Date: Mon, 7 Sep 2015 13:43:10 -0400
From: user459@mail.com
Subject: Meg's bike 11

 Thanks for all you emails and positive comments.  My chapters have been
short, but I hope they have kept you entertained.  This story evolved from
a real life situation that turned into a fantasy that has played out on the
pages of Nifty.

Please help keep NIFTY alive by donating here:  http://donate.nifty.org/
donate.html

Now I have to tell you something you may not believe, but it's the only
true part of the whole story.

Yesterday evening, about 6:00 pm, I came home from being out.  I drove my
car into the shop and started to do some odd jobs, like putting away tools.
I had left the garage door open and, when I looked out the window, there
was the inspiration for this story, riding by on the sidewalk in front of
my house!  She looked right at me and I said hello.  She returned the
greeting and continued riding.  I swear, her riding was as unsteady as I
reported here earlier, and her knees came up too far when she pedaled.  The
handle bars to way too low for her, too.   As a result, she was all over
the place, wobbling and veering wildly, almost out of control.

She disappeared down the street and left me standing at the entrance to my
garage, sporting the beginnings of a boner.  I had to reach down and adjust
it.  Ok, I wasn't really adjusting it, I was giving it a squeeze and a rub.
I went back to cleaning up the shop, but every few minutes, I went back out
into the driveway and looked down the street to see if she was coming back.


I had just about resigned myself to my fantasy and the fact that she wasn't
coming back, when she appeared in the street.  She haltingly rode her bike
up my driveway apron and onto the sidewalk in front of my house, passing it
and riding back down into the street on my neighbor's driveway apron.  As
she rode back in front of my house, I took the bold step of walking closer
to the street.  She said," Hi," again and looked straight at me.

"Would you like me to adjust your bike?" I said.  She stopped, straddling
her bike and looked down at it.

"I guess so," she said.  Now that I was closer to her, I could see her
long, smooth, white legs.  She was a cute girl, even with her bike helmet
on.

"Have you had it long?" I asked.

"No," she replied, "just since last April."  That must have been shortly
after they moved in.

"You must have grown a lot since then," I said, "I thought maybe it was you
little sister's bike."  She smiled and seemed to warm up to me.  I stepped
closer and saw that her bike seat had one of those flip levers to flip open
to tighten the seat height adjustment.  I flipped it open and noticed it
was not gripping the shaft very tightly and had allowed the seat to sink to
its low position.

"I tried adjusting it before, but it always slides back down," she told me.
I could see why.  Those who are not familiar with that hardware might not
realize that they have to be tightened up to take up the slack before they
are flipped closed.  She marveled as I raised the seat, tightened the
flipper, and secured it in place.

She was delighted at the new seat height and got on the bike.  I really
wanted to put my fingers between the seat and her crotch, but didn't have
the nerve, especially out there in public, in my driveway.  I did, however,
manage to get a hand on her nice round butt.  She had tight white short
shorts on and I felt some bare thigh as my hand steadied her on the bike.

 "Now reach for the handlebars," I instructed.  They were so low in
relation to the seat it was almost comical.

"They can't be adjusted," she informed me.  I was aware that many people
thought that because the method of adjusting them is not obvious to those
unfamiliar with a bike's anatomy.

"I'll be right back," I said, and went into the garage to get some tools.  I
got an allen wrench and a hammer.  I came back and deftly loosened the
allen- headed screw on the top of the handlebar tube.  After I turned it
out a few turns, I tapped it with the hammer to release the internal
mechanism that held it in place.  The bars then were able to be raised to
an acceptable height.  I had her try them and then tightened up the allen
screw once more.

"Are the bars too far away for you?" I asked.  I had noticed she was
leaning into them a little too much.

"Yes," she said, "but they can't be adjusted."  I just smirked and used the
allen wrench to loosen the clamp around the bars.

"Now pull back on them," I instructed.  She did and got this astonished
look on her face when they moved to a comfortable position.  I tightened
them back up.

You may have been wondering how I knew so much about bicycles.  I never had
a new bike until I was well into my thirties.  Growing up in a rural area
and in a family of limited means; I made do with what I had.  Pieces and
parts became bicycles.  I grew intimately familiar with their workings.  I
became mechanically gifted through necessity.

"Take a test ride and let me know how that feels," I told her.  She rode
off, much like Meg in the story, confident and comfortable.  I didn't see
her make the turn, but she came back to my driveway.

We made some small talk once she assured me that the adjustments were to
her liking and then she left.  I went back into the shop with a head full
of fantasy and my shorts full of half-hard cock.

This morning she was riding again.  I saw her weave in and out of driveways
down the street until she came my way.  I waved to her and she pedaled over
to me.

"Thanks for fixing my bike," she said.

"You're welcome," I replied.  That's all I could manage to get out.  The
next time I see her I'm going to invite her back to get her bike lubed and
tuned up.  For real.


True story.

(Next chapter will be back to fantasy.)