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BDSM Basti


Warm spring light streamed into the room through the crack in the curtains and woke me from the same dream I’d been having for the past few weeks. It featured the biker chick who passed me on the way to work each morning. She lingered in my thoughts even as the dream faded. I unconsciously reached down, wrapped my fingers around my erection and slowly stroked it. I reached over to the bedside table with my free hand and fished a tissue out of the boxes” I needed to wank but didn’t want to make a mess.

I pulled my foreskin back slowly, revealing the shiny purple knob. From that cautious start I built up into a steady rhythm, wanking harder and faster. I could feel an orgasm building at the base of my balls. When the sticky white cum shot from the end of my knob I did my best to aim it at the waiting tissue.

An orgasm is a good way to start the day, even if it is self-induced. But if I thought that having an early morning tug would quell my urges for the day, I was sadly mistaken. Young, horny and under-fucked, that was me.

An hour later I was driving to work along the dual carriageway when a sleek, black motorbike overtook me. It was her. I’ve always been fascinated with motorbikes, but never had the courage to buy one. This was a fine machine, but it was the long Black hair flying from underneath the rider’s helmet that always caught my eye. That and the red leather she wore. The one-piece suit hugged her slim figure. There was no doubt this was a female biker.

She passed me every day, and every day I did the same thing. She pulled away from me and I unconsciously pushed down a little firmer on the accelerator and chased after her.

I was normally quite careful on the road, but there was something about that vision in red, that always turned me into a Grand Prix driver. Unfortunately, my little Beatle was no Ferrari. I lost her when the traffic got heavy and her bike was able to weave in and out of the cars. Damn, I thought.

I didn’t have a clue what I would have done if I ever caught up with her, but my cock certainly had an idea.

Like I said, I was horny that day, and all morning I couldn’t get the image of that biker chick out of my head. It left me with an annoying erection. Eventually I had to beat off in cubicle in the gents. Obviously, I would have preferred to satisfy my needs with one of the girls working on the checkouts, but even if I had the authority to get them a few minuets break, I doubt any of them would have obliged me.

Locked in the cubicle, cock in hand, jerking it madly, I hoped nobody would come in and catch me. I didn’t know how long it was going to take me to come, having already done so once that day. But I shot off really quickly, and powerful, healthy spurts they were, too. It seemed that my gonads had a touch of spring fever.

——-

At lunchtime I had to go to the bank to pay a couple of bills. The girl who served me had long Black hair tied back in a ponytail. I stared closely at her while she processed my documents.

I wondered.

She finished up; I thanked her and bid her good day. Outside the bank I surveyed the street. Nothing unusual. I trudged slowly back to the supermarket, which took me past the car park at the side of the bank. There was a sleek black motorbike parked in one of the spaces. I stopped and read the number plate. I couldn’t be sure but it looked like it was the same as the bike that had sped past me each morning. I re-entered the bank and queued up all over again.

The girl I wanted to talk to wasn’t the next available cashier when I got to the front of the queue, and I had to let three people past me before she was.

“Hello. Again. Forget something?”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I was just wondering … Do you have a Suzuki?”

“Yes, why? You haven’t hit it, have you?” She frowned.

“No, of course not. Nothing like that. It’s just that you speed past me on it each morning. It’s a nice bike. I’m thinking of getting one myself. Any chance I could meet you when you finish tonight so you could tell me a little bit about it?”

My brain was disengaged and it was my cock doing the talking. She was looking so very demure in a little white fluffy jumper, its short sleeves showing off her slender, pale, upper arms. She looked nothing like the leather queen I saw in the mornings.

“Yeah, why not?”

——-

My cock gave me no rest all afternoon. Checking stock levels of fish and tinned soup is hardly stimulating, and my mind kept wandering to images of what might happen. I had a permanent hard-on. All I could think of was her swelling breasts inside that soft angora sweater.

I imagined her in a lacy bra, the same shade of red as her leathers, her cleavage as soft and white as marshmallow.

I imagined her strong tanned thighs, with the throbbing engine of her bike vibrating between them.

I imagined her neatly trimmed bush under red knickers.

I imagined myself in place of her bike, thrusting into her pussy.

“You’re being daft,” I told myself. “What makes you think she’d want to screw you?”

——-

I met her just after half past five. She was already clad in those scarlet leathers. She stood by her bike, looking up and down the street for me. She smiled when I came into view.

“Fancy a ride?” She tapped the seat of her bike. “I’ve got a spare helmet.”

I grinned and took the helmet from her. She put on her own and climbed onto the bike. I pulled on my helmet, slapping it firmly into place and climbed up behind her.

She fired the machine into life, and I could feel it vibrating between my legs. She revved the engine a few times then called back to me.

“Hang on; I wouldn’t want you to fall off.”

I could barely hear her through my helmet and over the roar of the engine. She revved the engine some more, and as I gripped her hips, she put it into gear and we zoomed off down the street.

Riding pillion and hanging on to her for dear life, I wondered if she could feel my hardness through her thick leather. The scarlet hide was moulded so tightly to her body that her arse looked like a split tomato. I longed to stroke my hand over its shiny curves but she was driving too fast and I had to hold tight.

