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Rough Rider

A true confessional of a self diagnosed sex addict.

By Samantha JamesPublished 7 years ago 7 min read
Rid(h)er

I am focusing on my ass as I ride home; Only because my bicycle seat is as comfortable as a jagged rock. I let my mind drift away from the annoying pain and look into the snow strewn sky. Why did I ride my bike in this weather? Why am I not at home under the covers taking photos of my thighs, of my lips?

A hard bump reminds me of where I am as I am thrown from my bike onto the road, splat like spit. Fucking pot holes. At least I am untouched, not even an elbow scrape. However, my front wheel is so badly bent I cannot ride. I take pity on myself and google the nearest bike shop. I mentally punish myself for not staying home.

I walk the .69 (I giggle at the number, yum) miles to Brad's Bike Shop on Main Street. It looks warm and empty. There is a naked mannequin in the front window holding a tire pump, her tiny waist and barely there nipples make me stare... does this mannequin make other people think about sex? I mean, she is naked... Do people like the way she looks? I do.

As I enter, I see no one. There is soft music playing and it smells like rubber and black coffee. I hear rustling in the back as the door bell goes off, I drag my sorry bike farther in and drop it right inside the door in disgust. I am so upset I even kick it, maybe now it knows how I feel.

"Hey, how can I help you?"

Whoa.

I am in awe at the man that is walking towards me. The first thing I notice is how bright his eyes are, and the golden mustache laid perfectly above his full lips. I imagine what they taste like, if they are warm. My eyes move down and I memorize how big his shoulders, arms and hands are. "I bet he could hoist me onto him easily". I store that thought away for later...

As if he knows what I am thinking, he smirks and asks "Did you need help lifting this?"

"My front wheel is broken, can you fix it?" I cannot think straight.

I try to explain the best I can how little me bent my wheel in half, he doesn't seem to care even though he asked. He picks up my bike with one hand and motions for me to follow. I nearly trip over myself rushing after him.

His body reminds me of all the men on the front of my romance novels. Long and lean, but also thick and burly like he has done manual labor his whole life. My eyes feast on the muscles bulging through his t-shirt as he tightens my bike into a work bench. He must know I am staring at the way his pants strain over his groin, my eyes glued to it as if I was watching him thrust it into me.

He asks if I have anywhere I need to be, I tell him I have all the time in the world, trying not to sound too eager. Oh just let me strip you naked and show you what I have time for...

As I sit on the chair as close to him as possible, I can smell his dark scent and my eyes close. My first image is him, standing above me, glowing like a chiseled sculpture in a spotlight. I imagine his large hands pulling my tight top over my breasts, exposing my soft warm skin to his hands, as if he owns them. I sigh out loud and hear him chuckle.

"What are you thinking about?"

If only it was normal for me to explain every sexual feeling pulsing through my veins. If only he wouldn't kick me out and think of me as a pervert, I would do anything to hear him tell me he wants me, badly.

I tell him nothing and he looks puzzled. He asks if I am feeling alright, I request a glass of water. He motions for me to follow him again, this time to the back of the shop. Maybe there is a water fountain back there... maybe he will bend me over said water fountain and silence my moans with his hands. He points to the fountain across the room and I contemplate drinking from it, or him. As I reach the fountain and bend over slowly, I look over my shoulder to see if he is watching, he is. I take a few slow sips, shifting my weight from one leg to the other. I can feel my hips swinging, and his eyes following. As I turn around I make sure to make eye contact as I wipe my lips on my hand, letting them stay slightly wet and open, inviting. He is leaning against the wall, watching.

"What are you staring at?" I ask. I want him to tell me he is staring at my hot body, that he is thinking about fucking me; That I am not the only one dying to smash my mouth against his.

"You exude so much sexuality, how do you make it through the day without causing a riot?" My mouth opens to tell him I do constantly, but I ask,

"Is that all you are thinking?" This type of banter excites me. It is rare I find a man attractive who also speaks so openly about sex and his sexual thoughts. Men want to keep themselves a secret, they cannot accept their addiction to sex. Usually the men I find attractive make me feel ashamed for being what they are, double standards.

He smiles and rubs his neck, almost shyly. I can see he is blushing and as I watch him shove his hands back in his pockets my eyes are averted to his bulge again. It is now slightly chubbier and I see it pulse. This makes my mouth water and my blood surges down between my legs, a shock of pleasure causing goosebumps all over my body. I bite my lip and take a step closer, his eyes dart to me and they look dark gray now, hungry-like.

"Is this your shop?"

"Well, I am Brad, and this is Brad's Bike Shop, so yeah."

"So, you're the only employee?"

"If you are looking for a job I am not hiring at the moment." He laughs dryly and starts back towards the front of the shop. I feel confused, was I making up the way he looked at me? Was that my mind telling me he wanted me, or did he actually want me? I drag myself back towards the front and huff as I watch him start to take my wheel apart.

It has been barely 15 minutes, and already my body is aching to touch him. I have been watching him the whole time, imagining what every part of him tastes like. He does not look at me once...

I stand up and walk to the front door, turning the lock until it clicks closed and then walk back towards Brad. He doesn't say anything still, but I swear I can see his eyes darken to a deep gray again as I kneel down in front of him and gently pull his pants and briefs down past his butt cheeks. Instead of protesting, he adjusts his stance so that he is sturdy, and tenderly wraps my hair in his hand while the other sweeps my bangs from my face.

My mouth is so hungry for him, and I moan with satisfaction as I take the tip of his large penis into my mouth. He is still somewhat soft, and my moan is met by his as I feel his cock throb harder against my tongue. I peek up at him and he looks like a dream. His eyes are locked on my mouth but his hands are roaming my neck and jaw, softly tracing my bones as if memorizing them.

This gives me pleasure, I enjoy feeling his member go from soft to hard inside my lips, I close my eyes and let myself go as I continue to hear him moan and squirm. I feel like a goddess as I work him, his balls tight and heavy in my hand, his shaft thick and hot pressing against my throat. I hear him say something, but not sure what. My eyes are still closed as I focus on how long his penis is, on how deep it slides down my throat.

I hear him now "Let me taste you".

I stand and in one swipe of his large arm, all the tools and papers go flying from the work bench. He crawls on it and motions for me to do the same, my mind a furry of ideas racing between riding him and still wanting his penis in my mouth. I crawl onto him and turn around while I whisper, "But I am not done tasting you".

There is a rush of cold air between my legs as I hear my leggings rip in half, revealing that I am bare under them. I hear him laugh, and it reminds me of honey. Then, I am warm and wet. My body cannot stop itself from pushing hard against Brad's mouth, letting his tongue flatten against my clit. This releases me, allowing me to really delve into my sexual self, I have not felt this in so long.

I ride his mouth rough, needing to release the sexual energy built in me every morning. I focus on what his tongue is doing, how it adheres to my relentless thrusting. His hands are tight on my ass, gripping my cheeks tight like he is holding on for his life. My moans build on his shaft and I can no longer focus on him inside my mouth. Instead, I am working my hips up and down, side to side and hard. I need this. His tongue slows and quickens so tauntingly that I am begging for him to let me cum, please...

"You're a rough rider babe" he slaps my ass and I explode in his mouth.

But I don't stop thrusting, I want it again, I don't want it to end. I whip around and guide his massive cock to my opening, I'll show him how rough I can ride.

eroticfact or fictionnsfwroleplay

About the Creator

Samantha James

Since some of my very first memories consist of sexual dialogue that included the scientific and natural aspect of it all, and it seems as though I have never stopped talking about it... it just feels right, I must be a sex addict.

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    Samantha JamesWritten by Samantha James

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