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From: jmp@cyber-mall.com (Joe Parsons)
Subject: Test Ride (mf, Teutonic machinery) Celeste's #3 for 1996

TEST RIDE

by

Joe Parsons

The following text is a work of fiction containing graphic depictions of
a sexual encounter between two heterosexual adults. If such material
offends you, please skip to the next article.  

This text is copyright 1996 by Joe Parsons.  Permission is hereby
granted to repost it electronically, provided that it is posted in
its entirety.  Any deletion or alteration without the express
written permission of the owner is a violation of domestic and
international copyright law.


**WARNING**WARNING**WARNING**WARNING**

There is a message at the end of this posting that could be construed by
some as offensive. If you do not wish to expose yourself to this, please
do not read *any* of this text, as you may be offended.

**END OF WARNING--BEGIN SMUTTY STORY**




"Put something exciting between your legs...ride a motorcycle!"

I smiled to myself as I read the bumper sticker affixed to the rear of
the Toyota 4 x 4 ahead of me. As I pulled to the left to pass, I glanced
at the muddy off-road bike securely strapped into the truck's bed. The
driver, a girl of no more than 20, drove confidently, a tanned arm
propped negligently against the window sill. Her hair was cut very
short, and she wore a half smile as though remembering how she had
covered the bike with mud.

I remembered my own biking days, driving a Triumph 500 through three
sloppy Rhode Island winters. It was the most unreliable piece of
machinery ever created, but it eventually managed to get me where I
wanted to go, with a lot of noise, leaking oil and making enough racket
to collect a couple of tickets each month. I always ignored them.

It was cheap transportation, and was disreputable enough to collect
girls like a noisy butterfly net. I began to think of the balmy summer
days, days much like today.

Suddenly I realized that I had pulled into the parking lot of a
motorcycle dealership. An ornate sign over the store front announced
that this was the home of

 "QUALITY GERMAN MOTORCYCLES" 

In front of the plate glass window, standing as though at attention,
were twenty new BMWs, gleaming proudly in the July sun. 

What the hell, I thought to myself; it won't hurt to take a look.

I parked the car and got out, sauntering nonchalantly towards the row of
bikes. It was immediately evident that things had changed in the twenty
years since I had ridden motorcycles. I caught my breath as I approached
the first in line: a pearlescent gray K100RS. Four cylinders,
horizontally opposed and water cooled. Each part of the machine was
obviously designed for a purpose, to work in harmony with every other
part. The fairing, with its oversized rectangular headlight, seemed to
be shaped by the wind itself, and the handlebars and fuel tank invited a
laid-out riding position.

I walked around the machine, not daring to touch it. I knew that, once I
had my hands on it, I would have a hard time letting go. As I inspected
the German machine, I began to feel the familiar tingle in my crotch,
the slightly horny feeling I always used to get around motorcycles.
Gently I laid a hand on the aluminum fuel tank. It was warm to the
touch. I brushed my fingers across the seat, then traced the outline of
the alloy wheels with my fingers. It was all coming back to me now. I
was crouching next to the bike, fondling and caressing the machine as a
lover would, oblivious to the world around me. I could feel the
beginning of an erection.

"You seem to appreciate the German equipment." I jumped, startled by the
interruption. I looked up at the source of the voice, feeling my face
redden slightly. 

From my crouching vantage point she seemed to tower over me, and her
breasts seemed so large as to block out the sun. I stood up, conscious
of the slight bulge in my pants.

She was tall, nearly my height, and wore her long blonde hair pulled
back severely. Her hips and shoulders were rather broad, implying
physical strength. Her left hand rested familiarly on the left handgrip,
her right on her hip. She wore a t-shirt with the blue and white BMW
logo and the name of the dealership just above the waistband of her
tight, faded jeans. The logo on her shirt was rather badly distorted by
her large breasts, and her nipples poked prominently through the
material of the shirt, one at each side of the circular design.

"Actually, I was just looking to see how far bikes have come since I
rode," I offered, lamely. I tore my eyes reluctantly away from her
breasts to meet her steady gaze. She looked back at me confidently.

"My name is Inge," she said, proffering her hand. I took it, surprised
at the strength of her grip.

