Biker Mates

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BIKER MATES PART TWO

THE USUAL WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS TALE.

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BIKER MATES PART TWO

Well our neat little arrangement all came apart quite soon after I got that new bike about a couple of months later. We'd been hanging out together quite a lot, I'd say. We agreed to celebrate my new bike with a long weekend racing round the Peaks - just him and me, just 3 nights. We'd stop at B&Bs along the way. But then Martin got it into his head to bring a tent. When he said it would be cheaper and more convenient, I didn't get what he meant. Perhaps he didn't know what he was saying either.

Friday night, we rocketed down the A6, passed Buxton, and pitched up at a site outside a village halfway to Ashton.

As soon as we were settled we marched off to the local pub.

Even as we set foot in the door a couple of the local skirts looked up with blatant interest.

I was wearing my bike jacket and trews - a treat'em mean look that reliably pulled, at least in Manchester's Hoist, and which made me adopt a somewhat protective stance towards pretty and fuckable young Martin, who had pulled on a skin-tight sky-blue ITALIA football tee - with a tiny collar - and dark skinny jeans that showed off his physique without ambiguity. I had been walking behind, mesmerised by the gully of his spine where the fabric was drawn across it, and the way his shoulder blades cast sharp shadows across his back in the street-lights, and the way the bottom curved out and his cute backside rotated from side to side at the waist, like the wheel end of a connecting rod. Jesus, he was a magnet.

Whilst I ordered our first pints, Martin assessed his options with professional expertise and made all the necessary eye contact.

"You are joking?" I said as I saw where he was looking. My heart sank at the prospect of half a night spent listening to their fun and games.

"No way am I joking! I need to get me jollies, man; I'm horny as fuck and these two are up for it!"

"So where does that leave me?"

"You can take the other one," he said, as if that were going to happen. At that same time, he made his move, slid off his stool and over to the girls in one smooth motion, quickly establishing himself between them, laughing about something he was whispering in their ears, and looking at me mischievously.

This went on for some time and I was getting increasingly nervous, when one of the girls got up and came over to where I was.

"Hi, I'm Maxine," she said.

"Hi," I replied, "my name's M..."

"Mike!" She interrupted. "I know cs Martin's told me all about you: You're gay and you ride a motorcycle."

"That's about all there is to know," I smiled.

"You're both good looking boys," she said. "Are you boyfriends?"

"He's straight," I said.

"Oh I know that," said Maxine in a funny voice. "He's made that perfectly clear. And what about you - how do you feel about it?"

"Huh? Feel about what?"

"Well, you know, having it off, the four of us, in that tent of yours...?"

I couldn't imagine anything more unpleasant, I thought.

"You don't much like the idea do you?"

She pulled her bar stool real close and put a thin pale hand on my leg. I looked down at her bright nails as they scratch-tickled my leg and saw how big my muscley thighs were compared to her tiny arm.

Over her shoulder, I could see her friend's hands stroking and smoothing the furrows and ridges of the classic Italian blue shirt covering Martin's muscular back. She was cupping his head, kneading his supple neck and combing his thick, dark hair with her other hand.

He was practically crushing her - hand up her skirt. I knew he'd be pressing his hardon against her, letting her know what his game was. It was where I wanted to be this evening, not with this girl...

I could only think about Martin in the booth opposite: So while he makes out with her in that booth I'm left turning a half empty pint with this other lass sitting next to me trying to make conversation!

"Aw, don't mind them," said Maxine. "That's Gail, she's game for anything."

Maxine turned my face towards hers with her delicate fingers. I flinched and pulled away.

"Aw, ain't'cha the moody one?" she whispered, her mouth close to my ear.

"Look," I said, "this isn't going to work." And I stood up, conscious of my size again as I towered over her figure balanced on her stool, and of Martin's body as he engulfed his lass.

"Have you ever even been with a girl?" asked Maxine with a look of maternal concern in her eyes.

"None of your fucking business!"

"Thought not... Big brawny bloke like you... What a waste..."

"What do you know what's a waste and what isn't?" I said angrily.

"I know cs you're wasting your time waiting for Casanova over there to give it to you. Sit down. Don't get upset. I ain't gonna bite! And they ain't ready to leave yet, anyway. Talk to me."

They certainly looked ready to leave. Martin's antics were getting quite embarrassing.

