“Motorcycle”
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“Motorcycle”
by M. Earl Smith

So, I did it. Taking the last of my savings, I purchased a motorcycle. It was an old, rough Honda of some
sorts, black on black paint scheme, with a little chrome here and there. It was a cruiser, although it
would top out at ninety miles per hour. Parking on campus was a fourth of what it was with a car, and
so, with a little investment, I was saving money.

I, of course, had other ideas for my new toy, and I couldn't wait to show it to you. It was about 7 PM on a
Thursday night when I rolled up in front of your parent’s house, dressed in black riding leathers,
including boots. You heard me and, without a word to your parents, you sprinted out the door. I tossed
you a helmet as you approached and, before they could say a word, you were behind me on the bike,
hands around my waist. We peeled out, much to their bemusement and chagrin.

We rode for an hour, saying little and interacting even less. We were both upset, some pettiness about
other people that never seemed to go away. I was impossible, as you put it, and you were selfish, as I
stated, and we were both content to stew. The few times your hands did drift southward, to rub at my
cock through my pants, were ignored outwardly, although my very physical reaction let you know that,
in at least one way, you had my attention.

Route 50 becomes a flat, desolate stretch of land outside Hillsboro, so after stopping at an old food
haunt, we saddled up and headed, to your surprise, into the desolation. The sun was falling just over
the horizon, and you shook my shoulders urgently.

"I'm supposed to head home!"

I ignored you for a few miles and, as the sun fell over the horizon, blanketing the earth in darkness, I
pulled into a massive graveyard.

As we stepped off the bike, we both turned to the other, and ripped our helmets off, staring intently at
the other for several long moments before locking lips in a frantic, almost desperate kiss.

I heard you mutter that you were sorry, and I did the same, and all was forgotten as we kissed one
another. I climbed back onto the bike and, with a grin, worked your panties from beneath your skirt.
You paused, looking at our surroundings with a frown. "Not here." You said, as you managed to unzip
my pants and work my now-hard cock free.

I grinned as snapped your helmet into place before repositioning mine. "Fine. Straddle me." I
commanded, a twinkle of mischief in my eye. You happily complied, although I could not help but note
that you refused to let me enter you until we passed the cemetery gates.

As I flipped on the headlight and opened the throttle, you began to softly grind against me, your hips
working slowly against my cock as we rode. We were passed by the occasional car and, once, by a
semi, but we mainly had the road to ourselves. You rode me slowly, and leaned in occasionally for a
kiss, but I was forced to keep my eyes on the road even as my riding leathers became soaked from
your pussy. As we neared town, I bucked my hips, urging you on.

Before we arrived at town, you clutched my shoulders and came, moaning loudly into my ear as you did
so. I grinned, and allowed myself to do the same, even as my eyes never left the road. Slowing down,
we pulled into a closed gas station and situated ourselves on the bike as we headed towards home.
Leaning to my ear, you laughed. "Next time, let's find a longer stretch of road."
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