A Bike for a Bang!

Rosa and Sam go modern (in a film, music and literature fanatic fashion).

This is my entry for the 2016 Nude Day Contest. Thank you to J_R_Ashunwhy for being my pair of editing eyes. You were a huge help.

I hope dear reader you will enjoy this story as much as it was fun to write. This Episode of Sam and Rosa lies outside of their usual universe and chain of events. I was just in the mood to let them have some unrelated set adventure for a change. May we begin?

*

Bird of Night

Cover my eyes with your pinions
Dark bird of night
Spread your black wings like a turkey strutting
Drag your strong wings like a cock grouse drumming
Scratch the smooth flesh of my belly
With scaly claws
Dip with your beak to my lips
But cover my eyes with your pinions.

Hemingway (Chicago, 1921)

*

When you reach the age of 25 to 35, it comes naturally that you accumulate some life experience. Like it or not those experiences leave their scars and marks. For me an especially harrowing year meant I moved from one coast to the other. You know fresh start and all. I dipped my toes into new waters and willed myself to claim new roads to conquer. I am stubborn like that. And with me came my beloved old lady: 220 kg of steel, 5 gears, 885 cc, and a top speed of 125 mph. She is indeed a wonder of thunder and so I named her accordingly -- The Flying Boop. I know, I know. I got the best named machine this side of the equator. Slow down on the stroking, we get to even more orgasm worthy things later, I promise. As you will see I am the Queen of fucking everything. I even have a teacup to prove it. (Author's note: Rosa really does. Check my profile picture and weep.) Boop --Oop- a -Doop...

Now fast forward to this morning. It's Saturday, the forecast gives me a thumps up to hit the roads, and so it is that I am off to my local Biker's meet. I put on my leather pants, black smooth leather coat, boots, gloves, and pin my hair up. One last look into the mirror: Yep that looks exactly how I want it to. You see I am a tad bit of an exhibitionist, there is nothing like the feel of genuine leather in direct contact with your skin. As soon as spring comes I ditch all underwear.

I like to be seen, I like to tease and I love to induce minds. Imagine the whole glory of me boys: soft molds stirring with an aching hunger when the heat of the engine ascends. You may drool and get that tongue ready for some action. I am a hippie at heart, and the first to request and follow suit to every call of:"Free the Girls!" I may act so at any given moment, and when I do I really am doing my fellow male bikers a huge favour - let it be noted that even I am in love with my curves! So I grab my helmet, start my machine, and let the calm enter me.

Like I said, I have been through tough times recently, but on my bike via hitting the highway I find the only way to retreat from my daily troubles. As soon as I put my helmet on, it is just me and the man made forces of steel and tarmac against the might of nature. There is nothing that feels as freeing as putting myself against the howling winds, or the rain that seek to unsettle, when nature rips and pushes at our physical body at high velocity while an endless sky, a magnificent horizon, stretches over us. And does not therein lie the joy of man? To actually feel nature with all his senses, to know that there is the danger it could undo him, and yet we stand against it, revel in the struggle to resist and find our true selves. We discover an age old instinct to stay alive and be better, to win against all odds. And goodness knows I do need to win some.

Saturday, roundabout early afternoon, and I swerve into my spot and push up my visor. On a side note: am I the only immature soul that just has to think of Geordi LaForge whenever the term 'visor' comes up? Damn you Gene Roddenberry for brainwashing and penetrating, (I am not even going for that pun, shame on you if you did,) my innocent mind at the tender age of five back in 1987. Just me? Oh well, I will take that badge with honour, I am proud of my roots, or am at least pretending to be.

Today is a special day for there has been a bit of a disagreement. The guys get a monthly dudes only night and we women, asked to have our own, which has been met with the expected ridicule and mocking from the "I am so male I am sprouting extra penises" crowd, who actually believe we girls just could not have fun without some male input. I don't think I need to mention I know how to have fun with women. Ladies have an intimate mental and physical understanding of each other that few men can hope to reach. I wonder if I still have that hot blonde Rosamond Pike lookalike's number somewhere.

