Gay Motorcyclist Sex

The day was warm; the sun high. The sleek black machine sped along the macadam, hugging the tight curves and cruising over the long straight-a-ways. My destination? Nowhere. Everywhere! I was on my own; free. No questions to answer; no explanations to make up; no strings attached. Traveling light -- that's me! All I had was packed in the saddle bags. There were no regrets. A few happy moments to remember. A whole world out there to explore.

The bike felt good under me. The rhythmic vibrations of the motor, the constant movement of the two wheels over the rough surface -- all these gave me a sensuous feeling. Leather encased thighs tingled as they wrapped themselves around the steadily oscillating gas tank. Warm air rushed though my denim covered crotch, cooling it. My balls savored every motion of the bike, sending sensations upwards to an ever responsive cock.

Yeah. It was a warm one. And I knew it was going to get hotter. That morning I had decided not to wear full leather: I had put on chaps. Besides, I liked the way they looked. The sleek black leather reaching from my boots to where they rode low on my hips; underneath, the faded blue Levis showing off my tight firm ass, and good sized basket always ready and willing! Last piss stop I had stowed my shirt in the saddle bag. The leather vest was cooler; and protected my back from the sun. It would catch the wind. Flap against the well developed pecs softly beating the nipples to a state of tantalizing attention. I felt good. Next to sex this was the greatest feeling going. Opening the throttle I really began burning rubber.

Caught up in my own fantasy, the real world slipped by. A wailing sound jolted me back to earth! "Shit! Where the hell did they come from?" I asked myself, looking down the business end of a siren screeching police car in my rear vision mirror. "Too late to try to outrun it," I thought, as I eased back on the throttle and drew to a stop.

"Well, what do we have here, Hank?" the driver said as he slid from behind the wheel and walked towards me, hand on holster.

"Better play it cool. These local yokels look like they mean business," I mused as I waited for them to reach me. "No sudden movements, not the way that guy is fingering that rod!" I tried to smile.

The driver was a big bruiser; well built. If a good body in a glued on uniform were the qualifications, this guy was a real hunk. Hank, the other guy, was no slouch, either. A little less muscular, but lean -- and hung! These boys did mean business. "Hit the ground. Face down," ordered the driver. "Spread eagle!" I wasn't going to argue with this goon. I did as I was told. "Now ain't that a sight, Hank?" He roughly kicked my feet further apart as he stood over me. "Moving kinda fast, weren't you, fella?"

"Guess, so," I answered.

"Oh, you guess so, huh? Maybe you was tryin' to put a little distance between you and Jake's place," he growled at me (I was to later find out that Jake's place was a gas station/store that someone had ransacked the night before). "Cuff him and let's bring him in."

My arms were yanked behind me. I could feel the cold steel close around my wrists. None too gently, I was pulled to my feet and prodded back to the waiting patrol car. "Hey, what about my bike? What about my gear?" I asked.

"We don't steal out here," the driver mumbled.

Hank, for the first time spoke, "We'll pick it up later. It'll be OK." Off we sped, back from where I had come.

We came to a wide spot in the road. There was a four corners; a gas station on one of them; no more than a dozen houses at best, and the police station (what there was of it). It was a real dump -- a small wooden building sturdy enough to withstand little more than a loud noise. Once inside, it was no better. A large room, part of it away from the door partitioned off by little more than heavy chicken wire and two by fours; the rest of it was bare except for a couple of wooden chairs, a desk, something that looked like a gun rack (no guns), and miscellaneous assorted hardware fastened to the walls. The "cell" had an old mattress thrown on the floor. At least the place had been swept out sometime in the last six months!

"Strip him, Hank." Hank moved towards me.

"Hey, what're you guys up to?" I asked.

Hank half grinned. "We gotta search you. Drugs and all that crap," he said as he unbuckled the chaps. Then he knelt in front of me, reached under my crotch to unzip the chaps. His hand lingered just a moment too long under my balls. It sent a shiver up my now limp tool. He must have noticed the movement. Pursing his lips, he softly blew warm air at the growing bulge. Then, unzipping the inseams, the chaps fell to the floor.

