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Archive-name: Fantasy/testride.txt

Archive-author: Joe Parsons   (c) 1986

Archive-title: Test Ride

"Put something exciting between your legs...ride a motorcycle!"

I smiled to myself as I read the bumper sticker affixed to the rear of the

Toyota 4 x 4 ahead of me.  As I pulled to the left to pass, I glanced at the

muddy off-road bike securely strapped into the truck's bed.  The driver, a girl

of no more than 20, drove confidently, a tanned arm propped negligently against

the window sill.  Her hair was cut very short, and she wore a half smile as

though remembering how she had covered the bike with mud.

I remembered my own biking days, driving the Triumph 500 through three sloppy

Rhode Island winters.  It was the most unreliable piece of machinery ever

created, but it eventually managed to get me where I wanted to go, with a lot

of noise, leaking oil and making enough racket to collect a couple of tickets

each month. I always ignored them.

It was cheap transportation, and was disreputable enough to collect girls like

a noisy butterfly net.  I began to think of the balmy summer days, days much

like today.

Suddenly I realized that I had pulled into the parking lot of a motorcycle

dealership.  An ornate sign over the store front announced that this was the

home of

                     "QUALITY GERMAN MOTORCYCLES"

In front of the plate glass window, standing as though at attention, were

twenty new BMWs, gleaming proudly in the July sun.

What the hell, I thought to myself; it won't hurt to take a look.

I parked the car and got out, sauntering nonchalantly towards the row of bikes.

It was immediately evident that things had changed in the twenty years since I

had ridden motorcycles.  I caught my breath as I approached the first in line:

a pearlescent grey K100RS.  Four cylinders, horizontally opposed and water

cooled. Each part of the machine was obviously designed for a purpose, to work

in harmony with every other part.  The fairing, with its oversized rectangular

headlight, seemed to be shaped by the wind itself, and the handlebars and fuel

tank seemed to invite a laid- out position.

I walked around the machine, hardly daring to touch it.  I knew that, once I

had my hands on it, I would have a hard time letting go.  As I inspected the

German machine, I began to feel the familiar tingle in my crotch, the slightly

horny feeling I always used to get around motorcycles.  Gently I laid a hand on

the aluminum fuel tank.  It was warm to the touch.  I brushed my fingers across

the seat, then traced the outline of the alloy wheels with my fingers.  It was

all coming back to me now.   I was crouching next to the bike, fondling and

caressing the machine as a lover would, oblivious to the world around me.  I

could feel the beginning of an erection.

"You seem to appreciate the German equipment."  I jumped, startled by the

interruption.  I looked up at the source of the voice, feeling my face redden


From my crouching vantage point she seemed to tower over me, and her breasts

seemed so large as to block out the sun.  I stood up, conscious of the slight

bulge in my pants.

She was tall, nearly my height, and wore her long blonde hair pulled back

severely.  Her hips and shoulders were rather broad, implying physical

strength.  Her left hand rested familiarly on the left handgrip, her right on

her hip.  She wore a t-shirt with the blue and white BMW logo and the name of

the dealership just above the waistband of her tight, faded jeans.  The logo on

her shirt was rather badly distorted by her large breasts, and her nipples

poked prominently through the material of the shirt, one at each side of the

circular design.

"Actually, I was just looking to see how far bikes have come since I rode," I

offered, lamely.  I tore my eyes reluctantly away from her breasts to meet her

steady gaze.  She looked back at me confidently.

"My name is Inge," she said, proffering her hand.  I took it, surprised at the

strength of her grip.  "Would you like to take a test ride?"  I released her

hand reluctantly and she rested it on the saddle of the motorcycle, inches from

mine.  She had moved almost imperceptibly closer to me and I found that my eyes

kept wandering to her breasts.

"I'd like that," I said, "but it has been quite a while since I did any serious

riding."  She was absently stroking the bike's saddle with the backs of her

fingernails as she looked steadily at me.  I could smell the soap she bathed

with this morning.  I had a quick mental picture of this statuesque woman in

the shower, her perfect breasts slick with lather...again I felt a stirring in

my groin.  I swallowed, trying to control my thoughts.

