Playing Hooky

Vincent smoothly rolled the throttle of the big Harley Davidson motorcycle as he came out of the curve and started up the next hill. As an engineer in he knew he should gear down so the engine wouldn’t strain, but he loved to feel the big V-Twin but it’s back into the work. The massive torque of the long throwing pistons vibrated through the bike as it slugged it out with weight and gravity. He felt it in his hands, his arms, his butt and even his legs. He always remembered where his female passengers felt it too. When he rode alone he reveled in hammering the engine and accelerating quickly; it was one of his guilty pleasures. On the other hand, when he had a passenger he was all about precision and control. It hardly required conscious thought on his part. This bike underneath him, 640 plus pounds of chrome, steel, and leather, had become an extension of his own body over the years of riding. The bike seemed to know him as well as he knew it, and he controlled it like he controlled his own arms and legs. In direct contrast to this feeling of oneness with his bike was the distance he felt right now with his passenger.

The tall and willowy woman lying against the backrest was moody and quiet today. Normally she would be tight up against him, with her arms around him and her hands on him, but today she kept her hands to herself. Usually her head would be on his shoulder and she would be talking to him as they rode, but today she was erect and quiet. She was unsettled about something, he could tell, but couldn't sense what it was. She had a right to be moody; she earned it well enough. Part of what drew him to her was the unusual life she had led. She was a veteran of the Gulf War, a paratrooper with jump wings tattooed on her hip. The war he watched on television she had lived through. She wasn’t a combat soldier, but she had been shot at. She still lived with the memory of waking in the middle of the night to air raid sirens and running to bunkers to escape rocket and mortar fire. She also had other nightmares of darker and more personal assaults, not by enemies in the uniform of a hostile power, but wearing the same uniform she did. She had demons and she had more baggage than the airport, but she was interesting, she was beautiful, and she was one of the most sensual women he’d ever known. She could make better love fully clothed than most women could nude.

The day was perfect for riding a motorcycle, no doubt what she was thinking when she called and asked him to play hooky from work with her. Blazing summer had passed into early fall, and the wind didn’t feel like it was coming out of a heating duct anymore. The air was just the right temperature to let you know you had skin, but still warm enough to get away with wearing minimal clothing. The sky above them was a hue of blue that seemed completely untarnished by haze and pollution. White cotton clouds drifted lazily across the panorama of the Blue Ridge Mountains. He caught sight of a trail leading off the road and decided to take a rest stop. He let off the throttle and squeezed the brakes, slowing the bike quickly. This was usually a good excuse for a woman to press her breasts into his back, or squeeze her legs around him tighter, but she did neither. A little miffed at missing out on this pleasure, he turned off the pavement and carefully maneuvered the big bike across the gravel apron and down what was more a path than a dirt road. They rolled into a small clearing that was often used for camping, as was evidenced by a blackened ring of stones.

He came to a stop near the stones and killed the engine, leaning the big bike over onto the kickstand. He swung off his seat and stretched his back and legs; his eyes closed enjoying the feeling. The Lady Raven got off after him, still quiet. Hey opened his eyes and caught a furtive glance from her, and she quickly looked away, not meeting his eyes. He wondered if he might have said or done something to upset her, and for a brief moment he considered the possibility that she had met someone else. Was she waiting for the right time to tell him, carrying the thought around like an overweight knapsack? It was possible, but if that’s what was going to happen, there was nothing he could do about it. He thought about a cigarette.

Raven was already opening a saddlebag to get their cigarettes. He paused to admire her. She was a full 6 feet tall with a slender build widening out slightly at the hips. She was self-conscious about her height, but he loved the way her long limbs accentuated her graceful movements. Her waist length, nearly jet-black hair, was pulled up into a ponytail for the ride. The ponytail fell across in front of her and across her neck as she leaned over, leaving her shoulders and back bare down to the top of her halter. He followed the line of her back to the widening of her hips above the low cut jeans and stopped at the tantalizing and barely visible cleavage of her ass. Rummaging around in the saddlebag looking for a lighter, she cocked her hips to one side, accentuating the curve of her ass. His gaze followed the lines of her form down and between her legs, and he remembered that she never wore panties. That thought stirred the blood in his loins, and he felt an erection straining against his own jeans.