I sat down again, hot with rage and frustration and unrequited lust.

"Look," I said, "it's not you..."

"Oh, isn't it? Well that's a relief, I must say."

Martin stopped fumbling Gail briefly to turn his head and give me a 'get on with it' look. I longed to be holding him in my arms.

"Look, Maxine ..."

"Ohh, you know my name, well that's a good start!"

"Maxine," I said, "why don't we the four of us just go for a short walk and leave it at that?"

"I don't think that's what Martin wants. Gail neither. Nor I, particularly, to be honest."

"What do you suggest then?"

She looked at me with big honest eyes.

"Like I said: Talk to me."

She took a swig of the alcopop she'd carried over and looked at me squarely in the eye. I didn't want to talk. By now all I wanted was to get back to the tent and crash.

"You really aren't interested, are you?" She said. "Any of the blokes in this bar'd have me if I wanted, but you ..."

"Well, I AM gay," I said, and I wondered exactly how many of the guys in front of me would prefer Maxine's wares over mine... and actually, I was starting to mellow out. There were some fellow touring bikers standing in a group at the other end of the bar: Hairy and rotund mainly - strictly for the dark room, but a couple of them were a bit younger, neater, fitter, and I wouldn't have said no...

"Gay..." She said, as if it was some kind of lifestyle choice...

We sat in silence, sipping our drinks for what felt like an hour.

Eventually Martin noticed that Maxine and I had given up. He lifted himself off Gail and stumbled over to us, putting his arms around both our shoulders as if we were kids. Maxine perked up slightly when he levered a finger under her bra-strap and let it go with a snap. Gail came over and stood behind them impatiently. She put her arms around Martin's narrow waist and lightly kissed his ear. They were all looking at me. Gail let go of Martin, reached out a hand and grabbed my crotch.

"Ooh, what have we here?"

"Geddof!" I said, quickly pushing her hand away from my erection.

"Oo Maxine, I think he likes you."

"He likes something," said Maxine.

"So what's it to be, then?" said Martin, ignoring the miserable faces. "Let's be off!"

Well I guess he was pretty drunk, and so were they; so was I, come to think of it!

I got up and glanced at the other bikers. They seemed to be taking note of the fact that we were about to leave.

We wandered out of the door into the cool night, no one with much idea of what to do, and Martin the only one who didn't seem to notice a problem; or at least he was determined not to notice. He was determined to get his rocks off whatever happened. He had Gail under one arm.

Maxine stood next to me without touching. After a bit she came to a halt and announced she was going to go home. Gail let out a little wail and pointed at me, saying, "What about gay boy here?"

"I'll walk Maxine home," I volunteered gallantly. Well it was obvious they'd need some time. Half an hour I reckoned should cover it.

Maxine got the message. She turned and started walking back at a pace, with me trying to catch up.

"Will she be alright?" She said as I drew up along side her.

I turned and saw them disappear arm in arm into the campsite, talking and talking.

"He's not a rapist or murderer, if that's what you mean," I replied.

"No? Well that's a relief!"

I laughed, and we walked for a bit.

=== === ===

It was like another time; the stars and the moon and the street-lights illuminating another world of heartache and disappointment. I thought I could cope, but I thrust my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket and Maxine doggedly slipped a hand round my elbow and gave it a squeeze and at that moment ... I felt just about as sad and lonely as I've ever felt in my life. A lump formed in my throat and I slumped my head forward in despair.

"It's him," she said

I nodded.

"C'mon dear," she whispered. "Take my advice: don't wait for what mightn't never ever come. Take what's there for what it's worth."

That sounded more filled with wisdom when she said it in her broad accent, and I wished I was straight. I released my hand from my pocket and lifted it over her shoulder. She sank her head against me and sighed.

We walked back into the village when, luckily, before she got it into her head that anything else was going to happen, we heard a shout. We turned and saw Gail running towards us.

"Oi, hang on," She called.

Maxine left me and ran towards her. They were both wearing heels, so it was quite a sight. Whispering to each other they marched arm in arm past me.

Men are always alone, I thought, watching them sorrowfully. Women always have each other.

"Well that was a dead loss," complained Gail as she passed.

"Now's your chance," said Maxine, and they marched off like soldiers into the village. I was left in the middle of the road. What should I do now?