"I would be happy to ride with you," she said, and for the first time I was

conscious of a slight accent, her W's tending toward V's and a hint of a

gutteral roll to her R's.  I nodded, not quite trusting my voice, and she swung

her leg expertly over the saddle and started the bike...


BMWs have always appealed to me, and as she started the motor, I remembered

why.  The German bike's four cylinders sang a seductive mechanical song, with a

slight whirr of cam chains.  My pulse rate increased slightly at the sound.

She pushed the bike off the center stand, toed the transmission into gear, and

twisted the throttle slightly as she pulled the big machine out of line into

the clear area of the parking lot.

"I'll drive first," she suggested, "and then I'll give you a chance at it."

Hesitating just a moment, I swung my leg over the low saddle and put my feet on

the rear pegs.  It was a short saddle, not meant for two people over a long

distance.  The slight forward tilt of the seat caused me to slide forward

against her.  I could feel her warmth against my chest.  I searched under the

saddle for passenger handgrips and found none.

"Put your arms around me," she said over her shoulder, "and I'll show you

something."  I complied, willingly.  My hands held her waist, just under the

curve of her breasts.  She pulled the bike smoothly out of the parking lot and

onto the main thoroughfare. Seeing no traffic, she twisted the throttle and

released the clutch.  With a turbine-like rush, the 1,000 cc bike accelerated.

Unprepared for the acceleration, I nearly lost my grasp of Inge's waist.  My

feet came off the footpegs, and I desperately grabbed for a handhold.  I

realized that I had grabbed at her breasts. As I released them (somewhat

reluctantly), I could feel her chuckle.  I considered whether to apologize and

decided against it.

"You notice that the BMW has adequate power for acceleration, yes?" she said

over her shoulder, raising her voice against the wind.  The smile was still

there, playing with the corners of her mouth.  She squirmed slightly on the

saddle, rubbing against my hardening crotch.  The slight vibration of the bike

seemed to be concentrating there.

"It's impressive, all right," I replied, wondering if she could perceive just

how impressed I really was.  She turned off the main road and headed towards

the hills and its winding roads.

"Would you like to try it out yourself?" she asked, braking to a stop.

"Sure," I replied.  I dismounted carefully, hoping she would not see the

now-prominent bulge in my pants.  She smiled at me as she stood the motorcycle

on its side stand and got off.  She glanced at my crotch quickly and her smile

widened slightly.

"Get on," she said.  "I'll be right behind you."  I swung a leg over the

saddle, settling onto the seat, and she got on behind, pressing her breasts

into my back.  Was it my imagination, or did I feel her nipples harden as they

touched me?  She encircled my waist with her arms, holding tighter than was


"I am ready when you are," she said, her voice lower and huskier than before.

I put the transmission into first, twisted the throttle and eased the clutch

out.  We were rolling.  I shifted into second, then third, and we entered the

first series of tight switchbacks on the deserted road.  The bike seemed made

for this road, and I gained confidence with each sweeping turn.

I increased my speed and leaned the bike more aggressively into each turn,

extending my inside knee and accelerating hard as I exited each turn.  I began

to remember why I rode motorcycles. Inge seemed to be enjoying the ride, as she

clung more and more tightly to me.  Her breasts seemed rock hard, as they dug

into my back.  Her hands were now flat against my stomach.  Her right hand was

just above my belt, the little finger beginning to insinuate itself down the

front of my pants.   I was definitely and visibly aroused now, both from the

ride and from Inge's closeness and increasing familiarity.

There was no longer any doubt about her; she was clinging to me more tightly

than was really necessary, and I could feel the heaving of her chest on my back

as we negotiated the curves.  She laid her cheek against my back.  I sensed

that her eyes were closed.

I slowed the bike.  The sound of the wind abated, and I could hear the slight

rasp of her breathing.  With the road requiring less of my attention, I could

feel that she was pressing her crotch tightly against me, squirming slightly on

the seat.

