I turned the Harley around the final corner and struggled to keep the speed down as we rode the final block back to her house. My passenger knew I was struggling, and yet she scraped her nails up my ribs and pinched my nipple again. She let out a moan that echoed mine as her other hand caressed my hard cock through my jeans.
As I turned into her driveway and screeched to a stop, she stood on the foot pegs and planted a biting kiss on my neck.
"Leave it running," she instructed as she hopped off. She fumbled in the saddlebag for a moment, and the garage door started to open. She ducked underneath it and motioned for me to pull forward. As soon as I was in, she hit the button, and the door started to close. I killed the engine and pulled the kickstand out with my toe.
She stood for a moment beside the bike with a desperate look. She stepped forward before I could dismount, and she pushed me back onto the seat.
"Please don't tell me no," she pleaded. Without waiting for an answer, she pushed her way between me and the bike, moving to sit on my lap, facing the handlebars.
Reaching out for the bars, she moaned, "Touch my like I've been touching you!"
There were so many reasons to tell her no. As I scraped my nails up her ribs, I found there was no bra to stop me from pinching her nipples. I knew then that I was going to give her anything she asked for. I remembered a time when I had told her I would not do that.
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It all sort of started with a botched bank robbery. I was minding my own business, standing at the little island counter at the bank, filling out a deposit slip, when a very nervous guy stopped next to me. He had an odd colored piece of paper, and he was trying to write on it, but his hands were shaking too much. I guess that's why I even noticed him.
He swore loudly under his breath, pulled out a gun, shot at the security guy, and yelled something about a robbery. I remember thinking that I must have had the dumbest look on my face as I just stared at him. I remember thinking that it would be dumb to die while trying to deposit a stupid ten dollar check. I remember thinking that it would suck if anyone else died because they worked there or had a stupid ten dollar check to deposit. I don't remember deciding to do anything about it.
I was about as shocked as he was when my fist hit him squarely between the eyes with all the force I could muster. I was also shocked at how quickly the light in his eyes went out as he crumpled to the floor.
If they ever make a movie about what happened, the director is going to make that scene last five minutes. Maybe more. It sure felt that way as it happened. Somehow, the director will need to fit too much action into the next ten seconds.
The security guard wasn't hit. He rushed over. The thief had dozens of guns, or at least three, and they went flying everywhere as the guard disarmed him. The police showed up. Questions were asked. Information was written down. I was allowed to leave.
In the end, I guess the only thing that mattered to me was that I was going to have to find a different branch to deposit the stupid check. I declined my fifteen minutes of fame, and after a couple of weeks, the whole incident was forgotten.
I was a bit surprised when nearly two months later, the company receptionist called my desk to transfer a call from the bank. My expectations were low as I took the call.
I was a bit skeptical at first. The woman on the other end of the line sounded very young and more than a little apprehensive. She quietly explained that she was asking for a favor that mostly had nothing to do with the bank. She sounded like she was about to break into tears as she explained that she was merely asking for my cell phone number and permission to call me later in the day. When I asked why, she was barely able to answer that it was complicated.
I guess I'm a sucker for tears. I gave her my number.
She called my phone in the middle of my commute home, and we were able to talk for quite a while. She explained that she was the bank teller that had been standing next to the security guard when the would-be thief had shot at him. She had been seeing a therapist to work through the anxiety of the event, but she had reached an impasse.
She was able to return to work, and most of the time she was fine. Loud noises would still startle her more than they had before, but sometimes a customer would do something and it would scare her. She said it was little things that scared her. Maybe a customer would appear nervous as they fiddled with a pen. Once it was a customer coming in with a loose piece of paper that looked like the note.
The therapist wanted her to use a visualization technique to calm herself when those things happened. She was supposed to think of a time in her life when she felt safe, and to use that memory as a shield against her fear.
She said that was where the impasse came from. She quietly admitted that she had never in her life felt more safe than she had felt the moment after I had knocked the guy out. Her tone of voice implied that she saw me as some kind of hero or guardian angel.
She felt that if she used the memory of me standing over that guy, it would calm her against any fear. But as she brought up that memory, she could not stop herself from remembering how big the gun had looked, and how loud it had been, and how scared she had felt.
She admitted that calling me had been her own idea. She had been thinking about how to resolve her problem, and she decided that a real-time response would be better than a memory. She was hoping that I would agree to answer back any time that she texted me. She said she would send me a quick "Good morning" and when I replied "Good morning to you", she would feel that safe moment.
I wasn't so sure that her idea would work, but it wouldn't hurt anything either, so I agreed. I also teased her a little bit about calling to make her request. Just because she sounded both cute and scared, she shouldn't think that she could call a stranger and get anything she asked for.
=====
"Do you have any idea how dangerous of a game you were playing?" I growled into her ear, emphasizing the word 'you'.
My fingers splayed out to fully cover her breasts and I caught both of her nipples between my knuckles as I kneaded her flesh. She leaned her weight back into me as she closed her hands on top of mine, although my hands were under her shirt while hers were not.
"It's not a game," she moaned.
"Put your hands on the grips," I barked out and she gasped and reached for the bars.
"Do you pretend that you weren't teasing me, testing to see how far you could push me?" I asked.
I released her breasts, only to drag my finger nails down her abs. I pressed my chest into her back, and rolled my shoulders to mimic the way she had been teasing her breasts across my back. I let her feel the heat of my breath as my lips nearly touched her neck.
"Did you think touching me like this wouldn't affect my concentration as we rode?" I whispered, letting her feel my lips brush against her skin.
