This Girl Roars Pt 02

This story is a work of fiction. A figment of the author's imagination. Thus, all characters are fictitious. At the same time, they are all over 18...

Tip: Read Part 01 before this, to get the background.

***

When I rode away from Mum and Dad's house that day, I had a firm idea, rooted and growing in my head. I was going, as Jola had said, "walkabout." Although it was actually going to be "rideabout," the idea was the same; I was going to take a journey of existential discovery, to discover myself, to discover my place in the world, and to discover whatever else the adventure brought me.

Beyond that though, everything else was nebulous. I didn't know where I would go, where I would stay, or any other details of what form the journey would take. I did think about how big this adventure was going to be though. I mean, I knew I wasn't going to ride round the world or anything, but I did think about the whole of Europe, and maybe Africa.

As expected, a dose of realism crept in as I thought about it. I had zero experience of motorcycle touring. I would need to feel my way in, not chuck myself in at the deep end, so I decided to start with the UK, then just play it by ear. I didn't really have any idea of when I'd depart, or how long I'd be away. Only that I was going, and going soon.

It was late March now, and better weather was just around the corner, so there was nothing stopping me really. I'd probably take a week to get ready, but then I was off. For the whole summer.

The first thing I'd need was a proper touring 'bike. Candy was a lovely thing, but she was small, had no power and was really more of an around town cruiser. I'd enjoyed having her immensely, but it was time for something much more serious.

I rode straight over to "Boundless 'Bikes Motorcycle Centre." Intending to get myself fully kitted out in one fell-swoop. I was going to need a full set of touring clothing, to cope with cold, wet, AND hot weather, some decent luggage, a new full-face helmet, to replace my open face one, and... Oh yes, a new 'bike. This was going to be some shopping spree.

I decided to concentrate on the 'bike first, then think about the peripherals afterwards. Boundless is a multi-franchise place, so I had the choice of lots of different bike brands, and I had no preconceptions about what make I wanted, only that it had to be suited to long-distance touring, and maybe a little bit of off-road, gravel tracks etc.

'Ah, what you need is an adventure bike,' said the salesman, ogling my tits. It was a surprisingly warm, sunny day for March, so I'd unzipped my leather jacket when I arrived, and I wasn't wearing a bra under my slightly stretchy technical top, so I had a lot going on up front, so to speak. I hadn't particularly set out to titillate, not consciously anyway, but when you are stacked like me, it can be hard to avoid sometimes.

The salesman 'I'm Jim,' was all smiles, and very eager to please, which could only be a good thing, and he walked me all over the two floors of the massive showroom. He showed me some mouth-watering machines, and anxiously watched for my reactions, while slyly eyeing me up at every opportunity. He was much shorter than me, but obviously had a thing for a tall, busty woman. The look on his face was priceless when I bent over to look at something on one of the 'bikes, giving him a nice view of both low-hanging breasts and my denim-clad bum.

To be fair, he seemed a nice enough guy, quite good-looking I guess, and VERY helpful. I wasn't attracted to him, but I have to admit I was enjoying his almost-salivating attention, and there were a few other deliberate bending over incidents. I wouldn't be surprised if he needed a wank after I'd gone.

Anyway. The bikes. I have to admit, the choice was a little bewildering. I was very taken with Italian models from Ducati and Moto-Guzzi. Despite my affection for Candy, I decided I didn't really want another Japanese 'bike. I'm not sure why, but none of the Hondas Suzukis and Yamahas moved me much.

I was just thinking it was going to be between a Ducati Multistrada and a Guzzi Stelvio, when he threw me a left-field alternative... 'Does it have to be new?' he asked. 'We've just got a very nice Triumph Tiger in. It's just a year old, and has only 5000 miles on the clock. It's mint.'

I was a little thrown by this idea, but I didn't rule it out. 'Show me,' I said.

He took me to a back room/workshop, where the bikes were prepared for sale, and there she was, gleaming, in a gorgeous dusky gold colour (apparently called "sandstorm") with shiny gold fork legs. Absolutely stunning. I'm a sucker for a nice colour scheme, and this one really grabbed me. By the throat. With both hands.

Jim wasn't wrong, she was mint. In fact, she was virtually indistinguishable from new, and I knew I had to have her. Second-hand had its advantages too, like no running-in and no first service to worry about. I'd be able to enjoy her to the full, from day one.