"Get those Levis off him, Hank."

"Sure thing," as he quickly unbuttoned the fly. One yank and they were to my ankles.

"Sit down," I was ordered. The chief honcho gave me a shove, hand on my chest, and I went down with a thud.

"Take it easy. I still got these damned cuffs on!" I retorted.

They both ignored me. Hank pulled off my boots. Honcho (never did find out the guy's name) roughly pulled me to my feet and threw me down on the bare desk. My head hit with a thud, dazing me. My limp prick slapped against the side of the desk. Some one was probing my ass. "He's clean," I heard Hank say. There was the sound of a key turning; I felt the steel fall away from one wrist, then the other.

"Stand up." Confused, I did so. Honcho spun me around facing the open "cell" and gave my ass a fair boot catapulting me inside. Hank started to toss my belongings in after me. Honcho snatched the Levis from him. "Not these," he said. "Have you gone through them, yet?" he asked. Hank shook his head. "Give him the rest of that crap. We'll hold these out." He winked at Hank, who grinned back. They let me have my boots, socks, and chaps. I still had the vest on.

Feeling a little foolish, I decided it was best to put on what I had. At least it was better than standing around bare ass naked. Not much better, but some. Slowly I pulled on first one sock, then the other followed by the boots. Finally I put on the chaps. They fit snugly; but they left my tight ass protruding as a tempting target. My long dick hung down in front. "Now ain't he just something!" Honcho sneered.

"Sure is," Hank grinned. "We sure got ourselves a live one this time," he added.

"You trot on over to Jake's and pick up some of that grease stuff you like to use. I'll watch this here desperado," Honcho laughed. "I don't think he'll be going nowhere. Not like that." He laughed again. This guy was making me nervous. He had something up his sleeve. Hank disappeared out the door. Honcho turned one of the chairs back to me, straddled it and sat facing me. Tipping his uniform cap to the back of his head, arms folded on the chair back, he said, "What's a nice looking fella like you doing around these parts?"

Cautiously, I answered him. "Just passing through." I didn't want to rile him -- any wise answers might not go too well for me.

"Just passing through," he repeated. "Now ain't that just dandy. Oughtn't someone know where you're at?" he added, almost a little too solicitously.

"Nope. They know where I was and they know where I'm supposed to be. So, I reckon they'll figure out where I am when I don't get there." It may have been the wrong answer. But I didn't want to play him for a complete fool and tell him of course someone knew where I was. That just didn't fit the scene. I knew it. And I was pretty sure he knew it. He just sat there staring at me.

"Well, I wouldn't worry none about it if I were you. We'll take good care of you. Now a good looking young fella like you ain't going to go get himself lost, now is he?" Getting up, he walked over near the wire separating us. He'd picked up a ruler somewhere, and he was tapping it slowly against one palm as he spoke. "That's a big one you got there, boy. One of the biggest I ever seen," starring down at my dangling cock. Not knowing what direction this nut was about to veer off on I said nothing. A minute or more must have passed. "Hank, you know, the other officer, he's my brother-in-law. Married his sister, the slut. Hank's taken a hankering to ya," he laughed at his own play on words. "Yeah, I think he really goes for you." Boy, was I dumb. Why hadn't I seen their game before -- not that I could have done much about it. "Yes sir, Hank's real queer. Had a problem with him couple of years back. Made him my deputy. Now he ain't got no more problems. Yeah, he's real taken with you, fella."

Honcho turned, walked back to the chair he had been sitting in; tapped it with the toe of his boot. "Yeah, I watched Hank set in this here chair. He'd rub himself up something fierce when he thought he weren't being looked at." He just seemed to drone on, now. "I told him it weren't no good, just rubbing it. Gotta play with it if you want relief." He kept drumming the ruler he held against the palm of his hand. I think he liked the slap of it. "He'd set there, play with it. He'd really like that." Sitting on the desk, he continued almost as though he was talking to himself. "It growed pretty big. Real hard like, and then it would shoot. Yes sir. That sure was a sight. Him jacking off and shooting load after load till it just ran down his fingers." This guy's dancing through a daisy field without all his petals!