He felt the heat of the sun on his exposed arms and face, which heightened his awareness of his own body as his heart rate quickened and the blood flowed to his groin. The hedonist in him rose to the surface and he removed his vest to expose the rest of his upper body to the sun. He was only wearing his jeans, boots, riding gloves, and sunglasses now. He felt more naked than he really was. He put a hand on his hard cock and squeezed the large bulge in his jeans. He wanted to feel the sun on the rest of his body.

Raven stood up and started getting a cigarette out of one of the packs. Normally she would have gotten one of his out as well, and lit it for him; a gesture he found particularly attractive. A cigarette was not what he wanted right now anyway. She put the cigarette in her mouth and lit it, looking up to see him standing in front of her, a few paces away, with the sun glistening off his body. Staring passively at him, she took a long drag and leaned back against the seat of the bike, and said nothing. Folding one arm underneath the other, she looked away dismissively.

Now he was unsettled. No, he was pissed. There was no warmth in her. Instead of a “come-hither” look he got ice. No joke, no smile, nothing at all. Did she invite him out for a day of sulking or fun? For a moment, just a moment, it cooled his desires. A car whined up the mountain, making the bend just on the other side of the trees. A lark called out for company down the slope. Being so nearly naked out like this excited him, and he didn’t need this attitude from her right now. She needed to get that bug out of her ass. He made the few strides it took to cover the ground between himself and Raven. She looked around at him and smirked before looking past him.

"I hope you don't think you're going to get lucky." was the first thing she had said to him in half an hour. She raised her sunglasses so he could see her eyes to confirm the rejection. Handing him another scornful glance, she turned away again and brought the cigarette to her lips. Wordlessly, Vincent plucked the cigarette from her and tossed it away.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she spat, standing up suddenly, or rather attempting to. He didn't move an inch, so when she stood up, it brought her body up against his own. At that moment he put his hand to the back of her head and pulled her mouth to his. She twisted and pushed back as he kissed her mouth, but not hard enough to break free, and he pulled her tightly to him with his other hand. She continued to push away from him, struggling enough to be convincing, but he knew she could do better. He kind of hoped she’d try to. He pushed forward and pinned her against the bike.

“What the fuck is your problem Superman? Get off me damn it!” For moment he wavered in his resolve, but then he decided he was going to find out what would happen.

“What the fuck is YOUR problem? If I had known you were going to act like this I would have stayed at work.” He glared at her to make his point, but he couldn’t help noticing her nipples were hard, and she saw him look.

“Maybe you should just get your ass on back there then.” She retorted, crossing her arms and covering her nipples. He pushed himself between her legs and held her to the bike that way, freeing his hands to pull her top down. Her nipples were firm and erect in the sunlight. She pulled her shoulders inward and covered her breast with her hands, but didn't pull her top back up. She looked down, not at him.

With a low firm voice that rattled in his throat like the exhaust of the Harley, he demanded, "Move your damn hands."

She hesitated, and then let her hands fall by her side, submissively, still looking down. Then all at once she covered them again and tried to stand up, pushing against his hips. He leaned his weight on to her, and pulled her hands away from her breasts. She wasn't really fighting, and he knew it.

He pushed one of her arms around behind her back and pulled her chest to him as he leaned over and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it. His erection strained hard, and he pushed it between her legs against her mound. A soft moan escaped her lips. His erection was so strong it hurt, and he had to free it. He leaned away from her a little and she tried to force herself up in that moment. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with determination in his eyes.

"Stop it woman." she said and flatly, "Get on the bike." For a moment she didn't move, but then her hands went down to her jeans to unfasten them. His hand stopped her. "Just sit on the bike." She pushed herself back and swung a leg over the bike to her natural riding position. When she had done so he put a leg over the bike so that he was facing her. He placed his feet on the floorboards and stood, facing her. She looked right at his erection and watched him as he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and freed his manhood. It was hard and throbbing, right there in her face, precum glistening in the sun on the head of it. She bit her lip, wanting it, but didn't move. He put his hand against the back of her head, pulling his fingers tightly into her hair, and pulled her mouth onto him.

