from Studs BBS
 (415) 495 - 2929

THE BIKE TRIP

The afternoon was hot and the sun beat unmercifully on Jack's dark 
skin.  It was just his luck that the last ride left him in an area 
without any trees by the road, and if he did go find a shade tree 
he would not be able to get back to the road in time should he see 
a car.  So he took off his shirt to catch what breeze stirred the 
air and watched the lonely road expectantly.  He should have known 
he was in for a string of bad luck ten days earlier when his car 
broke down just before he was to leave for his brother's wedding.  
He didn't have enough money to fix the car and the drive 900 miles 
home, so he used what money he had to take the bus.  With no father 
at home and with the cost of the wedding his mom was in no position 
to help, so he lied and said he was taking the bus back, and thus 
started this weary journey hitching rides.  Now, two days later, he 
was still 300 miles away.  He hoped his boss would be understanding 
if he didn't make it in to work tomorrow as scheduled.  Although 
his boss didn't much like black workers he had been pretty 
understanding when Jack (his boss called him Jackson) had asked for 
time to go to the wedding.  He really hated to make his boss think 
that he was just another "irresponsible black" by being late, but 
saw no possibility of getting back in time.

Jack worked hard at his warehouse job and his muscled body looked 
impressive as he stood by the side of the road.  He knew that was 
sometimes a disadvantage as many people who might normally pick up 
a hitch-hiker would reconsider if it was a strong, black male.  
Jack had his share of bigotry in his life.  Now living in a small 
midwestern town with few blacks, he had come to accept this in his 
typical good nature.

After an hour or so a glint up the road caught his eye and 
gradually he could make out a vehicle coming his way.  The hope 
that he would finally get a ride sagged when he noted that the 
approaching vehicle was a motor cycle, not the most probable 
prospect for a hitch-hiker.  As the biker approached he could make 
out that the driver was decked out in black leather vest and 
leather cap.  The thought that motorcycle gangs often displayed 
open hostility to blacks and others they deemed inferior crossed 
Jack's mind as the rider slowed in his approach to Jack's point in 
the road.  Unconsciously he scanned the road either fearing to see 
a horde of bikers following, or hoping to see another prospect.  
But the road was empty.

The biker slowly pulled up to Jack.  Jack was somewhat relieved to 
note that the man's exposed arms and chest were not covered with 
tattoos and his cap did not carry the emblem of some gang.  He also 
lacked the beer-belly he had always associated with bikers, and was 
really quite trim and athletic in appearance.  Blond hair peeked 
out under his leather cap and his eyes were piercing blue as he 
considered Jack for a moment.

"Where you headed, bro?"

Jack winced a little at the familiar "pronoun," but the biker's 
voice lacked the usual acrinomity he would have expected.  He was 
further surprised when the biker acknowledge that he knew where his 
small town was.

"My saddlebags are full, you'll have to put your bag under that 
strap behind the seat."

Jack didn't know how long he would have to wait for another ride, 
so he picked up his bag and cinched the strap.  While he situated 
his gear, the biker went to the side of the road and took a leak 
and Jack could see the golden stream arching high in the air over 
the fence, like he and his brothers sometimes did when they were 
kids.  Wiping his hands on his jeans, the biker got on the bike, 
started it and told Jack to get on.  The seat was not very big and 
Jack's bag behind it made it a tight fit as Jack squeezed behind 
the biker.  He managed to yell over the noise of the engine "How 
far do you think you can take me?"  As they roared off, the biker 
said over his shoulder "That depends on you."

Conversation is not easy on a motorcycle, so Jack was left to 
wonder about the last conversation.  Although he had rode cycles in 
his youth, he had almost always been the driver, and now he found 
keeping his balance as a passenger a little tricky.  True, he 
couldn't move too much wedged as he was between his bag and the 
biker's butt.  But he was not too steady on turns and dips in the 
road and was afraid of tipping them over.  On one particularly bad 
turn, he had to grab the biker's sides to avoid tumbling off.  He 
was a little self-conscious about that, but as they approached the 
next set of curves the biker yelled back "hold on tight" and Jack 
wrapped his arms around the biker as they banked around the curve. 
 Gradually his nerves calmed down as he gained confidence in the 
biker's driving ability.  Even though the road straightened out, 
Jack continued to keep at least one arm around the biker's waist 
and felt much more secure and even began to enjoy the ride.  He 
noted that despite the biker's "leather" appearance, he smelled of 
cologne rather than the stale sweat and body odor he expected.  The 
waist he held was trim and muscular and the skin beneath the vest 
was smooth and firm.

After an hour of driving on this lonely road they came to a 
freeway.  They stopped at a service station and when the biker 
returned from the men's room he had a cold soda in each hand.  
Without a word he gave one to Jack and drank the other.  Then he 
opened up a saddle bag and pulled out two helmets.

