“Does this mean I’m your old lady now?” Looks like she learned the lingo quickly, didn’t she?
“Hmmm, get on, Stabby.” I put the footrests out before she came out, and although her shoes aren’t great for riding and her jean jacket won’t do shit to shield her from the wind, I decide to take her to the beach for a much needed conversation.
“This doesn’t feel the way I thought it would. Not a fan of the small seat, and where do I hold on?” I don’t respond to her long winded question as I clasp my helmet, turning the com on so she doesn’t have to scream when she talks.
“Calm your titties, Stabby. No need to blow out my eardrums.” I chuckle at her gasp.
“Holy shit, I can hear you in my head. Can we talk the whole time you’re driving? Wait, won’t that distract you?” I reach behind me and squeeze her thigh, getting a little handful at the side of her ass.
“I don’t drive, Parker. Pilot, ride, divinely control this beauty are all acceptable ways of describing it. Driving? No fucking way.”
“Right. Okay, now what do I do?” Her enthusiasm is fucking addictive.
With both of my feet firmly planted on the road, I reach back to cop a feel before I grab her hands at my waist and bring them to the front, pressing her palms against the gas tank.
“Hold the tank to stabilize when we brake and follow the bike when we turn. Your knees…” I place my hands on the outer part of her knees, pulling her in closer. “Not too tight but enough that you can feel what my body is doing. You follow the rider, never go opposite.” Once I feel she’s got the right position, I turn the engine on and twist my right wrist, the deep rumble of the muffler making the whole bike shake.
I fucking love this feeling and there’s something exciting about sharing my most favorite thing with my favorite people. The only shitty thing about this is that a bike is for two, so no threesomes for us.
Flipping up the kickstand, I flip down my tinted face shield and turn on my cameras, going live on our account. Our videos make us a comfortable little nest egg. The more dangerous our stunts or the funnier the shit we put out there, the bigger the payday.
Parker follows my instructions like a fucking sub and my dick reacts to it, which is the worst fucking idea. We start off slow, weaving in and out of traffic without doing anything crazy. On my phone screen, I can already see the comments filling the chat like a river of emojis and hearts flying up and up. We stop at a red light and this one is the last before we get to the beach, which means I’m going to show my Stabby what it’s really like.
“You doin’ okay back there?” I use my left hand to rub at her knee and grin when she giggles in her mic.
“It’s fucking amazing!” Ha! She ain’t seen nothing yet.
The light goes red on the street perpendicular to us and I get myself ready with my left fingers holding down the clutch and my right on the throttle. I lean up and Parker follows like a good girl, my eyes fixed on the light, ready for the change.
“Hold on tight!” The second the red goes green, I snap into action. My release of the clutch is smooth and decisive as the bike lurches forward and Parker’s knees squeeze as her hands grip the purple leather covering the tank. She’s a quick learner and it fucking makes me so happy.
The engine jumps from a purr to a snarl as we leave the traffic behind us, the speed growing and the air around us like a windstorm. The helmets protect us, but I can’t be an asshole about this. Parker’s not dressed for a crash and there’s nothing sexy about picking gravel out of wounded skin.
Slowing down as we reach our exit, I swing the bike from side to side and Parker outright laughs in my ears and it’s magical to hear.
There’s a corner of our beach that’s always secluded, too far from the pier and too close to the park where children go during the day. At this time of the evening, before the tourist season begins, it’s devoid of people, which is perfect for us. I don’t talk during the live and just give a finger wave goodbye before turning it off. We never show our faces and we use a filter to fuck with the aesthetics so the colors on our helmets aren’t too distinguishable. Most times, everything we do is illegal.
“That was fucking incredible!” We both slide our helmets off, shaking out our hair. It’s a lot sexier in movies than in real life.
“The only way that could get better is if my dick was snug and warm inside your pussy.” Where's the lie?
I take her hand so she can jump off the bike, then I place the kickstand firmly on the ground and swing my leg over the back. Sitting the helmets on the seats, I turn to her and push my hands into her hair.
“I like the feel of you against me while I ride.”
“Well, I’m not that easy, Grinder. You’re gonna have to make me your old lady if you want me to do that again.” I know she’s joking, but it’s not funny because I’m seriously considering it except…different.
My mouth crashes against hers, our lips hungry, my tongue demanding entrance as I taste every inch of her. Our bodies gravitate toward each other, heat seeking out heat. Lust hungry for lust.
My entire chest is hovering over her as if I can’t get close enough, but I’d die trying. There’s a building just a few feet away, hiding us away from the rest of the world. It’s the public bathrooms that look like a tiny home.
I push Parker against the outer wall, pressing my body against her, and force my thigh between hers. As though it’s choreographed, Parker starts riding me, seeking out the friction, moaning into my mouth and making me even harder than before. To be clear, that’s a crazy feat.
An image of Spencer flits through my mind, forcing me to push myself off her. My entire body is fighting my decision but there needs to be a conversation before I can go any further.
“We need to talk.” I’m out of breath, my chest rising and falling as if I’ve just run a two hundred meter sprint.
“Nothing good ever comes from those four words.” I love that she’s just as winded as I am.