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Introduction:

First-person narrative post-divorce biker fun
A Biker's Old Lady
by Duskshade


“God damn it!!” I cursed as the wrench slipped off, shooting my hand yet again into the sharp cooling fins of the motorcycle engine. The customer was always right, I thought to myself. He's paying me to do what he wants done. I tossed the wrench down and stepped back. The 2006 Dyna Wide Glide was a machine to behold, smooth and sleek – a stripped down machine for a too-complex world. I wrapped a dirty shop rag against my knuckles as I kicked a random part in aggravation. The tank top I had on and the dirty jeans were too nasty to bother trying to stanch the flow of blood, so I held the dirty rag and prayed that I hadn't left any antifreeze on it.

The Vance and Hines Short Shots would be loud and proud, but this joker in particular had decided to ride his bike for a bit, so the bolts were pretty much sealed into place. Breaking them loose required a lot of torque, and my favorite breaker bar/torque wrench combo was sitting in a storage room, awaiting the court's discretion in divvying up the remains of a broken marriage.

“Aw, fuck it.” I muttered as I walked back to the front of the shop. It was mine, all mine. All nine hundred feet of storefront and a lousy one-car garage in the back that served as my repair bay. I was the front guy, the back guy, the go-to guy, the whole thing, all at once. Sometimes its a little depressing. Like now.

I grabbed the chin-up bar mounted across the doorway and knocked out a quick seven. I was up to ten before the divorce, and the lack of eating, too much work, and not enough sleep made me weaker than usual. I shoved the mass of hair I had grown since my son was born out of my face and looked at my world. My little, grease-stained world. My bed was here in the office, and my clothes were discreetly tucked into a file cabinet.

It was getting dark – the customer wouldn't be back til Tuesday, and it was Friday night. It had been two months since I'd gotten laid. I was sick of laying on the cot in the office and holding my cock while Claudia was in my bed fucking the neighbor. Yep – that was the kicker. I came home early to find Bruce, the pudgy accountant neighbor, balls-deep in my wife Claudia as she talked dirty in Spanish to him. Claudia's family had come from Central Mexico, from one of the German enclaves that still grew their girls light-haired, light-eyed, and light-skinned. She was all three, dark blonde with matching carpet, green eyes and a killer accent that was so clean, unlike my border-Spanish.

I was supposed to be at the shop all day, and my son was at school. They thought it was safe.

“Damelo, cabròn!” she grunted as she lay on her back, her legs up in the air. That little chubby fuck was porking her good, though. Bruce was dripping with sweat as Claudia's hips wiggled all over. I stood there in shock as he arched, flopping his beer belly on my wife's toned abs as he blew his load into her. She was so slim, so muscular and sexy – my mind couldn't wrap around the fact that my goddess of a wife was fucking the greasy, sniveling little twerp across the street with a bad toupee and horn-rimmed glasses.

He slid himself out of my wife's pussy after he finished, his cock dripping with his cum and my wife's fluids. A red haze colored my vision as I watched him sit back, still in his black socks as my wife lay back, gloriously nude in our bed. Electricity shot down my arms, though, reactivating my paralyzed muscles. I could feel the rage, like a hot fiery energy, flood down my spine and into my arms and legs.

My voice was as flat as it got, which meant someone normally got hurt at that point. “What. The. Fuck.”

Claudia snatched covers and began babbling at me in Spanish. She was sorry, she was not responsible. He made her do it. Whatever. I knew that look on her face, the one she'd give me as I railed her within an inch of her life, making her come all over the place and leaving her a limp puddle of wet, exhausted flesh. I knew how she looked when she enjoyed the sex, and she was enjoying his pale, fat flesh on her.