Swinging around, he advanced slowly towards me, still slapping that damned ruler. "He used to beg me to let him lick mine, while he jerked off. But, hell, I ain't one of them perverts. Kept at it, though." Looking me squarely in the face, he added, "Tell you what I did do, though." He laughed. "Had this here guy in here from the city -- like you. Figured it wouldn't hurt none to let Hank try it on him. "Repositioning the chair close to the wire mesh, he sat astride it again. This time the hand holding the ruler resting on the back; his other hand fell to his crotch. "Happened right about where you're standin'." He was sighting down the ruler right at the head of my arching cock. "Hank took that guy's pecker, licked on it real nice until it growed awful big. Put the whole thing in his mouth, then. That fella sure shook and groaned like he was having the time of his life. Fact is, he seemed to be having so much fun the next time Hank asked I figured I'd let him take mine." Looking up at me, he quickly added, "He'd have to beg for it, ya know!"

The door opened. Hank came bursting in. "They didn't have none of that grease you wanted. But Jake said this'd do as well," holding up a plastic jug of corn oil. "Better for ya, too, he said." Hank laughed as Honcho thought this new turn of events over.

"He don't know shit!" Honcho mumbled. "You didn't tell him nothing?" he added almost in panic.

"No. You said I wasn't to tell," came the dutiful answer.

"Get that guy out here. You wanta have some fun, now, don't ya," he winked at Hank. Looking back at me, Honcho added, "You don't give him no trouble and you won't get none. You wouldn't give our guest a hard time, now would you Hank?" The snickers told me just how hard a time I was going to get.

I'd had some wild times; real sex orgies. Real swinging parties. Ass, tits, cocks, cunts -- the whole gambit. But these two were a little strange. I'd been in tight spots before. Playing it cool always seemed to be the best bet. Just play along with them. Like judo, you go with the action and let them throw themselves -- then run like hell. That seemed to be the wisest move, for now. They had the upper hand. There were two of them, one of them armed. If sex is what they're after, I could play that game. And, like I said, they both were real hunks. The missing marbles was what worried me.

Hank unlocked the door to my cell, motioned me to come to it, "Right there, fella," he said as I stood in the doorway. Honcho leaned back on the edge of the desk fingering his gun (the real one). Before I knew it, Hank had snapped his bracelets around one wrist and had hooked the other end to an eye bolt embedded in the door frame. I started to raise one boot to kick him. "Wouldn't do that, fella," I heard Honcho's calm voice. Like he said, I didn't. My other wrist was secured to the opposite door jam. "Now ain't that a pretty sight, Hank. Look at them balls hanging there. And that pecker. You ain't just a gonna let that hang like that are ya?" With that encouragement, Hank took my cock in his right hand, squeezed it. His left was stroking his own tool. Mine responded to his touch.

"It'll be OK," he whispered to me. Honcho couldn't hear him. "We ain't gonna do nothing real bad," he added.

"You got that thing hard yet, Hank? Want to see it hard; want to measure it." Honcho brushed Hank aside. He had done his job. My prick was at least at half mast. There was enough of it for Honcho to get his jollies. He put the ruler to it. "Humm. Only seven and a half," he commented almost as if he were reading a water pressure. He took the ruler and not too gently slapped my rod back and forth. "Gotta make it grow. You can do it fella," he said as he continued.

Hank had removed his uniform shirt and trousers. Underneath them he had been wearing leather straps that came from around his neck, down across smooth, hairless chest (almost hiding the nipples on his well defined pecs), to a "V" at his rock solid cock. The shaft and the balls underneath were snugly held by a cock ring. He'd put his boots back on. The sight of him made my rod grow another inch! "Eight and a half!" Honcho exulted. "That's more like it. Hank, you get over here and service this thing. I want to see at least nine inches out of it." With that he pulled the chair over near the partition. He took off his uniform shirt, left his visored cap on; sat on the chair watching me from a profile position. Hank had come over, knelt on one knee in front of me. He gently massaged my balls with one hand as he gripped my upright tool with the other. His hands were warm. They slid up and down the shaft effortlessly. They were covered with the oil!