"We'll have to wear these on the freeway."  They then sped off down 
the freeway.  After a couple of hours they again pulled off the 
freeway at the State route that headed to Jack's town about a 
hundred twenty miles further.  They stopped at the side of the road 
and the biker stopped the engine and got off.  Jack thought that 
this was where their paths would separate, but for the first time 
today he was hopeful of getting home in time to go to work the next 
day.  He could surely find a ride from here.  He was about to thank 
the biker for the ride, when the biker turned to him and said "my 
arms are tired, do you want to drive for awhile?"

Jack couldn't believe his ears.  First he hadn't expected this 
stranger to go out of his way to take him further.  Second, he had 
thrilled at the feel of the bike and during the drive had often 
reminisced about driving his friends' bikes.  Without waiting for 
an answer, the biker took off his helmet, stowed it in the saddle 
bags and held out his hand for Jack's.  He then took his vest off 
and offered it Jack.

"You better wear this if you're in front."  Jack had been shirtless 
while they were driving and the cool breeze had felt good on his 
naked skin, but he realized that the biker was probably right.  He 
was larger than the biker and the vest did not cover as much of his 
body as it did the biker.  He had trouble with the laces and the 
biker had to help him get it on, leaving a large gap in the middle 
of his chest and his midriff.

Jack climbed on the bike, got it started and the biker squeezed in 
behind him.  Jack had scooted forward as far as possible.  The 
biker said he better come back farther on the seat or it would be 
hard to drive so Jack sat back until his butt was wedged solidly 
between the biker's legs, the same position he had shared during 
the afternoon.  Jack got the bike moving and moved off down the 
road a little tentatively.  Although a little apprehensive, he soon 
regained his confidence and he noticed that the biker no longer 
grasped him tightly around the waist, but relaxed his grip and his 
hands gently held on to his waist.  Jack noticed that the biker had 
hooked his thumbs in the top of the waist band on Jack's jeans.  
Jack had thought of doing this when he was in the back, but had not 
known what reaction he would get.  What was acceptable to do with 
his brothers might not be with others, especially a white man that 
called him "Bro."  But it did not bother Jack now, and he even felt 
good about the physical contact and the spirit of companionship 
that he now felt.  Although few words had passed between them 
during the past few hours, Jack.  After twenty minutes of Jack 
driving, the biker removed his right hand from Jack's waist for a 
minute.  When his hand returned, it was a little lower, and rested 
on Jack's thigh.  Shortly after, he could feel slight pressure and 
movement between his butt and the biker's legs.  Slight at first, 
the biker shifted a little uncomfortably in his cramped space.  
Sensing that his benefactor was somewhat ill at ease, Jack yelled 
back "Do you want to stop?"

"Not yet" the biker responded.  He must have gotten in a 
comfortable position as he settled down.  A while later they 
approached a section of the road that Jack new was somewhat steep 
with tight curves.  He yelled back for the biker to hang on as they 
began their ascent.  The biker strengthened his grip on Jack's 
waist and thigh as they rounded the curves and on the steep grades 
Jack's butt was ground into the biker's crotch.  On one sharp 
curve, the biker shifted his hand to stabilize himself and Jack 
felt a hand grab his cock as well as his leg.  The grip was firm, 
but not painful, and even though the road began to straighten out, 
the biker made no attempt to remove his hand.  Although he 
struggled to, Jack was unable to force his penis to remain 
unaffected by the biker's touch.  Gradually he felt the firmness 
and warmth of an erection beginning and knew the biker could not 
help but notice too.  At first he was embarrassed as his dick 
lengthened down his leg.  He tried to concentrate on the deserted 
road and put all other thoughts out of his mind.  But the feeling 
of companionship at this physical contact grew and fed the feelings 
that in turn fed the blood to his erect cock.

Evening had come as they traversed the mountains.  Jack drove on, 
trying to act oblivious to the things going on in his mind and 
crotch.  The bike had slowed down considerably going over the 
mountains, and Jack was sub-consciously maintaining a slow pace.  
Now the biker's left hand moved and the thumb that had been looped 
inside his waistband was replaced with the tips of the bikers 
fingers.  Jack could feel the fingers move downward through his 
pubic hair until one of them touched the base of his cock.  But 
that hand could go no further.  Jack felt the other hand release 
the hold on his cock and move to his belt buckle.  One tug and the 
belt was loose, then the button undone and the other hand was no 
longer restricted and slid inside Jack's shorts and grasped his 
cock and balls, forcing the zipper open as well.