I took two steps closer as his sense of self-preservation overwhelmed his natural desire to relax after blowing his load and he began to realize his bodily integrity was in danger. I grabbed a hold of him by his greasy neck and aimed him toward the door, propelling him out with a series of shoves and kicks to his wide, pimpled ass. Claudia wrapped a sheet around her naked self as I sent her paramour out of our bedroom, through our house, off the lawn and into the middle of the street. She was from Central Mexico, and she showed it as she screamed at me in the street as she wrapped up, her righteous indignation at humiliating her lover overriding her desire to keep her dignity. Sheets slipped as neighbors watched her cursing at me for throwing her lover in the street naked, her body exposed as she forgot her nudity. She snatched at them as she cursed at me, giving everyone a good look at her sexy body while I kept the fat man down, his fish-belly paleness flourescing in the daylight.

My anger at Claudia was enough for me to sling her over my shoulder, throw her in the bedroom, and fuck her like she was the last bit of pussy on earth. I ignored the fat bastard's cum as I slammed myself into her. It turned me on that she cursed me as she grunted and fucked me back, her animal passion like a match to gasoline. She came again and again, calling me names as I grudge-fucked her. Eventually, I blew my own load all over her stomach, tits and face. God, it felt so good, like every hot emotion blew through my cock and onto her. I wasn't angry at her, and I wasn't ready to kill her. But, that would be it – I would not be sleeping next to her or around her again. She lay in another limp puddle of her lover's drying cum and my fresh load as I pulled down a duffel bag from the closet, packed my clothes and gear, and left the house.

The next day she slapped me with divorce papers. I guess sex wasn't our problem after all.

Nine years of being together was gone – we'd met in college – she was a language major and I was an engineer. I'd worked on two major projects before falling in love with motorcycle mechanics. I made more money as a mechanic, and I designed some hot custom work for the marks with lots of cash. I had grown my hair after our son Jared was born, a year out of school, he was seven.

I reached into the small fridge I kept my groceries in – atop the mini fridge were a single plate, a fork and spoon, and a hot plate to cook on, and a cot beside it. This was my life, now. After the split, I made a point of seeing my son daily, he rode to school on the back of the bike, and I brought him home. Claudia and I still looked at each other with love and hate in equal measures – I loved her, but if she were on fire, I wouldn't piss on her to put her out.

Clauda told me the same thing one afternoon when she dropped by the shop. It was the end of the day and she was coming from somewhere with information on Jared. She was haughty in her fashion wear and I was angry and horny. Words were exchanged, and I ended up stripping her as we kissed – I fucked her like mad over one customer's bike, and she loved the grease marks I left on her where I touched her. I came like a fucking fire hose inside her as she screamed out her own orgasms, her tits shaking with pleasure as she held herself up with one hand and pinched her hanging nipples cruelly. When Claudia got dressed, she didn't even clean the handmarks of grease and oil off her, just slid her jeans back up and her shirt back on, tucking her panties and bra back into her purse. Then she left and said she'd changed the locks on the house. I shook my head as I watched her leave, knowing my cum was soaking a wet stain at the crotch of her jeans as she walked off, and I could see her legs quivering still from her orgasm.

In the end, it was my Mexican pride and her German obstinacy that broke us apart. We could have made it work, but in the end, it was that I didn't want to ask her back, and she was too stubborn to ask me to come back.

And so the divorce.

I was sick of it all. I knew I'd always take care of Jared – he was my pride and joy. We camped at Lost Maples National Park when he came over, and he slept in my cot when I had him on the weekends. He worked on bikes and we went on long rides when I had slow work, eating in biker hangouts. The ol' ladies we encountered loved on Jared – his thick dark hair and his mom's lighter skin made him exotic, intriguing. At seven the ol' ladies pampered him with food, attention, and made points of wearing things that left little to the imagination as they treated him like a king. No, he'd never be insecure around girls, after the ego boost of hot biker mamas treating him so well.

A few of them even made eyes at me – which normally ended up with one in the back of the hangout while Jared was being entertained by three or four other ol' ladies. Generally I bent them over something while I got some action. Most ended with a kiss on the cheek and a sticky spot on their backs as they went back in. A biker's life was interesting, and there was never really any shortage of pussy. Occasionally one would just want my cock in her mouth, bobbing up and down on me with her tits hanging out until I came all over them. Then, a zip-up, a kiss on the cheek again, and we'd part ways, me going back to Jared and the ladies who entertained him, and her off with the other ol' ladies.