Honcho, bare chested, was fingering one of his nipples as he stroked possibly the largest hardon I'd ever seen! His ham sized fist barely covered half of it as he rhythmically moved it -- back and forth, making the well rounded head swell even more. His balls lay in the open "V" of his fly. His hand would pound down against them, rebound up the shaft -- over and over.

Hank had reached under my balls, expertly inserted his well oiled fingers between the cheeks of my ass, into the waiting hole. He reached inside, gently probing with first one, then two fingers. I could feel his whole hand deftly guiding itself through the opening; now it was in me! The touch of his gently probing hand sent sensuous thrills to the tip of my cock. It must have grown to ten inches by now!

"That's it, boy. Make it grow!" Honcho now had both his fists feverishly working that wondrous shaft. And there was plenty of it left over. Fingers, white from the intense grip he held, flew up and down with fantastic speed.

Hank's lips slipped over the throbbing head of my now ten and a half inches. The lubricated hand firmly milked the shaft as the other explored deep inside me, touching all the right spots to send me into orbit. The hand seemed to relax. Oh no! He's beginning to remove it. I moaned with the pleasure as it slowly retracted. I didn't want it to leave. I didn't want him to stop. I didn't want to cum. As gently as it had entered, the hand now withdrew sending an ultimate spasm of joy through me. The other hand had also been removed, and now his lips were sucking all of me deep down his throat. I could feel it close against my aching knob! He held my root firmly as his tongue stroked it.

My cheeks were being spread wider and wider. I could feel his fingers at my butt hole again. "Oh please put your fist up my ass," I silently pleaded. Instead, he was inserting a large dildo. It vibrated sending rhythmic vibrations pulsing through me, right up my cock to the very tip, still buried deep in his sucking throat! In, and still further in, the dildo slid. Each pulsing oscillation sent me further and further into orbit. I threw my head back and moaned from the sheer joy.

"That's it, boy. Get him real hot!" Honcho's hand was flying now. The knob bounced in its fury for relief. I marvelled at how long he could keep that up without shooting. It must be the tight grip he has on it. The cum can't get out, I thought.

The dildo had slipped completely inside me. My sphincter had closed over almost the entire enormity of it. Its rhythmic movement continued. Hank slowly slid his lips along my cock, my aching pulsing cock which was throbbing in unison as the dildo massaged every sensitive spot inside me -- all at once. A roaring hardon, freed against its will from those practiced lips, stretched skyward. Hank gripped it in both of his hands, gently applying more oil. He then stood, turned around, bent over. The strap down his back had a second cock ring by his butt hole. Reaching between his legs, he grasped my tool, kneaded it and my balls through the ring steering the shaft into his anxiously waiting hole. As his tight ass closed over the head I thought I was going to fill him right then and there with hot cum. But the shaft glided onward, deeper and deeper as his greedy ass clutched at every last inch.

Honcho got up, tool in hand moved closer to Hank. Releasing his swollen member, he presented the bulbous end to Hank's parted lips. They covered it with warm, moist breath and then sucked it in, pulling the entire length right to its base after it, in one continuous motion.

Each thrust I made at Hank's tight ass he returned, convulsing the entire anal cavity around my steel hard rod. The dildo up my ass pulsed; I could feel the cum welling up in my balls. With every stroke they flew against his ball sac. I only hoped it felt as good to him as it did me.

It must have, because his oil drenched hand reached back to massage them. He held the pouch, and then he held both pouches in his warm, tantalizing fingers, stroking all four balls in unison. His other hand held his long swollen cock, bending it so the head pointed towards the floor. He pumped it in a full sweeping motion from its base to the engorged cockhead, rubbing and massaging its well lubricated firmness, and then back to the base of the shaft; again and again his hand teased his inflamed piston.

