Chapter 5
Mack allowed himself a few slow thrusts, savoring the warm wetness that worked at him, but he wanted something more for putting up with this kid’s antics for so long—he deserved more. Hadn’t Brad said he was ready to back up his talk with action? And back up he would… Mack pulled his hand free from Brad’s shorts. Large dark eyes glanced up at him through a shock of blonde bangs and Mack’s cock slipped from between perfect red lips, saliva glistening on the hard flesh. “Lower right fairing,” Mack told him. At Brad’s confused look, he pointed and explained, “A box of condoms, inside? Unless you’ve changed your mind…”
Before he could finish, Brad was squatting in the grass, tearing into the compartment hidden inside the fairing. Mack took a moment to adjust his jeans a bit lower on his hips before he straddled the motorcycle and lowered himself into the leather seat. He scooted down to get comfortable, feet planted firmly on the ground and dick in hand, fist pumping in a languid rhythm as he watched Brad hunt through the fairing. Finally Brad stood up. “Here,” he said, handing Mack a coin-shaped wrapper. When he bent again to pull off his shorts, his erection poked at his navel. “You want me to do it? I can roll it on with my teeth.”
As promising as that sounded, Mack shook his head. He opened the wrapper and rolled the lubricated condom on in a quick, efficient manner that only came with years of practice. “Take off your shoes,” he warned before Brad could climb onto the bike. “I don’t want you scruffing up the paint.”
“I’ve never done it on a chopper before,” Brad admitted as he kicked off his sneakers.
Mack patted his lower belly to show Brad where he wanted him to sit. “You couldn’t do it on that Streetbike of yours,” he pointed out. “It’d topple over and dump you on the ground. Come on, climb up here already.”
Brad turned and, holding onto the handlebars to steady himself, climbed back onto the bike in front of Mack. For a moment he hovered above the instrument panel, unsure, until Mack grabbed his round buttocks and spread them wide. Brad’s feet left the ground as he sat into Mack’s hands, one thumb rimming his asshole while the other reached between his legs to smooth the soft skin behind his balls. “Easy, kid,” Mack murmured when Brad sank into the touch, then corrected, “Brad.Sit back on me, like that.” The tip of his dick kissed the cleft between Brad’s buttocks, slid down to where Mack’s thumb worked trembling flesh, then eased inside. With a low moan, Mack hugged Brad to him, driving deep into the tight ass. Brad lay back against Mack’s chest, his head on Mack’s shoulder, that blonde hair as tangled and sweaty as Mack had imagined it would be. Wrapping his arms around Brad, Mack took the kid’s swollen member and began stroking it, squeezing, tugging at the spongy tip already weeping cum. Nuzzling aside a stray curl, Mack nosed the musky skin behind Brad’s ear, then nipped at the earlobe. In his arms, Brad trembled with delight. He clenched the saddlebag trim rails on either side of the bike as the two of them moved together towards a shuddering orgasm.
* * * *
The following afternoon Mack was at Sylvia’s again. He stayed on his Electra Glide and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t on the lookout for the yellow Kawasaki. What happened the day before was a one time tryst, the release of tensions that had been building between himself and Brad for a while now, nothing more. Nothing serious. He remembered them both on his bike—Brad draped over him as Mack moved inside that sweet ass of his, hard thrusts that exhausted them both, tender kisses like an afterthought once the deed was done. Maybe Brad wouldn’tbe back. At least it had been fun for the moment. They both got what he wanted—Mack would probably never see the kid again. Just as well.
When a motorcycle buzzed into the lot, his heart leaped into his throat, but it was only Stan on his Deuce. “Where’d you guys run off to yesterday?” he asked as he drew to a stop beside Mack. Unstrapping his helmet, he ran a hand over his balding scalp and laughed. “So what happened when you caught the kid? Don’t tell me you fucked him up so bad, he never wants to show his face around here again.”
With a shrug, Mack said, “I laid into him some. Let’s just say he knows now that there’s no better ride than a Harley.”
Stan’s laugh cut off as a thin, high drone, like that of a persistent insect, drifted towards them over the sounds of traffic. “Well, dammit the hell,” he muttered softly. “Would you look at that?” Mack glanced up as the yellow Streetbike skirted the edge of the road. It zipped around a car in the turning lane, cutting it off to make the green arrow and earning an angry honk from the driver’s horn. The whine of the engine grew louder as the bike flew into Sylvia’s lot to stop mere inches from Mack’s.