I felt my pulse rising as I gazed at her, and hardly heard Jim saying 'We could do this for 11 grand. A nice 4 grand saving on new.' That was merely a bonus. I'd have paid the new price.

I loved the name: Triumph Tiger. Partly because of the alliteration, but also because, whenever I see something called Triumph, whether it be a 'bike, a car, or a bra, I always think, 'What a great name.'

Although I knew I was buying her whatever, I did drag him up by 500 quid on Candy's trade in price, if only to protect her honour, then I turned my attention to clothes, luggage and helmet.

Jim seemed to get a lot of enjoyment out of watching me try on the multitude of mesh jackets he showed me, though I did of course retire to the changing cubicle to try on the under layers. I think a flash of my girls might have sent him over the edge.

After over two hours, I left there having purchased a full multi-layered touring outfit, a new helmet in a colour very close to the "sandstorm" of the 'bike, and a full set of luggage -- panniers, top box and tank bag. I arranged to collect all my purchases in three days time - with luggage installed on the bike and everything - and I trundled off on Candy, with a weird feeling that I'd betrayed her. I know it's mad to assign human qualities and feelings to inanimate objects, but I'd really had a relationship with that 'bike.

When I got back to Mum and Dad's, they were out. I parked Candy back in the garage, and was just about to lock up and leave, when I had a wicked thought...

Quite some time ago, I had realised that, beside her many other enjoyable qualities, Candy made a brilliant sex-toy - nothing quite vibrates like a 2-cylinder engine -- and I'd used her like this a number of times. Especially when I just wasn't getting the satisfaction I needed.

The garage was round the back of the house and wasn't overlooked so, even with the door wide open, nobody could see me. I put Candy on the side stand, so that the handlebars were nicely inclined, and started the engine. 'So, Candy,' (I spoke to her, as I often did) 'fancy a last fuck for the road?'

At idle, the 'bars buzzed beautifully, and I always had the option of revving her up for a quick extra zing. She was ready and willing.

I undid my jeans and pushed them down, along with my knickers, just far enough that I could get my pussy on the end of the handlebar. The cold aluminium of the bullet-shaped bar end, was an exquisite shock when it touched my hot flesh, and it made me jump and suck in my breath over my bottom lip. Ooh. Awesome.

I looked down to see the vibration turning my pussy lips to a blur as I just brushed them lightly back and forth across the shiny metal, and I was already leaving creamy smears. Soon, I'd be dripping.

I crouched a little more, pressing my pubic bone down onto the aluminium knob, and the vibrations went right through my pelvis, making my bum hole clench as deep stimulation invaded my vagina. 'Uhh nn' I let out an involuntary, animal grunt as waves of obscene pleasure invaded my core. My juice glands were fully awake now, and was giving the handlebar a liberal coating of the creamy essence of Becky.

I loved the slipperiness, and I started rocking my hips from side to side, then thrusting gently back and forth, spreading that gooey mess all over my vulva and onto the tops of my thighs. God, I was so wet. The whole of the bar end and grip was smothered in me and what I really wanted was to take it deep inside me and fuck it. The angle of the bars didn't allow that though, so I had to make do with just rimming my vaginal entrance with the bar end.

Where the rubber grip met the aluminium bar end, there was a lip, and I used this to rub up against the tops of my inner lips, just under my clit, and then I just moved back and forth across it while rotating my clit hood with one finger. 'Ah, yes. That's it...' I could feel the waves of pleasure rising in me, swelling inside my empty, aching vag, and I just kept going, and going, and going, more and more urgently as my orgasm approached until, finally, I exploded with a hoarse screech and a burst of dribbly girl cum, which dripped into the gusset of my knickers.

I wondered if anybody would have heard me. It would have scandalised this leafy suburb if the neighbours realised there was a woman fucking a motorbike in that garage in broad daylight but, to be honest, I didn't give a fuck really.

I turned Candy's motor off and gave her tank a pat. 'Good girl,' then I cleaned up with some of Dad's Kimwipe, locked up and headed home.

***

Three days later, I rolled onto the forecourt of Boundless Bikes, and climbed off Candy for the last time. I bent and gave her tank a kiss, and an older woman, dressed from head to toe in red leathers, said 'Awww, saying goodbye?' I nodded with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat and she gave me a hug. 'I'm like that with my bikes. I cried for days when I lost my Elsie.'

'Lost?'