Jack was somewhat unnerved, but managed to keep the bike on the 
road, and for the loss of what else to do, he kept on driving 
slowly down the road.  The biker's left hand had now extracted 
Jack's cock from the pant leg.  The rush of the air swirling 
between his legs enveloped his exposed cock for a second before the 
biker's hand did.  He heard the biker mumble as his fingers 
encountered Jack's foreskin, now partially retracted.  He thought 
it was a sound of disapproval, but the biker shifted his other hand 
to hold the cock while his finger explored beneath the skin.  The 
moving air started to dry out his cockhead and he started to slow 
down thinking to stop by the side of the road.  But the biker put 
his mouth against Jack's ear and told him to keep driving.  He 
removed his finger from inside the skin, and when it returned it 
was coated with spit which the biker rubbed over the exposed 
corona.  The finger returned a second time from the biker's mouth 
and put a drop of spit into the piss slit which was almost big 
enough to get the tip of his finger inside.  Both of the biker's 
hands disappeared for a minute and Jack could feel them fumble 
between their bodies and then something hard was jamming him in the 
back.

The headlights of an approaching car caused Jack to head for the 
side of the road, but the biker told him to keep driving.  
Something inside thrilled at this adventure, so he kept going 
hoping it was dark enough for no one to notice.

When the car passed, the biker grabbed Jack's balls with one hand 
and began pumping his cock with the other, pulling the foreskin up 
and down over the head.  Jack felt his balls tighten and spasms of 
cum began spurting out of his cock, spraying back all over his 
chest and face.  As the spasms gripped his body, he had to struggle 
to stay on the road, but somehow he managed and a great feeling of 
warmth and comfort enveloped his body.

When Jack's cock subsided, the biker carefully pulled the skin back 
over the head, put it back inside his shorts, zipped up and 
buttoned his jeans.  They rode in silence for a while and then the 
biker told him to pull over.  Jack stopped the bike, and the biker 
said "I'll drive for awhile."  Jack took off the cum-spattered 
vest, the biker silently put it on and they drove off, without 
acknowledging what had just happened.

Jack was still wrapped in the afterglow of cumming as they started 
to drive off and he pondered what had transpired and the quiet 
matter-of-factness of the biker afterwards.  After thinking for a 
few minutes a smile crossed Jack's face.  His arm been encircling 
the biker's waist.  Slowly he moved his hand down to the biker's 
leg and it encountered the tube of flesh he sought, already 
beginning to swell in anticipation.  He slowly kneaded the cock 
through the biker's pants.  With his other hand he reached around 
and put his fingers inside the waistband of the biker's pants, 
careful to reconstruct the biker's actions.  His hand was too large 
to squeeze inside, so he unbuckled the belt and undid the top 
buttons of the fly.  Gingerly he reached inside and extracted the 
hard cock.  Although it was not impressively large, Jack's fingers 
detected a foreskin stretched tight against the cockhead.  Jack put 
his finger in his mouth and returned it with lubricating spit.  He 
slowly pulled the foreskin forward with one hand and managed to get 
a finger of his other inside the skin, although it was a tight fit. 
 The skin stretched a little allowing his finger to circle the 
globe inside.  His other hand released the skin and lowered to cup 
the heavy balls still inside the shorts, massaging them gently.

His own cock surprisingly was responding and lengthened along his 
pant-leg against the biker's butt.  He felt the biker slide back 
farther trapping the cock between them.  Gradually Jack began 
stroking the biker's cock, starting slow and increasing the tempo, 
just like he did when he beat his own meat.  The biker began to 
squirm a little and Jack feared about his driving for a minute, but 
determined to reciprocate what was obviously the biker's fantasy.  
Jack felt the biker's balls tighten and a rush of cum was gushing 
out of his cock and splattering the vest and Jack's arms with gooey 
spunk.  The bike wavered a bit at the height of the biker's climax, 
but like Jack he was able to control it.  Jack held the cock for a 
few minutes until it was flaccid, then put it back in the shorts, 
buttoned up the fly and buckled the belt.  Then moved his hands 
down to the bikers crotch and cupped his cock and balls.

They were each lost in their own thoughts until they reached the 
outskirts of Jack's town.  The biker stopped the bike, and had Jack 
drive the rest of the way so that instructions would not be 
necessary.  As they drove Jack was glad the streets were pretty 
well deserted as the biker cupped his cock and balls as he had 
done.  When they arrived at the apartment, Jack invited the biker 
in for a drink.  As they sat on the only two chairs in the place, 
Jack said.

"I really appreciate you bringing me all the way home.  I know it 
must be out of your way."

The biker looked at him for a minute, then stood up and walked over 
to Jack's chair and said "but I haven't really brought you all the 
way, yet!"  With that he knelt between Jack's legs, undid his 
pants, pulled out his cock and put it in his mouth.  As Jack leaned 
back in his chair, he wondered if he was really going to make it in 
to work tomorrow afterall.