,” I’d replied.

“If you say so.”

For once he hadn’t made me change my clothes. He really only made me change if he thought I wasn’t dressed sexy enough. I knew he liked the skirt as much as I did and it didn’t really matter to him if I was cold or not. My skimpy plum silk camisole left me nearly as vulnerable to the elements as the skirt did but it met with no comment beyond the approving fondling of my breast.

He was right, the wind was shockingly cold on my bare skin but somehow the pressure of it warmed me. Letting go of Tommy with one hand, I flipped up the visor on my helmet. I had to close my eyes against the wind that was like thick fingers pushing against my eyelids, but it felt good on my face. I gulped in the fresh, rushing air tinged with the essence of the ocean until I felt like I couldn’t breathe any more.

I remembered my first taste of motorcycle riding. I was eighteen when an older guy had called out to me on the street and offered me a ride on his Harley. I wasn’t usually so reckless, at least not back then, but the bike had intrigued me. And the guy did have an extra helmet.

“Lotta women really like to ride,” he’d confided while we waited for a light. “We call ‘em ‘motorcycle mamas.’ They like to feel that vibration between their legs.”

That guy had lost interest in me when I wouldn’t go past the city limits with him. Since no one else I knew had a motorcycle, that had been the end as well as the beginning of my riding career. But the excitement of riding had never left me, so when Tommy showed up with his new bike for the first time, I was thrilled.

It was a Honda Hurricane, smaller than the big American Harley, but shiny and fast. The sporadic occasions when Tommy decided to take me out and fuck me had always been a highlight of my week. After he got the bike though, I started to look forward to the ride as much as the fucking.

It was true. The vibration between my legs was enjoyable, and much more so now that I was sharing the moment with someone to whom I was actually attracted. I rested my head against Tommy’s broad back and stared at the spot where the ocean blended into the night sky. My body melted against his as we rode, my thighs squeezing around his hips, my arms encircling his waist tighter than I needed to.

I stared at the deep blue smeared across my field of vision, lost in wondering what exotic new position or game he was going to try on me tonight. Suddenly his hand grasped mine and moved it down and onto the bulge in the front of his jeans. A bit startled, I pulled back and sat up straight. Then I smiled and quickly closed my hand around his erection as much as I could through the stiff denim.

Adjusting myself on the bike, I angled my hips forward a bit, so the faint vibrations tickled my pubic mound. One hand stroked Tommy’s denim-covered cock and the other slid under his jacket, the coldness on his warm stomach making him jump.

Oh, God, just take me home and fuck me

. I slumped against Tommy’s back again, and stared at the red and black leather of his jacket. I could feel the warmth of his cock even through his jeans and I longed to curve my hand around the bare skin, feel it filling my mouth, my pussy. Whatever he wanted to do that night. My warm wetness began to soak into the thin fabric of my thong.

Please, please, please

.

I didn’t communicate with him beyond the greedy exploration of his body with my hands. The effort involved in getting his attention, having him slow down the bike, and shouting my lascivious request was too much for me. Besides, I knew he liked to be in charge. He’d get around to fucking me eventually; I’d just have to wait until he was good and ready.

Tommy sped the bike up and down the highway for a while, teasing me, before he finally veered off and turned into the park. He slowed down a bit as we bumped down a winding dirt path under tall trees. Finally the motorcycle sputtered to a halt in a spacious clearing. The headlight faded and disappeared, leaving us in darkness. There was nothing around but the trees and a couple of sheds. The smell of leaves and gasoline hung in the cool, damp air.

We seemed to be quite alone. Being on a motorcycle flying down the freeway feels powerful, but being on a stopped one feels oddly vulnerable. A car seals you in and protects you from rain, from prying eyes, from creeping serial killers. Without taking my arms from around Tommy’s waist, I peered warily into the darkness.

“What are we doing here?” I eventually asked, recovering somewhat from the abrupt darkness and silence. I had assumed we were on our way back to either his place or mine. I wondered in slightly annoyed frustration how much longer it would be before I got what I wanted.

Tommy motioned me to dismount, so I did. He dismounted as well, took his helmet off and ran his hand over his short, pale hair, spiky with product. He held out his hand for my helmet. I reluctantly took it off and handed it to him, shaking out my hair as I did so, enjoying the silky feeling of it tumbling down my back. Setting both the helmets on the ground he said, “Take off your jacket and get back on the bike.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

I shrugged and handed him my long leather coat, swung my leg up and settled myself on the seat, hooking my four-inch high boot heels over the pedals. I was used to doing whatever he asked of me, or at least trying to. Maybe he was going to take photos of me again, although it was way too dark for that. And I didn’t think he had a camera on him. What then? A riding lesson? I shivered a bit. It wasn’t as cold now that we weren’t riding, but it was chilly enough to bring out goose bumps on my arms and thighs and harden my nipples beneath the thin silk of my camisole. To my surprise, Tommy got up on the motorcycle behind me. I craned my neck around to look at him.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

As an answer, he wrapped one arm around me and pushed me forward, using the other hand to jerk my skirt up and over my ass. He squeezed my ass, clad only in a pale blue mesh thong, with both hands, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. That’s when his intention finally dawned on me.

