R to NC-17
Just Like Riding A Biker
Fresh meat. This was the first thought that flew through the minds of all the bar's patrons as the black-clad teenaged girl entered the bar, hips swinging, red-painted lips curled back predatorially to reveal straight, white teeth. She tossed her dark locks back over her shoulder, then jumped onto the bar.
"Hey, boys," she called cattily. "Who's buyin' me a drink?"
A tanned, muscle-bound man in a short leather bomber jacket and faded, ripped jeans stepped forward, slapping a twenty dollar bill onto the scratched and gouged bar. "Give her whatever she wants," he said gruffly, stepping back and moving to his table in the dark corner of the bar.
She winked at the bartender. "Something... strong," she demanded, backflipping off the bar and landing gracefully on her feet. Amber liquid poured into a shot glass, which she downed quickly, feeling the slow burn of the alcohol as it trickled down her throat. "Another," she demanded.
Five times, she received new shots, and five times, she downed them just as quickly. She hopped off the barstool she'd been sitting on and stretched. Her halter top rode up to expose more smooth, flat stomach. "God, I'm horny," she announced loudly.
All the men in the bar, and some of the women as well, stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at her.
She folded her arms, jutting out one hip. "Whoever can take me can... take me," she said just as loudly.
One by one the men in the bar began approaching her. One by one they fell to the floor in a crumpled heap of unconscious and pain-stricken bodies. Soon there was no man left... except for the one who sat completely concealed by darkness except for the orange glow of the tip of his cigarette.
"Hey, you over there," she called. "What's your name?"
"No names," he replied. There was a slight motion in the shadows and then he stepped forward.
She sized him up. Three good hits, she wagered, and he'd be down like all the others, begging for mercy. "Think you're man enough?"
The bartender's head popped up from beneath the bar long enough to plead, "Take it outside, please," weakly.
She shrugged, glancing over at the last man standing. "Coming?"
"Not yet." He followed her into the parking lot.
She spread her arms wide, inhaling the cool night air. Eyes closed, she demanded, "Hit me."
"You first," he returned.
"Look, honey, we both know how this is going to end. I'm going to kick your ass, steal your ride, and hightail it on out of here. So do me a favor and hit me. I don't want to break you until it starts getting fun." Still, her eyes remained closed.
He approached warily, and when he was about two feet away, he swung at her. She caught his fist with lightning-fast reflexes. "Nice try," she said. "My turn."
The blow she dealt him sent him flying. He landed several yards down the parking lot on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Still, he scrambled to his feet again. He was grinning. She didn't like it.
"C'mere," she cooed seductively. She was using that stance again, with her hip cocked and her arms crossed that made her look more delicious than a pizza to a starving man. "First one tonight who could handle my punch," she said. "Think you can handle the rest of me?"
He nodded eagerly.
"You're about to have one hell of a ride," she said, her hands shooting out and wrapping around his ass as she yanked him to her. One of her legs wrapped around his thighs and held him there while her hands, which if truth be told were more like a flesh-colored blur than anything, tangled in his hair and pulled him down for a violent kiss. It was a clash of teeth and tongues until their lips swelled and threatened to split open with the bruising pressure. His tee-shirt, a vintage Guns n Roses tour commemorative, was ripped down the center and she dragged him toward a row of motorcycles. "Which one?" she asked.
He pointed soundlessly and she pushed him onto a black Harley, leaning him back against the seat. She tore at the zipper of his jeans, pulling him out of the tight confines. "I'm impressed," she said, shucking her leather pants. Her fist wrapped around him. "I could squeeze you... break you right now, and you couldn't do anything to stop me," she commented. His cock twitched visibly at her words. "Ooh, you like that," she purred. She straddled his waist then. "Hold on tight," she warned teasingly before plunging down onto him in one smooth stroke.
"Oh... fuck..." he moaned through a garbled mess of incoherent mumbling as she began riding him hard and fast with no foreplay whatsoever.
"Did I say you could talk?" she demanded, halting her motions and squeezing his cock in a near-painful grip that no other woman he'd ever been with had ever accomplished before. His eyes rolled back and he shook his head quickly.
"I didn't think so," she growled. Her pelvis began slapping against his on each downstroke and he knew he'd be in a heap of pain in the morning but right now he really.didn't.care.one.bit.
"Oh, yeah," she exclaimed as she shifted positions slightly. "Yeah, fuck me..." She started pinching her nipples alternatingly, the pressure becoming more and more intense.
He got harder. He loved it when they talked dirty to him.
"Unh... unh..." she grunted as she built herself up quickly. She ground down on him, pressing her clit into the wiry hair at the base of his cock, then bounced on his lap again. "Unh... yeah..."
She started to stiffen and he realized she was getting close, so he started humping up into her a bit. She was too far-gone by then to notice. Two jerky, spasmic bounces, then three more, and she was shaking, moaning and babbling expletives left and right. Seconds later, she climbed off him, put on her leather pants, and shoved him off the motorcycle.
"Sunnydale, here I come," she said with a grin as the engine of the Harley roared to life. The tires squealed, kicking up a cloud of dust as she raced out of the parking lot and into the night, leaving him bewildered and half-naked on the cool-night asphalt.
End