Hank's sucking lips slurped around the head of Honcho's cock, drawing juices closer and closer to bursting forth from the tiny slit at the end. Honcho moaned and cried out. He was going to cum. Hank took it all as Honcho released load after load. Hank continued to suck as hot cum escaped the corners of his mouth, ran down his chin dripping in large globs to the floor.

Hank pushed harder and harder against me taking every last inch I had deep in his ass. I could feel my knob swell as his grip on it increased with each thrust. The dildo continued vibrating inside me, gently massaging me over the brink of sanity. I couldn't hold it back any longer. I was going to come. With explosive force, I shot my juices into that grabbing cavern, trying to fill it but never succeeding. It sucked for more and I gave it more. Load after load disappeared deep up his ass; and yet he wanted more. He was insatiable! I slowed to a trickle. He continued riding my pogo stick, begging for another ejaculation. "Just one more time, please," I heard him moan.

His mouth was now free; dripping white juices, but free, pleading for me to satisfy him. Oh how I wanted to! He was still fondling both sets of balls as he pumped on his own piston. Letting the two pouches hang free to rub and massage each other, his fingers reached under them and found my plugged hole. Deftly, he began moving the vibrating dildo back and forth inside me. New excitement began to overtake my resting rod. It quivered, began stretching to its full length again -- and shooting. Slowly he began extracting the pulsating implement from my ass. Each inch it retreated sent new spasms of cum shooting deep inside him. As the dildo neared the end of its travel, I drove my cock home in one massive thrust. Oh God! This was it! He was coming! And so was I! Together we shot load after load. This time I did fill him to satisfaction. His limp tool hung in his motionless hand; although momentarily spent, it would rise again.

"Get him down. We're through with him, for now," Honcho growled. "Throw that creep back in the cell. And while you're at it, clean up around here." He was still bare chested, but had stuffed his well serviced rod back down his pants leg. The tell-tale bulge left little doubt that it was a repeater. Although soft, it still had an inviting outline, showing off all its best features immodestly displayed under the strained twill cloth.

Hank turned towards me with a hang dog look. His eyes would not meet mine as he approached to remove the cuffs from my wrists. His lean, well defined chest rubbed up against mine as he reached for one of the bracelets to release it. I could feel his long cock, weighted by its well formed head, hanging lazily between his legs as it thumped against my thigh. As he fumbled with the keys, his eyes met mine. There was a pleading there that was beyond a desire for any physical release.

"Why do you let him bully you, Hank?" I whispered. "You don't need that crap!" He smiled slightly, dropped his eyes from mine. Still fumbling for the right key, I felt his manhood press more firmly against my leg. "You sure as hell can do better than this," I added under my breath.

"What the hell's taking you so long there? Get to it, Hank. Get your faggot friend back in there." He turned, started towards the door. "I'm going to take a piss." Hank turned and watched him go. He continued to stare towards the door long after the screen had slammed shut.

Quietly, I repeated, "You don't need this. You gotta get out of here worse than I do, Hank," I added.

"Ain't got nowhere to go," he said as he turned back towards me. He reached up with the keys to release the other arm. With my free hand I gently grabbed his cock, stroking it gently.

"You'd have no problem. You'd do fine.!" I slid my hand the full length of the still oiled shaft, gently fingering the slit at the end. "No, you'd have no trouble at all."

"Gee, I dunno. Can't. Gotta stay here," he said as he released the other arm. I rubbed my hands and wrists. It felt good to have them free. Placing my hands on Hank's shoulders I looked him squarely in the eyes. I was going to take a chance.

"Hank, look at me." I shook him. "Look at me!" His eyes slowly met mine. "I'll help you. I'll help you get away." His eyes widened. I wasn't sure if it was fear or anticipation. It was neither.

"How?" he asked. "He's got you here. And he's got me right under his thumb. What can you do?" The resignation with which he said it -- I was afraid the conversation was through.