 "Would you like to take a test ride?" I released her hand reluctantly
and she rested it on the saddle of the motorcycle, inches from mine. She
had moved almost imperceptibly closer to me and I found that my eyes
kept wandering to her breasts. 

"I'd like that," I said, "but it has been quite a while since I did any
serious riding." She was absently stroking the bike's saddle with the
backs of her fingernails as she looked steadily at me. I could smell the
soap she bathed with this morning. I had a quick mental picture of this
statuesque woman in the shower, her perfect breasts slick with
lather...again I felt a stirring in my groin. I swallowed, trying to
control my thoughts.

"I would be happy to ride with you," she said, and for the first time I
was conscious of a slight accent, her W's tending toward V's and a hint
of a guttural roll to her R's. I nodded, not quite trusting my voice.
She swung her leg expertly over the saddle and started the bike.

BMWs have always appealed to me, and as she started the motor, I
remembered why. The German bike's four cylinders sang a seductive
mechanical song, with a slight whirr of cam chains. My pulse rate
increased slightly at the sound. She pushed the bike off the center
stand, toed the transmission into gear, and twisted the throttle
slightly as she pulled the big machine out of line into the clear area
of the parking lot.

"I'll drive first," she suggested, "and then I'll give you a chance at
it." Hesitating just a moment, I swung my leg over the low saddle and
put my feet on the rear pegs. It was a short saddle, not meant for two
people over a long distance. The slight forward tilt of the seat caused
me to slide forward against her. I could feel her warmth against my
chest. I searched under the saddle for passenger handgrips and found
none.

"Put your arms around me," she said over her shoulder, "and I'll show
you something." I complied, willingly. My hands held her waist, just
under the curve of her breasts. She pulled the bike smoothly out of the
parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare. Seeing no traffic, she
twisted the throttle and released the clutch. With a turbine-like rush,
the 1,000 cc bike accelerated. Unprepared for the acceleration, I nearly
lost my grasp of Inge's waist. My feet came off the footpegs, and I
desperately grabbed for a handhold. I realized that I had grabbed at her
breasts. As I released them (somewhat reluctantly), I could feel her
chuckle. I wondered whether to apologize and decided against it.

"You notice that the BMW has adequate power for acceleration, yes?" she
said over her shoulder, raising her voice against the wind. The smile
was still there, playing with the corners of her mouth. She squirmed
slightly on the saddle, rubbing against my hardening crotch. The slight
vibration of the bike seemed to be concentrating there.

"It's impressive, all right," I replied, wondering if she could perceive
just how impressed I really was. She turned off the main road and headed
towards the hills and their winding roads.

"Would you like to try it out yourself?" she asked, braking to a stop. 

"Sure," I replied. I dismounted carefully, hoping she would not see the
now-prominent bulge in my pants. She smiled at me as she stood the
motorcycle on its side stand and got off. She glanced at my crotch
quickly and her smile widened slightly. 

"Get on," she said. "I'll be right behind you." I swung a leg over the
saddle, settling onto the seat, and she got on behind, pressing her
breasts into my back. Was it my imagination, or did I feel her nipples
harden as they touched me? She encircled my waist with her arms, holding
tighter than seemed necessary.

"I am ready when you are," she said, her voice lower and huskier than
before. I put the transmission into first, twisted the throttle and
eased the clutch out. We were rolling. I shifted into second, then
third, and we entered the first series of tight switchbacks on the
deserted road. The bike seemed made for this road, and I gained
confidence with each sweeping turn. 

I increased my speed and leaned the bike more aggressively into each
turn, extending my inside knee and accelerating hard as I exited each
turn. I began to remember why I rode motorcycles. Inge seemed to be
enjoying the ride, as she clung more and more tightly to me. Her breasts
seemed rock hard, as they dug into my back. Her hands were now flat
against my stomach. Her right hand was just above my belt, the little
finger beginning to insinuate itself down the front of my pants. I was
definitely and visibly aroused now, both from the ride and from Inge's
closeness and increasing familiarity. 

There was no longer any doubt about her; she was clinging to me more
tightly, and I could feel the heaving of her chest as we negotiated the
curves. She laid her cheek against my back. I sensed that her eyes were
closed.

I slowed the bike. The sound of the wind abated, and I could hear the
slight rasp of her breathing. With the road requiring less of my
attention, I could feel that she was pressing her crotch tightly against
me, squirming slightly on the seat.

