"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 a 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 gray 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 invited a laid-out riding position.

I walked around the machine, not 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 slightly.

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 guttural roll to her R's. I nodded, not quite trusting my voice. 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 wondered 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 their 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 seemed necessary.

"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, and I could feel the heaving of her chest 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 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 one 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.