MOTORCYCLE CLUB ROMANCE: AMANDA’S DEMONS (PART ONE) (Biker MC Erotic Romance) (5 page)

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Chapter Three: From School Teacher to Biker Slut

There is something incredibly liberating about riding with a biker gang. Dangerous, outside of the law and of the normal social conventions, but definitely liberating.

I felt free. I felt as free and released from my dreary life of teaching and widely duties as my hair, blowing in the dry desert wind.

My body was certainly set free, barely covered as it was by my flimsy blue gingham dress. Despite more than 24 hours with this gang of hairy, tattooed bikers, and in spite of the fact that I felt more at home on the back of Mak’s hog than I ever did in the classroom or in front of the stove, I was still wearing the same clothes, and kept the same virginal, Sandra D hairstyle and make up as when I was teaching class yesterday morning.

There was one key difference. My cunt ached from the fucking I had been given last night.

Mak was a considerate, but aggressive lover. His thrusts had powered into me all night. Cum oozed out of my pussy and down my legs, when I first swung my leg over the tatty leather bike saddle for our morning ride. He winked at me as we rode along, occasionally craning his head backwards, for a French kiss as we rode along, oblivious to the traffic ahead or behind, lost in our world of new-found lust.

There were, however, practical limitations to riding a Hog down a dusty highway, with flimsy white and blue cotton blowing in the hot heat. My thighs were beginning to become numb to the buffeting wind, the gravel and the insects which bashed into them. My white socks were now a pasty grey color, and my chest, which had been so flushed earlier with the heat of sex, was now red-raw with road debris and weather. I needed leather, and fast!

Mak knew it too. He had slowed as much as he dare, without dropping behind the schedule the gang was keeping for itself. After all, there was the police force of a county behind them, and a town ahead that didn’t know what it was in for. Although some 40 men strong, and armed to the teeth, this bunch of outlaws would far rather run and fight another day than stand and slug it out with an equally well-armed police force. There was method to their madness.

The bikes roared to a halt, just by the next desert town sign. It reared up in the distance, a few sorry looking farm buildings forming an outer perimeter, street lights and some trees just visible through the heat haze, defining a more civilized town center.

“Shops” said Mak, his Clint Eastwood whisper underlining the menace in his voice.

“We need to get you some clothes. You need to look like a biker bitch, not a school teach. Right boys?”

Then men nodded in agreement. A few wiped their mouths, thinking, no doubt, of how my tight body would look in skin tight leather trousers and biker shirt, undone to the waist.

Well, if they wanted a cliché biker slut I was happy to give it to them. I knew that this was no free ride.

Mak kicked the bike into life and we rode into town, our bike at the head of the gang. We sounded like the end of the world. 40 Horsemen of the Apocolypse.

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About 4 or 5 stores back from the main street was the shop we were looking for. It was tatty and bruised, and had clearly seen better days. A half lit neon sign boasted “Dusty’s Biker Leather”, the door looked like it had been kicked in, the posters and helmets, half hidden behind a dusty security screen, had long been faded in the unending desert sun.

The men dismounted and hoisted up their Levi’s and leathers. They congregated in a gang outside, kicking up stones and spitting. I felt sorry for the store owner. He would no doubt be eyeing the gang with a worried frown, maybe hiding any of his more valuable merchandise.

The little bell on the door chimed a noise so out of place from the growling bikes and clatter of biker boots. A man cowered behind his counter, pump action shotgun in hand.

“Now you guys, I don’t want any trouble ok?”

Mak took off his helmet and eyed dusty intently. They both glared at each other. Mak’s hand made for his side, his colt automatic hidden in his jeans. He was quick on the draw, but could he out gunfight a pump action? I whimpered slightly, the intensity and danger of my new situation scaring me.

“Dusty you old cock, that’s no way to speak to your buddies!”

Dusty beamed from ear to ear, and put the shotgun back in its holster beside the counter. He ran over to Mak, and the two big muscular men bear hugged like old war buddies.