Lately its been busy work, and I have had my son over, but our father-son time involved me trying to degrease myself in the bathroom before going to the movies, Hooters, or both. It wasn't bad, but it was no way to really be a dad – I mean, I did get to take him to school in the mornings and pick him up. He told me his cool factor had gone up now that he carries his beanie helmet strapped to his pack in the mornings. I enjoyed the time with him, as Claudia gave me enough time to pick him up and share a burger, a shake, or just some guy time every day. She may have been a Class-A bitch to me, but she has never interfered with mine and Jared's relationship.

Still, two months was a long time without pussy. I was sick of watching porn on the computer with my pants around my ankles in the middle of the night. Sure, every guy likes self-service, but this was outright miserable. Fuck this – I was still alive. The little man was with his mom this weekend – visiting their grands in Monterrey. My folks had passed some time ago, and I had no brothers or sisters.

I hit the shower and washed off. All my money was tied in the bank as part of the divorce, the only cash I had was what came directly out the bike shop till. Its never a smart idea to dip into your own till, and I couldn't do the bank thing while our divorce was still on – her lawyer had frozen me out of the bank accounts because he was a shark in a suit who convinced Claudia that I could take all the cash and run. Thus, no everyday cash other than what the shop made.

Oh well, I had enough profit in the cash box to cover a night out. I folded up a few twenties and stuck them in a set of jeans I had pulled out. I was gonna take a ride, maybe even a longer one than usual. Either way, I needed to get out and do something.

Clean jeans, clean socks, and a fairly presentable t-shirt rounded me out. I skipped the drawers, instead just sliding a pair of jeans over my naked ass and buttoning the fly. I shoved some anti-tangle goop through my hair and brushed it out quickly, tying it back into a ponytail. I was set to go out – and I had that familiar tingle of being excited to be out and about again. It had been such a long time.

The night was still fresh and warm from the end of the day. In the back, under a tarp, lay my latest motorcycle. To call it a Harley would be shorting the machine – it may have started as an FXR, but the long 36-degree rake on it was the first indication that it was customized. Oh, boy, was it customized. It was long and sleek, with straight racing bars on it. The engine was a fat one – originally a 96-cubic-incher, it was bored out to an fat 106-inches. No stupid stroking, as that only shortens an engine's life. This bad betty was fat, mean, and roared like a temperamental lion. The S and S motor breathed through a huge hypercharger, and the Vance and Hines Short Shots let everyone know when she started.
She gleamed like she was polished with slow light, the bare metal fenders and tank glazed with clearcoat. She was everything a chopper-fan would want, clean enough to please the purists.

I slipped on my vest, a black leather cut festooned with pins and patches. My beanie helmet sat right where I left it on the saddle. I laced it on and fired up the bike. She roared awake and settled into a boneshaking rumble. Iwas already feeling better as I locked up the storage yard and took off – there's magic between a man and his bike.

I left the shop in a roar of RPMs and thunder, quickly shuffling from the small industrial area on Nakoma and 281 to the main highway, shifting south and letting the big engine find its own best pace. The gears clicked away quickly, and the bike found its own best speed, a smooth, powerful 70, leaving the dreariness of that little office bedroom for the road.

I swept along the flying ramp to connect with 410, the main loop around San Antonio. Rolling on the throttle as I came off the ramp, I felt the bike's connection to the road as we merged into the weekend night's flow of traffic. Tuner cars and sportbikes alike were nothing to me and my bike, the fat S and S eating the miles like they were cake. Without even thinking about it, I knew where I was going. Hills and Dales. The Center of the Universe, and like any biker bar, the scene of crazy fun and shenanigans that were wild and crazy.

