Curses Ch 20

Chapter 20 -- Dessert & Yet Another Motorcycle Mamma

"I hoped you'd join us," Oli told Melody, once Yvonne had staggered away and our own orgasms had settled down some. "You've obviously got talent. What you don't got is enough magic to go solo quite yet--at least, not outside our fantasy world. But this afternoon, you and Dani can fly back to that little park you saw. Randy, that motorcycle guy I mentioned earlier, should be there."

"Cool!" Melody must have figured she'd get a rude ride with Randy ... which was true enough.

Sipping her Champagne, Oli smiled, obviously thinking the same thing as me. "Grace and I have some catching up to do. But this evening Dani can walk you through a visit with one of my scheduled house calls."

I leaned forward to pay more attention to this last bit, having been slightly distracted by suckling on Gracie's knob.

"Val and her sister Honor are on my regular assignment rotation," Oli continued. "I think you two will get on well with them. Just walk on in, bare-ass. Oh, and they have a portal in their bedroom closet."

This was delivered with the grin I knew signified I'd have to find out the details for myself.

Still, one thing needed clarification. "Whereabouts?"

"Just turn left at the end of our driveway, then take the next right after the yellow Volkswagen"--which turned out to be a yard toy--"and left again at the old apple tree with the branch that looks like a bald-headed hermit."

"Say what?"

"Like a peggo, silly."

Which it did; but I'd needed Grace's whispered translation: "A prick, back in the day." I wondered, yet again, which decade the pair of them had been born.

As for the arriving naked part--well, given I was listening to Oli's instructions on a busy rooftop restaurant, while prodding my tonsils with a long peggo, it was safe to say I'd officially become an exhibitionist. Obviously at least some people saw us quite well, although what they thought they saw, or remembered, was still open to question.

We chatted for a while and, naturally, indulged in some more delightful slap and tickle while we waited for our meal. We also took care of another bottle of bubbly before the wait staff brought us some excellent coq au vin.

Having devoured that, our dessert was then rolled out on a sturdy cart. It consisted of cognac, along with Burgundy pears ... shared from atop the now naked Yvonne's belly. (Crème Brûlée was offered but we agreed that the flame-caramelized topping was a bit too kinky even for us.) We took turns licking up the sticky pears and liqueur juices, including a sizable portion that somehow spilled into her snatch. Like, right up the pipe.

After we'd finished, it seemed rude to simply leave Yvonne lying on the cart, so Melody stood with her stallion shaft looming lengthwise over the girl from her knees to her chest.

"Tsunami," Yvonne murmured, her eyes suddenly focused and wide.

Melody took that as assent, and--using the magic in the air, as it were--successfully slid the entirety of her waiting meat-pole into the girl's pussy.

The results were electrifying: "Oh ... My ... God! ... Yes! ... I've taken ... AAAll of it!" She managed to get a firm grip of Melody's ass with her legs, so as to keep the huge cock inside herself.

For her part, Melody grinned, and said, "She's milking me!" Then her eyes widened, and her own belly tightened as she let loose a sizable load into Yvonne ... and then another, and yet another.

The resulting shriek of passion, which was abruptly replaced by steady gurgling as spunk sprayed from her mouth--to say nothing of her arm-and-leg flapping orgasm that swept everything off her cart--finally brought the other customers to their feet in applause. I'm pretty sure we weren't the only ones to tip extravagantly for the floor show.

As Melody finally eased her member free, we joined in lapping up the comatose Yvonne's newest coating of nectar, and in using the viscous stuff to massage her swollen belly, taut boobs and needy orifices. The other patrons soon joined us; and after a little while we slipped away and flew off ... a little erratically given the bubbly and brandy we'd taken on.

Once we'd gained some elevation (and resumed whatever level of cloaking we had flown in under) we split up, with Melody and I heading over to the park where Randy was supposed to be hanging out. We spiraled down and landed near where I'd dined on granola bars not that long ago. There weren't a lot of people around--some kids with their moms over by the swings, and a few seniors on a bench. There were also three teenage girls on a picnic table by the parking lot, two of whom I recognized as having got an eyeful of Randy and I the other day, just as the mind-fog lifted.

