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(author’s name is horny_dad or lexxjld on some sites)


He offered me a lift to Newcastle, for free. Well, I couldn’t afford to refuse, could I, and he *was* rather nice. Looking at my thin jeans and denim jacket, he said I’d better borrow some leathers from him, or I’d freeze to death. So we went back to his flat. In his wardrobe he’d got a fantastic amount of leather gear — must’ve cost a fortune.

He sized me up and chose one of those new leather jackets in green (you know how well green suits me!).

“Strip to your T-shirt,” he ordered.

“Here we go,” I thought, “here comes the pre-flight entertainment.” I wasn’t exactly unwilling to have it off with him, but a bit nervous about all his leather toys. I needn’t have worried, though; that wasn’t on his mind at all.

The leather jacket fitted beautifully, like a second skin, smooth and warm. Then he hunted for a matching pair of green leather trousers.

“I can’t get into those,” I muttered, “they’re far too tight.”

“Just leave it to me,” he answered. “Take off your jeans.” As I wasn’t wearing anything underneath them, this took only a few moments. My equipment tingled in anticipation of the struggle to come. Opening a can of some sort of oil, he poured some round the inside of the seat of the trousers. “That’ll make it easier.” He grinned at me — rather wickedly, I thought.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I slid both feet down through the trouser legs. They certainly went in easily. Then I stood up and manoeuvred the slippery leather round my thighs and arse. There was a zip running from the belt at the back between my cheeks and up underneath my balls.

“Careful now,” he delicately eased the balls into their greasy pouch. “Do up the waistband first, it’s more comfortable.” Grasping my cock (by now almost erect) he held it vertical while pulling up the zip.

The effect of the carefully shaped smooth slippery leather on my sensitive cock was almost too much. To add to the sensation, he poured some more oil down inside the front of the waistband. Then he stood back to admire the result. Smiling lustfully, he said, “Find yourself a pair of boots while I get dressed.”

I willingly watched while he repeated the process on himself, dressing in a set of supple light-brown leathers, identical in design to my own. Squeezing himself upwards to close the zip (and it was *quite* a squeeze) excited him almost as much as it did me. Gloves and helmets completed the outfits, but the helmets came equipped with an extra facility in the form of an intercom, with a microphone and small ear-speaker built in.

“I like to be able to talk to my passengers,” he explained, “it’s more fun that gaziantep escort way.”

We went downstairs to the garage, where I stood beside the machine on which we had travelled from the pub.

“No, we’ll use *this* bike tonight,” he called from across the garage, pointing to an absolutely enormous beast with several extra sets of switches and two separate, strangely shaped saddles.

“What are these switches for, and why is the saddle such a funny shape?” I enquired naively.

He just grinned and answered, “Wait and see!” He kicked the powerful machine into life, and I climbed on behind him. Before putting his helmet on he said, “Try yours on and make sure the intercom’s working.” I did so and found that, despite the noise of the bike, it was quite easy to hear him.

With great skill the unwieldy bike was manoeuvred out of the garage. He drove it rather carefully and slowly, I thought, but this was explained when his voice muttered in my ear, “Don’t want to be picked up by the police, do we? They might ask awkward questions about the bike.”

“Tell me what’s so special about it,” I demanded.

“Wait till we’re out on the open road, then you’ll find out,” was his mysterious reply.

It was completely dark, with just a few stars shining in the clear sky. A gentle breeze was blowing, but I felt quite warm in my comfortable leather skin. The roar of the engine vibrating between my legs was making me feel very randy, and I wondered idly where he was taking me. It was obvious that we weren’t out just for the pleasure of the ride — he had some plan for seducing me, that was plain.

We turned off a roundabout on to a straight, unlit, deserted road, and he opened up the throttle a bit. The headlight showed only the black road, with hedges on both sides and an occasional tree. I pressed myself closer against his back, and put my arms round his waist, feeling the supple leather warmed by his skin, and smelling the wonderful odour of male body encased in leather.

“That’s more like it,” he said, “just relax and enjoy yourself while I tell you about this bike. The saddles are shaped like this to give easy access to your arse, and we have a variety of toys on board which should give you a thrill. Do you like being fucked?”

“As long as it’s fairly gentle,” I answered cautiously, wondering how he was going to manage to fuck me while sitting in front of me.

“Right. Undo your zip from the back, right round to the front, then.” I felt behind me and found another zip-pull, and with some difficulty got it round to the front, exposing my arse to the night air, and releasing my cock, which had been straining against the leather for some time.

“OK,” I said, “what now?”