I stopped.  She tensed slightly against me, then slid her hand inside my shirt,

resting it on the skin of my belly.  She made small noises barely audible above

the soft purr of the bike's idle.


She continued to caress the skin of my stomach and chest inside my shirt.  I

felt moisture at the tip of my cock.  As I was deciding what I might do next,

Inge abruptly swung off the bike, pulling me with her.  Suddenly her arms were

around my neck and she was kissing me hungrily, her tongue darting and

searching my mouth. My arms encircled her waist as I pulled her strong body to

me. Her breasts felt as though they would bruise my chest, and her hard pubis

was grinding against my swollen cock.

She pulled away from me, her nostrils flaring, and grasped my two hands firmly,

placing them on her breasts.  As I caressed her through the thin material of

the shirt I could feel her nipples respond.  Bolder now, I pulled her shirt out

of her jeans and put my hands inside.  Reaching around to her back, I unhooked

the clasp of her bra, then pulled her shirt over her head.  I cupped her large

breasts, marveling at their firmness and the hardness of the nipples.  She was

breathing faster now.  She opened her eyes very wide and looked full into my

face.  Never taking her eyes off my face, she reached down to the snap of her

jeans.  She pulled it open and lowered her zipper.  She was not wearing

panties, and I could see her blonde pubic hair.  She dropped her jeans and

stepped out of them.  The lips of her pussy were swollen and engorged.

She pulled me over to the motorcycle, which was still idling. Still grasping my

hands, she sat sideways on the saddle of the BMW and spread her legs wide.  Her

clitoris was beginning to protrude from the golden curls of her pussy hair.

She pulled my head to her.

I ran my tongue over her fine bush, savoring the taste; it was sweet and musky

at the same time, and as her aroma filled my nostrils my senses became clouded.

Impatient with my browsing in her bush, Inge put her strong hands at the back

of my head and forced my mouth to her.

I licked her clit, first around the base, then, at her urging, took it into my

mouth.  She gasped in response.  I inserted my tongue into her widening pussy

and felt the profusion of her sweet juices flowing.  She was stretched nearly

horizontal across the bike now, her legs encircling my head.  The vibration of

the idling motor seemed to excite her further as I sucked, licked and caressed

her sopping vagina.

My own excitement was building now, and I cupped her buttocks as I lifted her

pussy into my face, drinking deeply.  She was alternately sobbing and laughing

now, clinging desperately to the handlebars of the BMW as I licked and sucked

at her pussy.  I drew back slightly, and caressed her lovely, wet cunt with my

hand.  Gently I stroked her clitoris and took it between my thumb and

forefinger.  She moaned in response, writhing on the seat.  I slid the four

fingers of my hand deep into her sopping pussy, pressing her clit with my

thumb.  Her breath came in short, sobbing pants now, and her hips made short

thrusting movements. I buried my face again, tongue thrusting deeply into her

pussy. Her juice was beginning to cover the seat of the bike, and her buttocks

slid around on the slippery surface.

All at once she tensed, holding her breath and tightening her strong legs

around my head.  I pressed the point of my tongue hard against the base of her

erect clit, encircling it.

"Suck it, please suck it, please, please," she implored between gasping sobs.

I took the firm bud between my lips and sucked gently, flicking the tip with my

tongue.  Her body trembled in response and her legs tightened even more around

my head.

My ears were ringing now, and I was conscious of nothing but the slipperiness

of her juices on my face and in my mouth, and the taste of her engorged pussy.

Her gasps and sobs were rising in intensity and pitch as she approached her

orgasm.  I was dimly aware that my cock was throbbing impatiently, and that my

own juice was beginning to stream plentifully from it.  I continued to lick, to

caress, to thrust with my tongue.

At last Inge arched her back off the seat of the bike, grinding her crotch ever

harder into my face; her taut body was now supported by her hands on the

handlebar and seat, and by her legs around my head.  I marveled at her strength

as she supported her body in this way.  The BMW muttered on, unperturbed.

