The Great Biker
I love motorbikes and automatically turned my head when I heard a bike approaching. It was searing hot and I was walking to the nearby shopping mall to find a telephone booth. My truck had broken down and I needed to call AAA to have them tow it to a repair shop. The biker slowed down, gave me a glance and spat away, pulling the front wheel high up in the air. I must not have been to his liking, but for sure he looked great. Not a minute later I heard another motorbike coming. I looked back and there he was again. He must have just circled the block. I gave him a smile and he smiled back. When he came for the third time I put my thumb in the air, giving him a sign that I needed a ride. “I’m Carl”, he said, “Need a ride to the mall?”
I climbed behind Carl, hugging him as closely as possible. I put my hands on this waist, but he pulled them down all the way to his crotch, and spat away. I felt his dick swelling and mine too. Carl drove fantastically, daringly and confidently and way too soon we arrived at the mall.
We walked to the restroom, which fortunately was empty. “No way that I’ll have sex with him here” I said to myself, “Way to dangerous”. We chose two adjacent stalls and not long thereafter I felt Carl peeking over. I was slowly masturbating and he was too. He gave me an encouraging smile, and showed me his dick. Same size as mine, but more beautiful. His was shiny black, clearly showing all the veins. Just at that moment we heard steps, and we folded our dicks away. I felt someone standing to my right: a punk with red, crew-cut hair, with black flashes. I felt danger, bad vibes. At Carl’s side a similar punk, but with blue hair with yellow flashes. We walked out as quickly as we could. “I’ll give you a call at 8 tonight”, he said. “I now have to report to duty. I’m a security guard here”.
I slowly walked away. Another fucked up rendezvous. “He must not have liked my dick. If that’s all he cares for, all the better. He’ll never call” I said to myself.
Carl walked away quickly but not quickly enough. The punks cornered him. “No sharing, huh?” they snickered. Carl started to sweat. “We like that boy, so you’ll bring him here tonight. Don’t forget it, babe. You remember our brothers?” Carl did indeed remember their “brothers”, those dirty bloodhounds. Last time they got him, he landed in the hospital.
At 8 sharp Carl called. I had been wrong. I loved his voice . . . . .
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