It was strange, feeling so out of control. On dates I usually drove, but now I felt as if my fate had been taken out of my hands. I clung to the warm leather that hid her soft body.

We rocketed down the dual carriageway, weaving in and out of the cars. Eventually we turned off down a side road that led out of town. The road took us past some farmland. She stopped the bike in a gateway and took off her crash helmet. I did the same.

“That’s a hell of a ride,” I said.

“It’s not too bad. It’s nippy and it handles well, but it’s not the best bike on the market by a long shot. I’ve got my eye on a Norton, but it’s a little out of my price range.”

“Well I like it. After all I’m only a beginner on bikes.”

“Fancy a walk? It’s a nice evening,” she said, suddenly.

The sense of role reversal was even stronger now. She was making the suggestions, not me. But then, with my cock struggling inside my kegs, I was incapable of anything except blindly following in the wake of this amazing woman.

She climbed over the gate and I followed. We stood in the middle of the field, admiring a sunset that was as red as the leather she wore.

“Red sky at night…”

“Bikers delight.” She finished off the sentence for me.

She turned to face me, grasped the toggle at her neck and slowly slid her zip down, revealing an inch of flesh at a time; her collar-bone, then the full, creamy roundness of her breasts and the crevice between them. I moved towards her as if in a trance, my arms outstretched reaching for her hips, but she put out a hand and stopped me in my tracks.

With a sexy glint in her eyes, she reached up and peeled the suit off her shoulders, and let it fall to her hips. She stood before me, hands on hips, naked from the waist up.

Her breasts were full and round, with a large pink nipple sitting on each on like a cherry on a fairy cake. Her arms looked as soft and slender as they had done earlier that day under her fluffy sweater.

Then she pulled the zip further. The leather parted in folds around her slim waist. Her smooth, curvy hips emerged, her soft belly, then a curly wisp of pubic hair. She was stark naked beneath her biking suit!

Like a snake that had shed its scarlet skin, she stood with the suit around her ankles, her succulent figure silhouetted against the setting sun.

Finally, she undid the ankle zips and stepped out of the leather suit, her pale skin bathed in the last pink glow of the sunset.

I stood, immobile except for the twitching of my cock. I was paralysed; I didn’t know what she wanted me to do. She solved my dilemma by coming over to me, and undoing my shirt buttons. She removed all my clothes until I too was stark bollock naked in the middle of this field.

She took hold of my cock and led me towards the gate like a puppy dog on a leash. She unfastened the gate and led me towards the bike. She climbed astride it. Her long Black hair hung in coils around her shoulders. Lady Godiva on a motorbike.

Then she motioned me to get on too, patting the pillion seat behind her. I hesitated, but this woman was in total control and I would do anything she wanted. Hypnotised, I climbed onto the bike myself.

“Naked biking! Ever tried it?” she yelled over her shoulder, gunning the machine into life.

Again I grabbed her glorious hips, and she swung the bike around and raced through the open gate into the field. My cock was jabbing against her soft bottom as I hugged her smooth, warm waist. Then my hands grew bolder and slid up her body to her tits as we roared around the field, the bike jolting over stones and the lumpy ground.

It was exhilarating, wild, crazy, and the most kinky, erotic thing I’d ever done. My cock was dripping precum, and my balls were aching. I had never felt hornier.

After a couple of laps of the field, she hit the brakes and brought the bike to a shuddering halt. She kicked the stand into place and I dismounted. She leaned back against the black leather pillion seat.

“Fuck me.” She had a dreamy smile on her face, her nipples standing stiff in the evening breeze.

The wet patch on the bike’s leather seat testified that she was as turned on as I. This time I mounted the bike and her, guiding my throbbing prick into her slick, wet slot. She put her legs either side of me and propped them on the handlebars. She threw her head back so that her hair dangled down by the back wheel.

Reaching behind her to use the bike for leverage, she arched her bum off the seat to meet my thrusts as I pounded into her. I fucked her hard and fast, and she moaned as I did. I was more turned on than I had ever been before, and despite my efforts that morning, I felt my knob expand.

“I’m gonna come,” I said, almost at the point of no return, “Are you safe?”

“No, shoot it over me,” she ordered. “Shoot it over my tits.”

I just had time to whip my cock out of her snatch before spraying her with great, arcing streams of cum. I tried to aim so that each squirt hit a different tit, but the angle of her body meant that it all ended up in the same place anyway. Rivers of cum flowed down her tits, and came to rest on her stomach, forming a pool in her navel.

By now the full moon was high in the sky. It glimmered on the silvery pool of cum in her navel, on the river running down her cleavage, and on the droplets dripping from her nipples.

As I got my breath back, I climbed down off the bike, and looked around for my clothes. I couldn’t find them. She had had the forethought to leave her suit on the gate, but my clothes were still in the centre of the field where she had disrobed me. While I searched in the moonlight, she clambered back into that red leather suit and back onto the bike. She called out to get my attention.

“You’ve been in the red, and you obviously know all about withdrawal and deposit. Now if you can get back in the black, maybe I’ll see you around.”

And that bitch in red leather roared off into the darkness, leaving me stranded.

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