|
Beastie
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: Beastie
By: Terry
The sun was going down, and she felt the night slip its darkness
over her like a veil. She gently picked up the phone and ordered
drinks and dinner for two.
When room service arrived, she shushed him with a touch of her
finger to her ruby red lips. The waiter could hear the shower
running as she ducked into the bedroom of the suite to get her
purse. He listened to her giggle and envied the guy who was with
her.
He'd seen them when they got there. They looked like the typical
honeymoon type, except for the briefcase he was carrying. That
must be one boring dude he thought to himself, brings his work
with him, real excutive type. He shook his head to himself as she
came back out with the money, what a shame to waste something
like that. She gave him a sizable tip and asked that he tell the
front desk that they didn't want any phone calls put through at
all. She grinned at that and winked at him.....god, what a flirt,
bet I could get some from her. His mind was full of lust by the
time she had the door open, signaling for him to leave.
She had the radio on in the bedroom and was dancing in front of
the mirror. The look on her face was that of an angel. The
balcony doors were open and there was a light breeze blowing the
curtains, she danced her way over to them and let her naked body
become wrapped in their cotton softness. She twirled herself out
of them and on to the terrace. Her hands traced small circles
around her erect nipples, she loved the way that made her feel.
She closed her eyes and felt the roar of a thundering Harley pull
up somewhere in the not too far distance. She pursed her lips as
though giving a kiss to the wind.
As he entered the room, the only words spoken were that of
concern over the bike... "Where did you put 'Beastie'?"
"She's in the back of the trailer, leaking oil all over your
dreams"
Her hand came up to slap him but instead she was kissed, hard, a
tongue driving its way into her mouth. She released all the
tension and let herself fall into his embrace. He would find no
resistance in her body tonight. He picked up her small framed and
perfectly curved body in his arms, she was good for him, like a
road he drove down and felt in total control, yet pushing himself
and Beastie to the limits.
He laid her down on the velvet comforter and stood beside the
bed. He looked down at her and saw the longing in her eyes, and
knew that everything they had done was worth this one moment, to
know she needed him at last. She watched from the bed as he
pulled off his black tee shirt and the muscles on his arms and
chest became more defined, his tattoo with the name of the bike
blazing out at her.
Their bodies clung together as two children needing shelter, yet
with a fire that could not be sated. Tonight she was his,
completely. She wanted to be, yet knowing her secret kept her
tied to him in any event. He kissed her again, hard, and bathed
her neck with his hot tongue. She could smell the sweat of a long
ride on him, and it made her want him all the more. His teeth bit
her nipples and the pain and pleasure crashed together in waves.
Her body withered under him and she began to beg for him, but to
no avail. He would have to be sure of her, this would be their
final night before the long run.
He rolled over and laid his head back, she would have to learn
his way. At first she was surprised and thought she had done
something wrong, he had fought her so wildly in the past just to
be in bed with her. She looked at his lean, tanned body and
traced her fingertips over his cock and balls. Her mouth engulfed
him and she heard his sigh. She licked the length of his shaft
and nibbled on the head, lightly squeezed his balls and ran her
other hand over his chest.
She was just begining to enjoy this when his hands in her hair
stopped her. He pulled her up and rolled her over on her back,
with one fluid motion he was in her and pumping hard. They were
fucking, she kept thinking, amazed that her little girl
upbringing had finally been broken. They were bone to bone and
the sounds and smells were intoxicating. She found herself
begging for more, "fuck me!!! fuck me you bastard!!" Over and
over as her manicured nails dug into his flesh.
Her eyes fluttered open. Sunlight, the window was bathed in a
rainbow of blooming colors. He was sitting staring at her with a
grin like the cat who ate the bird. "Okay princess, time to
boogie. Get what ever together you want that'll fit in this,
cause in the end that's all the room you'll have anyway, no sense
wasting time." He tossed a saddle bag at her and walked away.
By the time she was finished, he was out of the shower, his beard
and mustache gone and a pair of plastic rimmed glass replacing
the mirrored ones he always was wearing. He had put on the suit,
it looked just like the other and made her gasp. "Don't do that.
Never again. Who am I???? Tell me." He shook her by the shoulders
waiting for an answer. "Brad, Brad Lyons." Her voice shaky but
sure.
There they are, he thought to himself, Mrs. Sexy and Mr. Boring.
But she seemed happy enough with him, and they were leaving, so
why bother even looking, he thought as he headed down the hall
with a breakfast tray for the old couple in 26a who never tipped.
*****
Mexico.
As they pulled up to the little house,a group of men, all sitting
around big motorcycles, stood to greet them. She climbed off the
bike and felt as though she'd never been this sore in her life.
But she didn't mind.
The men were all patting him on the back and one woman had come
out and wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a huge kiss
on him. He handed the largest of the men the briefcase. The man
just patted it and nodded his head. "Half, for the club for
helping me. The princess don't like it, but she has no say." They
handed him a beer and then a paper. They pointed to the third
page, a small article.
BIKER FOUND DEAD
A well known biker group out of southern California identified
the body of a member, found yesterday in a closet at a posh
hotel. Police say that they have no idea what he was doing there.
An autopsy is being done. Police said they were glad that the
biker club could identify the man, although he was badly
difisgured in the face, his friends said they knew him from the
club tattoo and his bike's name on his right shoulder, all it
read was BEASTIE.
She walked up to him slowly. Her arms wrapping around him and
watching as the other men opened the case and counted the money.
She was a part of his world now, forever. Her lips lightly kissed
the name of the bike that would always be his mistress before
her.
|
|
