My Riding Adventure Under the Pier

I love few sounds more than the throaty roar of a motorbike. The growl sends shivers down my spine. I loved looking at the polished chrome and the leather-clad bodies that straddled the huge machines.

Never getting to ride one was one of my few regrets. A strict upbringing and a family name to uphold meant I’d kept my distance. But what had that brought me? A failed marriage, a mountain of his debt, and a month away from being homeless, that’s what.

I laughed at the absurdity of it as I queued at the little café watching the bikes roll in for the weekly bike night. Without taking my eyes off the machines, I stepped forward in the queue, slamming into a solid wall of leather. I tripped in my hurry to back away. Two strong, steady hands saved me from faceplanting the floor.

I started apologising only to find one hand under my chin tipping my face to meet his. It was his eyes that caught my attention first. They sparkled with a hint of danger and something else. A little small talk later, he took my hand and led me to a secluded spot under the pier.

We walked to cheers and whistles, and I buried my head in his chest as my cheeks grew hot. He laughed and silenced the baying crowd with a simple gesture. Once out of sight, his mouth found mine with a hunger I’d forgotten existed. His hands explored my curves, pausing only long enough for me to nod my approval.

He captured me against the wall, his fingers toying with my nipples, twisting them through the thin fabric of my bra. They hardened under his touch and my confidence grew, I began my exploration of his hard length, barely constricted by his leather pants. He growled as I traced the outline with my fingertips, bucking under my gentle touch.

One hand left my breast and deftly undid his belt buckle and zip, freeing the beast from its cage. I wrapped my hand around the monster, gently stroking and rubbing my thumb over the tip. His patience spent; he lifted my legs, holding me suspended against the wall as if I weighed nothing. My beautiful biker ripped my panties to the side, and his fingers delved into my core.

Slick with my excitement, I moaned for more, uttering the only words he waited to hear, “Fuck me.” He lifted me onto his length, lowering me slowly as it stretched my underused pussy. The feeling was almost too much, and my muscles tightened as waves of pleasure washed over me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck as he thrust deeper and harder.

I cried out as he reached the bundle of nerves so long forgotten. He kept his pace constant, repeatedly hitting the same spot as I writhed and squirmed against him, my fingers tangled in his hair. I collapsed against him, spent, my heart pounding. He quickened his pace, his cock pulsing inside me as my core woke to the new movement, my muscles responding and clenching him tightly, not wanting the feeling to stop.

Another wave of pleasure took me, pushing him over the edge as he filled me. Pulse after pulse of warm cum filled every inch of me, coating my mound and legs as he pulled out and held me tight on shaking legs. As his breath returned, he re-caged the now limp beast before lifting me into his arms, my head cradled against his chest, my eyes heavy.

We walked back to the cheering crowd. He shouted for his friend to take care of the bike before carrying me to the nearest hotel, where he found new ways to ride my body to previously unknown pleasures.

Originally posted by me on Medium 24 Sept 2022