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A moonlit ride to remember.
The bike begins to slow as my gloved right hand eases up on the throttle. My right foot feathers the rear brake lightly as my left foot downshifts to make a right turn onto a country road. The moon smiles down upon us - a gracious victor.
At 45 mph, the wind caresses our faces. I slip a cigarette out of my jacket pocket and light it with the lighter I added to my dashboard. She scratches my tangled hair with both hands. It feels good. I hold the cigarette between my teeth as I reach back to pat her thigh with my left hand.
The aromas of the earth assail our nostrils. There is the sweetness of new mown hay. The pungent odor of cattle. There is the perfume of last year's leaves slowly melting into the earth to enrich the soil. A host of wild flowers blend their essence to form a fragrance man will never be able to duplicate.
I spot the entrance to a field, slow the bike to a snail's pace, pick our way over the ruts and come to a stop behind the windbreak of trees planted who knows how long ago. She stands on the foot pegs and swings lithely to the ground. I stand, stretch, and dismount the scooter.
She is looking at the moon and the stars as I untie the blanket from the sissy bars. I take off my jacket, fold it and place it on the ground for a pillow. After I flop down on the blanket, she lays down beside me. I offer her my arm for a pillow. She chooses my chest instead. I wrap my arm around her shoulder.
She props herself up on an elbow and kisses me lightly on the lips. It isn't a serious kiss. Neither was the kiss I gave her in return. She made a light sound of contentment, reached under my tee shirt and scratched gently at my stomach. I patted her on her ass.
Her leg goes over my legs. I put my hand behind her head as I pull her to me. This time the kiss is a little more serious. I allow my tongue to taste her lips. As her tongue flicked mine, I felt a hunger growing in me. The kiss lingered. Our lips parted and our tongues met in a timeless dance. Our breath quickened.
I rolled so we were both on our sides. My left hand slipped under her camisole and glided softly to her breast. My thumb kissed her nipple. I kissed a trail from her lips to her cheek to her neck. She turned her head away from me to give me better access. I nipped at her earlobe and kissed, sucked, nipped my way down her neck to the hollow of her throat.
She sat up a little to help me take off her camisole. My lips paid homage to her shoulders and breasts. She tugged at my tee shirt. I slipped it off. Our bare skin felt like heated silk as I scratched her back with my finger pads. I forgot I had half gloves on until she told me they felt funny. When I started to take them off, she said it was a good funny so I left them on.
I laid her on her back and I stroked her stomach. My fingers reached the band of her tight jeans. I fumbled the button open then unzipped them. My gloved hand slid past the open denim. She moaned and arched her back when I found her wetness.
Coming to my knees, I pulled off her high top boots, then her socks. I sat with my legs crossed as I massaged her tiny feet. My thumbs pressed and rubbed all those spots that like to be pressed and rubbed. She gave me six hours to quit that. I didn't think I would be able to last that long.
I ran my hands up her legs, hooked my fingers under her waistband and began to tug. She lifted her hips and wiggled as women do to get off tight-fitting jeans. My breath caught in my throat as I slid them down her legs. The moonlight bathed her in a warm glow and it was good.
As she unbuckled my belt, I used my feet to slip off my boots and socks. As she started to slide them down my hips, I unhooked my pistol from my belt and placed it under the jacket. She lay face down on me. My hands hungered too greatly for her to leave on the gloves. My palms savored the soft hardness of her body as my lips met hers.
I rolled her off me, parted her legs and knelt between them.