“How long has it been man? 5 years? 6?”

“At least” replied Mak. “You gonna get the Jack out?”

“I got some cold beers man out the back”

Dusty swooshed through the plastic fly screen behind the counter, and swiftly returned with a crate of cold buds. About 10 of the bikers tucked in. the rest had gone into the town, to find a bar and cause some minor mayhem. They were aware that this was Dusty’s town. You don’t crap on your own doorstep, even I knew that.

After about twenty minutes shooting the breeze, Dusty stood up and asked

“So, Mak, what brings you to my little ol’ store? You need some new underwear?”

“Not me buddy. These are good for another 10,000 miles. But this little lady here, in the perty white and blue dress, needs to look like a mean biker bitch, not a Sunday school teacher. You catch my drift?”

“Sure do buddy”

Dusty eyed me up and down. I could tell that he appreciated my body. He asked me to stand up, placing his hands gently on my shoulders to get the size for my jacket. He patted my ass cheek as he walked past, to the rack of leathers on his right hand side.

After about five minutes he started hanging up clothes in the makeshift changing room at the back of the shop. The flimsy net curtain across it barely made it from one side of the opening to the other. There would be no way I could hide my modesty from anyone looking. I shot him a glance that said “really”?

He looked sheepishly at the floor.

“Been meaning to get that fixed up darlin’. Just that we don’t get too many dames in here. The guys just drop their pants right here in the store”

“Well Dusty, don’t show me no special treatment!”

With that I slipped my shoulders out of my dress and it fell easily to the floor. I stood in the puddle of my clothes, my panties – ravaged from my fucking and dusty from the road, were more gone than there. My tits stood up, proud and pert, and my nipples hardened in the slight breeze, and from the excitement of the situation.

Dusty licked his lips. I could see what he wanted. I wondered how long it had been since he had a woman. I looked closely at him. Beneath the greying beard and the too long eyebrows, there was a handsome man in there. He was thinner than the bikers, less muscular and more wiry. He had kind, all seeing eyes of the deepest brown. Give him a shave and put a suit on him, he could have been a broker or a computer guy.

Minding his manners, Dusty stopped staring enough to begin fetching me the leathers. The pants were tight, but slipped easily over my thighs and hugged my ass. They felt good, slightly restricting, but clearly offered way more protection than my dress could ever have hoped to. I gave my ass a fine slap. The men’s heads turned at the whip crack, and took in the sight of my buns. All men are turned on my a woman in tight leather pants, and the bra combination only added to the erection fantasy.

Next, a plain white T, and a red bandana. Cliché biker chick was taking shape.

I heavy, dark brown leather jacket, with tassels and a big Indian chief on the back completed my look. I was complete. I was the biker bitch they all wanted.

Mak looked me up and down. He could have me whenever he wanted, but I was sure that he had never wanted me more, standing under the fluorescent lights in the tight, shiny new leather.

“OK buddy, with your special rate that would normally come to four hundred dollars”

Mak let out a quiet whistle, and looked at both of us. We had the money of course, it was hidden throughout the gang in various backpacks and pockets. It would hardly make a dent in the proceeds from yesterday’s robbery.

“But…” Dusty added. “Maybe that fine woman over there would like to come to an arrangement”

Dusty licked his lips again. I had no doubt what he meant. I was both flattered and turned on. The leather had been working wonders with me ever since I had put it on. I really needed a good fucking.

“Well, what do you think?” Mak asked

“I think. I should pay my own way, for my own leathers” was my reply

“Get in the back Dusty, let’s see what you got!”

Dusty led the way, through the screen and into his tiny apartment at the back of the shop.

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I was nervous, but I was in control. Dusty turned around and looked at me. He looked more nervous than I did.

“So, you done this kinda thing before?” he asked

“Not until yesterday, but I am making up for lost time”

I moved closer to him. I put my arms around his shoulders, his hands approached my hips, and went around to my ass. He pulled me in tight. I felt his bulge in his pants, rubbing against me, as we held each other for a short time, appreciating our bodies and the fucking that was coming. I looked up into his eyes.