I stopped. She tensed slightly against me, then slid her hand inside my
shirt, resting it on the skin of my belly. She made small noises barely
audible above the soft purr of the bike's idle.

She continued to caress the skin of my stomach and chest inside my
shirt. I felt moisture at the tip of my cock. As I was deciding what I
might do next, Inge abruptly swung off the bike, pulling me with her.
Suddenly her arms were around my neck and she was kissing me hungrily,
her tongue darting and searching my mouth. My arms encircled her waist
as I pulled her strong body to me. Her breasts felt as though they would
bruise my chest, and her hard pubis was grinding against my swollen
cock. 

She pulled away from me, her nostrils flaring, and grasped my two hands
firmly, placing them on her breasts. As I caressed her through the thin
material of the shirt I could feel her nipples respond. Bolder now, I
pulled her shirt out of her jeans and put my hands inside. Reaching
around to her back, I unhooked the clasp of her bra, then pulled her
shirt over her head. I cupped her large breasts, marveling at their
firmness and the hardness of the nipples. She was breathing faster now.
She opened her eyes very wide and looked full into my face. Never taking
her eyes off my face, she reached down to the snap of her jeans. She
pulled it open and lowered her zipper. She was not wearing panties, and
I could see her blonde pubic hair. She dropped her jeans and stepped out
of them. The lips of her pussy were swollen and engorged. 

She pulled me over to the motorcycle, which was still idling. Still
grasping my hands, she sat sideways on the saddle of the BMW and spread
her legs wide. Her clitoris was beginning to protrude from the golden
curls of her pussy hair. She pulled my head to her.

I ran my tongue over her fine bush, savoring the taste; it was sweet and
musky at the same time, and as her aroma filled my nostrils my senses
became clouded. Impatient with my browsing in her bush, Inge put her
strong hands at the back of my head and forced my mouth to her. 

I licked her clit, first around the base, then, at her urging, took it
into my mouth. She gasped in response. I inserted my tongue into her
widening pussy and felt the profusion of her sweet juices flowing. She
was stretched nearly horizontal across the bike now, her legs encircling
my head. The vibration of the idling motor seemed to excite her further
as I sucked, licked and caressed her sopping vagina. 

My own excitement was building now, and I cupped her buttocks as I
lifted her pussy into my face, drinking deeply. She was alternately
sobbing and laughing now, clinging to the handlebars of the BMW as I
licked and sucked at her pussy. I drew back slightly, and caressed her
lovely, wet cunt with my hand. Gently I stroked her clitoris and took it
between my thumb and forefinger. She moaned in response, writhing on the
seat. I slid the four fingers of my hand deep into her sopping pussy,
pressing her clit with my thumb. Her breath came in short, sobbing pants
now, and her hips made short thrusting movements. I buried my face
again, tongue thrusting deeply into her pussy. Her juice was beginning
to cover the seat of the bike, and her buttocks slid around on the
slippery surface. 

All at once she tensed, holding her breath and tightening her strong
legs around my head. I pressed the point of my tongue hard against the
base of her erect clit, encircling it.

"Suck it, please suck it, please, please," she implored between gasping
sobs. I took the firm bud between my lips and sucked gently, flicking
the tip with my tongue. Her body trembled in response and her legs
tightened even more around my head. 

My ears were ringing now, and I was conscious of nothing but the
slipperiness of her juices on my face and in my mouth, and the taste of
her engorged pussy. Her gasps and sobs were rising in intensity and
pitch as she approached her orgasm. I was dimly aware that my cock was
throbbing impatiently, and that my own juice was beginning to stream
plentifully from it. I continued to lick, to caress, to thrust with my
tongue.

At last Inge arched her back off the seat of the bike, grinding her
crotch ever harder into my face; her taut body was now supported by her
hands on the handlebar and seat, and by her legs around my head. I
marveled at her strength as she supported her body in this way. The BMW
muttered on, unperturbed.

 The juices poured from her pussy as her cries intensified; with a long
wail which increased both in pitch and intensity, she reached her
climax. 

Her body stiffened, supported between the handlebars of the bike and my
neck. After a long moment, she sagged, her buttocks once again supported
by the seat of the motorcycle. Her breasts, flushed with her passion,
glistened with sweat. Her breathing began to return to normal.

