Chapter 6

Jake went over to his bike to saddle up. Biker etiquette was the one percenters would ride off the boat first, then the HD enthusiasts, last the civilians. Jake being considered an enthusiast, was sitting back, waiting his turn, when the ship docked and doors finally opened.

The President rolled up to him. Hollered, “We don’t let earners ride into shit alone. Ride with me. You take the road captain spot to get us there. Let’s roll!”

Clubs tend to ride in an organized manner. The road captain runs the inside tire lane closest to the centre line, the President to his right.

Behind them, the club officers, then members, prospects, hang arounds and supporters of whatever ride they were on.

It would normally be the president’s decision on where to go and a trusted road captain’s responsibility to get the group there safely and usually fast. Jake felt the honour and accepted the responsibility he was being given. He might need the backup. Jake moved into position, and the club rolled out.

Every road captain used an internationally known set of hand signals that the rest of the pack members knew. Everyone kept half an eye on the road captain. Your life could depend on it.

Jake had ridden in enough packs over the years to know what a road captain’s responsibilities were and how to meet them. He would lead the group straight to his last address for Kate. He remembered basically where it was.

They had about fifty miles of almost straight two-lane highway to run from the ferry to the address. It wasn’t raining. The stars were shining; it was a surprisingly beautiful February night for a ride on the island.

Jake always found the roar and rumble of a healthy Harley comforting and calming. A pack of Harleys made him feel alive. You had to maintain awareness of everything around you at all times when riding side by side, within two-three feet and ten feet ahead of the rider behind you.

You were deadly responsible for yourself, the bike beside you and probably the first two behind you. With one mistake, you could kill three men. You tended to come alive while old riders settled into the groove.

Jake allowed his mind to drift as they rumbled along at eighty miles an hour. He loved to ride and could do it forever. Well, he used to want to. He was getting older. He knew his best days were behind him. A comfortable woman and a small place in a warm, quiet town might not be too bad. Soon, maybe.

He allowed his mind to drift. Kate Windsow, ah Kate, the winner of the wet titty contest and thief of his heart. Jake had tried hard not to think of her these last few years. It always hurt, even now. She was, without a doubt, the lost love of his life. Hell he had named his ride after her.

‘Better times!’ He demanded of himself and went back to recalling the contest. Him, being selected to be the sole male judge, with Henry’s old lady, Mable, being the female judge with Teddy to break a tie.

The sponsor was never named, although Jake found out the next day that it was a local social riding businessman who wanted to see a certain young girl’s tits, and this would be his only chance. He got his paid for ‘dream come true’.

Of the four volunteer titty boosters, three were single, one was claimed by Smiley Pete, a bit of a hound dog if you asked anyone. He found this chick in an out-of-the-way bar back east somewhere; she was new to the guys. This was her chance to become better known. Her name was Jane, and she was a decent looker.

Jake got selected as a judge because Dave and the guys they road in with made the most noise for Jake during the vocal vote. Their group had a lot of friends there. The friends helped the cause, and Jake won the vote. He got the critical Ok from the contestants. Jake accepted the job with humility.

Henry’s old lady was a hundred pounds overweight, had the cutest blue eyes anybody had ever seen, and she was always fake bullying the guys around while she cooked up a feast at every rally they all gathered at. She was another one loved by all. And everyone knew she loved fondling tits. She should have been a dyke, in most guys’ opinion. She just loved tits! Henry loved her.

Jake’s first job was to pour the iced water over the lady contestants breasts, slowly, allowing the nipples to come out and play. After the first lady’s dousing, all of the girl’s nipples were already at full excited extension when Jake finally got to each one.

Jake’s and Mable’s next task was to fondle and comment on the weight, strength, bounce back, and nipple length of each girl’s pair. Arduous as it was, they got the job done with about three minutes spent with each girl being mauled over their soaked, see-through, white tee shirts by either Mable or Jake.

Jake got yelled at by Smily Pete when it came to his new girlfriend Jane’s turn to be weighed and measured. Jake kept it more professional with her than he had with the two before her. Mable did the fondling.

Smiley was satisfied, but his new plaything wasn’t going to win, and she was pissed. Jake hadn’t been able to generate the enthusiasm for her that he had been able to with the others.

Then Jake was in front of Kate.

She stood maybe five foot nine, by Jake’s guess. She stood a couple of inches taller than the other competitors. Jake was close enough to her that she would have to look up to make eye contact. She was looking down when he stepped in front—presenting as a shy one.

She took her time looking over his boots, up his jean-covered legs, to his crotch, his hard-on that could be clearly discerned through his jeans. He was wearing a new black HD tee shirt under his leather vest. The strength of his chest and arms was evident in front of her.