Date: Wed, 16 Sep 2015 06:34:01 -0400
From: user459@mail.com
Subject: EDIT of Meg's Bike 13

I couldn't wait to get out to the shop the next morning.  After Tyler and
Donny left, I had dismantled much of Donny's vintage bike and cleaned
pieces as I went along.  I had some soaking in rust remover, and some lying
on the bench near the buffing wheel, where I had buffed of years of
oxidation.  They looked shiny and new now.  I had the chain soaking in a
coffee can of oil and solvent.  The tubes and tires were removed and the
spoked wheels stood there, reedy for their beauty treatment.

That's the first task I started on.  With metal polish and a microfiber
cloth, I polished the rims and then every single spoke, from rim to hub.  I
sprayed the hub and sprockets with brake cleaner and wiped then down with a
rag before I polished them.  A final buffing with a clean and dry rag
brought them back to life.

The frame was now clean, thanks to Tyler and Donny's efforts yesterday, but
it lacked luster.  I used an automotive cleaner and wax on it to bring the
shine up to a new level.  The paint responded to my loving touch
beautifully.  There were a few chips and scratches left, but they were
well-deserved battle scars that lent to the character of the bike.

I reassembled the bike, lovingly ensuring that each part was well attended
to.  Even the kickstand got the Mike the Bike Guy treatment.  I pulled the
chain out of the can, sprayed it off with brake cleaner and wiped it clean.
Then a light coat of oil, and it got installed and adjusted to the proper
tension.  By the time I got it back together and tires inflated, the day
was almost half gone.

It looked great sitting there on the shop floor.  I even got my digital
camera and snapped a couple pictures from different angles.  I maintain a
web site chronicling my various restoration projects, and this will be a
great addition.  The light from the open overhead door and from the window
made the bike look really good.  I mean "bike show" good!  I think Donny
will be pleased.  Not that I felt a duty to please Donny; I did this kind
of work more to please myself.  The pleasing of others, and whatever
benefit that may bring, was a bonus.

When I was satisfied with the pictures, I stepped to the shop computer and
inserted the memory card from the camera.  I uploaded the pictures to a new
section titled "Bicycles" on my website.  I had forgotten to take pictures
of Meg's bike, as well as Laura's and Tyler's, but I'll add them if they
come back around.  I had a feeling they would be back.   I regretted I had
not taken "before" pictures of Donny's bike.  I would have to remind myself
to leave a camera in the garage.

A sound coming from the front of the shop distracted me from the computer
screen.  I thought I heard someone cough or clear their throat.

"Excuse me," this pleasant female voice said, "are you Mike, the Bike guy?"
I stood up and walked to ward the front of the shop.  There, on the pavers,
was a vision of loveliness, straddling a turquoise girl's bike.  She
appeared a little older than Meg, maybe a little older than I normally like
them, but I did like her bike.

"Yes," I said, "yes, I am!"  I had never officially adopted that name, nor
had I hung out a shingle declaring me to be "Mike, the Bike guy", but it
seems the word has spread.

"Hi I'm Susan," she offered.  She stuck out her hand and I met it with mine.
It was soft and warm.  I looked into her blue eyes and then studied her
face.   It was one of those perfectly proportioned and symmetrical faces
that belongs in a magazine.  Not gorgeous nor pretentious, nor movie star
quality, but an honestly pretty face, complete with a sprinkling of
freckles.  Her red hair was pulled back and threaded through the back of a
baseball cap, as is the current practice.  There was a sheen of
perspiration on it from riding her bike.

"Hi Susan," I replied.  "I'm Mike.  What can I do for you?"  I have to
admit, my attention was drawn to the bike, but as I followed its lines, I
also checked out the figure of the girl on the bike.  She had tight short
shorts on that accentuated her long, alabaster legs and flip-flops that
showed off slender, well-pedicured feet.  Her top was a knotted to expose a
bit of her belly and there were two small breasts topping it off.  At this
point, I saw no visible means of support for them, at least in my initial
visual inspection.

"I've been having trouble with this bike and my mom can't afford to buy me
a new one," she explained.  "I live next to Tyler and Laura and saw what
you did for their bikes, so I thought it might be worth fixing up."

"I wondered how you heard about me," I said.  "Now exactly what kind of
trouble has this old beast been giving you?"  I noticed that, though not as
old and crusty as Donny's, it was a bike that had seen a few miles and some
rough treatment.  Still, it had potential.  She did, too.

"It slips out of gear and it doesn't stop that well," she said.  "Also,
it's just not comfortable for me to ride.  I feel like I'm all cramped up."


"Where did you get this one?" I asked, while looking it over.  I took every
opportunity to sneak peeks at her while pretending to study her bike.

"It was my sister's," she answered.  "I got it when she went off to college.
She has a car now."  Ah, typical sibling jealousy.

"And how old are you now?" I asked, point blank.

"I'm fourteen and a half," she said proudly.  Exactly when do we stop
counting half years?  And when do we start up again?  Before eighteen and
after eighty?

"Did Meg and Tyler tell you what I did to their bikes?" I asked.

"Yup," she said, "and I saw what you did.  They look great and Meg has a
lot easier time riding hers now.  I was always afraid she was going to run
into something before!  Now she glides along like the wind."

"Is that what you want?" I asked.  She stood there, still straddling the
low bar of the girls' bike.  I could see that the seat was too low for her,
and the handlebars caused her to reach down to grip them.

"Exactly," she said.  "I think I look awkward on this bike and I'm afraid
kids will laugh at me."  I picked up the camera and took pictures from
every angle I could, showing more of the bike than of Susan.

"I think we can make this a very respectable bike for you," I said.  "Are
you willing to do a little work, too?"

"Sure," she said.  "Do I have to get greasy?"