The juices poured from her pussy as her cries intensified; with a long wail

which increased both in pitch and intensity, she reached her climax.

Her body stiffened, supported between the handlebars of the bike and my neck.

After a long moment, she sagged, her buttocks once again supported by the seat

of the motorcycle.  Her breasts, flushed with her passion, glistened with

sweat.  Her breathing began to return to normal.

She sat up on the seat of the bike and disentangled her legs from my shoulders.

She gazed at me seriously and pulled my face to hers. She kissed me deeply,

licking her own juices from my face and lips.  She held my face between her two

hands and peered into my eyes for a moment.  I waited, motionless, wondering

what this strange woman would do next.


Experimentally, I bent my head to her magnificent breast, taking the nipple in

my mouth.  As I encircled it with my tongue, I felt her respond, pressing my

face into her breast.  This time, however, her reaction was different.  Her

hands, which before had guided me to bring her pleasure, were now busy at the

top of my pants, fumbling with the button.  She undid it as I sucked on her

breast and pulled the zipper down.  My cock, free of its restraints, leapt

triumphantly into the daylight.

Inge stared at it, cooing in admiration.  She slid off the seat of the bike and

pushed my pants to my ankles.  She guided me onto the seat of where she had

just been and pulled off my shoes, then my pants.  She pushed my legs apart and

stood between them, staring at my erect and pulsing member.  She stroked the

length of the shaft with her fingers, then lightly squeezed my testicles.  I

began to feel as though I would burst.  She squeezed the base of my cock,

smiling impishly.

"No, I don't think it is time for you to come yet," she said.  I felt as though

I should disagree.  I sat on the slippery seat, watching her stare at my cock,

and felt my impending orgasm subside.  Still grasping my member firmly at the

base, Inge flicked the tip of my penis with her tongue once, twice, then three

times, savoring the small drops of fluid emerging from the tip.

I gripped the handlebar tightly, causing the engine to rev slightly.

Gently she kissed the tip of my cock.  Licking her lips once, she surrounded it

with her full lips, slowly taking more of me into her mouth.  With agonizing

slowness she descended upon my swollen member until her lips were at the very

base of my cock.  The warmth of her mouth and tongue encircled me and made me

dizzy with desire.

Her tongue began to encircle my cock as it was still deep in her warm mouth.

Deliberately she raised her head, holding a slight suction as my cock withdrew

from her throat.  Finally she held just the head in her mouth and she stopped.

Her tongue was still busy around the head of my cock as she held it tightly

with her lips.  Just as I wondered how long I could survive this teasing

without coming, she took more of me into her warm mouth, again to the base of

my member.  I wondered how she could breathe.

With increasing speed she moved her mouth up and down the length of my member,

first holding just the very tip in her mouth, then taking me deep into her

throat.  Her tongue seemed to flutter and vibrate against my cock as she moved.

In and out her mouth went, making me helpless with pleasure.  I had to have her


I reached again for her pussy.  "I have to fuck you," I moaned. "Please let me

fuck you...please..."  She began to make a sound deep in her throat, an animal

sound which made my entire crotch vibrate.  I knew that I would come at any


She brushed my hand away, continuing to suck and lick my cock.  I threw my head

back, unable to hold myself back any longer.

My body arched convulsively as my orgasm took control.  I felt Inge lift my

buttocks off the seat of the motorcycle, her mouth still holding my cock.  She

cupped my ass cheeks in her two hands, stroking them, as she sucked me.  Her

head was moving up and down on my cock, faster and faster, licking, sucking,

growling deep in her throat, scraping her teeth up and down the length of my

shaft and up to the head of my cock and back down to the base and up and down

and up and down and licking and biting and sucking and i dont know how much

more i can takeandpleasedont stopdontstoppleasepleaseplease,aaaaaaahhhhh....

Finally, I came, shooting my semen deep into Inge's throat.  She swallowed it

and kept sucking, demanding more.  My loins continued to pulse, seemingly for

hours, with the intensity of that orgasm.