I took Maxine's hint and raced down the road towards the campsite and to our little tent. It was in complete darkness; I couldn't even tell if there was anyone inside it.

"Martin?" I said gently. "Are you in there?"

I didn't hear anything from inside.

He must be in there, I thought.

"How'd it go?" I said. "Get your jollies did you?"

Silence.

Are you in there Martin?

Then he said, "Aw, shut the fuck up for fucksake, willyer!"

I clambered out of my gear and crawled into the tent in my teeshirt. There was a smell of beer and perfume and I accidentally touched Martin's head and felt his soft hair.

"Sorry," I said

"Sorry for what?"

He hadn't felt it.

"Oh. Nothing."

"Noth'n to be sorry for," he said in a drawl. "Wasn' your fault."

"What wasn't my fault?"

"Aw, prick-teaser!!"

"I'm a prick-tease?" I said.

"Not you! Her! ...She said what she'd do and then didn't do anything. Right little tart. Waste of space."

"She said a similar thing about you..."

"Y'wha'?"

I passed her in the street just now. She said you was useless.

"Well, she would wouldn't she?"

As my eyes got adjusted to the light I could see Martin lying on his back, he put his hands behind his head and planted his feet on the groundsheet with his knees raised and parted. Oh god I just wanted to lean across and kiss him and make love to him.

"What 'bout you?" he said. "Wha'd you do?"

"Nothing much. Came back here."

"Thought you'd go off wi'them bikers."

"What bikers?"

"The ones we saw in't pub."

"I didn't know you'd noticed them."

"How could I not notice'm? They was gay as fuck." he snorted.

"Gay bikers?" I said. "Who ever heard of such a thing?"

He laughed. "No but seriously, y'know, you could've gone with one of'm ... or all of'm."

And he laughed out loud again. So did I.

"You were looking at'm," he said. "An' it was only fair; I'd got me 'ands full, after all."

"Well I wasn't in the mood."

"Tha's not wha' Gail said."

Martin turned on his side in the dark, to face me. I was sitting up on the floor trying not to stare at him too hard.

"What did Gail say?" I asked.

"Gail said you had a stiffie hard as fuck 'n' she wouldn't be surprised if you fucked anything that lay still long enough tonight: man, woman, or pig!"

We both laughed.

"Did she now?" I said, my cock still aching. "Sure she wasn't talking about you?"

"No. I'm sure."

"How are you so sure?"

"Cs I never had a stiffie. She saw to that. C't never turned me on."

"You wha'?"

"I thought she was hot... But she was a turn off. Y'see, y'see, mate, Micky, I realised soon after I got'er back here and you were back there wi' th'other one. It's like... how can you do it, man?"

"You wha'?"

"How can you do it? Gail said gays fuck anything."

"Jesusfuck, Martin, why are you telling me what that piece of trash came out with? And in any case how the fuck did she say anything with your tongue stuck down her throat?"

"Oh we talked, in between, like," he said. "She's better than you think."

"You were just slagging her off."

"Yeh, but she said something odd though."

"What's that?"

"She... said you ... like, were ... in love ..."

I froze.

"... with me. Is that true?"

I didn't speak.

"Is. That. True?"

I lay down on my back and closed my eyes. It was hopeless. If I said yes then it would probably end our friendship. A straight bloke can't go out with his gay lover; it just couldn't work. It would be finished between us. But I couldn't go on hiding my feelings and hurting inside. I'd had it and I couldn't see any way out.

I drew a deep breath with my eyes shut in perplexity.

Martin had moved closer.

"Well?" He said.

"I ..."

I was about to speak when something amazing happened, a miracle: I felt Martin's lips touch mine.

I froze, again.

Martin's lips stayed pressed against my lips and when I opened my eyes all I could see was the huge mountainous shadow of his shaggy head filling the tent like some ... extraterrestrial bulldozer come to demolish my sweet unassuming planet (that's a HGTTU reference, readers ;)). The dark shadow filled my sight, I felt his hair on my face and I knew that for whatever reason, it had happened.

Martin shifted closer into my body, still pressing our faces together. His crossed his leg over me and his hardon pushed against mine. I felt, like, Are we really doing this? And then I decided that we were. I opened my mouth and let his tongue in and let my arms slip gently about his waist, and he settled himself into a position astride, his legs either side of mine, inviting me to touch him wherever I wanted.

