HOT WIFE

For some women enough is never too much. A testosterone-fuelled teen. A horny older woman who should know better. A cheap motel room. Christmas & New Year all rolled into one for fornicators. One thing about full-face motor cycle helmets they don't tell you in the sales hype: they hide a multitude of sins…and your identity. The motel was a cheap and part-way out of town. Most importantly it was the first one we found as we cruised on his Harley Sportster. It was… (more)

For some women enough is never too much. A testosterone-fuelled teen. A horny older woman who should know better. A cheap motel room. Christmas & New Year all rolled into one for fornicators. One thing about full-face motor cycle helmets they don't tell you in the sales hype: they hide a multitude of sins…and your identity. The motel was a cheap and part-way out of town. Most importantly it was the first one we found as we cruised on his Harley Sportster. It was his graduation and 18th birthday present all rolled into one. I'd known Matt since he was a kid. He'd seen me loading my car in a shopping mall parking lot, stopped to show me his new ride, then offered to take me for one. I hadn't been on a Harley since before I was married. I had great sex with the guy who owned it. Being 'one with the machine' through the curves was neat too. But at that point in my life, the sex was more important than zen. He was older than me by a few years, and married. He knew what he was doing with women in bed. Especially young ones. He was hung like a horse. Any wife with a husband like that has to know he can't keep it zipped up. I was sure other chicks' butts polished the passenger seat of his Harley when I wasn't on it. I didn't care. He gave me what I wanted. And all my friends were jealous. Whatever, he was a great older lover. And he had a great bike too. Thinking back about it suddenly got me wet, which I really hadn't expected while out shopping for a few extra groceries. We walked over to the Sportster. Two big low-revving chromed pots in a 'V' on wheels. A sexy young mom carrying a toddler on her hip and shopping looked at us. I smiled. I was wearing short ragged cut-offs, flip-flops and a check shirt tied at the waist. My hair was easy-care, Vegas hooker style, ragged-cut bottle blond. The only thing missing was an ankle chain with 'BBC' on it. A sure sign I was trawling for big black cock. She could have easily mistaken me for MILF trailer trash who'd just picked up a guy half her age for a roll in the hay. But I could tell from the instant longing in this little cutie's baby blues, if she could have left her kid in a crèche for an hour she would have joined us in the barn for a quickie, no question. Matt was the kind of sexy hunk, moms young and old just love to fuck; only Harleys aren't built for three. "Where do you want to go?" he asked. "Baja California." "Sun, sand, and telenovellas." "You got it, kid. And we never come back." "Mom'll get mad if I'm not home for dinner. There's family coming over." He's 18, got his first Harley and picking up women old enough to be his mother, but mom'll get mad if he's not back for sweet corn and grits. Mothers, you have to love 'em! But as I knew his mother very well, she truly would be royally pissed off if I took her son to Baja California and never came back. "Okay," I said. "So our revised destination is the next best thing." "Where's that?" "Down the road apiece." "How far?" "We'll know when we get there." The young mom watched us over the top of her parked car as we mounted his chromed steed. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed everything he craved against his masculine back, he tweaked the throttle and we were off with a flatulent rumble. Wind, sun, Harley snarl....And most importantly of all for a woman (of any age) - irresistibly stimulating vibrations between her legs.