Beauty And The Biker - Sex Stories

Beauty And The Biker

The roar of the bike is like a slow drone in my ears now. The unending blacktop of the road and the wind flowing over me gives me a sense of peace that flies in stark contrast to the nervous knot in my stomach. Usually, I look forward to a long ride, but not tonight. A hundred miles. Over two hours of hard riding and then... What? Will she be glad to see me? I really don't know. I do know, I've got to try. I've never been in love before and even as the broken white lines pass under me in a blur, I can't really say that's what I'm feeling now. I just know, I can't do anything else. What the fuck was I thinking? I mean, riding all this way to go find a twenty-one year old college chick who 'might' be at that frat party? Yeah, that makes sense. What the fuck could go wrong? It was one of those 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' things that felt like genius until I actually got out here on the highway. Fuck! As if a preppy chick like her could really fall for a two-bit biker like me. Goddamn it! We are from two completely different worlds. I should have just forgotten about her when she stopped answering her fucking phone. Something inside me just won't let her go. I'm telling you, I never thought I'd fall for a girl this hard. But Holly... I don't know. I just can't get her out of my head. Now, I'm just going to walk right into the middle of her new boyfriends turf? I must be insane. What part of 'stay away from me' did I not understand? Four fucking months. That's how ...

... long it took her to fall for another guy. Well, I don't care what he fucking majors in or if he is built like a damn linebacker, Holly is going to have to tell me to my face that she loves him. If she can do that, then fine, but I'm not leaving until I hear those words. Damn. Sometimes I wish I'd never met her at all. What the hell was she doing at a biker bar, anyway? The Flat Head Bar and Grill. That's where I met her. Who would have fucking believed it? The place is a rat infested shit hole that wouldn't have passed for decent when it was built back in the fifties. From the beginning, it's remote location off I-10 made it a haven for bikers who wouldn't have been welcome anywhere else. It's that bar, a small store and my garage and that's it. I'm not actually badged into a club. Most of the ones who drop in are riding from one place to another and just come in for cold beer and a rowdy time. Being the only decent mechanic for fifty miles means that even the worst of them gave me some respect. That's why I could be in there having a beer while fifteen members of the Jackals tore up the place. What the Hell, it's a pit, but it's home. I was into my fourth beer when she walked in that night. I'm telling you, it was like someone sucked the air right out of the place. Holly was so young and innocent looking that everyone, the guys and even some of their old ladies took notice. Before she even got to the bar, you could just feel the hush settle in. It was like every guy wearing ...