He fumbled around behind me unzipping his jeans and suddenly his cock, hard and hot, sprang free and slapped against my ass.

“What are you doing?” I asked again, this time coyly, now knowing exactly what he was doing.

He didn’t answer me that time either. Tommy didn’t really do coy. Pulling me against him, he pushed the shoulder straps of my camisole off my arms and cupped my small, firm breasts in his hands. When he pinched my hard nipples firmly, I moaned in delight, my body tingling. He had been the first person to make me realize that something painful could feel so exciting and good. I reveled in the mingled pain and pleasure, cupping my hands over his and tipping my head back so that it rested on his shoulder. He plunged his tongue into my mouth as though he owned it. I wanted more, but it was an awkward position for kissing, so he began kissing my neck and shoulders instead, roughly sucking and biting my tender, exposed skin.

With my thighs clenched around the body of the bike, I squirmed on the warm leather seat, my pussy now soaked. Tommy pushed me forward again, until I was pressed against the still-hot gas tank. The heat felt good against the cool skin of my exposed breasts. With nowhere else to put my hands, I instinctively reached for the rubber handlebar grips. I was molded around the bike completely, pressing into it with every part of my body.

Tommy’s hands were on my ass again, kneading my flesh. He jerked my hips into just the right angle and yanked my thong out of the way. And then I felt him sliding smoothly into me, his cock stretching my pussy open as he pushed forward. I exhaled in delight and squeezed the handgrips tight, mashing the rubber fins all out of shape in my fists.

With his cock pulsing inside my hot pussy and his thrusting pressing me closer against the silent but still hot motorcycle beneath me, I no longer noticed the cool air. Some vague part of my mind remembered that someone could come along at any moment—although they probably wouldn’t—and I tried to keep quiet, but Tommy’s cock thrusting in and out of me so strong and hard was too much for me and my soft moans and whimpers quickly turned into squeals of lust and pleasure.

It was as though his hands were welded to my hips. They moved me, he moved me, in his rhythm. He was deep inside me, as deep as he could get and his thrusts ground my clit against the motorcycle’s seat, sending rhythmic spasms of electricity throughout my body. Overwhelmed by the intense sensations, I wasn’t quite able to make the effort to hold my head up. I sagged against the bike, using the remaining strength in my body to cling to the handlebars and to push back against his powerful thrusts.

My head hung down, my long hair swinging against the sides of the gas tank. A dusty, oily smell filled my nostrils. With his right hand, Tommy grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled, making me arch my back. He didn’t pull hard, but it was hard enough so that I felt utterly under the power of his body. My throat was stretched and my moans of pleasure began to sound strangled.

With Tommy’s hand wrapped in my hair, the new arch of my back ground my clit harder against the seat with every thrust. Pleasure roared through my body and I jerked at the handlebars so hard that had we been actually riding, I would have flipped the bike.

“Oh God,” I screamed, forgetting entirely that we were in a public park. “Oh God, please…” My body was desperate, all taut and singing nerve endings. Tommy pulled harder on my hair. His left arm wrapped around my body and he pinched my nipples hard. I moaned incoherently, vague begging sounds slipping from my throat.

“Come,” Tommy rasped hotly into my neck. “Come for me. You’re so close. You want to. Your body wants it so bad. Come….”

My eyes squeezed shut involuntarily. “Yes… yes….”

“You’re so close,” he repeated. “Come, Nikki. Come, you want to.”

My toes curled, and my knuckles were white on the handgrips. Forgetting our location entirely, I screamed as an orgasm tore violently through me, sensation speeding down to the tips of my toes and roaring in my ears. My body went rigid momentarily and then dropped utterly limp and spent across the bike.

Grunting, Tommy shoved his cock into my pussy harder and harder. When he abruptly let go of my hair and dug his fingers into the flesh of my hips, I knew he was going to come. I clung to the bike and pushed back into him as he thrust his cock into me one last, deep time. He let out a hoarse, animal cry as spurt after spurt of thick, hot fluid shot up inside me. The motorcycle tipped alarmingly but Tommy managed to pull himself together and stop it from toppling over. Leaning forward, he rested his rough, sweaty hair between my shoulder blades while he caught his breath.

Finally we got up and off the bike. My thighs rubbed together stickily as I adjusted my wrinkled skirt. I smoothed my hair and glanced around sheepishly, remembering to wonder if anyone had been witness to our little performance.

“What’d you think of that?” he asked me as he handed me my coat.

“Pretty interesting,” I said. My body was cooling down rapidly and I wrapped myself in the coat gratefully. “Have you done that before?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to try it and see if it would work. And then when you insisted on wearing that skirt….”

I laughed. “I told you I’d be all right in a skirt. So can we do it again sometime?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Tommy.

I grabbed my helmet and pulled it onto my head. “Are we going home now?” I asked, as I tucked my hair up into it.

“Nope.”

“Where are we going then?”

“Just get on the bike.”

I hid a grin and did what Tommy told me to, like always.

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