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Shimmy

It’s a hot day “ hotter than I expected for late September “ and I’m wondering if my leather jacket will be too much for what’s turning out to be gorgeous weather.  My pockets are full of freshly filled prescriptions, and I’m thinking that I’ll find a patio and people-watch for a while, when I notice the motor bike in the parking lot.  A sleek, black racer, crouched like it’s waiting to take off.  I have to slow down, walking past, to look.

Two helmets are locked to it and I wonder if the drivers are sitting in Lorenzo’s, eating pizza before hitting the road, but\’

“Hey, a call from across the narrow lot, unfamiliar voice pitched casual, like it won’t matter if I don’t turn around.

I look up to see her leaning against the brick of the wall, washed out jeans hanging off slim hips, leather jacket open over washboard stomach, small breasts.  She rakes one hand through the sun-bleached mane of her hair, and I’m gone:  Kryptonite.

“I said hey, she tells me, cocking an eyebrow, like she wants me to know she’s been looking.

I swallow hard, feeling my hands get sweaty.

“Hey, I stammer, and nod towards the bike.  “That yours?

“Yep, she grins.  “You wanna go for a ride?

I can feel myself blushing, heat rushing to my cheeks.

“Maybe, I hedge, though I can’t help smiling back.  “What’s your name?

She kicks away from the wall, closes the space between us with deliberate steps.  Her eyes sparkle, blue as a regretless sky, and her smile is hot metal and speed.

“Jackal, she tells me, hooking her fingers into my belt loops.  She looks up at me like she’s appraising a purchase.  “And what, she asks, “Do I call you?

A million imaginary names flash through my head, but, “Julie, I decide.  “Just Julie.

“Alright, Julie, she says.  “Let’s go.

She walks me to her bike, hands me a helmet, and helps me onto her beast.

She climbs on in front of me, pulls her own bucket on, and turns to look at me over her shoulder.

“You do know what you’re getting into, right? she asks, settling one hand on my knee.

Slowly, she draws her hand along my thigh, tracing it carefully, holding my eyes the entire time.

My body shivers despite the heat, and I nod.

Yes, I know.

Yes.  I want this.

“Good, she says.  She guides my arms around her hips.  “Hang on.

When she guns the engine a moment, later, it’s all I can do to hold on.

We race out of town on the highway, the rumble of the bike and her warm body between my thighs, heading for the hills.  The air whips my face, mingling city smells with the scent of hot leather, as what I’ve agreed to sinks in:  I’m on the back of a stranger’s bike, going¦ wherever she decides to take me.  I feel a flutter in the pit of my stomach and can’t tell whether it’s excitement or fear.  Industrial parks flash by, as I get brave, holding on with one arm to trace the seam along her inner thigh.  When her hand closes over mine, I freeze, thinking she wants me to stop, but she settles my hand between her legs, pressing me against the zip of her jeans.  I can feel my clit waking up, swelling in response to the heat of her, the promise of what’s coming.  Soon, we leave the city behind, flying along open roads between pastures, forested hills rising up before us.

She parks by the road, braking hard is a spray of gravel, not far from the woods.  When she pulls her helmet off, shakes out her hair, I can smell her sweat mingling with the scent of meadowland and damp earth.  She twists, as I unbuckle my own helmet, leaning back against my shoulder to look at me with blue eyes gone dark.  She cups the back of my head, pulling me to her, and I groan as her kiss washes over me.  Her hips buck against the cup of my hand, and I feel the answering shudder from my clit.

“Come on, she says against my mouth.  “Follow me.

We scramble off the bike, up the hillside and into the woods, just out of sight of the road.  Helmets dropped in the thick loam, I press her against rough bark, feet planted in the pine needles.  Her mouth opens under my kiss, tongues tangling as she unzips my jacket with deft fingers, her mouth tasting of the memory of smoke.  She slides her hands over my tits and my nipples stand up, hard under her light fingers.  I press my knee between her thighs, locking us together at the hips.  My stomach flutters at the contact and she pulls me closer, grinding, rubbing her thumb across the nub of my nipple, making me shudder and gasp.

I fumble for her zipper, open her jacket, push leather and ribbed cotton aside, hungry for her body.  She moans when my hands find her skin, back arching as they slide up her ribs to claim her breasts.  I bend to kiss her neck, taste the salt of sweat, bitterness of road dust, and feel her sigh against me.

She shifts, wrapping her arm around my neck, and I slide my arms around her, tracing her spine with my fingertips.  She finds my mouth again, sucks my lower lips until I whimper, pleasure washing over me.

When she presses her hand between my thighs, fumbling with the zipper, I feel a flutter of panic “ Oh, god, what if she doesn’t know, “ but she sighs, finding my clit, light fingers stroking steady and sure.  My fears shatter as my body takes over, my hips moving with a will of their own.  I groan at her touch, pulling her closer and she grinds against me, body straining.

I shift to kiss her neck, slide my hand over the front of her jeans, start popping buttons one after the other, pulling the thick cotton aside only to realize that underneath it there is nothing but skin, slippery slick with sweat and want.  The scent of it is thick and pungent, and I groan into her neck even as she arches towards me, spreading her legs wider, the folds of her pussy taking me in.  I can feel the hard nub of her clit under my thumb, the clench of her muscled cunt on my fingers as her hips thrust against me.  Her fingers are stroking the underside of my clit, and my head is spinning, muscles clenching, pressure building in my stomach, at the base of my spine.

Oh, god, please, I beg, silently, wanting to make her come, not sure if I can come myself.

I hook my fingers hard inside her, pressing, searching, and her hand fists in my hair.  She growls into my mouth, even as I feel her back, her thighs, tensing.  She throws her head back as her body jolts against mine, the muscles inside her squeezing, spasming, crushing my fingers.

Unexpectedly, she breathes my name, Julie, a rush of soft breath as her body relaxes.  She finds my mouth with hers, kissing me deeply.

She shifts, her hand sliding along the length of my clit, ˜til it’s pressed between us, hard against her stomach.  Her fingers search, probing between my legs, making me gasp and jolt and shudder, every muscle straining.  She presses her fingers into my soft flesh, finding a spot I didn’t know I had and pressing her advantage ˜til I’m groaning, whimpering into her mouth.

“Come for me, she whispers, rough, against my lips.  “Let go.

Magic words.  Or maybe she just found the right place, the right speed, the right motion.  But the pressure inside me breaks, cracks like a whip, like thunder, pleasure coursing through me, body shuddering.

She kisses me, milks me ˜til I’m wrung out and panting against her shoulder.

“Come on, she says, softly.  “I’ll take you home.

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