I pushed my hand into the waist band of his jeans and just about managed to reach the tip of his asscrack when he put his hands down and undid his fly. My hand immediately dived into the hair between his legs and he gave me his tongue encouragingly, feeding on my mouth with increasing eagerness. My fingertips searched out his anus. I wanted to find out how far he was willing to go.

Martin was kissing my face now like a schoolgirl. We needed to undress. I pushed him onto his back.

"Take your clothes off," I said.

Martin stripped obediently. He dragged his ITALIA shirt off his head at a stroke and then peeled his jeans down, taking his briefs and his socks with them in one slick movement.

Meanwhile, I was chucking off my jacket and trews. I was left kneeling over him in just a tee. Martin, naked, on his back reached forward and pulled it off my chest, stroking my pecs as he did so, and exhaling like he had only just that one short moment to come up for air...

As he pulled on my tee, I found myself leaning towards his erect dick. I opened my mouth, drooling, and put my gob around it, and let him feel the excitement of a man's tongue and a man's mouth on his precious stick. He moved slowly in and out, moaning, as I slid it between my lips. I was relishing each rippling vein on its surface and the smooth thrusting hard curvature of it entering and withdrawing from my mouth.

Once his excitement started to mount I pulled back and dived onto his lips, snogging him, with my face smelling now of his piss. And my shaft found its way between his thighs. He closed his legs on it and breathed into my face.

Did he really want it? He gripped it tight between his thighs and started to rub the nob around his perineum.

I took that as a yes... I grabbed his legs and pushed him up to give him a good muff. At last I was burying my face in his beautiful dark haired ass-cave. I slobbered over his hole for all the world like it was Christmas cake, prepping it for a party. Martin started whining with pleasure as my tongue entered his anus, playing with it and opening it out. He'd need to be wet and loose to take me his first time.

He was touching his stiff nob and moaning. So I pulled away, lowering his feet to the ground, and knelt between legs.

"Don't stop," he moaned.

"Don't worry," I said. "There's plenty more."

I grabbed his hand away from his cock.

"Don't cum..."

"I won't."

He put his hand between his legs and felt his soggy moist asshol whilst I spat in my hand and spread it around my nobhead.

"Are you going to fuck me?" He asked quietly.

"Yea. I am," I said.

I couldn't see Martin's face in the darkness. I could make out the fall of his hair on the pillow. I could feel the heave of his thudding chest. I started to lean in towards him, lifting his legs again and resting them on my shoulders.

He pushed my chest with his hand, slowing me down. The other hand was fondling his balls.

"Don't hurt me please," he said.

But I had to. I let my todger rub gently against his rosebud and then began to slowly push it into him.

Martin groaned and pushed his hand harder against my chest, panting hard and fast. His other hand reached down to feel my shaft and where it was entering his anus.

"I can't, I can't," he said.

"Breath out," I said. "Let it relax."

"I'm trying."

"Deep. Breaths."

I quickly grabbed the hand on my chest and pinned it to the ground as I pushed myself harder against him and started to force him open. He felt it with his fingers as it started to go in. He was panting desperately; he was trying to master the pain. His fingers slid around his anus and my shaft, checking each millimetre as it entered.

Suddenly he started to squirm, screeching like a burnt cat. I eased off just a tiny little bit, waited, and then started again. Martin was immediately screeching; pushing and struggling and wriggling and twisting and whining,

"No! No! STOP!!"

He was frantically trying to get me out of his shitter, using all of his strength, but I was stronger and I was on top and I intended to persist.

"No, you've got to stop!" he cried. He was crying.

I felt my helmet break past his virgin sphincter and the shaft slid through it, dragging my foreskin back painfully; That slowed me down a bit. It must've been torture for Martin though. He let out an almighty scream.

"Get the fuck off!" He shouted. "Get the fuck off, you fucking cunt!!"

I had to put my hand over his mouth. He instantly opened his mouth wide and then closed his jaw, digging his teeth into it. I didn't care. What if somebody came to investigate? I had to shut him up. I hurriedly reached out, searched about, grabbed a bit of clothing lying nearby - it was his ITALIA tee - and stuffed in his mouth as a gag.

"I'm almost all there," I said, as if that could reassure him! His hand felt round to check.