I'd wondered then if that had been accidental. Apparently not, since they were nudging the third girl and doing a badly concealed routine of 'There she is! Told ya ... No, no, don't look'.

Within minutes, I heard the muted roar of a motorcycle throttled down to residential speed limits. Randy, in his full leathers, soon appeared, riding the 'Lady Godiva' into the little parking lot. No sooner had he shut her engine off than a second bike rolled up alongside us. Even before she'd pulled her helmet off, I recognized the blonde hottie Randy and I had fucked at that gas station. Again--or still--she wore the same black gear.

Once the girl had shut down her own vintage machine, she climbed off and greeted me: "Hi, Dani! I'm Lola. Great to see you again."

"Ah--Hi. How ...?"

"Gold rings--top and bottom," explained Lola.

"Oh, right." This meant that she too could see all of me. "You're looking good. Um, this is my friend Melody. Oli said Randy might, you know, take her for a ride." My slightly clueless patter was mostly because I hoped I was also in for a fine afternoon on the high road.

Randy laughed. "Hello, ladies. Pleased to meet you, Melody. And it's great to see you again, Dani. Oli playing it close to the vest again, is she?"

"Well, she would if she ever wore one," I agreed.

"Too true." He winked at Lola and me and then turned his attention to Melody, who was admiring the rhinestones on his old V-twin bike. Scritching her tangled hair with one hand, he proceeded to unbutton his trousers with the other. "Like what you see?"

"Very much," she purred, as she reeled his member forth. While not as big as hers, it was suitably impressive. She was also rapidly changing. Her hips and boobs were growing, her hair was disappearing, and her skin was darkening. In the short time it took her to begin swallowing Randy's cock, she had shot past his dark chocolate coloring to a gleaming oil-sheen-black latex.

I glanced to Lola's face, to find her wide eyed with shock. "You haven't seen this transformation ... process before, have you?"

She shook her head, mutely.

I took her hand in mine. "Me neither." She turned to face me, and I added, "Not from the outside, anyway."

By the time I looked back, he'd hoisted Melody's cunny onto his hardened dick so that her own shaft was pinned between them, laid up between her bare tits to ear level (they'd needed to tilt their heads to one side). I'd expected this accessory would have been disappeared--but Randy clearly had an idea for incorporating it into his project.

He soon brought her to a shouting orgasm; and when he joined in I glanced around us. The only folks nearby were the girls I'd seen earlier--the two veterans grinning while the newbie was squinting doubtfully. I couldn't tell if the latter was from trying to get a better focus, or from disbelief.

"Time for that ride, now," said Randy, after she had stopped trembling ... just as he'd said to me.

And so she climbed aboard and assumed the position. I squeezed Lola's hand and got to see all the stuff Randy's snapshots didn't show: like how her cute bod stretched and molded itself to look like a naughty custom made body-shell. But of course, just as I had been, she was soon integral to the machine ... she was Godiva.

From the outside I could see how her totally black eyes, set in her now rigidly expressionless face, seemed to follow me; and how natural her gas cap looked, seated between the shoulder blades of her shiny back. And, best of all, how Randy looked when he mounted Godiva and thrust his sable tool balls-deep in her gas tank's juicy pussy.

Her fat phallus was also modified appropriately. While her chrome exhaust pipes were fitted on her right side, her black anodized dick was on her left, routed up around her cylinder heads and then back to her centerline. The result was that her beautifully flanged glans thrust forward between her proud breasts, just above her old-style fender.

When she was done, she honked her horn, but I knew that wasn't what made Randy gasp, given where his pecker was currently stowed.

"Well, that was twisted. In totally a good way, of course," Lola said. "Godiva, you look wicked fine!"

There was a pause, mostly because Godiva didn't expect to be able to speak. Then, "Um, thanks? I feel... well tuned!"