'Yeh, some bastard nicked her and I never got her back.'

'Sorry to hear that,' I sympathised. 'So what are you riding now?'

'I've got that Yam Ténéré over there.' She pointed to a purposeful-looking bike leaning on its side stand.'

'Nice,' I said. 'I've just bought a Triumph Tiger.'

'Wow, they're great. Is it the off-roady Rally one?'

'Yeh, it's a Rally Pro.' Just then, Jim appeared from behind the shop with a young lad, pushing my new 'bike. I'd already christened her "Storm."

'Morning ladies. Here's your new steed Becky, ready to go.'

'Wow,' said the older woman. 'Nice bike. All luggaged up too. Are you off somewhere?'

'Yeh, I'm taking a little road trip.' I grinned.

'Great... listen, I don't know if this interests you, but I'm in this club.' She handed me a card -- "Lez Ride, the lesbian motorcycle club."

'Well, no. I'm straight,' I said, making to hand the card back.

'Shame... but keep the card. That's my number on there. You can always join us for a ride sometime. We aren't strict. The only thing we don't allow is men.' She looked pointedly at Jim and he just rolled his eyes and walked off with the young lad in tow.

'I'll be in the office.'

'I'm Judy, by the way.' She held out her hand for a rather formal handshake. 'Nice to meet you... Becky?'

I nodded, 'Same.'

'Best let you go. You've a new 'bike to ride.' She smiled, and I was suddenly struck by her green eyes. I realised that, even with the wrinkles, she was a very good-looking woman.

I completed formalities with Jim, and when I emerged, folding up pieces of paper, Judy had already gone. Shame. I would have liked to have talked more with her.

All my new stuff was on the new 'bike, stowed in the ample luggage. I was still in my old leather jacket, jeans, and open-face helmet, but I only had a few miles to go so it didn't really matter.

I swung my leg over and took her off the stand. She felt heavy, but cushy, with a big, comfy seat, and supple suspension. She felt like the kind of bike you could ride for hours, which was just as well, since that's exactly what I was planning to do.

The engine burst into life at the first touch of the button and felt smooth -- but not too smooth, I hoped -- and I took one last, wistful look at Candy, gave her a wave, then clunked Storm into gear and set off.

She felt big and heavy and powerful, though quite nimble for her size, and the riding position felt like an armchair after little Candy. She was easy to ride though, and I just knew we were going to get on like a house on fire.

I threaded her out through the town traffic, then I got onto the bypass and had the chance to open her up a little... Jesus Christ on a bike... On a fucking bike! This thing was quick. I know, much faster 'bikes exist, but with a 900cc engine instead of the modest 250cc of Candy, she felt like a rocket ship. This was way more power than I was ever going to need. Nice to have it though and, I imagine, quite addictive.

I arrived back at Mum & Dad's with a grin from ear to ear, and I went inside to get them and introduce them to Storm. 'Bloody hell,' said Dad, 'new 'bike eh? That looks like a beast of a thing.'

'She is...' I said, wide-eyed.

'She's much more aggressive-looking than Candy,' said Mum looking doubtful. 'Are you sure she's not a bit much for you, darling?'

I grinned and shook my head. 'Nah, she's a pussycat really. She's only a beast when I tell her to be.'

It was only now that I told them about my road trip plan. They seemed surprised and a little bit concerned, but my parents are adventurous types and they reacted with enthusiasm and excitement more than anything.

'Come inside and have lunch with us, and we'll talk about it,' said Dad with a grin.

'OK. Just let me put Storm away.' I rolled her into the garage, but I lingered before I left her, looking her over avidly. She was a beauty.

There was a serious thrum of excitement building within me.

Mum and Dad expected a cogent plan, but I had none. My plan was nebulous, ephemeral. Not so much half-cocked as not cocked at all.

I said 'I'm going to stay in the UK at first, but then I might go over to France and Spain, maybe even Morocco.'

What I wanted to do was go as I pleased. Planning each destination day by day, with no schedule or route map. A real random ride about. Mum and Dad could go with that -- even see the attraction of it -- but they insisted on just one thing; that I would contact them daily and tell them where I was heading for the next day. I was happy with that, and I also planned to get Jola onboard, as another contact I could keep in touch with en-route.

I scheduled departure for Easter Sunday (March 31st) -- only just over a week away, and I spent the next few days feverishly buying essentials and packing, though I had the laissez-faire attitude that I wasn't going into a wilderness, so I could probably buy anything I needed en-route, en-route.