"Where's my bike?" He looked up.

"Oh that's OK. When I went out earlier I told Jake to pick it up. I heard him pull up with it a while back, so its outside," he said.

"It rides two," I pointed out. "We can double pack and split. There's nothing holding you here."

"What're we going to do with him?" as he nodded towards the door.

That was no problem. After all, what did they do with me -- and now the tables were turned! The door burst open. Honcho strode in, stopped. "What's going on here. How come you ain't got him back in there yet?" That was all he said. Hank planted a haymaker to his middle and an uppercut to the jaw that would have gotten at least a bronze at the Olympics! Honcho folded.

Hank stood there looking down at his mentor. "Want to have some fun?" I asked. Surprised, he looked back up at me. Let's give him some of his own medicine before we split." I took one of the cuffs from Hank, snapped it around Honcho's right wrist. Hank followed my lead. There was an overhead water pipe at just the right height. Boosting the dazed Honcho, we were able to snap the cuffs over it before he fully regained his senses. His feet just touched the floor. Some rope coiled in the corner resolved that problem. We tied each ankle as far apart as possible to joists on opposite walls.

Honcho began bellowing. I was afraid the noise might bring help, but Hank was right on the ball. He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a role of adhesive tape. That properly applied quieted things down quite a bit. He was a lot more meek than before. Now his eyes bulged more than his cock! "You know, Hank, I don't really think he got his rocks off the last time, do you?" Hank shook his head and grinned. He was beginning to shed his subservience; the "slave" was changing stripes!

I unbuckled Honcho's belt; pulled it clean out of its loops. It thudded on the floor. One quick yank at the front of his pants did the rest. Pubic hair sprung out in little curls, but his rod remained firmly trapped in the pants leg. Hank laughed. From his pants hanging over the nearby chair he pulled a small pocket knife. Grinning from ear to ear, he slowly opened it and ran a thumb over the razor sharp blade. Cautiously, I watched as he approached the immobilized figure. "No, Hank," I said, stepping towards him. I feared the worst.

He looked back at me and laughed, "We can't service the son-of-a-bitch with them pants on, now can we?" With that he slipped the blade between Honcho's flesh and the skin tight pants. In one clean motion the left leg was free; another swipe and the pants fell away. Honcho's balls and cock swung like a large pendulum. Hank snapped the knife shut, replaced it in the pocket from which he had drawn it. He was enjoying the situation. His cock was rising slowly. Taking the oil container, he poured it over Honcho's head. With his hands he smoothed over the taut muscled back as it strained to get free. On down the back glided the hands, lubricating the ass. And then the hole itself. First one finger, then two. The pendulum now swung higher. Honcho seemed to be torn between wanting to get free and wanting to enjoy this new experience.

Noticing the ruler still lying on the desk, I could not resist the impish temptation. "Turn about is fair play," I laughed, picking up the ruler. As I approached Honcho, Hank had removed his fingers from the cleft of Honcho's ass and was now rubbing the oil on his pecs, squeezing the nipples. Hank's fully extended cock was teasing the crack between the two cheeks as he slid his body up and down the well lubricated captive. I reached down, took the pendulum, measured it. "We can do better than that," I said as I bounced the head of Honcho's swinging tool gently on the flat edge of the ruler, like a spatula. The swollen knob kept bouncing upwards with each slap of the ruler. "Let's see, has it grown any?" No longer dangling downwards, the robust monster was starting to show some life. "Nope, that's less than before. You've got to try!" It jerked upwards, almost as if he were.

"Maybe this will help." Hank had handed me a cock ring.

"Ringer!" as I flipped it over the knob on the end and slid to the base of his cock. Gently, I forced the ball sac through. The balls throbbed. The shaft quivered.

When getting the ruler, I remembered seeing some clothes pins in the partially open desk drawer. Two of them applied to the nipples might encourage him to get it up, I thought. The plastic clips grasped the nipple, closed on it, holding it firmly. The other one kept slipping off. Too much oil, I guess, as I wiped some of it off with my dry palm. This time the clip held. I wasn't sure which I was supposed to believe -- the look on Honcho's face (wide eyed disbelief) or the evidence between his legs (it was standing straight up, swollen and red).

