126 lines
7.3 KiB
Plaintext
126 lines
7.3 KiB
Plaintext
"Riding"
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Bruce M. Lloyd
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I slowly look up through the smoke coloured plexiglass visor of my
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motorcycle helmet. The grey asphalt blurs under the wheels of the
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motorcycle, the yellow lane markers strobe past us and the flat
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prairies slowly rotate by like a slow motion movie. There isnÕt
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another vehicle on the road, with the exception of us. WeÕre traveling
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west, west from the pathetic jobs of the east - from the life crowded
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by the demands of our time. Your shoulders eclipse the view ahead -
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your thoughts blocked by the plastic shell of the motorcycle helmet.
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Your leather jacket is ballooning out from the force of the wind, your
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jeans are tight on your legs, and you riding boots taught from their
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position. IÕm sitting behind you, pressed up against you tightly, but
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my hands are on the handle behind me. WeÕre on a big bike - big enough
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for both of us. I see you shift your back - as if trying to get
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slightly more comfortable. It is tiring to be touring the country by
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motorcycle - sitting in a certain position all day can be exhausting -
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but it is better than the TV like view you get in a car. I let go from
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my grip on the handle, and rest my hands on my thighs. You can feel
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the sudden shift and turn your head slightly. I poke you in the back,
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gently, everything is ok. I see you nod your head slowly, in
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understanding.
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For what seems like hours of staring into the bland and geometric
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scenery, I slowly move my hands down my thighs and onto your love
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handles. I stay this way for a moment .. you seem almost caught off
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guard; as if I suddenly distracted you from a distant thought. Slowly,
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cautiously, I move my hands forward, I can feel the material protecting
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your pockets, and I slip my thumbs into those pockets. I can feel the
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warmth from your belly, which for only my thumbs is soothing, but
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soothing enough to let me turn my head and rest it between your
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shoulders. The sound of the wind suddenly quiets as I slip into the
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airless pocket behind your head, allowing me to focus more of my
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thoughts on you. I manage to carefully put both hands into your
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pockets and squeeze gently. I can feel you take a deep breathe through
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your jacket. The sound of the wind, the feeling of the road at 60mph -
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the feeling of being free of the bondage of a concern - is far more
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sensual than being tucked into a bed.
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With my hands in your jacket, I can feel that it hasnÕt been done up
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all the way. A few buttons at the bottom and the rest free. I pull my
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hands out of your jacket, and at the same time the continuous whine of
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the engine dips - perhaps you liked my hands there? But, to your
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surprise - I begin to unbutton those few remaining clasps - and your
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jacket begins to flip and flutter around like an untied sail in the
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wind. The back is blown up enough that I can get my hands and arms
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inside and feel the soft underside of your belly. I reach in and wrap
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my right around your waist - and grabbing my wrist with my left hand.
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Almost as if I were performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on you, but this
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time I squeeze gently and hold it. I see your head move slowly up and
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then to the right. Without hearing a sound - without seeing an
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expression, I can tell and hear in mind a long, deep growl. As well,
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with my hands so close the top of your jeans, I can tell something else
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is getting long. I just squeeze tighter - and the bike
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accelerates..coincidence?
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I shift myself forward and press my belly right up against your back.
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My jacket is open somewhat and I can feel the cool touch of the leather
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on my chest and belly. You move your left hand from the throttle and
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grab my right hand, moving it slightly, so you can adjust your jeans
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for the now tight situation underneath. I move my hand back, but this
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time, I place it right on top of the tight, burgeoning fold of
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material. My left hand, still on your belly, begins to gently rub,
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massage and pinch your soft tummy. I use my index finger and make
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small slow circles in your belly button, the layer of fat moving
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fluidly with my finger. Again, I turn my head, and rest it on your
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shoulders and close my eyes.
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After what seemed like hours, I feel the machine jerk and we start to
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slow down. As your black boot clad foot intuitively disengages the
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mechanism, you shift down, I look up and see that dusk has fallen and
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weÕre stopping at a motel. Directly above us, the sky has turned the
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colour of slate, and off in the distance, the peaks of mountains can
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been seen, shadowed by the bleeding of the Sun. Back behind us, the
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sky is dark, like someone was pulling a blanket over us in a giant bed
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- punctuated with holes to let little tiny specks of light shine
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through.
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We stop, and get off the motorcycle. In the quiet it sits, poised like
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a black, sleek jaguar about to strike. I take off my helmet, and place
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it on the seat of the bike. Your helmet is already off - we casually
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stare at each other..neither of us speaking.
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ÒNice place - nice and quiet.Ó I mutter, turning, looking out at the
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bleak flat terrain.
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ÒYep - let register.Ó you say as we walk towards the office, stretching
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from being on the bike for so long.
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Inside the hotel room, all of our clothes are on the other bed, and
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both of us are in one big queen size bed. IÕm lying on my back, my
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hands above my head, my head turned. IÕm warm from the hot shower, and
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IÕm slipping into a very light sleep. I feel the end of your finger
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touch my neck and jaw. Like a cat, I squint my eyes tight and turn
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into the feeling ... I can feel the gentle air from your breath on my
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ear. After a moment I feel your lips - rough from driving, yet warm
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from the shower, press on my furry cheek. I can feel your tongue and
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lips move slowly up my cheek to my ear and down my neck. Occasionally
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youÕre kissing, but mostly your letting your tongue taste my face. I
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just lie there - moaning deeply, flexing my shoulder and upper arm
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muscles at the feeling of your touch. Like an echo, I hear you say
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through a long deep sigh that you love me. I tilt my head back,
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expecting a kiss on the lips, yet I feel you crawl on top of me,
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resting on your elbows, your belly heavy on mine, and your mouth on my
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throat. My arms wrap around you, the world outside falls away. I
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slowly open my eyes - to see yours, peering deep into mine. YouÕre
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squinting, mouth open slightly breathing heavy. Your head tilts ever
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so slightly, and you move closer as you close your eyes. Instinctively
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I close mine and feel your lips press heavy into mine. I can feel your
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tongue enter my mouth touching mine. It flicks and wipes mine -
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begging me to play with it. My arms around you, I squeeze tighter and
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and move my hands down your back to your ass...pushing your solid cock
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into the underside of my belly. Although on your elbows, you place
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your hands on my sides and squeeze .. forcing air into me.
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Both of us too tired for any sex, we remain kissing like this for
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hours. Our mouths tired from the wrestling of our tongues. We fall
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asleep - you on top of me. YouÕve managed to wrap your arms under me,
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squeezing me tight. YouÕre head on the top of my chest, and my hands
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still coupled on the small of your back. Until morning, the sun
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filters our room - like being inside a giant orange. Reluctantly we
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wake - and leave. Another motel in 12 hours.
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(c) 1993, 1994 Bruce M. Lloyd,
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