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Free Oral Sex Sex Stories - Buying More Than a Bike
The sight of the big Harley motorcycles inside the window of the bike shop made my body quiver with need to have one. Things were finally going good for me. The business was booming, and I could finally buy a few things that I had been dreaming of. My black pick up truck was one of them and now, my Harley. I’d been dreaming of buying one since I was a teenager, always saying that one day I would get one no matter what it took or how old I was. At 33, I figured this was a great time for me to finally spread my wings and get on the back of a bike. I’d always dreamt of feeling the wind in my hair and body free from the constraints I felt in a car. It was the closest thing to flying that I could think of and now it was time for me to get one.
In my leather jacket, blue jeans and black t-shirt, I walked into the shop, eyeing the biggest bike they had on display. I knew it was a bit out of my price range and league but it was still nice to look at. I saw another mid-sized bike on the side that I was immediately drawn to. My hand slid down the silver chrome and over the leather, black seat. It almost took my breath away. Swinging my leg over the wide seat felt natural, and as I sat on it, I could almost feel the wind blowing through my long, curly hair.
“You look great on that bike,” a man said, as he came out of the back room and walked towards me. He looked to be about my same 6’2” height with wide shoulders. He had deep brown eyes and blonde hair and looked like he belonged on a Harley.
“You are paid to say that,” I said, looking right into his eyes.
“Yes, I am,” he said, not candy-coating anything. “But you must have felt it when you walked in the door or you wouldn’t be sitting there. Didn’t you feel it pulling you to it?” As he got near me I could have sworn I felt his warmth surge through me, but then I thought it must have been the excitement of being on the bike I had always wanted.
“Yes, I did, and you are right, that is why I am here. I agree with you, by the way, I do look great on this bike.”
“You interested in buying that bike then?” He asked.
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Come in the back with me, and we will write it up for you,” he said. His nametag said Derk. How fitting again for a motorcycle rider, I thought at the time. All through the process of filling out paperwork and the phone calls to financing, I watched him. He grew more attractive as I watched. His ass was tight, and he had wide thighs that I started imagining them around me. Some of what he said to me went through my ears but not into my brain, as I stared at him, my mind drifting.
As my thoughts slid into the gutter, my thick rod grew hard in my pants. I became tremendously aroused. In the tight blue jeans I wore, I knew it would be a sure thing to see how turned on I was. Truth was that I had only been with one man in my life and that was when I was drunker than I cared to imagine. He came on to me and deep down I knew I wanted it. Being drunk was the perfect excuse to do it and say I couldn’t remember. I actually did remember but would never admit it to anyone. Yet ever since I thought of it happening again. I tried to say the feelings weren’t there, but they were, and sitting with the man across the table from me, I felt them again. The good thing was that I would never have the nerve to say something, especially to a man that looked as tough as he did. I figured he would have beat the shit out of me. I wasn’t going to take any chances.
“Well, that’s about it,” he said, after I signed about a gazillion pieces of paper. “How about a drink to celebrate?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. What do you have?” My mind started to wander to getting drunk and being able to have this incredible man, and still having the excuse that I got too drunk and didn’t know.
He took the bottle out of a drawer to his left and two shot glasses. He poured one for each of us, and we downed them. After about eight shots a piece, we were feeling pretty good.
“Feels great to know you can fulfill your dream, doesn’t it?” He said.
“I can’t wait to get on the back of it. Right now I’d better wait until I’m sober or it will end up being the last time I ride it.” I planned on putting it in the back of the truck and taking it home. Just then I was happy drinking with this hot man across the room from me.
Laughter filled the room as we shared jokes and stories and more whiskey. Neither of us was going anywhere, and he even did as much as to close the shop so no one would see us as drunk as were.
“By the way, my name is Brett,” he said.
“I’m Brian. It’s been fun to me you. “Is this your store?” I asked, wondering about the shop owner walking in and seeing us.
“Yes, this is my place. I worked hard for it.” As he said the word hard, I was think that it was the perfect word to use.
“The thought of getting on the back of that bike just makes me so hard,” I said, sort of making a first move.
“I know exactly what you mean. I feel that way every time I start it up and hear the roar of the engine.”
I got up and went out to the bike I had just purchased and sat on it. I felt so powerful and free on that bike. “If I can’t ride it, I will pretend to ride it,” I said, as the man walked out of the office.
“It’s almost as good as sex,” he said, standing close to me.
“I’m not sure about that,” I said, “But very close.”
“How about sex on the motorcycle when it’s running?” He asked, turning the key and starting up the bike.
“Now?” I asked. It was a word that just slipped out and I prayed I wouldn’t be sorry I said.
Waiting for him to hit me, he said, “Yes, now.”
My mind was almost jumping up and down over what I was hearing. He was so drunk that he probably wouldn’t remember either. It didn’t matter if I remembered. I knew what was happening right then.
“I’d love to,” I said. I turned to sit on the bike with my legs hanging over one side facing him. I helped him undo his shirt and pants, as I tried to tell myself that it was just because I was drunk. He didn’t stop me, and after a moment, he helped me out of my own clothes. We were right there in the front of the shop. Anyone could have walked by and saw what we were doing, but no one did.
He wrapped both hands around my stiff cock and began to stroke just the way I liked it. Slowly, all the way up, and then all the way down to my ball he stroked. It felt so good and exciting. It was a lot like the other time I had had sex with a man. He licked down my body from my nipples to my balls in tiny little circles to make me crazy with need. His hands brushed my inner thighs very lightly, which made quivers run through my body. Deeper moans than I had ever known escaped my throat.
"That feels good. Stroke my cock more," I said, in a forward tone. I was drunk enough not to care about what I said, and I knew he was drunk enough to do it.
He stroked me slow, then ran his fingertips over my lower body. Again and again, he stroked me. With each time, it became faster. Then he would run his fingertips in a ticklish manner over my lower body. It drove me crazy but I didn’t cum, not yet. That was the one good thing about the alcohol, it made the ache last even longer.
"You are driving me nuts," I said, as I breathed deeply and shook all over.
"Good," Brett said.
He lowered his head to my hard shaft. His tongue seemed to beg to taste me. I ached for him. He took my cock in and out of his mouth. I could feel him circle the head, then slide wetly down to the base. I gasped for air. I couldn't stop what I was feeling. There was only pleasure now. Sucking madly and touching my balls and inner thighs was all I could handle. I moaned as my cock lurched forward, cumming into his mouth.
"Yes, suck my cock," I said. He sucked harder and faster, touching my body all over. My cum dripped down his throat. He swallowed twice taking all of the cream from my body. It was such an awesome feeling.
I touched his body lightly: his balls, inner thighs, then up over his cock. He moaned, so I knew it felt good to him.
"Put your mouth around me," he said. I did just as he asked. His cock slid down my throat. I got horny all over again and reached down to stroke my cock. I knew that I would cum with him. Tickling his balls and up over his hips made him squirm while he thrust into my mouth deeply. I could barely concentrate on one hand touching him, one touching me, my mouth sucking him, but I did, and with pleasure.
"I’m going to cum. Swallow me," he moaned.
I was cumming again, too. It felt so damn good. He burst into my mouth so I could swallow all of his pleasure.
He grabbed onto my head so I couldn’t get up until every ounce of his cum had been swallowed.
“I hope I remember this when I’m sober,” I said as we sat panting and catching our breaths.
“I hope I don’t,” he said. I looked up at him thinking well, I would I never get another chance to be with this, and I was bummed about it. “Just kidding,” he yelled, laughing.
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