I phoned Jola and told her about the plan and she said, 'Wow, you really took the walkabout thing to heart, eh?' She also invited me to have dinner with her and Carly at their place on the Friday (Good Friday) only two days before departure. An invite I was happy to accept.

By Friday evening, everything was ready and I turned up at Jola and Carly's place (a neat little bungalow) feeling relaxed and happy, with a buzz of anticipation inside me and a bottle of red in my hand.

They greeted me with hugs and kisses, took me on a tour of the house, then sat me down in their cosy lounge with a glass of wine and Carly for company. Jola said they'd long-since realised that she was the best cook in their relationship, so she got the burden of that whenever they entertained. She busied herself in the kitchen, with only an occasional shouted contribution as Carly engaged me in deep conversation.

How to describe Carly? She's slim, about 5'6 or 5'7, very pale-skinned, with blue eyes and naturally fair hair, worn in a simple straight bob. She has delicate, almost elfin features, perky tits with very noticeable nipples, and a small, pert bum. She's a total contrast to Jola, or to me, for that matter.

She's also startlingly direct and unabashed and she has a way of just looking at you with those implacably pale eyes that gives absolutely no clue about what she's thinking.

Being Dutch, she speaks perfect English (of course) with only a slight accent, and she comes from a family who are very sexually liberated. Her mum had never been married, or even had a regular male partner. She preferred a series of lesbian love affairs, but got pregnant -- twice, with Carly and her sister Anna -- by in-vitro fertilization.

Both Carly and Anna were introduced to lesbian sex by their own mother (!) and one or more of her partners. This was not a normal upbringing, but it doesn't seem to have done her any harm, apart from having absolutely NO hang-ups about sex, if that can be considered a harm. She's certainly not bashful about it, and told me her story quite freely.

When they'd shown me around the house, I'd noticed the bedroom was set up with low-light lamps, and candles already burning, giving the room a scent of vanilla. 'Mmm,' I murmured approvingly, 'Got plans for the evening?'

'We have,' Carly smiled, looking at me with those cool blue eyes.

Jola made suya (spicy coated meat cubes) with jollof rice and it was wondrous, but I got the impression this was not going to be a lengthy three-course meal, which was fine by me, because a one-plate meal is usually enough to satisfy me, but I sensed the meal was not the main event of the evening. There was a feeling of expectancy. An unmistakeable sub-current, which was conveyed by the way they looked at each other from time to time, and the pregnant pauses in the conversation.

We talked about my imminent adventure, and what I wanted to get out of it, and the recurring theme was self-discovery; 'I want to find out what really makes me tick. How I'm wired inside. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually, sexually even, you know?'

They nodded. Then Jola hit me with the biggie: 'Well, you can start the process right now, with us, if you like?' My jaw dropped, but before I could protest, she went on, 'Don't worry, we aren't trying to seduce you into a lesbian threesome with us but...'

She paused to think, and Carly took over. 'We're exhibitionists, Becky. We like to be watched... We're on a cam site. Sometimes we do shows. We're very popular.' They smiled at each other.

My mouth was hanging open as I tried to process what she was saying, and Jola continued, 'We thought, since you are looking to explore new experiences, you might like to watch us. I noticed you were very interested in my story about the cam sex Carly and I have sometimes, and if I'm not mistaken, a little bit excited by it. Maybe?'

I was completely flustered, and scrambling to process and reply. 'We're not pushing you into anything,' Carly said. 'Think about it. I'll get some coffee.' She left the table, and Jola smiled at me. A smile which I returned, a little nervously.

I thought about how the idea of lesbian sex had been, slowly but surely, permeating my life recently. I thought about the fantasy I'd had about sex with Jola the other night, and I thought about my chance encounter with Judy at the 'bike shop and how I realised I'd been looking at her sexually, despite her obvious age. I even thought about my little kink of taking pictures of my pussy and admiring them the next day. There was definitely something going on.

Jola didn't speak. She was just letting me think, but she did playfully stroke my fingers with hers on the table and I didn't pull away.

Carly returned with coffee, saying 'Let's relax in the lounge for a while and talk.' We sat, and in her disconcertingly direct way she said, 'Do you ever watch lesbian porn, Becky?

'No!' I immediately replied.

'Do you watch porn at all?'