After a time I withdrew from her warm mouth, feeling the sudden cooless of the

open air on my moist cock.  She looked at me with satisfaction.

As I sat upright on the seat, Inge drew herself up to her full height.  She was

slightly taller than me as I sat on the still idling bike, and her breasts

jutted imposingly.

"You will notice," she said, "that the smoothness of the engine is unusual,

even after a long period of idle."  She laid her hand on the rear of the bike.

"The rear supension is the BMW Monolever adjustable swinging arm, with vertical

travel of 110 mm, supported with spring strut and gas-filled damper with

progressive total spring rate and three load settings."

I slid off the saddle and took her into my arms, covering her mouth with mine,

cupping her buttocks with my hands, pulling her body to mine.  I could taste

the salt of my semen on her lips.  I should have been spent, but I felt a

strong desire for her then, a stirring in my loins, as my cock began to rise


She felt it, and pulled away from me slightly, her eyes wide with wonderment.

"You have more left?" she asked, firmly grasping my member as it hardened.

"For you, yes," I replied, anxious to enter her.

"Come," she said, pulling me toward the bike.  She straddled the seat, facing

to the rear, and beckoned to me with both hands.  I mounted the bike to face

her, my cock already fully risen.  Inge lifted her body onto my lap, her legs

twining around my waist. She lowered herself upon my erect member, sighing with


"Drive," she said.


"Drive the motorcycle.  Just like you did before."  Her eyes were closed and

she spoke in a dreamy tone of voice.  I raised the BMW to vertical and pushed

up the kick stand.  I pushed the transmission into first gear with my bare toe.

 Twisting the throttle and gradually releasing the clutch, we began to roll.

"Faster," she hissed through clenched teeth.  "Faster."  I increased the speed

and negotiated the turns, Inge impaled on my cock as we rode.  Her long legs

encircled my waist tightly, her arms were locked around my neck.  At the first

turn she moaned slightly and began to grind her body into mine.  The second

turn was faster, a sweeping left hander, and as we exited she was sobbing and

bouncing on my cock.

I tried to concentrate on driving.

I could feel the slickness of her wet pussy impaled on my throbbing cock.  As

we swept throught the turns she bounced and ground on my cock with more and

more ardor, until we neared the end of the road.

Slowly I turned the bike around before we reached the main road with its heavy

traffic.  Inge, oblivious, still bounced and squirmed on my lap.  As I

accelerated through the turns her passion seemed to increase, until, when we

reached the wide spot in the road where we had first stopped to discard our

clothes, she had lost all control.  Her juices poured copiously from her pussy,

liberally coating both of our bodies and the seat of the bike.

By the time I had slowed the BMW, Inge was uttering loud, inarticulate animal

cries as she bounced and squirmed, impaled on my now battered member.  Her

strong legs, twined around my waist, were forcing the breath out of me.  Her

fingers scraped convulsively at my back, and I was sure that she had drawn

blood. Her hungry mouth locked onto mine and her tongue busily explored the

inside of my mouth.

As I brought the bike to a stop she threw her head back, her teeth bared and

flashing in the sunlight.  She clasped me tightly, as though seeking to extract

the very last drop of pleasure from me.  We both held our breath as we sat

there on the slippery motorcycle.  I could feel the strong muscles of her pussy

contracting rhythmically on my cock as she seemed to draw me up into her body.


I was grasping at her now, cupping her buttocks in my hands, collecting

handfuls of our mingled juices and spreading them on our chests and faces.  She

was stroking my cock with her pussy, lifting slowly off my lap, until I was

barely inside her.  She lowered herself on me, burying me deep inside her, then

raised back up again with agonizing slowness.

With each stroke she increased her speed, until at last she was thrusting up

and down on my cock like a fine German machine.  Her gasping sobs mingled with

mine now, as we approached orgasm.