She sat up on the seat of the bike and disentangled her legs from my
shoulders. She gazed at me seriously and pulled my face to hers. She
kissed me deeply, licking her own juices from my face and lips. She held
my face between her two hands and peered into my eyes for a moment. I
waited, motionless, wondering what this strange woman would do next.

Experimentally, I bent my head to one magnificent breast, taking the
nipple in my mouth. As I encircled it with my tongue, I felt her
respond, pressing my face into her breast. This time, however, her
reaction was different. Her hands, which before had guided me to bring
her pleasure, were now busy at the top of my pants, fumbling with the
button. She undid it as I sucked on her breast and pulled the zipper
down. My cock, free of its restraints, leapt triumphantly into the
daylight.

Inge stared at it, cooing in admiration. She slid off the seat of the
bike and pushed my pants to my ankles. She guided me onto the seat of
where she had just been and pulled off my shoes, then my pants. She
pushed my legs apart and stood between them, staring at my erect and
pulsing member. She stroked the length of the shaft with her fingers,
then lightly squeezed my testicles. I began to feel as though I would
burst. She squeezed the base of my cock, smiling impishly.

"No, I don't think it is time for you to come yet," she said. I felt as
though I should disagree. I sat on the slippery seat, watching her stare
at my cock, and felt my impending orgasm subside. Still grasping my
member firmly at the base, Inge flicked the tip of my penis with her
tongue once, twice, then three times, savoring the small drops of fluid
emerging from the tip. 

I gripped the handlebar tightly, causing the engine to rev slightly.

Gently she kissed the tip of my cock. Licking her lips once, she
surrounded it with her full lips, slowly taking more of me into her
mouth. With agonizing slowness she descended upon my swollen member
until her lips were at the very base of my cock. The warmth of her mouth
and tongue encircled me and made me dizzy with desire.

Her tongue began to encircle my cock as it was still deep in her warm
mouth. Deliberately she raised her head, holding a slight suction as my
cock withdrew from her throat. Finally she held just the head in her
mouth and she stopped. Her tongue was still busy around the head of my
cock as she held it tightly with her lips. Just as I wondered how long I
could survive this teasing without coming, she took more of me into her
warm mouth, again to the base of my member. I wondered how she could
breathe.

With increasing speed she moved her mouth up and down the length of my
member, first holding just the very tip in her mouth, then taking me
deep into her throat. Her tongue seemed to flutter and vibrate against
my cock as she moved. Up and down her mouth went, making me helpless
with pleasure. I had to have her then.

I reached again for her pussy. "I have to fuck you," I moaned. "Please
let me fuck you...please..." She began to make a sound deep in her
throat, an animal sound which made my entire crotch vibrate. I knew that
I would come at any moment.

She brushed my hand away, continuing to suck and lick my cock. I threw
my head back, unable to hold myself back any longer. My body arched
convulsively as my orgasm took control. I felt Inge lift my buttocks off
the seat of the motorcycle, her mouth still holding my cock. She cupped
my ass cheeks in her two hands, stroking them, as she sucked me. Her
head was moving up and down on my cock, faster and faster, licking,
sucking, growling deep in her throat, scraping her teeth up and down the
length of my shaft and up to the head of my cock and back down to the
base and up and down and up and down and licking and biting and sucking
and i dont know how much more i can takeandpleasedont
stopdontstoppleasepleaseplease,aaaaaaahhhhh....Finally, I came, shooting
my semen deep into Inge's throat. She swallowed it and kept sucking,
demanding more. My loins continued to pulse, seemingly for hours, with
the intensity of that orgasm. 

After a time I withdrew from her warm mouth, feeling the sudden coolness
of the open air on my moist cock. She looked at me with satisfaction. 

As I sat upright on the seat, Inge drew herself up to her full height.
She was slightly taller than me as I sat on the still idling bike, and
her breasts jutted imposingly.

"You will notice," she said, "that the smoothness of the engine is
unusual, even after a long period of idle." She laid her hand on the
rear of the bike. "The rear suspension is the BMW Monolever adjustable
swinging arm, with vertical travel of 110 mm, supported with spring
strut and gas-filled damper with progressive total spring rate and three
load settings." 