None of us were even willing to deign the cavemen grunts with an answer, but we did go to see the hide out's Guru, and owner of our retreat. He has a good soul, a passion for women and one or two brain cells above average going for him, and he came up with an interesting idea. We would play for the right, by way of a bet. What kind of bet, he is to reveal today, and I am pretty excited.

I do my round of meet and greets, get a cold beer, and light myself a Gaulois Brune. Nearly all the regulars have assembled, and Pete the Guru is mysteriously busy behind his counter. He catches my eye and grins. I raise an amused eyebrow as he emerges from his den to the outside area and whistles loudly. Silence ensues.

"Welcome to our special little meeting Ladies and Bikers. I will cut the sweet talk short. I have come up with a fantastic idea to solve our little issue. I will not spill what it is until a stand in candidate for each of the opposing sides has been chosen to battle for their win. Once chosen there will be no exchanges. If one gives up the other side takes it by default. I have here, two little baskets with all regulars and old-timers names who promised to appear today. I will pick one at random from each. Once called, the person in question will step into my den and await further instructions. I have upped the game, for my idea is an onerous task, and will take every skill our candidates can possibly use. I will set my new Bike, a Guzzi V9, for the winner to use at free will whenever he or she wishes. Now, now, don't worry I will tell everyone what the challenge is after the candidates get their info. Shall we get to it?"

Pete rubbed his hands, grabbed into the first basket and retrieved a paper slip.

"Well well. Excellent. Rosa Big O'Smuttegan. Up here, now!"

Of course the murmurs started immediately. The women whispered me good luck wishes while the guys jeered and catcalled. I pushed through the crowd past Pete, and let all know how I was going to take this by completing a humorous bow. I can't believe I am the one to get to fight for this. Marvelous! I will make sure it's going to be lots of fun. As I passed Pete I whispered: "You sure you didn't put my name on all of these?"

He just winked, and as I entered the den, he called for silence so I couldn't hear what happened next. I walked up to the back window. On the window sill stood a couple of cacti which I had gifted to Pete when I was a newbie in town. We had named them Stan and Laurel, because he was a huge film freak. They were well cared for and had grown quite a bit since I last saw them. I couldn't help but wonder who was going to be my adversary, and how Pete would choose to match us against one another. Minutes passed as I remained standing by the window in anticipation. There was a knock, and the door opened. I answered without turning around yet. "Come on in. Margarita is awaiting Sir Lucifer Morningstar."

A pause then: "Margarita? Witty choice, though I have to admit I am rather fond of our old name for you Miss Pussy Galore. No doubt it still suits you. "

You know those moments when a million things seem to happen all at once in your mind? This was one of these. I felt steam-rolled, angry, surprised, unbelieving, elated, and was cursing the universe all at once. In the end, I just laughed at the impossibility of the situation. You simply have to, to survive the storms of life. Everyone has this one person in their history, the one woman or man that completely changed you in every possible way --good and bad- and here was mine walking into a place approximately 3000 miles from where we had last met. I mean what are the chances? It must be bloody carnival in both paradise and hell. "You have to be fucking kidding me." I sighed, unable to stop my slip.

I finally turned and saw him standing in his old cocky fashion in the doorway. He was looking at me with an enigmatic expression. The chemistry was still there, he felt it, too. And there was a hint of insecurity. Truly marvelous. Somehow neither of us found the words to follow this first encounter.

Pete appeared and ushered us to the bar after closing the door behind him. He looked exceedingly pleased. Note to self -- need to have a word with good old Pete about cheating and playing jokes. "Congratulations you two for being chosen! I was going to introduce you to each other, but one look is enough to tell me that would be unnecessary. That is quite an unexpected touch. I assure you both my hands are clean, although it will make things much more interesting. A lot more I daresay."

Pah, Pete's never clean. Pete had turned positively radiant at this point and gestured for us to come closer. Both Sam and I moved to the bar and sat beside each other. I could smell him and I knew he too felt me in many sensual ways as he let his hand touch mine.

"Let us cut straight to the point. You two are to fight for victory, though Sam is no regular any longer, I admitted him to play as an old visiting friend who used to frequent here. I am dying to know how you two of all people know each other although thinking about it, doesn't seem so surprising. But for now this is your task. Each of you will try to make the other orgasm first. For the lady, both ways count. You may use whatever you deem necessary: skills, tools, tricks, words. It's up to you. Like I explained earlier, if one of you gives up by free will they lose by default. Serve yourself with drinks and food as you see fit. I will set a time limit of four hours that gives you plenty of time to enjoy."

