Riding Free 1

It was a 2001 Harley Davidson Heritage, but it was much more than that - it was a new her. She had ridden motorcycles, on and off, since she was six years old; but, set that passion aside for family. That was all behind her now. She couldn't wait to test drive it, and he was more than willing to let her have it inspected before she bought it. She was going to anyway, it was just a matter of going through the motions. Its slick red and black paint called to her. Its shiny, reflective, chrome covered parts, mesmerized her. She was off without hesitation.

By the time she arrived at the dealership, she was beside herself. She wasn't thinking like her old self; cautious, guarded, and controlled. Perhaps it was the excitement. Perhaps it was the freedom. Perhaps, it was the historic vibration of the Harley Davidson between her legs. She felt free; felt alive; felt excited; felt beautiful; desired; erotic; powerful; euphoric; felt all of these at once.

When the technician approached, she knew she was in trouble. He was tall, handsome, confident in his stance, and his eyes made her heart flutter. His chiseled facial features concealed slightly, with a neatly trimmed beard - just enough scruff to unnerve her a bit. His shirt open at the top, the buttons hanging, pulling the shirt to the side. She could see the arch of his chest, the muscle tight against the skin. She had difficulty speaking, answering his questions; not even catching his name.

She stood by, watching him run his rough, textured, hands down the bike. She could feel it. As he removed the seat, he pinched his finger. Putting the corner of the thumb to his lips, she watched his tongue touch it. She could taste it. Her breathing began to shallow and become rapid, as her heartbeat quickened. He motioned her over, as he squared down beside the bike. He rattled off words, but she couldn't hear them. He pointed to the parts, but she couldn't see them. Her eyes were locked on his. She wasn't herself. Words faded in and out; "seat", "screw guide", "front intake", "pump drive", "piston stroke", "shaft."

The whole time she had squatted beside him, she had not taken her eyes off him. His pants tight from squatting - his bulge pronounced! Her heart beating faster. She could hear his deep voice ringing in her head. She placed her hand on his upper thigh, and squeezed slightly. "Tell me again, what the shaft goes into!"

He paused, and looked at her. "Let me show you!"

In the tool room, nearby, he closed the door behind them. With his left hand, he gripped her by the hair, pulling her back; his right hand around her throat. He could feel the throb of her heartbeat. He ran his thumb across her lips, arousing the nerves that were going numb. Their lips finding each other so easily. Their tongues in perfect harmony with each other's wants. She was still wearing her nursing scrubs from work. They were loose, and effortlessly gave way to the pull of his hands.

Up onto the work table, he lifted her. Her legs spreading without a single word. His lips, then his beard, tickling her inner thighs. She could wait no longer, the tease too much. "Oh God!......... Oh God!" She gripped his hair pulling him in. His lips, his tongue, gentle in their trade. The pressure in her chest just seemed too much. His hot breath, between her legs, made her throat feel like it was closing in. Her breaths getting shorter. The feeling of excitement so vivid and real, it was almost painful and unbearable. "Oh God! Oh My God!" She breathed deep. Her head back, trying to catch her breath. She cried out, "I want you inside me!"

He grabbed her behind the knees, sliding her across the table towards him. Pulling her head back, he cupped his mouth along her neck, just enough suction to cause her chest to fill with air. He cradled her breast in his still greasy hand, and consumed her nipple whole. She gasped. She tensed, pulling on his shoulders. The firmness of his muscles giving her little to grip onto. Her nipples hardened. His slight nibbling, making her face feel weightless, drained of its blood. She gasped for air.

His pants undone, he pulled her down. She could feel it thicken filling her mouth. She could feel it swell. It forced her jaws open. He wouldn't let her finish. She held him, his size filling her hand in a hard erect posture. He turned her, the wrenches and drawers rattling, as he pushed up against the tool chest. He probed her with his fingers. She was wet from his lips; her senses fully awake from his circling tongue. She was ready.

She screamed out as he answered her throbbing plea between her legs, stretching her! He grabbed her by the throat, squeezing lightly. "Shhhhh!" He covered her mouth, muffling her cries at each thrust of his hips. Deep, he penetrated! She no longer knew where she was. Oblivious to the ringing of the tools, the rattle of the cabinet drawers, and the pounding against the wall.

Her legs weakened at each thrust. His strength taking hers. Her knees giving way. Her legs collapsing. He picked her up, spreading her wider, taking it deeper. She screamed, but couldn't hear her own voice. She just clenched him. Holding on after he was done, not wanting to lose the sensation.

As she walked from the tool room, she tossed her disheveled hair, and tugged on her outfit all in disarray. She walked past the manager. "I'll take it!"