Dirty Rider: A MC Biker Romance (2 page)

"Shit," she breathed, the image of being under him, writhing and helpless causing her already interested venus to ignite with heated lust.

She perched herself on the edge of her bed, still gripping her fallen towel to her breasts with one hand, while running her other hand through her blond hair. How, exactly, could a woman ensure that she would get a man like that off, before he managed to drive her insane with his energy? The thought was much more than a sheer academic interest. After that little intrusion of putting herself on display for him, new-Kris wanted to crush him with his own lust. Teasing a man like that wouldn't be wise, even new-Kris was able to admit that much.

Old-Kris was screaming inside of herself to just let it go. Yet new-Kris wasn't listening. Kristina came out on the road to make changes. It was all good and fine to meditate and talk to oneself about changes while alone in a car that was going seventy-miles-an-hour down the highway. But at some point, you had to make those changes real. Sure, he was dangerous, strong, and very good looking in a rough biker sort of way.
But what a ride
, she thought, biting her lip.

"Even if I fail to crush him, it would be worth the experience," she told herself. "How many college boys are going to be like him?"

After a long shower, she stretched out naked on the bed, her hands exploring her suffering breasts, and soothing the heat between her legs. She wasn't in full solo-ride mode yet, but she was close. The question of how to subdue a man like him, while in the throes of lust plagued her mind. She needed skills she wasn't sure she had.

Her only sexual experience was with two boys in high-school and both of those encounters were quick and under-fulfilling. She repeated the encounters with one of the boys throughout her senior year. While she sent out her college applications, she knew that he wasn't enough to keep her in town. Yet she wasn’t strong enough to cut him off completely.

              Though there was much to learn, there was not much time in which to learn it. Kris turned onto her back and glared at the ceiling. She doubted that her young, near virginal body was going to be enough to excite him in the way she wanted him to be excited alone.

The hotel, to her amazement, had Internet connection with WiFi. She got on-line and decided she would start with blow-jobs. After a search, and she skipped over the obvious porn sites and other lewd entertainment. She then found an article which seemed interesting. Clicking on the link, she began to read the article. She skimmed it timidly at first, since old-Kris was still begging her to let this go. But new-Kris became more engaged as she read. It was a very clear and informative article on how to suck a man off. It went from the description of stroking while sucking the upper shaft, on to how to use her tongue and where. It then finally explored how to deep-throat without choking to death, or puking. New-Kris ate this information up, and from her case, she dug out her first
new-Kris
purchase. It was a dildo from a sex shop she came across in Chicago.

Looking the rubber cock over, its size and realistic shape continued to intimidate her. But it was probably perfect to practice her sucking skills on. It was much larger than the anatomy of either of the boys she had been with, and it was unlikely that any man would be this size. Just the thought of trying to put it inside of her was thrilling and frightening. But as for sucking? For learning to suck and deep throat without losing her lunch, it was probably just the thing. After all, if she managed to master this one technique, no man was going to whip something out that could challenge her, right? She would be the one in control, and being the dominant one was already half of the power equation.

Bouncing back into the bed, rubber cock in hand, Kris re-read the article in its entirety. She then continued to read it while trying out each of the described skills.

It took her more than an hour to get hot enough so that she could begin believing that she could deep throat this monster, even though she lacked any previous experience. Sucking this thing with that biker mechanic in her mind, imagining him bucking his hips and begging her to let him get off, made her thighs rub together.  The image motivated her to send her hand down to explore her venus.

She couldn't imagine a moment more thrilling than being able to have a man like him completely enthralled by her, and totally within her control. Yes, she would have to get him off. That probably would mark the end of her period of control. But gawd-damn- at least for that moment, whatever followed would be worth it!

With rubber cock in hand, thighs quivering and her venus on fire, Kris read the deep-throat instructions over once more. She then started to work the cock into her mouth. Pressing the head of the cock to the back of her mouth, Kris found her
gag-point
, the point where the reflex to gag and choke up whatever was stuck there, closed her off from pushing the cock further into her throat. As she was being instructed, she held the head of the cock against the constricted muscles and willed her throat to relax and open up. After nearly a minute she decided to try one of the tips mentioned in the article. She began to hum a song, and to vibrate the muscles. After only thirty seconds of this, her throat opened and allowed her to swallow the cock deep inside. Her thighs clenched with excited happiness. She could do this! She began to work the cock down and back in her open throat, fucking it inside her with increasing speed, while learning to breathe through her nose while she did.