She groaned and turned her head away, offering her neck to me. I had no doubt that her eyes were closed. I pulled her body back against mine, sliding one hand up under her breasts. The other hand slid down to cup her crotch, and I pulled her ass roughly back against me.
"Do you imagine that stroking my cock was less than distracting?" I asked.
I lewdly stroked the front of her jeans while pushing my cock forward. She rolled her ass against it and moaned in need.
"Please," she begged needily. Her hands shot together under mine, and the button and zip of her jeans quickly parted. "Touch me!" she demanded.
There was not even a flicker of hesitation as my hand dove into her panties. There might have been a time when I could have resisted, but now I was hers to command.
=====
We talked every once in a while, but mostly we shared very bland texts. At first, it was a couple times a day, but it tapered off to once every couple of days. She would send "Good morning" or "Do you like Calvin Harris?" or "Rain makes me sad" and I would answer "You too" or "Never heard of him" or "Rain cleans the air". When we spoke, she often thanked me, and she said that it really was helping.
I was surprised late one morning when she texted me, I replied, and she continued the conversation. When ten messages had gone back and forth, I asked if she needed to call me. About a minute later, my desk phone rang and I knew something was wrong.
It turned out to be nothing. There was a corporate manager visiting their branch, and he had the same body build as the would-be thief. She knew she was being silly, but she couldn't concentrate. I suggested she go out for an early lunch. She said she hated eating alone. I didn't think twice about offering to meet her at the sandwich shop near the bank. She accepted.
I don't think either of us were nervous or worried, but we knew we were crossing a line of some sort. When we met, I realized that I had seen her at the bank many times. She was older than I expected, based on her voice, but still only in her early thirties. The cashier at the shop put everything in perspective when she asked if "the father" was paying. We both laughed, and of course I paid.
As we walked back out to our cars, she asked if she could steal a hug. I told her she could have all the hugs she liked, but anything more than that, she would have to steal. She laughed and stole a hug. She clung to me a lot longer that I thought she would.
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Nature never ceases to amaze me. When I had cupped her jeans to pull her back against me, I might have imagined that I could feel her body heat beneath my palm. I could not believe that as my hand shot inside her panties, my fingers found a burning puddle of wetness. Her body opened up and pulled my fingers inside. Her wordless cry of affirmation drove me to curl my fingers in and out repeatedly.
She half turned in my arms and she pulled me down into an aggressive kiss. I think she wanted to turn more, but her legs were trapped on either side of the bike. I eagerly returned her kiss as I reveled in the feel of having her trapped in my arms. My hand under her breasts slid up to pinch her nipple, and she cried out. She turned away and threw herself back against me as she started to cum. My lips found her neck and her jaw as she shuddered and cried out again.
When she couldn't take any more, I pushed my fingers in deep and pulled her body tight against mine. I wondered how long she would let me hold her.
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I had to tease her about the change in her texts. After that first lunch, she started sending texts three or four times a day. They were always simple and friendly, but I don't think she was using them as a crutch anymore. We started meeting for lunch once every two or three weeks. Lunch always ended with a hug, but she never held me as long as she did that first time.
Although we never spoke about it at the time, sexually speaking, I equated her with my co-workers. She was a good enough looking young woman, but she was twenty years younger that me, and we always kept things polite.
In all of that time, we had never spoken about motorcycles either. I am a bit of a fair-weather rider, and I have a fairly long commute. I won't ride the Harley to work unless I am certain it will be sunny and warm the entire day. I have been caught in the rain, but not very often.
One day, she asked me to lunch. Of course, I agreed. I had ridden the bike, so at lunch time, I jumped on it and rode over to meet her. Her eyes got big when she saw me pull up, and she shyly asked for a ride. We ate a quick lunch, and then I took her for a twenty minute spin around town.
When I pulled up next to her car, she threw her arms around me and held me for a long time. I hugged her arms to my body and told her she was welcome. She laughed and made me promise not to tell her mother, which, of course, I teased her about.
She shrugged and half explained that she still lived with her mother, and sometimes her mother tries to be in charge. Her mother had not liked the last boyfriend she'd had because he drove a motorcycle. I warned her to stay away from guys like that.
She laughed and told me that it wasn't a problem. She was focusing on education and career, and she didn't have time for men. With that, she hugged me, and we both left to go back to work.
We had a fairly nice summer, and I was able to ride quite a bit. Two more times, I happened to have the bike when she asked me to lunch. Each time, we ate quickly, and then went for a spin around town. Both times, when I killed the engine to drop her off, she hugged me from behind for a longer time than I deserved. I kind of thought it was cute.
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I held her and gently nibbled on her neck as her breathing slowed. Her breathing deepened, and I almost thought she fell asleep in my arms. I held her as long as I could, but the heat of the engine beneath us in the closed garage was getting to be too much. We needed to move, and I needed to see where we stood. We had just crossed a huge line, and I needed to see if we were going to apologize and pull back, or boldly keep running on this new path.
She took a sudden deep breath and pulled my hand from her panties. Holding my hand, she turned and rolled off the bike. She pulled my hand up and started licking my fingers as she also pulled me off the bike. She rolled her eyes in pleasure, and gave me a seductive smile.
"Wanna guess where I really want to find my flavors?" she teased. Her other hand stroked the bulge in my jeans. "I want you naked," she commanded.
No hesitation. Well, slight hesitation. She found nakedness faster than I did, and I couldn't stop myself from stopping to gawk at her. She accepted the flattery, and then stepped forward to make me finish. I got the distinct impression that she liked what she saw. Although, in the end, she did turn her attention back to the Harley.
"I wish we could get back on the bike," she said. "The heat from the engine was too much."
"It won't be as bad, now that we're naked," I teased.