“Don’t be gentle ok? Fuck me like you wanna”

He nodded. Dry lips and a slightly embarrassed look. It was so sweet. I lifted my hands around his neck and pulled myself up to him. He closed his eyes. Our lips locked. Perfect, warm, moist kisses met mine and we melted into each other’s mouths.

Dusty’s hands started to explore my body. The constricting leather felt tight and unforgiving against my skin. He reached for my front jacket zip. It made a new, creaking noise as he drew it down, over my breasts. I began to burst out of the cold, material, letting my tits see the air. The momentarily felt cold, following their incarceration in the new jacket. He looked down at them, appreciating their firmness. The white lace of my bra contrasted perfectly with the hard, dark brown shine of the leather.

He bent his head down, kissing the top of my tits as the zip drew still further down. His beard tickled slightly on my soft, cold skin. A pop and the zip was undone, my tits now free but for the flimsy white lace that contained them. Dusty’s gander was now up. In a flash he had ripped it from me. He took in the sight of my hard, red nipples, proud and waiting to be sucked. He dove his head down, pushing my tits together, sucking and kissing my tits. He wound around my breasts, huge tongue licking them, around like an ice cream. The cold saliva coated them. I felt the back of his head, sweating and warm as he went to work on me. I pushed my head back, right back, and opened my eyes slightly. In the doorway I saw an upside down image of Mak, framed in the aperture, almost in silhouette due to the bright, midday sun. His arms were folded and he was staring intently. It was a look I had seen before. It scared me a little.

No matter. I had my leathers to pay for. And I was enjoying this new man. This was the deal, my new life, fuck buddy to the world.

I reached down the front of Dusty’s jeans. His cock was straining within them, bumping into me as we held each other close. He felt warm, the denim covered bulge throbbing in my hand. I fondled his packet, feeling for the shape in my fingers. He was another big boy!

His crotch buttons undid easily in my now-expert fingers. One, two, three and the job was done. Dusty was a true biker, riding commando even when he worked in his shop. I walked my fingers into his crotch, feeling the satisfying jungle of hair, and then the warm cock within. I wrapped my fingers around him, taking his straining manhood in my hand, and pulled him out of his jeans. Something cold brushed against my thumb as I felt the thickness of his veiny shaft. It was like a ball bearing, or a bullet. Cold and hard against the pads of my fingers. I gripped it lightly between them and twisted it slightly. Dusty closed his eyes and shuddered slightly, caught between pain and heaven. This needed closer investigation.

I dropped slowly to my knees and kissed down his stomach. My fingers drew out the cock in question. It shot up, proud and hard and standing to attention like a good little soldier. The mystery object was made plain. A Prince Albert, cock piercing. A bolt right through the center of his shaft. It looked so inviting!

I opened my mouth, ready to take the meat and steel combo. I kissed the end of his cock, soft little kisses, tasting his salty, sweaty meat. It was a taste I was growing to love.

“Today, madam, on the menu we have a cheeky little number. Bikers cock end, vintage 1974”

“OK go on then. Why not? Let’s have a little taster…”

I grinned to myself. What a sex fiend I had become. I pulled the hard cock deeper into my mouth, sucking the air in and taking him right to the back of my throat. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh as I allowed the cock to slip in and out of my throat, deep throating him, covering his meat in my saliva. I pulled my hand down the front of my tits, feeling the nipples hard in my fingers. I was becoming so turned on, more maybe, than with Mak just the night before. I reached down into my new leather pants. The tightness of them seemed to draw my finger closer into my lips. It felt squashed and constricted against my moistening clit as I traced the outline of my lips with my fingers. They coated with my silky quim as I rubbed myself to a quick, dirty orgasm. As I came I bit and fondled the Prince Albert bolt with my tongue, driving him wild with joy.