textfiles/sex/EROTICA/R/riding.txt

"Riding"
Bruce M. Lloyd

	I slowly look up through the smoke coloured plexiglass visor of my
motorcycle helmet.  The grey asphalt blurs under the wheels of the
motorcycle, the yellow lane markers strobe past us and the flat
prairies slowly rotate by like a slow motion movie.  There isn<73>t
another vehicle on the road, with the exception of us.  We<57>re traveling
west, west from the pathetic jobs of the east - from the life crowded
by the demands of our time.  Your shoulders eclipse the view ahead -
your thoughts blocked by the plastic shell of the motorcycle helmet. 
Your leather jacket is ballooning out from the force of the wind, your
jeans are tight on your legs, and you riding boots taught from their
position.  I<>m sitting behind you, pressed up against you tightly, but
my hands are on the handle behind me.  We<57>re on a big bike - big enough
for both of us.  I see you shift your back - as if trying to get
slightly more comfortable.  It is tiring to be touring the country by
motorcycle - sitting in a certain position all day can be exhausting -
but it is better than the TV like view you get in a car.  I let go from
my grip on the handle, and rest my hands on my thighs.  You can feel
the sudden shift and turn your head slightly.  I poke you in the back,
gently, everything is ok.  I see you nod your head slowly, in
understanding.  

	For what seems like hours of staring into the bland and geometric
scenery, I slowly move my hands down my thighs and onto your love
handles.  I stay this way for a moment .. you seem almost caught off
guard; as if I suddenly distracted you from a distant thought.  Slowly,
cautiously, I move my hands forward, I can feel the material protecting
your pockets, and I slip my thumbs into those pockets.  I can feel the
warmth from your belly, which for only my thumbs is soothing, but
soothing enough to let me turn my head and rest it between your
shoulders.  The sound of the wind suddenly quiets as I slip into the
airless pocket behind your head, allowing me to focus more of my
thoughts on you.  I manage to carefully put both hands into your
pockets and squeeze gently.  I can feel you take a deep breathe through
your jacket.  The sound of the wind, the feeling of the road at 60mph -
the feeling of being free of the bondage of a concern - is far more
sensual than being tucked into a bed.  

With my hands in your jacket, I can feel that it hasn<73>t been done up
all the way.  A few buttons at the bottom and the rest free.  I pull my
hands out of your jacket, and at the same time the continuous whine of
the engine dips - perhaps you liked my hands there?  But, to your
surprise - I begin to unbutton those few remaining clasps - and your
jacket begins to flip and flutter around like an untied sail in the
wind.  The back is blown up enough that I can get my hands and arms
inside and feel the soft underside of your belly.  I reach in and wrap
my right around your waist - and grabbing my wrist with my left hand. 
Almost as if I were performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on you, but this
time I squeeze gently and hold it.  I see your head move slowly up and
then to the right.  Without hearing a sound - without seeing an
expression, I can tell and hear in mind a long, deep growl.  As well,
with my hands so close the top of your jeans, I can tell something else
is getting long.  I just squeeze tighter - and the bike
accelerates..coincidence?

I shift myself forward and press my belly right up against your back. 
My jacket is open somewhat and I can feel the cool touch of the leather
on my chest and belly.  You move your left hand from the throttle and
grab my right hand, moving it slightly, so you can adjust your jeans
for the now tight situation underneath.  I move my hand back, but this
time, I place it right on top of the tight, burgeoning fold of
material.  My left hand, still on your belly, begins to gently rub,
massage and pinch your soft tummy.  I use my index finger and make
small slow circles in your belly button, the layer of fat moving
fluidly with my finger.  Again, I turn my head, and rest it on your
shoulders and close my eyes.

After what seemed like hours, I feel the machine jerk and we start to
slow down.  As your black boot clad foot intuitively disengages the
mechanism, you shift down, I look up and see that dusk has fallen and
we<EFBFBD>re stopping at a motel.  Directly above us, the sky has turned the
colour of slate, and off in the distance, the peaks of mountains can
been seen, shadowed by the bleeding of the Sun.  Back behind us, the
sky is dark, like someone was pulling a blanket over us in a giant bed
- punctuated with holes to let little tiny specks of light shine
through.  

We stop, and get off the motorcycle.  In the quiet it sits, poised like
a black, sleek jaguar about to strike.  I take off my helmet, and place
it on the seat of the bike.  Your helmet is already off - we casually
stare at each other..neither of us speaking.  

<EFBFBD>Nice place - nice and quiet.<2E> I mutter, turning, looking out at the
bleak flat terrain.
<EFBFBD>Yep - let register.<2E> you say as we walk towards the office, stretching
from being on the bike for so long.  

Inside the hotel room, all of our clothes are on the other bed, and
both of us are in one big queen size bed.  I<>m lying on my back, my
hands above my head, my head turned.  I<>m warm from the hot shower, and
I<EFBFBD>m slipping into a very light sleep.  I feel the end of your finger
touch my neck and jaw.  Like a cat, I squint my eyes tight and turn
into the feeling ... I can feel the gentle air from your breath on my
ear.  After a moment I feel your lips - rough from driving, yet warm
from the shower, press on my furry cheek.  I can feel your tongue and
lips move slowly up my cheek to my ear and down my neck.  Occasionally
you<EFBFBD>re kissing, but mostly your letting your tongue taste my face. I
just lie there - moaning deeply, flexing my shoulder and upper arm
muscles at the feeling of your touch.  Like an echo, I hear you say
through a long deep sigh that you love me.  I tilt my head back,
expecting a kiss on the lips, yet I feel you crawl on top of me,
resting on your elbows, your belly heavy on mine, and your mouth on my
throat.  My arms wrap around you, the world outside falls away.  I
slowly open my eyes - to see yours, peering deep into mine.  You<6F>re
squinting, mouth open slightly breathing heavy.  Your head tilts ever
so slightly, and you move closer as you close your eyes.  Instinctively
I close mine and feel your lips press heavy into mine.  I can feel your
tongue enter my mouth touching mine.  It flicks and wipes mine -
begging me to play with it.  My arms around you, I squeeze tighter and
and move my hands down your back to your ass...pushing your solid cock
into the underside of my belly.  Although on your elbows, you place
your hands on my sides and squeeze .. forcing air into me.   

Both of us too tired for any sex, we remain kissing like this for
hours.  Our mouths tired from the wrestling of our tongues.  We fall
asleep - you on top of me.  You<6F>ve managed to wrap your arms under me,
squeezing me tight.  You<6F>re head on the top of my chest, and my hands
still coupled on the small of your back.  Until morning, the sun
filters our room - like being inside a giant orange.  Reluctantly we
wake - and leave.  Another motel in 12 hours.


(c) 1993, 1994 Bruce M. Lloyd,