I slid off the saddle and took her into my arms, covering her mouth with
mine, cupping her buttocks with my hands, pulling her body to mine. I
could taste the salt of my semen on her lips. I should have been spent,
but I felt a strong desire for her then, a stirring in my loins, as my
cock began to rise again. She felt it, and pulled away from me slightly,
her eyes wide with wonderment.

"You have more left?" she asked, firmly grasping my member as it
hardened.

"For you, yes," I replied, anxious to enter her.

"Come," she said, pulling me toward the bike. She straddled the seat,
facing to the rear, and beckoned to me with both hands. I mounted the
bike to face her, my cock already fully risen. Inge lifted her body onto
my lap, her legs twining around my waist. She lowered herself upon my
erect member, sighing with satisfaction.

"Drive," she said.

"Huh?"

"Drive the motorcycle. Just like you did before." Her eyes were closed
and she spoke in a dreamy tone of voice. I raised the BMW to vertical
and raised the kick stand. I pushed the transmission into first gear
with my bare toe. Twisting the throttle and gradually releasing the
clutch, we began to roll. 

"Faster," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Faster." I increased the
speed and negotiated the turns, Inge impaled on my cock as we rode. Her
long legs encircled my waist tightly, her arms were locked around my
neck. At the first turn she moaned slightly and began to grind her body
into mine. The second turn was faster, a sweeping left hander, and as we
exited it she was sobbing and bouncing on my cock. 

I tried to concentrate on driving.

I could feel the slickness of her wet pussy impaled on my throbbing
cock. As we swept through the turns she bounced and ground on me with
more and more ardor, until we neared the end of the road. 

Slowly I turned the bike around before we reached the main road with its
heavy traffic. Inge, oblivious, still bounced and squirmed on my lap. As
I accelerated through the turns her passion seemed to increase, until,
when we reached the wide spot in the road where we had first stopped to
discard our clothes, she had lost all control. Her juices poured
copiously from her pussy, liberally coating both of our bodies and the
seat of the bike. 

By the time I had slowed the BMW, Inge was uttering loud, inarticulate
animal cries as she bounced and squirmed, impaled on my now battered
member. Her strong legs, twined around my waist, were forcing the breath
out of me. Her fingers scraped convulsively at my back, and I was sure
that she had drawn blood. Her hungry mouth locked onto mine and her
tongue busily explored the inside of my mouth.

As I brought the bike to a stop she threw her head back, her teeth bared
and flashing in the sunlight. She clasped me tightly, as though seeking
to extract the very last drop of pleasure from me. We both held our
breath as we sat there on the slippery motorcycle. I could feel the
strong muscles of her pussy contracting rhythmically on my cock as she
seemed to draw me up into her body.

I was grasping at her now, cupping her buttocks in my hands, collecting
handfuls of our mingled juices and spreading them on our chests and
faces. She was stroking my cock with her pussy, lifting slowly off my
lap, until I was barely inside her. She lowered herself on me, burying
me deep inside her, then raised back up again with agonizing slowness. 

With each stroke she increased her speed, until at last she was
thrusting up and down on my cock like a fine German machine. Her gasping
sobs mingled with mine now, as we approached orgasm. 

We climaxed noisily, me pumping burning spurts of come into her swollen
pussy, Inge demanding more and more. She reached down between us,
pulling my cock from her, and I watched the last few drops of my semen
issue forth, landing in the golden curls of her mound. She rubbed them
into her pussy hair, satisfied at last.  We sat there for a long moment,
entwined in each other's arms on the motorcycle, as our breathing
returned to normal. The flush of arousal which had spread across her
cheeks and down across her breasts was fading. The sun had sunk behind
the hill to our right and I knew that there would be a chill in the air
soon.

We dismounted carefully, disentangling our arms and legs from each
other, and picked up our clothes. As we dressed there by the side of the
road, Inge seemed to regain a measure of composure.

"Do you like the handling...of the bike?" Her accent had become more
evident now. She looked at me seriously as she tucked her shirt snugly
into her jeans.

I grinned at her. 

"Can we take another test drive later, after I heal from this one?" She
looked away.

"I have to go back now." She extracted a small cloth from the tool
compartment under the seat. Carefully she wiped the seat, then discarded
the rag. "Can we go back now?" I swung my leg over the seat and she took
her place behind me.