The music was throbbing and the scene was already going to town. The pool tables were full, the dart games were flying, and the small dance area was packed. I had found a spot to park between the various clubs that were making their presence known. The Bandidos were the dominant club, so they didn't have to do much, but all the local clubs were there. I knew most of the people there because I had worked on their bikes. The Damn Fools MC prez nodded – I'd redone his exhaust and carbs, leaving his big bad machine even louder and meaner. So were the Hard Heads MC, looking mean and hard. Two of them had come by for engine repairs, and were happy with my work.

I enjoyed the fact that I had such good relations with so many clubs. I sat down as the waitress came by and plunked a couple of bottles down. “Compliments of those guys,” she pointed to the Damn Fools, “and those guys.” She pointed to the Hard Heads. “You also got two more in the hole from some other folks.”

Now, isn't that a fun way to start the night? I pulled out my smokes, a pack of Djarum Black clove cigars. I smoke them because I hate the taste of regular tobacco, and these are nice and tasty and only 12 to a box, so I don't smoke as much. I'd quit the habit but picked it back up due to that bitch Claudia and her fucking complications in my life.

So, after the first two bottles were gone, I wandered over to the Hard Heads, shaking hands and hugging the two I knew, Drillbit and Sunshine. They motioned me to sit down, and nodded to some of the girls who were hanging around. Two came over and sat in my lap. It was nice to find some young girls in my arms again – they were of age as Hills and Dales cards everyone, and they felt fine and firm under my hands as they touched me and let me touch them. No bras, short shorts, and high heels.

Stormy was the first one – dusky and hotblooded, she immediately sat on my lap facing me and put my hands on her tits. “These are some of the nicest tits you're gonna feel.” And they were. Claudia's were high and tight, these tits were lush and large, and I squeezed them both, firm and strong. She moaned and arched her back, rubbing her crotch on mine.

She got off and the other girl, Isabel, straddled my lap and began kissing me. The MC went wild, cheering and whooping as she made out with me, putting my hands around her and rubbing herself up and down my body. Of the two, I liked Isabel the best. Her little Motorhead shirt was torn just enough to give an eyeful, and her booted heels were sexy and knee-high, setting off her tiny shorts.

Stormy smiled and went off with another club member leaving Isabel with me. Her tits weren't as lush as Stormy, but Isabel was short, slender, and hot as hell. Her skin was an even coffee-with-cream color through the tears in her shirt, and her hair was long and jet black, with a hint of Aztec haughtiness in her cheekbones. A hot little Mexican cutie, I was down for finding out how to get her home.

After a few beers, Isabel sat on my lap, exploring my mouth with her tongue and her hands were up my shirt. I had mine on her ass, kneading that soft, luscious asscheeks. She came up for air, and whispered, “I'm ready to go to your place.”

“why my place?” I asked. I hadn't had enough beer to be stupid – I knew that one look of my place would send this hot little honey right out of my bed and out the door.

“Because its hot that you work on bikes. It's hot that you live in your shop.” She also leaned in. “You're hot. And Claudia's a bitch for fucking around on a man like you anyway.”

That caught my attention. I looked at her closely. Between the hair and the well-tanned skin. I looked at her – really looked at her.

“Isa?” Oh, fuck. She's Claudia's cousin. Claudia's aunt, her Tia Sonia, had married a well-off, dark-skinned Mexican man. I knew Isa when she would come visit for the summer. I hadn't seen her since she went to college at Texas A and M University two years ago.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Why aren't you at school?”

“I got involved with some of the local MCs in College Station, and I skipped school last semester. I was hanging around in Houston, but after you and Claudia split up, I hitched a ride here and asked around until I found the MCs you hung out with.” Isa leaned in, rubbed her tits on my face. “do my tits feel bad now that you know?”

“Fuck, Isa... If Claudia finds out...”

“Fuck Claudia. I remember her talking to Mama about the little accountant she was fucking behind your back – that it was strange that some greasy pendejo made her feel like a queen because he worshiped her just to get some pussy.” Isa was angry, her voice offended.

“I used to play with my clit at night and dream of treating you like a king.” Isa whispered. She had a faintly crestfallen look on her face. I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. It rarely gets me in trouble.