Lola turned to me with a look of pure lust. "The other day when we met--after I'd come around from one very fine fuck--well, you were gone by then, but I'd heard your voice ... I knew you were sentient. And horny ... so to speak." Here Godiva couldn't help but honk again and, to judge by Randy's expression, give him another dick grind. "Now I want to ride you."

My skin was already morphing into shiny black latex in anticipation ... and I was also growing a stubby phallic tail to enhance my saddle. Meanwhile, I scanned Lola's bike more carefully. Even with my previous years as a full-time guy, I didn't recognize the make; but those big teardrop fenders looked to date from the thirties. Still, I knew just from the thump, thump, thump of its arrival that is was powered by a one-cylinder, long stroke engine. Cool, I thought, and eagerly climbed aboard.

Just as before, I felt only an odd sensation as I melded into the thing. I couldn't see much, but Godiva could. Having found her voice, she launched into a running commentary of my transformation (punctuated by more beeps, presumably signalling further mauling of Randy's dick). "It's like you're absorbing the bike's frame, girl! Your head is front and center--it's like the handlebars go right through your head. Ha! They look like they're sticking out your ears. Your arms are changing into the forks holding your front axle. So your head and neck, plus your shoulders and arms, are all one unit. Your gold nose ring is still there, though."

By this time, as I'd expected, all I could see of myself was my deeply black front fender, and the bulging back of its faired-in headlight. Also the glint of my ring, if I crossed my eyes.

"The rest of you is all one piece too," continued Godiva. "You're hinged now somewhere between your shoulders and your boobs. Anyhow, your naturally padded butt makes a good saddle--I love that stiff cock-tail standing tall in the middle. And ... bwa-ha-ha-hah!"

Well, I had to ask. "What?"

Lola shifted herself so as to see where Godiva was looking. "Heh. You know that tattoo over your pussy? It's migrated onto the side of your gas tank." Great, I thought. My so-called friend's 'slippery when wet' message had followed me over. "We'll just call you Slippery for short," she added.

Huh. I gave them both a raspberry, but Godiva ignored me and finished up her play-by-play: "So yeah, Slippery--underneath it looks like the top of your engine's cylinder head is seated right in your cooch."

As in--to my delight--my pussy tunnel was now the top end of a well-lubricated ignition chamber. I could also feel, framed between my iron knees, my still-hot engine... and feel the breeze on my cylinder's outer cooling fins. Even my drive chain tingled, and the fuel in my chest still sloshed from when I'd made the transition.

The machine had again totally become me--but its essence, if you like, seemed have been decanted into the fat piston lodged at top-dead-center inside me. I looked forward to generating some serious compression.

"Hey," said Godiva. "We're drawing a crowd. Cool."

The 'crowd' was actually only a half dozen teens. The pair who'd seen me before were, without apparently realizing, rubbing their crotches. But the rest were just tilting their heads and trying to figure out what it was about the two bikers that seemed so hot.

"Lola," I pleaded. "Climb on my dick, and give me a kick!"

It took her several kicks, but I fired up and we were away to the races. Or, more exactly, off to cruise through town again, before Lola led the way out into some new-to-me countryside. I saw some lovely vistas, and even remember a few, but I was sort of distracted by the steady piston-pounding I was getting--not to mention regularly needing to spurt ever more cum into my rider, all the while watching likewise barely hidden transfers of semen from Randy to Godiva.

We gassed up at the same lonely station, and our owners had yet another fantastic fuck on Godiva's saddle. It was getting on toward sunset by the time Lola went down for the count again. Randy lugged her over to the bench where the same old man as before got to hold her, then returned to remind Melody and I that it was time to go for our next appointment.

The two of us found ourselves reanimated, as it were, and lying somewhat dazed on top of our machines. I wondered how much magic Randy had drawn from me--and how much was his, accumulated over the years as one of Oli's regulars.

Also, I was pleased to see that 'slippery when wet' was still painted on the tank of Lola's bike.

At any rate, we and Lola came to our senses around the same time and, after a round of kisses (which included the remarkably chill old guy), we went our separate ways and Melody and I flew home.