I drove back to the dealership slowly, not wanting the ride to end. As
we pulled into the parking lot I could see that the lights were out and
the CLOSED sign hung in the window. "Do you have a key?" I asked.

"No, I thought I'd just go straight home," she said, dismounting.

"Would you like to have dinner or something?" 

"Maybe later," she said. "I'm very tired." I shut off the bike and got
off, handing her the keys.

"I hope your boss won't be mad," I said. "We were gone a long time." She
gave me a mysterious smile.

"Believe me," she said, "he doesn't care a bit." She kissed me softly on
the lips, looking deeply into my face, her blue-gray eyes wide. She
placed her cool palm against my flushed cheek.

"Take care," she said. She restarted the bike and accelerated expertly
out of the parking lot and onto the main road. I stared after her for a
long moment, and she was gone.

Shaking my head, I walked back to my car and got in, resolving to see
her again the next morning. I was tired and sore from the unaccustomed
acrobatics of the afternoon, but I felt more alive than I had in years.
I began to sing:

     "I don' want a pickle,  Just wanna ride on my motorsikkle; And I
don' wanna die--Just wanna ride on my motorcy...Cull."

I felt a little silly and thought about what I would say to Inge when I
visited her the next morning.

I was waiting at the front door of the shop the next morning when it
opened. An old man with wispy hair, wearing a greasy jersey unlocked the
door and turned the sign around to OPEN.

I opened the door and walked in, my eyes searching for Inge. The old man
raised his eyebrows at me from behind the counter.

"Something I can do for you?" 

"I was wondering where Inge was," I said.

"Who?"

"You know, Inge...she works here." I was beginning to feel lost and
foolish.

"Ain't nobody here but me 'n' the missus," he said, jerking a thumb back
to an overweight woman in a faded print dress who was sweeping up in the
back of the store.

 "But she has to be here," I said desperately. "I test drove a BMW with
her yesterday. I wanted to buy it. I wanted to talk to her. I had some
questions to ask her...where is she? Please."

I felt disoriented and dizzy. I steadied myself on the counter.

"BMW?" he said, as though he had never heard the term. "That's one o'
them furrin sikkles, ain't it?" He slid a gnawed toothpick into his
mouth and looked at me. For the first time I looked around the shop.
There were rusting, battered pieces of a thousand motorcycles here,
strewn in disarray about the floor and shoved onto shelves up to the
ceiling. The only light came from three bare light bulbs suspended from
the ceiling by their cords.

Panicking, I raced outside, searching for the immaculate row of new
BMWs. All I saw was the rusting carcasses of a dozen discarded
motorcycles.

I looked at the sign over the greasy plate glass window.

 "UNCLE MAURY'S USED SIKKLE PARTS EMPORIUM"

The sign was hand made and fading, and had been hung crookedly over the
store.

My heart pounding, I reentered the store. The shopkeeper leaned against
his counter, still chewing his toothpick.

"You don't know Inge?" I asked him desperately, my voice hoarse.

"Inge...Inge...Seems like I used to..." His eyes seemed to turn dreamy
as he removed the soggy toothpick from his mouth. he looked at me
sharply.

"German broad...uh...lady?"

"Yes, yes," I said. "Do you know her?" 

The old man scratched at his grizzled cheek.

"Seems like...naw, that wouldn't be!" he shook his head, muttering.

"Tell me, tell me!" I shouted, wanting to shake the truth out of him. 

He squinted at me. "Well, back before I even got into the sikkle
business, it was, oh, nineteen and thirty five, maybe thirty six..yeah,
that was it, thirty six." His eyes went cloudy as he remembered.

"What happened, what happened?" I was frantic now, desperate to find my
love. "Seems like there was this German broad, sorry...lady who was from
some kind of high mucky-muck family in Munich, back right before the
war, you know, dubya-dubya two. I was in that one." He seemed about to
go off the track again, but I waited for him to continue.

"The way I heard it, she was supposed to marry some guy, but he went off
on his sikkle and got hisself killed. It was a big deal, I heard. Some
said his sikkle had been rigged to fall apart on him soon's he got
movin' pretty good. Way I heard it, there wasn't hardly enough for them
to bury." He trailed off, gnawing pensively on his toothpick. "What
happened to her?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"From what I heard, she died," he said. "Went off on a ride all by
herself and just didn't come back. Folks over there figured she was so
tore up about that guy she was supposed to marry, she just rode her own
sikkle over a cliff or something. Damn shame, too, from what I hear. She
was supposed to be quite a looker."