“I think I fell in love with you when you took me shopping, listened to me with my stupid boy issues and acted like I was a real person.” Isa said. Her eyes were welling up, under the makeup.

“Isa,” I said. “Let's get out of here, and let's talk over a drink somewhere quiet, before we do anything else.”

Isa brightened at the fact that I was not rejecting her.

I waved to Drillbit and Sunshine, and got cheered a dozen times as I left with Isa. We mounted up and I started the big machine. She roared like a pent-up demon as we got going. Isa wrapped herself around me and I could feel her nipples pucker in the cooler air as we rolled on the highway.

Isa was murmuring something in my ear, but I couldn't hear it as we rolled along 1604. I took the upramp to 10 and moved east. She began moaning and grinding on me as the vibes from the huge engine vibrated her pelvic region. I could hear Isa trying not to moan but I could feel her gripping harder and harder until she clenched, and gave the sexiest moan I'd ever heard. My cock was already hard from feeling her getting off behind me.

I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled of 10 at the first exit to UTSA Boulevard. There road swept right, then left. I rolled down until I found a small road to the right, that doubled back to the access road but went through a dark area. With no curbs, I eased off into the grass and near a stand of trees. Unless someone shined a light right here, no one would see.

Isa dismounted, and I did, too. I crushed her to me with a growl of impatience and need. She surrendered to my hands as I touched her all over, lifing her Motorhead shirt and suckling her hard nipples. My hand alternated between squeezing her ass and rubbing her pussy through her short shorts. I didn't stop, biting hard enough to send waves of sensations through her as Isa thrusts her hips against my hands.

Finally, Isa quit rubbing my chest and slid her hands down between us, unbuttoning my fly and letting my cock out into the warm night air. She slid down and swallowed my down to the root in one shot. My eyes rolled and my knees buckled as she sucked on me, pleasuring me with her tongue as she kept her warm mouth on me.

I didn't want to cum yet, though, so after a few minutes of enjoying Isa's talented mouth, I eased her up, took her short shorts down, and bent her over, her hands on the saddle of the bike and her shorts in a puddle around her ankles.

She was wet, the scent of her arousal intoxicating like pot smoke as I aimed my hard meat, sliding in. It was the indescribably wet slickness like heat and silk and velvet all at once, and Isa gave me that sexy grunt/moan that all women do when you sink into them for the first time. Oh, god Isa felt like heaven. It was so sexy as I pulled back, until just the head and crown were buried in her. I eased forward, feeding that distended pussy one slow inch at at time until I had my cock near Isa's cervix and she was spasming, her legs shaking with pleasure.

I couldn't wait anymore. I began fucking Isa with enthusiasm. Plunging deeply, I kept giving her the full length at each stroke til she began quivering again, her breathing hard and gasping as I slid myself in and out of her.

“oh, god. Claudia said you were a god at fucking, but oh!” she quit talking as I fucked her harder, the lingering anger at Claudia driving me forward into her. She mewled out an orgasm as I kept fucking her. “Damn, that's good!” she whispered as she held on, another orgasm building as I fucked her. Isa's pussy was dripping, the fluids running down my cock and onto my balls. I could feel Isa's pussy tightening up as she built up to a major orgasm, and I was ready, my own nuts churning with cum as I held it all back to enjoy Isa's hot body.

I felt her clench tightly, then begin pulsing as the release of her orgasm shook her and she screamed my name. The pulses and my relentless fucking took me over the edge, and I began fountaining my own pleasure out, the jerking release driving her tight, pulsing pussy to greater pleasure as it dragged my own pleasure out, exquisite pulse after exquisite pulse.

My mind was a shining blankness for a moment, and I could hear nothing but the pulse in my ears and the rushing of blood in my body. I could feel Isa's pussy contracting around me as wave after wave of pleasure rushed out of my cock.

I gasped as the waves died down, and realized I was still hard, still wedged deep inside Isa's body. Cum was leaking out from her body as I stayed in there, until she eased forward and I fell out with a pop.

