This story is dedicated to a reader of mine, one who I've long since lost contact with. But who knows, she might just read it and recognise the lust I had for her a few years back. She was a 36 year old nurse, and horny as hell. I was 58, retired, but just as horny as her.
The Nurse's Story.
As far as I'm concerned, it all started when a friend of mine said, "I'm chucking that old bike out if you know anyone who wants one."
"How much do you want for it?"
"Nothing. But whoever wants it had better pick it up before next Wednesday, otherwise the bin men can take it away."
"I don't know anyone else who wants one, I might take it myself."
"You? I can't imagine you riding a bike."
"Why not? I was just thinking the other day; I could do with getting some more exercise."
So I ended up going home with a bike in the boot of my car. It was about two weeks later when I was on afternoon shift; it had been a scorching hot day. I thought I'd give the bike a tryout, using it to go to work. Obviously being a nurse, I work at a hospital. So I'd put all my kit together in a shoulder bag, and off I set.
Was I dressed for cycling? Head protection, and all the right gear? NO. It was, as I said a hot sunny day. So I had a little blouse, tied under my bust, and skimpy shorts.
Off I set from my village, it was only three miles, and it felt great cycling along the country lanes, the breeze blowing all around my naked flesh keeping me cool. I'd gone no more than half a mile, when I came to Barker's hill. This was something you never even notice when you're driving your car. It's no more than a slight descent; twisting its way for about half a mile down hill. At first as my bike picked up speed, and I didn't have to pedal, I thought to myself, 'This is great, flying along, only the noise of the tyres on the road.'
Then I came to one of the temporary 20 MPH speed limit signs. This was obviously there because they'd re-surfaced the road. This had been done about three days ago, and the traffic had taken most of the gravel from the tracks where the car wheels travel. And being a narrow lane where cars only move to their own side when encountering an oncoming vehicle, this had moved the gravel into deep ridges at the edge and centre of the road. It wasn't causing any problems providing I kept in the tracks made by the normal traffic.
But my bike was now picking up speed, and I pulled on the brake levers, to try to get back down to a speed where I felt comfortable. The brakes had felt quite good when I'd tried them back at home; by holding the lever and pushing hard against them. But now, as the bike sped ever faster down this hill, they didn't appear to be having much effect.
It wasn't long before I felt myself getting to the point where I was feeling worried about how fast the bike was now travelling. I was squeezing the brake levers as hard as my hands could squeeze. But the bike just kept picking up speed. Each bend now saw me drifting into the middle of the road, into the deep ridges of gravel. Then it happened, they say accidents happen in slow motion. Mine didn't, one minute I was thinking, 'Oh god! This is a tight bend'. The next second, the bike skidded, and I felt myself falling. "Crash."
The Author's Tale. Ok I'll take over the story now. It was a beautiful day, and I said to the wife, "Well I'm afraid the garage roof can wait until another day. I'm not going to waste this weather; I'm going for a run on my bike."
"Any idea what time you will be back?"
"Who knows, I could be back by one o'clock, but don't worry if I don't get back until Six. It all depends where I end up going to."
"Ok I'll go and visit my sister. I'll see you when you get back."
I took it into my head to take a ride up to the snake pass, near Macclesfield. Oh, and when I say bike, I'm talking about a relatively old 1989 Kawasaki GPX 750. Not the fastest bike in the world, but I could put 135mph on the clock and still be accelerating.
It was a glorious day, and the bike just kept singing to me through every bend. I had soon started along the infamous road, winding my way up and down the long twisty bends, and in no time I was at Macclesfield. It wasn't that I wanted to go to Macclesfield; just the road to there is so good on a bike.
Now where to head for, I had no idea, so I just headed out of town. Soon I found myself on little country lanes, not suitable for blasting your way around on a high powered bike. The speed I was travelling at was boringly slow, but it wasn't sensible to try to go any quicker. I made my way from village to village, thinking I'll soon find a major road, and find my bearings.