Hank had picked up the belt lying on the floor, flicked Honcho's ass with it. The response was instantaneous. Cheek muscles tightened creating large dimples. Each slap produced the same reaction. The already upright tool slapped crazily against the rippled stomach. Honcho groaned -- was it in pleasure or pain? Will we ever know?

Hank was slowly penetrating the spanked ass, his hands placed firmly on Honcho's groin, pulling him onto the anxious implement. He nodded for me to do the same to him. First I knelt behind Hank, tonguing the long crack and slowly spreading the cheeks. Reaching deeper, I found his butt hole, reamed it with my probing tongue. Reaching between his legs, I fondled his balls in their oil soaked sac. He was in -- I could feel a second pouch slapping against my hand. The cock ring was still holding it in place.

Rising slowly, my swollen prick glided between their legs, the end rubbing their balls. Hank gripped it between his legs holding it tightly. "Why don't you put that thing where it'll do the most good?" he said over his shoulder. I quickly inserted it just inside the hole I had so recently reamed. I wanted to tease him, however, and very slowly continued. Each movement inwards caused my cock to jump with joy. Hank's reaction was obvious pleasure.

With his hand circling the ringed cock, Hank thrust hard against Honcho's tight ass, fucking him for all he was worth. The motion was so strenuous, Hank flew up and down the length of my own shaft. I placed my arms around him, played with the two taut nipples on his chest. "Oh God!" Hank cried out as he thrust himself forward and held motionless except for the convulsive action as he shot load upon load. Hank's ass tightened around my elongated rod, wringing flood after flood of warm, sticky juice from it until I fell exhausted on his back.

My spent tool slipped from Hank's grip. I stepped back. "Plop!" Hank's cock came free. Walking around in front of Honcho, I noticed his shaft was still upright, a small drop of white just running down its head. I pointed at it. Hank laughed, "He's good at taking care of that, himself. Besides, he told me to clean this place up!" With that he began wielding his dangling manhood like a fire hose. Pointing it at Honcho, he let loose with a long, golden stream. It splashed off of Honcho's chest, running down those well formed pecs with their nipples still captive. I reached over to remove the clips. But Hank shook his head. "Let him enjoy himself. Help me." With this he directed the stream at the base of the still upright cock. Taking careful aim at the crack between the cheeks where Hank had found so much pleasure, I sent a second stream of warm, yellow liquid cascading over is ass. It felt good. Just the relief of taking a piss felt good.

The golden shower completed, we left Honcho where he was to dry out. Hank pulled on his trousers over his oil soaked legs. "We'll clean up somewhere's else. My bible reading sister may show up -- she brings us lunch sometimes. And there'd be all hell to pay, with her preaching and all." I grabbed my pants and we made a bee line for the door. Before opening it, I grabbed Hank, felt that loving piece of meat harden between his legs as I wrapped my hand around it. He bit my ear lope as we clenched.

Fortunately, the bike was just outside; the key still in the ignition. Balls flying, I swung my bare ass over the saddle. It started. Hank slipped in behind me and we were off leaving dust flying back through the still open door. Hank wrapped his arms around me hanging on as we sped down the highway. His hand gradually slipped down to my open crotch and took my balls and cock in his hand. "Can't let them get cold," he shouted in my ear. With one hand, I reached behind me, unzipped his fly, and pulled out (to my surprise) a very stiff pecker. Giving it the right angle with my hand, I slowly pushed back on the saddle. It slipped inside. The full length reached up, vibrating from the engine and the road. I could feel the head thickening as it swelled. His hands now held a stiff and excited shaft. His fingers wrapped tightly around it moved with the bike.

I don't know how many miles we must have gone before we had to stop to clean the windshield. There were many such stops, many such "hard" miles before we reached L.A.

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written by anonymous