You have to know that both, me and Pete, are very tolerant, open people. And we just love and live kink. Sometimes we watch vintage porn, and do drinking games along with it. For example: one big sip for each mention of a guy saying from under his 70s 'stache: "Yes go put my humungous cock in that pussy of yours," and another for every woman's ditzy: "I am dying if I cannot fuck right now". This is to be read in the appropriate voices of course. Or downing a shot for each time anyone moans in exaggeration, or says "big (insert random here)". The usual mate stuff.

Pete's little side business is selling, creating, and using sex toys, or whatever your fetish mind could dream of. I got myself a thing or two from him. So his offer of tools was meant literal. I knew where he had samples stocked around here. I should have known he would cook up something like this. Now Sam, and Sam and me... we will come to that soon enough.

Pete was openly grinning now, but Sam looked stone faced trying to hide his called for need to show off his skills, which amused me greatly. Sam noted my glance and broke into a genuine smile as I was putting up my grim "I will win or die" attitude face. Oh boy. I need a drink. We both do (time to start tactics!).

Looks like the bet's on.

A few minutes later I was behind the bar mixing two Martinis, filled two shot glasses with Dickel, and set them on the counter. Sam was watching me still in silence.

"To the hands of fate I guess." I rose my glass, and willfully caught his eye.

He nodded and we drank. I lit another cig. It was like no time had passed at all. 'I am so screwed', I thought.

"You should have given up the smokes as I requested you to do." Pot calling kettle.

His voice betrayed a hint of sadness as I blew into the air like a true Parisian.

"You left me no address or way to contact you. I missed you." He continued.

"Nothing has changed then. You still don't love me. I did what I needed to."

"Fair enough. You always were strong willed."

We were holding each other's gaze in a silent battle. I hated how he sat there all calm and evaluating as if he was an uninvolved witness. As a woman of passion I wear my heart on my sleeve. Half conscious I tried to gain some self control. What better way than by applying tactics that will also soothe myself - getting emotional irritates him so I started to hum.

'Set your heart sail on the river / Look around you as you drift downstream / Pouring souls into the ocean / Take account of all you've seen ...'

He began to sing along with me. "One heart's for love, One's for giving; Two hearts are better Than one; I hearing it; I living it; I believe in it; Two hearts are better Than one."

He still knew how to get to me, of course. I stopped as he stood and walked to stand beside me, grabbed my hip and turned me to face him. His hands stayed, trapping me in an inescapable, but protective hold. His tenor sounded gentle as he whispered, drawing closer to my face: "Don't try to fool me Rosa. You are way too smart to convince me you would believe in simplistic assumptions."

"You left me no choice. I was never going to get you talk straight and honest."

"There is no straight answer to what you wished to know."

"Then you should have admitted that at the very least - you could have said anything real instead of coming up with excuses for not wanting to face, what I suspect, you fear to find out. You fancy yourself to be something so unattainably special, an alpha male peacock, but really you are just a tooting turkey, and sooner or later, you will end up on someone's dinner table. Plucked and served with mint on top. You are still running from me Sam, you always were. And worse, you run from yourself. It won't work forever. I know. Trust me I do. I worry for you." With genuine sympathy. Yours, truly.

He was about to reply, but I cut him off. It just came flooding out of me. Let's just say, the past year has been pretty repressive and it took a lot of self control to just make it through. Sam was like a bottle opener for an overflowing beer he brewed himself. He broke out in fake laughter. He was a lot, but no decent actor.

"Tootin turkey? Oh sweetheart, is that the best you can come up with?"

"You know better than asking, too. You were a good teacher." I replied half smiling.

I had nailed him; increased cockiness usually meant I actually got through to him. Curious, I think I touched down on gold in more than one way. For me it was clear in this moment, even if only for the fragment of a second that I was running, too, still. And now we had a last chance to stop. Would we dare take it?