I came to a 'T' junction, and turned left, I'd only gone fifty yards when I came to where they'd re-surfaced the road, and some bloody 20 MPH signs. This stuff is lethal on a bike, and I plodded my way along thinking, 'I hope I don't get some nutter in a car behind me, wanting to go quick.'
Then as I rounded a bend, I saw a sight that made me freeze. There in the road was a young girl, lying still with blood running all down her legs. My first thoughts were that she was dead, and I felt sick. I pulled my bike to a stop, and ran across to where she lay. She was scantily clad, white blouse, which left her midriff exposed, and little hot pants (Skimpy short.) I haven't got any first aid training, but my first thoughts were, 'If anything comes around that bend a bit quick, she's going to get run over.'
She was lying in the wheel track on my side of the road. Not that most vehicles using a little lane like this wouldn't be using both wheel tracks. But to protect her from vehicles coming in the direction I'd just come from, I carefully turned my bike around and rode it back to a point just before the bend; parking it so any car would need to slow down to a crawl to get past. And then I ran back and carried her bike back in the other direction, and lay that in the road on a straight section before the bend.
So once I'd given us both a measure of protection from other vehicles which may arrive at the scene, I ran back to where the girl was still lying motionless in the road. I carefully put my ear to her chest, and I could instantly hear her heart beating. This brought about such a rush of adrenalin, I almost shouted for joy. Then I realised I had to do something to move her. But they always say don't move anyone who's had an accident. I was in a real dilemma, and I'd decided, injured or not she'd be safer off the road. I put my arm under her knees, and was just trying to slide my other arm under her back, when she came to.
The Nurse's story.
I came to, and there was a man in full motorcycle leathers and crash helmet. And he'd already got one arm under my knees, and was about to put his other under the top of my torso. I blurted out, "What happened?"
"Thank god. Am I glad you've come around. I was going to try to get you to the side of the road. If I try to lift you, will you tell me if I'm hurting you?"
"Hang on I'll try to get myself up."
"Ok. I'll help you, just be careful."
"Ouch. God my leg hurts. Oh god, so does my bum."
"It's not surprising, you're cut to ribbons. Come on let me take your weight. That's it. Carefully. Just take your time. That's it, just sit down here on this bank, while I go and get your bike from the middle of the road before someone runs over it."
I sat down and looked to see where my bike had ended-up. But it was nowhere to be seen, and the man was running back along the lane in the direction I'd just come from. Then he was out of sight around the bend. After a few seconds he re-appeared carrying my bike, which he put up against the hedge at the side of the road. "How are you feeling? Your leg looks pretty badly cut."
"I'm ok I guess. But my leg does hurt."
"I haven't got a mobile to phone an ambulance, have you got one?"
"Yes, there's one in my bag. But I don't need an ambulance."
"Well if you've got a mobile, I'd feel happier if you let me get an ambulance for you?"
"Ok I suppose your right."
"Where's your bag?"
"Well I had it on my back. I guess the straps broke."
The man turned around, and he'd soon spotted where the bag had ended up. He walked across and brought it back to me. "Are you ok to look through it yourself, or shall I look for it."
"I'm ok. But you can look if you want, there's nothing of value in there."
He delved in my bag and the first things out were my change of clothes for coming home tonight, jeans, jacket, bra and knickers. He placed them to one side. As he did so, looking more than a little embarrassed, I said, "Sorry I forgot I'd got that lot in there. The phone should be there somewhere."
He pulled my phone from my bag, and the case was broken into pieces. "Oh no. It looks like it's in worse condition than you are."
"Well it looks like phoning for an ambulance is out of the question. Will you be ok if I shoot off to the next village and get someone to ring for me?"
"Look, I only live half a mile away. I assume by the way you're dressed you have a motorbike?
"Yes. I parked it back up the lane, just to slow any traffic down."
"I see. So I guess that's why my bike was back up the other way?"
"Yes. But with your bike I was still worried some idiot might not see it until they'd run over it."
"Well yes. But your motorbike, it's still ok, isn't it? I mean you didn't fall off when you found me lying in the road?"
"No. I was only going steady. This gravel is bloody lethal. Oh, excuse my French."
.... There is more of this story ...