The feeling was incredible, exciting and wondrous. With her hand between her thighs, soothing her venus, Kristina soon knew she needed more than soothing. She found her clitoris, and set to rubbing it with circular motions that sent electric fires through her gut. Sucking and swallowing the fantasy of that biker gripping her head and fucking her throat with his powerful hips soon had her thrusting the cock into her throat with wild, heedless speed. She writhed inside the consuming fantasy, and then she was climaxing, and howling around the huge rubber cock. Her hips convulsed with unrestrained blissful-agony and release. The climax felt like it had a mind of its own, as it were a wild animal inside her.

Taking the cock from her throat, Kris brought it quickly to the trembling opening of her venus and pushed in inside of her. The cock slipped into her and the stretching feeling, from its size spreading her open, sent her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed down upon her, washing all thoughts and fantasies away in a wave of impossible pleasure.

Panting and gasping, her eyes wide with amazed fulfillment, Kris gazed blankly at the ceiling. Old-Kris was in pure white shock at what she had just done to herself. New-Kris purred with satisfaction and thought about how much better that was going to be with a man like her biker mechanic between her legs.

After listening to both of the Kris personas for long moments of paralyzing afterglow, she started to laugh. "I've got to try that again!" she said giggling. "I want to be able to take him in my throat at will."

Once she could move again, she got on her belly and started on the cock again, her ass wiggling with excited expectations.

CHAPTER THREE

It was well after noon, but not yet one o’clock, when the little girl from the night before came through the door of the shop. Nolan watched her walk in. She wasn't dressed in the slutty clothing that she had been wearing the previous night. Today she was wearing a short skirt, which hugged her tight little ass, but she could have worn this attire in any office. The length came down to the middle of her thigh. It was a little short for business wear, but not short enough to be untasteful. Her blouse was white, and it fit her nicely. Though the shirt may have perhaps been open one button too far, it showed plenty of her perfect creamy cleavage. Yet it didn't give her a slut look.

Gold hoops hung from here her ears. They accented her high, smooth cheek bones. Black heels dressed the end of her long, muscular, young legs. The shoes were the kind that could be found on the feet of secretaries around the world.

The outfit screamed
business
. The outfit that enrobed the body screamed sex and promised rare levels of satisfaction. But her attitude, under the attitude she was trying to project, was the attitude that was at the foundation of everything else. It admitted inexperience -- the girl next door, who might be willing, rather than who might be screaming into the night, as long as she was approached with a certain level of care and skill.

He admitted that Kris was more confident today. She was probably tired, frustrated, and even a little scared last night about what might be wrong with her car. These emotional weights could certainly be enough to shake a woman's confidence alone. But there was something more to her than just a shower and a good night’s sleep. Her glittering green eyes were inflamed with something wild, yet they were contained and controlled at the same time. And the way she looked at him was a civilized way of directly challenging him sexually.
She thinks she can take me
, he mused to himself, and the challenge affected his cock more than he would have imagined.

Running the numbers through his mind, this challenge could be entertaining, and a pleasant distraction in his exile. He had already perused the menu of pussy the local town had to offer, and he found it to be depressing. He was almost to the point of calling that bitch Mary and telling her to get her ass up here. Four months, four very long months, and his exile was getting to him at the primal levels. At least Mary gave a cock serious attention. Nothing around here was up to the task.

Alan, the president of his club, told him on Monday that the exile needed to continue. The heat was still on, and the driver gave the cops a fairly good description of him, "The one you knocked out Sarge. It's those damn unnatural eyes of yours. Sorry, but that's just the way it is."

Nolan cursed, but he should have worn shaded glasses. It wasn't as of his eyes were new to him, or as of je hadn't brought the heat upon himself before. But there was nothing to do about it now.

His ache to be back in the city, running the scores and tearing up the road, surpassed mental longing. It was becoming a physical vibration, like a tremor before a seizure. This physical withdrawal was affecting the way he thought, affecting his judgment. A few nights ago he was at his kitchen table, contemplating the thought of planning a robbery on his own. This was, of course, more than just a foolish idea, considering the fact that he was already in exile. But planning out the heist was calming. After conjuring the vision, he managed to get a decent night of sleep.

So he wasn't in a safe mental state to be fucked with, or teased.  Here was this fresh-out-of-the-nest school girl, challenging him with the sway of her hips and the glitter in her eyes.

Just a kid for Christ sakes. Doesn't have a clue what she is doing with those come-hither thighs,
he thought to himself.

She reached over the counter, and was just about to ask how her car was. Just then he slapped a clip board down on the counter in front of her with a thwap and tossed a pen on top of the form. "Fill it out," he ordered, ignoring her interrupted inquiry. "The parts shipper said four days." He lifted a hand to prevent her from speaking, "You want to pay sixty extra for the rush?"

She held his gaze, but her mind was spinning numbers, "No."

"Then four days." He asserted, "I'll be back in a minute," and then he turned his back on her, striding off to the work bay area. A few steps away, he looked over his shoulder, "At least it really is only the O2 sensor and catalytic converter. Could have been a lot worse."