“Now I just press this switch here, and *hey presto*!” Nothing happened for a moment, and then I felt something smooth, hard, and warm prodding gently at my arse. “There’s a flap behind your saddle with a nice big dildo resting in a pool of lubricant under it. When I press the switch, the flap opens and the dildo starts to rise. It’s powered from the engine, but I’ll leave it on low-speed for the moment.”

Gradually, the slippery dildo closed in on my tight arsehole, and its gentle vibrations and insistent thrusting motions soon had me opened up and longing for more. I stretched my arse over the gap in the back of the saddle and the artificial cock eased its way past my sphincter. The oil inside my trousers had already lubricated me quite a bit, so it wasn’t at all difficult to take in the full thickness and length of it. Finally, just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, the dildo stopped rising, but carried on vibrating and thrusting gently, rousing me to a fever pitch of excitement.

“Have you got one, too?” I gasped between thrusts.

“Who needs an artificial one when they’ve got the real thing behind them?” came the reply.

“But I can’t fuck you from this position,” I said in surprise, “it’s the wrong angle.”

“We’ll soon solve that problem with the help of some more of these gadgets,” he answered. “Undo my zip from the back.” He eased himself up off the saddle so that I could pull his zip undone from the back right round to the front. I felt his cock spring free. “Now I press this button here, and — up I go.”

His saddle began to rise slowly upwards and backwards, until his arse was poised temptingly just over my throbbing cock. “Now another button, and down I go again,” he said, pressing the button as he did so. Very slowly, his saddle moved down again, impaling him on top of my cock. I squirmed with delight as I entered him, but couldn’t move very much with the dildo inside me and him on top.

“I shan’t be able to thrust into you in this position,” I said, “but it’s very exciting as long as it’s all right for you.”

“Why waste energy moving about when the bike will do it for us?” came the answer. “Another button, and away we go!” By pressing another button his saddle started to rock up and down in an undulating motion which caused my cock to force its way into and out of him, while at the same time stimulating me almost to the point of coming. “Do you like it?” he shouted enthusiastically.

I could scarcely speak, I was so full of lust, but I managed to croak, “Yes, of course I like it — what next?”

“Now we just increase the speed a little,” he said, opening up the throttle, “the mechanism is all geared to the engine revs, so if we go faster, so does all the equipment!”

He was right. The bike’s equipment, as well as my equipment, were all working overtime. The dildo behind me was thrashing in and out, causing a great hot flush to come over me each time it reached full penetration, and my cock was at full stretch and near to bursting as it rammed into his well-lubricated tight hole.

“Hold on to my cock,” he yelled, as he increased the speed yet again.

I reached round in front of him and held his slippery cock in one hand, his big hairy balls in the other. The incredible sensations which filled my body, linked to the speed of the roaring bike, nearly made me faint. Then he slowed right down, so that there was just a slight movement of the dildo and his saddle to keep us both interested.

“It’s much better if you start off fast, then have a slow session, and end up coming while we do the ton,” he said. “Wank me off slowly at first, and then speed up as I start to race the bike.”

My hand moved up and down the length of his beautiful cock. His heavy balls squirmed as I scratched their surface with my nails. I could hear his heavy breathing through my ear-speaker. Matching my wanking rhythm to the movements of the bike, I soon felt that we were both in complete harmony, moving inexorably together towards an orgasm which I couldn’t even imagine. Gradually he increased the speed of the bike. The automatic fucking speeded up too. So did the movements of my hands. The roar of the bike grew louder, even through the thick padded helmet. My body seemed to consist only of cock and arsehole, both experiencing sensations stronger than ever before.

“We’re doing the ton now!” he cried suddenly. “Here I come!!”

Putting my hand over the tip of his tool, I felt great spurts of spunk hot against my palm. I carried on rubbing his cock with the sticky, slippery juice, as my cock swelled in uncontrollable spasms inside him. One final thrust of the great hard dildo sent me over the edge. I seized him round the waist, and pressed my body hard against his back, and began to come with such force that I thought I would do myself an injury. At the same time, it was such an exquisite feeling that I hoped it would go on for ever. I writhed and panted in the aftermath of the explosion, which left me drained yet buoyant.

“Have you had enough for now?” he laughed. “Most people can’t stand any more the first time.”

“My god, do you mean to say that anyone can manage second helpings of that?” I gasped disbelievingly.

“Sure they can — so will you be able to, after you’ve had a rest. There’s a transport cafe up ahead where they know me. We’ll go in there and let you recover.”

And the rest, as they say, is left to the readers’ imagination …

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