"No, I'll handle the greasy bits, but you'll have to do some of the
cleaning and polishing." I explained.  "Did Meg tell you what I do?"

"Yes," she said.  "She said you would measure me and my bike to make it fit.
She told me that the measuring can get a little personal, but that's OK
with me."  I wondered just how far Meg went with her description of our
activities.

"Good," I said.  "Then let's get started."  I reached for the tape measure
and stepped up beside her.

"Aren't you going to close the door?" she asked.  I wasn't sure what she
was anticipating, but I'd do anything to make her more comfortable.  I hit
the button and waited until the door was completely closed.  She opened her
stance over the bike to give me access to measure her leg length.  I held
one end on the floor and allowed my other hand to rise up between her legs,
brushing her inner thigh as I went.    When I got to the top, I boldly
planted the back of my hand against her crotch.  She didn't flinch, in
fact, I heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a little sigh.  I moved
my hand around in her crotch, supposedly trying to get a better angle to
read the tape.  I could feel the moist heat emanating from her intimate
places.  I could swear I felt her move against my hand.  I delayed as long
as I could before taking measurements of the bike and the distance from the
seat to the floor and to the pedals.

"Hmm..." I murmured, as if contemplating a complex mathematical formula for
the ratio of leg length to pedal height.  It still was actually just a ruse
to get my hand into her crotch and gauge her reaction to my touch.  I
carefully pushed the bike forward until her crotch was just hovering over
the seat.  I put my hand into that space and found there was too much room
there.  That didn't stop me from raising my hand to stroke the fabric
covering her mound.  Now I had to worry about trying to hide my rising hard
on!  I stepped away, adjusted my dick, and picked up a wrench from the
toolbox drawer.  I loosened the nut holding the seat and raised it to a
level close to her bottom.  I tightened it there and once again used my
hand and fingers to gauge the clearance between them.  It was a tight fit
now and when I pushed the bike forward, it mashed my fingers into her pussy.
I moved them around a bit, mainly to get her reaction.  Again, she was not
repulsed, but actually seemed to grind into my hand and relish the pressure
against her girl parts.  I pulled my hand out and stood to the side.  I
motioned for her to sit on the seat.

"That feels better," she said.

"Now, reach for the handlebars," I instructed.  "Loosen your grip, but keep
reaching in that position."  She had to reach way to far forward and down
so I corrected her position by putting my hand in the middle of her chest
and rising her to a good riding posture.  Of course, this put my hand right
between her young breasts and I could feel the mounds on either side of my
hand were not fettered by any undergarment hardware.  My dick jumped in my
shorts.  Could it be?

"Try to stay in that position," I said.  I reluctantly pulled away and got
a large allen wrench and hammer from the toolbox.  I loosened the allen
screw and tapped it to free the mechanism.  I raised it to the right height
and placed her hands on the grips.  They were still too far forward.  I
loosened the handlebar clamp and rotated the bars to what looked like a
comfortable position.  I once again cradled her chest in my hand and moved
her upper body to where it should be.

"Now, pull the handlebars back to where you feel comfortable," I told
her.  While
she was pulling, I used that opportunity to let my fingers wander over her
chest, brushing one of her nipples with my palm.  I could feel it harden
under my hand.  Once again, her breath quickened.

"That feels right," she said.  I tightened the clamp at that position and
then, with one hand on her tight little rear end, and one on her chest.  I
made a show of inspecting the newly made adjustments.  If I wasn't careful,
I was going to cum in my pants!  I let the hand on her chest slide down her
front, still maintaining contact, until it slid right into her crotch and
cupped her pussy.

"How does that feel," I asked.  I rubbed back and forth on her pubic mound,
all pretense of making bike adjustments out the window.

"I like that," she said, trapping my hand between her and the bike seat.  Now
she was definitely humping my hand.  I let her do it while I continued
caressing her tight little rump.  I couldn't feel any panty lines, but it
struck me that she must have been wearing a thong!  How out of touch could
I be?!  When I was messing with girls her age, they all had cotton panties
on!

"Just what did Tyler and Meg tell you about me?" I asked.  I wasn't too
happy if they had blabbed to all their friends about our escapades.

"Nothing, really," she said.  "They told me about their bikes and that they
had fun with you."  She gave me a little wink.

"What kind of fun would you like to have, Susan?" I asked.

"I'd like to do whatever you'd like to do, Mike," she said.

"Have you done sexy kinds of things before?" I asked.  She blushed and
looked away.

"No, not really," she admitted, "I'm home schooled and don't get to make
many friends, much less do anything like that.  That's why I wanted to meet
you."  She turned her head toward me and I had no choice but to kiss her
full on the lips.  She quickly wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed
me back, all the while pushing against my trapped hand.

"Can I undo this knot?" I asked.  She nodded her head.  I pulled my hand
from her crotch and worked the knot in her T-shirt loose.  I ran my hand up
the skin of her naked belly and found her braless breasts.  They felt so
warm and smooth.  Just a handful, but starting to get round and firm.  I
realized they probably had a ways to go yet.  I flicked at her nipple with
my thumb and it responded, and she drew in a sharp breath.  Before I could
say anything, she whipped her shirt off and pulled my head to her chest.

I alternated between her two mounds, not wanting to slight either one.  I
panted kisses and licks alternatively on them while she moaned and then
giggled.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing," she replied.  "I was just thinking about all the times I've
dreamed of doing this, and here I am in some guy's garage!"

"If you'd be more comfortable, we could go into the house," I said.  She
thought about that for a few seconds, then scooped up her shirt and headed
for the door to the house.

"OK," she blurted out, "let's go!"  I had no idea of what I might be in
for, but this girl's enthusiasm had me hooked.

"I'm right behind you!" I yelled as she disappeared into the house.