She opened her lips to say something, but he refocused his attention into the work shop and left her standing there with the work form to fill out.
Fuck it,
he thought as he reached a 2013 Mustang that needed a tune-up.
Challenge accepted little lady, and we'll see what is really at your core before we are done.

CHAPTER FOUR

Fully frustrated with herself and her failed show of strength at the mechanic shop, Kristina went back to her room. She answered emails, updated her Facebook page and stared at the ceiling.

She knew his name now. It was Nolan. She rolled the name around in her mouth, searching for clues as to how continue from here. Today was a bust, but she was far from feeling defeated. New-Kris wasn't done with him yet. Still, Nolan controlled the whole encounter.

She decided she had probably over estimated herself a little. After all, Nolan was at least in his mid-thirties. The look of him suggested that most of his years were spiced with some serious adrenaline-inducing events. She was nineteen, and her only adrenaline rush came from the rides at the traveling carnivals. She lacked serious experience, and wasn't going to be able to go toe-to-toe with him. But couldn't lack of experience be a strong enticement? An attraction? Didn't men like him fantasize about virgins and girl-next-door encounters?

She rolled on to her belly and looked over the clothing that was hanging in her closet. She really needed to get her other bags over here. She hadn’t brought much of a wardrobe, but she did manage to buy some ass-hugging jeans while she was in Chicago. She had also purchased some tops that exposed her breasts, while maintaining her sense of innocence. Kris contemplated her mindset while she was deciding on those tops. They were the most risky investment she had ever made, aside from the large rubber cock. Yet, now, she thought they were still on the innocent side of fashion, at least compared to the attire of a fucking mechanic working in this small ass town! Hell, she
was
innocent! She
was
the girl-next door! And if her solo-ride last night had said anything, it was that she was clearly virginal as well. Other than the physical absence of her hymen, she lacked any true knowledge about real sex.

Where could a girl like Kris find the information she was looking for, if she didn't even know the right questions to ask?

Rolling to her laptop, she brought up some mens’ fantasy sex sites. She had to dig to get past the onslaught of porn again. She wasn't interested in pornography. She wanted some real information. After more than an hour of frustrating and useless results, she stumbled across a girl-to-girl blog which appeared interesting.

After reading several of the articles which contained some attractive information, Kris decided to write author of the blog and ask her about being sexually aggressive, or at the very least, assertive. She tried to explain that she wanted to be in control of the encounter, she wanted to be the one pursuing him. Then she admitted the age difference and the obvious life experience the man in question had over her. After reading it through, she hesitated only a moment before sending it off.

She was famished, and she decided to enter a hotel bar/restaurant instead searching for something else. She reasoned that there would probably be more men at the bar. It was after work hours, and it was a bar. While contemplating some of the hints and tips she read on the blog, Kris thought about the suggestion of masturbation before her date showed up at the door, so her pheromones were excited and her skin glowed with excursion. She laid out her jeans and one of the Chicago tops, and then undressed.

Twenty minutes later, her venus warm and satisfied, she walked into the hotel restaurant.  She wasn't disappointed. Several men were sitting at the bar. After showing the bartender her false ID from back home, Kris sat down on one of the stools. She ordered a tap beer and asked for a menu.

Before her food arrived, two of the men were making passes at her. She flirted with them, and she was just on the edge of saying "Yes" without giving in. Kris decided to stick with the single beer though. She didn't want to wind up with one of these guys looking her over in the morning. They weren't what she was after. Nolan was indeed a hard act to follow. After her fantasies about him, she wasn't going to accept anything less.

After finishing her meal, she ordered a plain coke, and then watched in slight awe as Nolan entered the bar. He looked around and after spotting her, he walked directly over to her. He sat down beside her, as if she were already his, and had been for the last five years. Nolan ordered a shot of whiskey and a tap beer. He looked at Kris’s empty coke and ordered her a beer without asking.

The two men who were flirting with her turned away. It was as if something inside of their beer glasses was suddenly much more interesting than she was.

Kristina wondered how long pheromones had been useful in attracting and seducing a man. Surely the glow of her skin had dimmed by now. All that remained was a light application of makeup. The glaze was so light that she may as well not have bothered. Her Chicago top exposed her cleavage. She nervously played with a lock of hair and then new-Kris came to a halt. She thought about refusing the second beer, but new-Kris wasn't having any of that either. Straightening her back, she looked into his strange light blue eyes, and she said, "Thanks. Long day?"

He looked her over. Not like the other two men had done before, sneaking ogles when they thought she wouldn't notice, but rather he took her in with the boldness of ownership. His whole demeanor told her that he owned her, and new-Kris wasn't quite sure that this was a bad thing after all. Sure, she wanted to be the one in control, but this wasn't the only battle on the field. Besides, the image of him taking her, owning her, was very close to her solo-ride earlier. Her venus was extremely open to the possibility of being taken. After sipping on his beer, he said, "Average, but looking up. That's a much better top than the one this morning."