"Suck..my..cock." he commanded. She put her hands on his hips and pushed away, but he just put both hands on her head and pushed his cock deeper into her mouth. Her hands moved up to his stomach and back down to his jeans, pushing them down farther, exposing his thighs.

She began sucking and licking his shaft furiously, grabbing his ass and holding him, licking down his shaft and sucking his balls. He rocked back and forth in pleasure as her mouth and tongue made love to his hard cock. Desire filled him, and he had to have her now. He pushed her head away, she pushed back to his cock. He pushed her away again, smiling at her pouting eyes and wet lips. He stepped off the bike, his cock bouncing, wet, and engorged.

"Get off." He told her, and she smiled at the innuendo. She stepped demurely off the bike and came to him. She placed one hand on his shoulder and stroked his wet cock with the other. She kissed him passionately, hotly, her lips still wet from sucking his cock. He loved to taste himself in her mouth.

He pulled away and spun her around. "Drop your pants and show me your ass." She smiled as she unfastened and unzipped her jeans, wriggling more than she needed to, she pushed her jeans down, placed her hands on the bike, and exposed herself to him.

He admired her, leaned over and started kissing her bare skin. He explored between her legs with one hand as he kissed and licked her buttocks, and found her wetness. He slid a finger between her wet lips and found her clitoris, rubbing it gently. Her hips rocked involuntarily with the pleasure and motion of his touch. He put his head against her and tasted her, sliding his tongue up and down her pussy. His cock throbbed between his legs.

He stood up and started rubbing his cock against her legs and ass. She thrust her hips and rolled against it, cattily, hungrily, wanting him inside her. He guided his cock to her pussy and leaned forward gently, easing into her. The head slid easily into her wetness, and he stood motionless for a moment, enjoying the first feeling of the heat of her insides on his cock. She was tall, but he knew height sometimes wasn’t an indication of the size of a woman’s vagina, and she was small there. Even though he was playing rough, he was gentle about pushing his thick 8 inches into her. Slowly sliding in until his full length was inside her, his stomach feeling the heat of her ass, he placed his hands on her hips and started stroking his cock slowly in and out of her, savoring each inch of movement.

Cars buzzed up and down the road just yards from them. They could catch glimpses of color through the trees as the cars zipped by. Every now and then a bike would pass, and he would wonder if one might turn down the path as he did, and what he would do if they did. Would he stop? Could he stop? His desire was overwhelming, and he knew he would likely not be able to tear himself away from this woman.

She leaned her head back, eyes closed, talking to him, moaning, and rocking her hips in time with him. Her juices ran down his shaft onto his balls, and down her thighs. The sun accentuated the feeling of nakedness, and the occasional breeze cooled the wet spots on them, and excited them all the more.

He felt himself coming closer, and reached around her hips to find her clitoris. He placed his fingers on her mound and pushed against her, grinding her with his hands. She gasped, and pushed back. He felt the orgasm rising within him and slowed his strokes to extend the pleasure. She knew what he was doing.

"Come for me baby, let me feel it,” She almost begged. The sensation was almost overwhelming as he exploded. Waves of pleasure rocked his body as he spasmed, spurting his hot cum into her. She could feel the pulsing of his cock as he released, and ground against his fingers. Her own orgasm was close now. Just as he started subsiding, it hit her. He stood still, hanging her on his erection, as she trembled and shook, gasping and moaning. He felt heat and wetness wash over his cock from her orgasm.

He caressed her back and behind as she calmed and subsided. He removed the bandana from his back pocket and they cleaned the extra wetness from themselves and pulled their pants back up.

Her eyes were no longer distant, her countenance no longer cold. She was soft and warm inside and out, relaxed and happy. He smiled and kissed her softly, lovingly. The sun was warm on them and they decided to lie down in the grass. She put her head on his chest, and as he stroked her hair, she fell asleep. Lightly rubbing a finger across the tattoo of a parachute with wings, he smiled in wonder at this, and a strange mixture of pride and luck washed over him. It was, after all, no small thing that a woman who had gone through so much could find peace in his arms.