We climaxed noisily, me pumping burning spurts of come into her swollen pussy,

Inge demanding more and more.  She reached down between us, pulling my cock

from her, and I watched the last few drops of my semen issue forth, landing in

the golden curls of her mound.  She rubbed them into her pussy hair, satisfied

at last.

We sat there for a long moment, entwined in each other's arms on the

motorcycle, as our breathing returned to normal.  The flush of arousal which

had spread across her cheeks and down across her breasts was fading.  The sun

had sunk behind the hill to our right and I knew that there would be a chill in

the air soon.

We dismounted carefully, disentangling our arms and legs from each other, and

picked up our clothes.  As we dressed there by the side of the road, Inge

seemed to regain a measure of composure.

"Do you like the handling...of the bike?"  Her accent had become more evident

now.  She looked at me seriously as she tucked her shirt snugly into her jeans.

I grinned at her.

"Can we take another test drive later, after I heal from this one?"  She looked


"I have to get back now."  She opened the small tool compartment under the seat

and extracted a small cloth.  Carefully she wiped the seat, then discarded the

rag.  "Can we go back now?"  I swung my leg over the seat and she took her

place behind me.

I drove back to the dealership slowly, not wanting the ride to end.  As we

pulled into the parking lot I could see that the lights were out and the CLOSED

sign hung in the window.

"Do you have a key?"  I asked.

"No, I thought I'd just go straight home," she said, dismounting.

"Would you like to have dinner or something?"

"Maybe later," she said.  "I'm very tired."  I shut off the bike and got off,

handing her the keys.

"I hope your boss won't be mad," I said.  "We were gone a long time."  She gave

me a mysterious smile.

"Believe me," she said, "he doesn't care a bit."  She kissed me softly on the

lips, looking deeply into my face, her blue-grey eyes wide.  She placed her

cool palm against my flushed cheek.

"Take care," she said.  She restarted the bike and accelerated expertly out of

the parking lot and onto the main road.  I stared after her for a long moment,

and she was gone.

Shaking my head, I walked back to my car and got in, resolving to see her again

the next morning.  I was tired and sore from the unaccustomed acrobatics of the

afternoon, but I felt more alive than I had in years.  I began to sing:

     "I don' want a pickle,

     Just wanna ride on my motorsikkle;

     And I don' wanna die--

     Just wanna ride on my motorcy...


I felt a little silly and thought about what I would say to Inge when I visited

her the next morning.


I was waiting at the front door of the shop the next morning when it opened.

An old man with wispy hair, wearing a greasy jersey unlocked the door and

turned the sign around to OPEN.

I opened the door and walked in, my eyes searching for Inge.  The old man

raised his eyebrows at me from behind the counter.

"Something I can do for you?"

"I was wondering where Inge was," I said.


"You know, Inge...she works here."  I was beginning to feel lost and foolish.

"Ain't nobody here but me 'n' the missus," he said, jerking a thumb back to an

overweight woman in a faded print dress who was sweeping up in the back of the


"But she has to be here," I said desperately.  "I test drove a BMW with her

yesterday.  I wanted to buy it.  I wanted to talk to her.  I had some questions

to ask her...where is she.  Please."

I felt disoriented and dizzy.  I steadied myself on the counter.

"BMW?" he said, as though he had never heard the term.  "That's one o' them

furrin sikkles, ain't it?"  He slid a gnawed toothpick into his mouth and

looked at me.

For the first time I looked around the shop.  There were rusting, battered

pieces of a thousand motorcycles here, strewn in dissaray about the floor and

shoved onto shelves up to the ceiling.   The only light came from three bare

light bulbs suspended from the ceiling by their cords.

Panicking, I raced outside, searching for the immaculate row of new BMWs.  All

I saw was the rusting carcasses of a dozen discarded motorcycles.

I looked at the sign over the plate glass window.


The sign was hand made and fading, and had been hung crookedly over the store.

My heart pounding, I reentered the store.  The shopkeeper leaned against his

counter, still chewing his toothpick.

"You don't know Inge?" I asked him desperately, my voice hoarse.