"How so?"

"I can see your nipples are hard in this one," he said, just as smoothly and casually as he might tell her the name of the movie he watched last night.

"Not yet," new-Kris came back at him without a pause, and she nearly did a happy dance on the bar with new-Kris' daring.

She caught his smirk, and knew she scored. He thought she would run away, or cover her breasts. Old-Kris was screaming for her to do of these actions. She readjusted herself on the stool, giving him a better view of her breasts, "The fourth day is going to be Saturday. Are you going to be open?"

He took another appraising look at her breasts, and with the new view she offered, he looked at her in the eyes. He said "Yeah, I'll be there until at least three o’clock. The delivery should come in before ten, so I might have you out of here on Saturday. Could be Monday morning though."

She shrugged, "Fine. The faster the better though."

"What are you in a hurry to get to?"

"Not to, from," she clarified. "There is nothing to do here, and I believe this is the night-life."

"You a night-life girl?"

"Not really," she said honestly, "But I want to change that, and that's why I'm on this road trip."

"Road trip eh?" He mused, as if he was fond memories were filling up his brain. "Well, you are right about this being the night-life. This is it. Don't ask Frank back there to make you anything more wild than a rum-and-coke, and the juke box doesn't come on until after nine."

She sighed, and took a sip of the beer he bought for her.

"The coast is only ten miles west of us though. Kind of a nice place to check out. It’s a good picture moment for the scrap book."

"Ten miles?" she asked, searching his face. Was he suggesting a ten mile hike to see some water?

"Like bikes?" he asked.

"Bikes like your bike?" she asked.

"Yes," he nodded.

"Sure," she said. And then she took a drink and admitted, "never been on one though."

"I think that a woman with your legs could handle the experience of a fast ride," he surmised, but she wasn't exactly the type of ride he was referring to. The way he appraised her suggested that she was nearly certain that he was referring to the kind where he rode her.

"Fast is good, long is better. But as long as it satisfies, I suppose the details are just details," she said. She was in awe of new-Kris' boldness.

His smirk flashed on his lips again, "You don't seem to have experienced either, or found much satisfaction."

"Hence the road trip," she reminded him plainly. After her encounter with him earlier, she had already accepted her inexperience. There was nothing to gain by pretending to know what she didn't. "But this place is just more of the same thing we got at home," she added, challengingly.

His sad, nearly defeated nod caught her unaware, and with a sudden insightfulness she said, "You aren't from here are you."

He took a large drink from his glass, "No, and not really wanting to talk about why I'm here either."

She processed this as far as she could, but also took the hint. With a shrug and sultry eyes, new-Kris told him, "And I’m not looking for a book to read.”

This time he looked deep into her eyes, as if to say she was getting close, and he hoped she knew what she was doing. The look was so open and straightforward in its warning, she double checked herself -- did she know what she was doing?

What came from her quick inventory was the realization that no, she had no idea of she was doing, or with whom she was doing it with. But she was going to do it anyway, and she was determined to tame him, if not at least subdue him. Her fake ID had gotten her this far. Her tits had carried her a little further, and new-Kris was holding her own. What was it going to take to push him over the edge?

She decided that she wasn't going to be able to control the seduction. That being said, she decided she would push the seduction, and her goal now was to get him into her room. It didn’t matter whether he carried her there over his shoulder or followed meekly after her. Once they were in her bed, she would give the best show of herself possible, and she would use all of her new skills on him. From there, she would then enjoy the ride. She had no hidden talents, no wild tricks to pull on him.

"So, when are you taking me for this ride? I like night time." She offered.

"Then now is a good time," he said, and with a single gulp he finished off his beer.

She just pushed her nearly full glass toward the bartender and hopped off the barstool. He took her hand again like he already owned her, and led her out of the bar. Once outside she looked up at him, "So is this the ride to the beach you were talking about, or the one where you ride me, that you hinted at?" New-Kris was definitely on a role tonight, and she nearly cringed at her own boldness.

"Both of course," he told her.

"Then let’s do the beach tomorrow. I don't have a jacket with me, it’s still in the car."

He looked down at her. He assessed her, and he looked for something that might be a trap as she supposed. She returned his examining stare with open, fully aware, and wanting emotions pouring from her eyes.

"You have lube for an ass fucking?" he asked her, and she blanched. He got her, damn-it! He fucking got her. She was speechless, and she didn't' recover with anything more than an odd noise coming from deep in her throat.

"No matter," he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her room. "But I hope you don't disappoint anywhere else."