"You mean she was never seen again?" I asked. "Just disappeared?"

"Well, some folks say she still hangs around people who like sikkles.
Seems that was what really turned her on, sikkles, and people who knew
about 'em. I think it's all a bunch of superstitious crap, if you ask
me." He spat on the greasy floor.

I stumbled from the filthy shop in a daze and opened the door of my car.
Turning the ignition key, I started the engine and pulled slowly out of
the parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare. Cars passed me on both
sides as I crept down the middle lane of the roadway.

Was she just a legend, or a product of my overactive imagination? Or had
that ride through the country been real? I felt a deep sense of loss,
not only because I knew I would never find her, but also because I was
not even sure she had ever existed at all.

As I drove toward home, I regretted that we had never had a chance just
to talk. We had shared total physical intimacy, each of us giving the
other pleasure that was nearly unbearable, and receiving pleasure in
like measure.

But we had never talked.

I wasn't even sure she knew my name. 

As I turned the corner of my street, I reached for the transmitter of my
garage door opener. As I pressed the button, I saw a metallic gleam deep
in the shadows of my garage. 

Stopping just at the entrance at the garage, I could see it clearly: the
gray BMW I had ridden just the day before. I got out of the car and
walked to the bike, wondering. As I circled it warily, I was aware that
I was not alone. I turned around and she was there.

It was Inge, my beautiful Inge, leaning against the wall of my garage.
She was smiling at me as she had when I first saw her, her arms folded
across her chest. I could not speak.
"Do you feel up to a ride?" she asked.

I grinned back at her.

"Only if I won't scare you away this time." She came up to me, looking
levelly into my eyes.

"Let's go for a ride and we'll see." She handed me the keys to the bike.
As I accepted them, she encircled my waist with her arm.

"Let's just go for a ride, she said, her voice low, "and we'll see." We
mounted the BMW, first me, then Inge behind. I inserted the key and
turned the ignition on; the panel lights glowed in the subdued light of
the garage. I pushed the transmission into gear, hearing the solid
thunk! as it engaged. Releasing the clutch and rolling into the street,
I felt Inge's grip tighten around my waist. As we accelerated I felt her
cheek flat against my shoulder, and her nipples harden against my back. 

Her hands were already stroking my chest as we turned off the main
avenue and onto the back road to the hills. The BMW chuckled as we dug
into the turns. 

It was a great day for a ride.



copyright 1996, Joe Parsons 

     **WARNING**WARNING**WARNING**WARNING**

Below this line is a message which some may deem inappropriate. Reading
the text below may invalidate the entire text you have just read.

    ------------------- "THE LINE" ------------------

For the best, hottest live conversation available, call the women who
were *too explicit* for the 900 lines. Find out what thousands of repeat
Internet callers already know. Call

          1-800-666-6674
       $3.99 per minute--and worth it.

If the idea of $3.99 a minute makes you choke, there are other less
expensive choices for live conversation, such as 

011-592-599-025 ("The Party Zone;" live chat)
011-592-595-142 ("The Sex Shop;" live, interactive voice voice
personals)
1-809-490-8707  ("Night Moves;" live group and one-on-one private
conversation and voice personals)
011-6787-3542  ("Cyber-Cafe;" live group chat--new programming!)

For gay callers:

011-592-595-216 ("Man-Scan;" live, interactive gay voice personals).  
011-683-8224 ("The Bath House;" live, group gay chat)
1-809-490-8292 ("Man-Scan Caribbean;" live, interactive gay voice
personals)

These are international calls, but the cost can be as low as $.49
minute, depending on your long distance carrier, time of day and calling
plan.  As always, you should know the charges *before* picking up the
telephone.

If you'd like to learn more about telephone sex, find "Phonesex--the
Straight Scoop" and "Phonesex--the FAQ" at an alt.sex.* newsgroup near
you. The author will try to fulfill requests by email, but he would
appreciate requests for reposts instead.

Joe Parsons
jmp@cyber-mall.com

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