"Inge...Inge...Seems like I used to..."  His eyes seemed to turn dreamy as he

removed the soggy toothpick from his mouth.  he looked at me sharply.

"German broad...uh...lady?"

"Yes, yes," I said. "Do you know her?"

The old man scratched at his grizzled cheek.

"Seems like...naw, that wouldn't be!"  he shook his head, muttering.

"Tell me, tell me!" I shouted, wanting to shake the truth out of him.

He squinted at me.  "Well, back before I even got into the sikkle business, it

was, oh, nineteen and thirty five, maybe thirty six..yeah, that was it, thirty

six."  His eyes seemed to go dreamy as he remembered.

"What happened, what happened?"  I was frantic now, desperate to find my love.

"Seems like there was this German broad, sorry...lady who was from some kind of

high mucky-muck family in Munich, back right before the war, you know,

dubya-dubya two.  I was in that one." He seemed about to go off the track

again, but I waited for him to continue.

"The way I heard it, she was supposed to marry some guy, but he went off on his

sikkle and got hisself killed.  It was a big deal, I heard.  Some said his

sikkle had been rigged to fall apart on him soon's he got movin' pretty good.

Way I heard it, there wasn't hardly enough for them to bury."  He trailed off,

gnawing pensively on his toothpick.

"What happened to her?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"From what I heard, she died," he said.  "Went off on a ride all by herself and

just didn't come back.  Folks over there figured she was so tore up about that

guy she was supposed to marry, she just rode her own sikkle over a cliff or

something.  Damn shame, too, from what I hear.  She was supposed to be quite a


"You mean she was never seen again?" I asked.  "Just disappeared?"

"Well, some folks say she still hangs around people who like sikkles.  Seems

that was what really turned her on, sikkles, and people who knew about 'em.  I

think it's all a bunch of supertitious crap, if you ask me."  He spat on the

greasy floor.

I stumbled from the filthy shop in a daze and opened the door of my car.

Turning the ignition key, I started the engine and pulled slowly out of the

parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare.  Cars passed me on both sides as I

crept down the middle lane of the roadway.

Was she just a legend, or a product of my overactive imagination? Or had that

ride through the country been real?  I felt a deep sense of loss, not only

because I knew I would never find her, but also because I was not even sure she

had ever existed at all.

As I drove toward home, I regretted that we had never had a chance just to

talk.  We had shared total physical intimacy, each of us giving the other

pleasure that was nearly unbearable, and receiving pleasure in like measure.

But we had never talked.

I wasn't even sure she knew my name.

As I turned the corner of my street, I reached for the transmitter of my garage

door opener.  As I pressed the button, I saw a metallic gleam deep in the

shadows of my garage.

Stopping just at the entrance at the garage, I could see it clearly: the grey

BMW I had ridden just the day before.  I got out of the car and walked to the

bike, wondering.  As I circled it warily, I was aware that I was not alone.  I

turned around and she was there.

It was Inge, my beautiful Inge, leaning against the wall of my garage.  She was

smiling at me as she had when I first saw her, her arms folded across her

chest.  I could not speak.

"Do you feel up to a ride?" she asked.

I grinned back at her.

"Only if I won't scare you away this time."  She came up to me, looking levelly

into my eyes.

"Let's go for a ride and we'll see."  She handed me the keys to the bike.  As I

accepted them, she encircled my waist with her arm.

"Let's just go for a ride, she said, her voice low, "and we'll see."  We

mounted the BMW, first me, then Inge behind.  I inserted the key and turned the

ignition on; the panel lights glowed in the subdued light of the garage.  I

pushed the transmission into gear, hearing the solid thunk! as it engaged.

Releasing the clutch and rolling into the street, I felt Inge's grip tighten

around my waist.  As we accelerated I felt her cheek flat against my shoulder,

and her nipples harden against my back.

Her hands were already stroking my chest as we turned off the main avenue and

onto the back road to the hills.  The BMW chuckled as we dug into the turns.

It was a great day for a ride.


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