He renewed his efforts to resist but ended up just flailing about under my powerful and determined wrestlers hold. My shoulders held his legs down close to his chest. One hand I was using to pin down his arm and support my weight whilst the other kept the gag in his mouth. He was bawling in utter agony underneath.

I didn't stop grinding it up him until it was buried to my balls. Rotating his entire body up into the air so that both our weights rested on his neck and shoulders - my back rubbed the nylon canvas of the tent - I pushed hard down on the final centimetre of it and held it there pulsing and throbbing inside his rectum until his struggles began to subside.

How it is I didn't cum I haven't a clue: it was the most exciting experience of my entire life, I swear, the feeling of being inside of him and outside of him, letting my chest rest against his upturned legs and my pelvis resting on his backside, and my prick, up against the solid wall of his guts, engorged with bucket-loads of sperm and desperate to ejaculate the whole lot into him. His hairy skin ground against mine like sandpaper at every point of contact. Sweat was dripping off my face onto his and I was panting like a racehorse. I felt absolutely ecstatic, man! I could hardly wait to give him the fucking shafting of a lifetime, man!!!

I gradually lowered his back and lowered my head towards his. I transferred a bit more of my weight onto my knees. He had gone quiet. I pulled out the gag and put my hands behind his head so that I could kiss him. He didn't kiss back, just parted his lips for breathing. In the half light I saw his eyes were shut tight in agony.

I gently released him and let him relax and breath and get used to me being inside him, completely inside him, completely fucking his completely fucked man cunt. I owned him at last. I kissed him again and again and blew gently on his face.

"Martin," I said. "Martin."

He didn't reply. He just lay tensed and still beneath me, wincing at at every movement I made. Nevertheless, I began to rock him gently on my nob like a doll. My balls slapped gently against the base of his spine. After a few more seconds, he put his hand back on his own nob and started squeezing it. His breathing was becoming less forced. I was moving in and out of him a little more. He was getting ok with being fucked. He was riding it. He was enjoying the sensation of having another man sliding in and out of him. He started playing with his own cock and playing with his own balls. Now when I thrust forward he pushed back to make me take him deeper and harder; when I pulled back he let it slide out of him a bit further. Each time I did it I did it a little bit more and gradually I was lubing him up with his own ass juice and it was growing smoother and more comfortable for both of us.

Soon I was pulling right out and plunging back in with more force. Sometimes I missed and my cock slid up his perineum, smearing his shitty ass-water onto his balls, and he whimpered in distress because he thought I'd lost it; but I made sure the next stroke counted with double force; I knew that he wanted it.

Martin's hole was getting slipperier and more willing and more pleasing; he was feeling the benefit of his prostate being punched over and over again, groaning when I hit it, holding his sphincter tight, responding to me.

I could feel the effort.

"That's right, Mar," I said. "Good. Oh yeh. That's good. Keep it as tight as that."

He tightened it. His fuckboy skills were already becoming instinctive. He was already learning how to behave.

"You're a good boy," I said.

"You're a good fuck," he answered.

I touched his hair and smoothed it away from his face, keeping my rhythm, and put my fingers in his mouth for him to suck.

"That's your own shit you're eating," I said.

He let me play with his tongue.

"Mar," I said. "I'm going to cum inside you in a moment. But I want you to cum first."

"Yeh, ok," he said and started to wank off. I increased my pace as he did so, so that as I approached my orgasm I could feel him tighten and spasm and open and shut and grip and release around me.

"Mike, please cum now Mike," he said, furiously jerking off. "I'm gonna cum," he said.

"Yes! I'm cumming," I replied, the sudden flood of feeling throttling up inside.

"Yes," he said, "yes, cum, Mike, please now!"

And his prick started to squirt all over him. I pumped my own thick semen directly into his gut, on and on. His chest was flooded with his own white sperm and I continued to ejaculate in gobs into him.

Finally I collapsed, rolling us both over onto our sides, carefully keeping my tool inside him. His juices were everywhere: on him, on me, on the bedding. We were panting and sweating and swimming in cum and shit and ass-piss. We were a fucking mess. I was so happy, I kissed him and licked some cum off his face and stuck it in his mouth on my tongue.

"Martin, I love you," I said. "You're supernatural!"

Martin licked his salty tongue and smeared his dog face over mine, hugging me with his arms and with his legs until I softened a little and pulled out. I put my fingers on his gooey anus and felt my cum dribbling out. We slept like that.

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