However I needed to stay on task; the girls counted on me. I blinked and the moment was gone. Now is the right timing to enter the game full force. I knew my adversary was strong, and I had to act quickly for the tiniest of advantages. I pulled him in by the collar of his shirt and entered into a ferocious kiss. He didn't struggle, nor answer at once, but let himself be served with my unchanged passion, dedication and intent.

I am accomplished at the art of kissing if I may say so myself; it made sense for a hedonist Dandy like him to enjoy fully what he knew was a rare gift. I parted his lips with my tongue sliding over each from side to side in long tender strokes. He reluctantly submitted and loosened his teeth, but not without pulling my body towards his crotch by grabbing my bum with a force between pain and pleasure. His free arm seethed my upper back into a tight gridlock. Battle of the Giants; tongue against tongue, and we only just started with our seven circles of hell and unknown paradise beyond; if we survived. Splendid! We both love a good challenge.

After minutes of tantalizing the living hell out of each other, Sam took control by lifting me up and sitting me on top of the bar. He was so tall his grey preying eyes were still a bit above my eye line. Good god I had suppressed how it felt to be in this exact constellation. I have to be much more careful. In the meantime, Lucifer had reached for his Martini and was sipping it laissez faire. His face gave away that his mind was working at full calculation on how to take me as fast yet as effectively enjoyable as possible for himself. Enjoyable for him, isn't what you think it is. I had to counter fast or wave the white flag in disgrace. Not gonna happen.

I opened the upper part of my coat, and retrieved my lighter and a coin that were resting between my bare cleavage. I tossed the coin a couple of times before he snatched it from the air.

"I see you are still loyal to the old ways. I wouldn't lose what little clothes you have too fast if I were you."

"Not intending to Pierrot. Who knows what else I am hiding in here."

He smirked. "Training your muscles I hope."

"Care to find out?"

"You still owe me one punishment for being a bigmouth."

"You owe me lots more than one if you want to go down that route."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Are you actually concerned?"

"You are doing pretty well for yourself so far. What have you been up to?"

"Wouldn't you love to know? Toss the coin. If you get heads I may tell you."

"Touché sweetheart. I think we both remember what happened the last time we played Poker. You took down three of us. That would put me in disadvantage, no doubt. I have learned to not trust you too easily when you are stubborn to get what you want."

"It was worth a try. Eventually one of us has to or we will be stuck here much longer than four hours." I wasn't entirely sure I would mind.

We were back to battling with our minds through an intense exchange of gazes. I hopped down from the counter, started to make my way to Pete's naughty corner, and signed for Sam to follow. "Let's make a deal. Each of us gets to choose two helpful little things."

"I decline. You know I don't need them."

There it was, his legendary smugness untainted by time and circumstance. To be dug up in thousands of years still intact. I wanted to kiss and then slap him. With a wet cold trout. At least some things never change.

"Instead I get to suggest what we try in case we get stuck."

His words were barely spoken when we both laughed out loud in unison. It was too good.

"Or I get to say how we start off."

"Fine by me." That was a bit careless of me as I would soon see. I grabbed a bundle of ropes. "My choice."

"That only counts as one. Don't try to play like the big boys Rosa. You will find yourself walking on fire." His tone was relaxed. What the hell was his plan? Or did he just intend to rely on his sort of imagined superpowers? I watched him from the corner of my eye and saw him raise an eyebrow. Ok then, fight it is.

I clarified:"I have made my second choice. You will see when it gets put into action." He shrugged, but I had an ace up my sleeve, too.

Sam walked up to me from behind like a wildcat. Before I managed more than to let go of my ropes, he had half shoved, half pushed my cheek onto a wall. His strong arms pulled my hands up above my head together to be then held in a steel grip of his left hand, against the cold stone. His right opened the front of my simple leather pants with blind yet skilled expertise, and then pushed them down.

"My, oh my Rosa, you are dripping. Did you finally get rid of all your lingerie? You never cease to amaze me."

Okay, I guess it is time to admit that the moment I first heard his voice again, my treacherous pussy galore decided to go on a mutiny and sacrifice all to our sworn enemy. What can I say, I am a sucker for a certain type of voice control, and Sam was the almighty god of it. Hey we all have our weak spots. I sure wasn't going to present the fact on a silver plate to him.