Night Rider

I hear him a block away,
His Harley rumbling, throbbing,
A low, guttural growl,
Making me clench in anticipation.

I’m already at the window
As he knows I will be.
A cool breeze tickles my naked skin.

He pulls up under the streetlight
And looks straight at my bedroom.
I feel his hot gaze bore into my core
Even though the lights are off
And he can’t possibly see me.

Again I wonder,
“Who is this man?”

He shuts down the bike,
Climbs off,
Leans casually against it.
He doesn’t remove his helmet.
If he did that, I might recognize him.

I hold my breath
as he begins his show.

If I were a little closer
I could hear the zipping sound.
But I’m close enough to see him
Pull his cock through the opening.
Halfway hard.

I like it that way.
I like to watch it grow.

The next step is the lube.
It’s part of the ritual.
He pulls it from his jacket pocket
And grins at me as he lubes up.
What a tease.

The blood flows through his penis,
Making it stiffen, swell, seduce.
Now it’s hard. And it’s wet.
Glistening under the streetlight.
And I’m wet, too.

He spreads his legs
And I spread mine.

He slowly moves his hand
Up and down his shaft.
I slowly move my hand,
Brushing my pussy lips.
My other hand is flicking one nipple.

His fist is wrapped around his cock.
I know he’s thinking about me,
Picturing me playing with myself
With my eyes fixed on him.

From the base to the head
Slowly
All the way up.
All the way down.
All the way up.
All the way down.

I wish I were close enough to hear
The slick sound of his lubed hand
As it brushes over the ridge around his head.

My fingers dip into my vagina,
Lubing up with my own wetness.
I caress my inner folds
Keeping in time with his slow massage.

He switches to fast strokes,
His right hand jacking up and down his cock head,
Just playing with the tip.
His head tilts back, eyes closed, mouth open.
I can tell it feels good to him.
I wish it were my hand
Making him feel that way.
.
I move my hand to my clit,
Twirling it around with two fingers,
Matching his tempo.
Fast swirls that cause ripples inside me.
I pinch one nipple, then the other.

He’s back to slow strokes.
I slide one finger in and out of my pussy.
Then two fingers. That’s enough. Just right.
I feel my slick wetness as I finger fuck myself.
A moan escapes me.
I think he hears it because he looks up at my dark window.

I hear him groan
As one hand plays with his head
And his other hand plays with his balls through his jeans.
I wish I could suck them into my mouth.
I wonder if they’re shaved.

He’s looking me straight in the eyes.
I want him to
fucking
cum
for me.

I’m so close myself,
Legs spread, knees bent,
Bobbing up and down on my own hand,
My tits jiggling in time.
I wish it were his hand on my tits,
I wish it were his fingers in my pussy.

I hear his grunts and groans –
my god, that’s so sexy.
His cum shoots in the air,
Spurting towards me.
Sends me over the edge.
My orgasm goes on and on,
My voice rising with each wave,
Ohh, ohh, ohh, ohhh…

I slump against the windowsill,
Breathing hard,
Deliciousness through every muscle,
Every nerve, every limb.
Too weak to move.

When I look up, he’s putting himself away.
He gives me a smirk and a salute.
Climbs back on his bike.
It roars to life.
One more look at my window and he takes off,
His rumbling dying away in the distance.

Again I wonder,
“Who are you?”
Will you come back tomorrow?