“Oh... my... god.” she muttered, putting a hand to her pussy. She cupped a small handful of sperm dripping and brought it to her lips, licking it clean. “Mmmm... I always wanted to taste you. I always knew you would taste so good.”

“Damn, that was good.” I shakily pulled my jeans up as Isa shimmied back into her short shorts. She leaned in and gave me a warm, deep kiss. I could taste my cum and hers in her mouth as she kissed me.

"What were you saying earlier, on the road?" I asked, to break the quiet.

"Hmm?"

"I was just curious as to what you said when we were riding."

"Oh." Isa giggled. "I was gonna tell you that your bike was gonna make me cum."

We shared a laugh at that.

“So, now what?” she asked.

“well, now we go back to my place and fuck some more. Tomorrow we'll figure out what to do.”

“You got more after that?”

“Its been a while, and if you talked to Claudia at all, you know I can fuck more than once a day with a great finish.”

“Yeah, she told me about that.”

She mounted up, waiting for me to get on the bike. I rocked it upright and we took off in a roar of thunder of exhaust and RPMs.

The rest of the night was Isa and I, fucking on the bike in the storage area. Then we fucked in the small waiting area. On the customer's bikes. We spent the night nude with my cock and tongue in various parts of her body. I came at least three more times – she came so many times she passed out, a sweaty puddle of flesh drooling cum out of her orifices. I passed out next to her.

The morning came way too fast. I awoke to the smell of coffee and takeout breakfast. Isa came in with a sack of breakfast tacos. The taco truck around the corner was fantastic. She was dressed in the t-shirt I had on last night, and her boots.

“I walked over to the taco truck this morning.” She said as we divvied up the tacos and began eating. “He didn't seem surprised to see a woman in a t-shirt and boots come out of your shop.”

“Don't think I have naked women all the time here.” I sipped some coffee as her wan expression brightened. “He's illegal, so he doesn't say anything about what he sees. Ever.”

With breakfast finished, she stripped her clothes off and snuggled up against me. Her lush skin and smooth complexion looked so good against my tanned, slim body.

“How do you avoid getting a pot-belly?”

“I don't hardly eat since Claudia and I split up. So, no food means I stay skinny.”

“You should eat more – its not healthy to be so thin.”

Her hand on my skin as she talked woke my dick. It was already extending, hardening. Isa's eyes watched it as it grew erect. Without a second glance at me, she slid between my legs, swallowing my length again.

Between the sex and the hotness of Isa's warm brown skin and curves, I was feeling the need to cum like distant thunder approaching. It built up under her soft lips and tongue, until I was panting and fisting the sheets.

“God, Isa, I'm gonna cum.” I warned. It was not a secret, I could feel the little dribbles of pre-cum leaking out of me already.

Isa bobbed faster, her hands working my balls and playing with my asshole.

I couldn't take it anymore, and I arched, letting out a final blast of semen with a primal yell. She swallowed every drip, every splash, without blinking as she kept sucking me, until I was dry.

Finally, she let me slip out from between her lips. “Was that good?”

“Oh, yeah.” I said, panting still.

With that, Isa snuggled up against me. “Good. I'll make you feel good all the time, anytime you need it or want it.”

“Are you sure?”

“You're my king, baby. Let me treat you like one.”

She dozed off contentedly as I held her, thinking of the inevitable fireworks when Claudia found out.
8 comments

anonymous readerReport

2011-10-27 17:00:52
If you want to get read, this is how you shloud write.

anonymous readerReport

2011-08-04 21:44:07
Great story Deffo need a second chapter

cruisinrncReport

2011-08-03 17:52:07
What a great story and so well written. You have to continue, such a hottie and bikes make for a great read.

cruisinrncReport

2011-08-03 17:34:09
What a great story and so well written. You have to continue, such a hottie and bikes make for a great read.

LudwigReport

2011-08-03 05:18:19
Best I've read on this site so far. I found myself caring about the characters, great background (divorce, son Jared, niece Isabella), the bar scene was deftly painted (darts, pool, dancefloor, other MC's) and the sex was maturely written, a touch exaggerated - but that's appropriate here. More please.

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