Bikers Ride Free - Love Your Body

Tannah and Greg have not only a bit of an age gap but have completely different lifestyles. She is a copywriter that in her free time writes smut for an adult fiction site. His life is on his motorcycle. They do hit a few bumps in the road of course. Expect more in the future from these two.

As always, I wrote this for lots of sexy fun and titillation, but it does include an important message about poor body image.

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This is one of my two entries for the National Nude Day Nude Day Story Contest 2023 . I hope you love them and will VOTE FOR ME!

xo DG

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BIKERS RIDE FREE - LOVE YOUR BODY

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"Keep at it."

Three simple words that would turn my life upside down.

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Typically, I wouldn't pay any attention to others while at the gym. I was there to work out. I'm not unfriendly, I just like to focus on my workouts because I tend to be willy-nilly.

I searched for the owner of the voice and found him four feet away and chugging along on the stationary bike. He smiled and I immediately became self-conscious about my faded red Cleveland Indians t-shirt and snagged knit yoga pants. What the hell, Tannah!

"Ugh, I try. I just need to get organized when I'm here. I wander from machine to machine otherwise."

Where did all that come from? I'm usually a woman of few words. Not chatty. It had to be the friendly smiling face amidst the full grey streaked beard and long curly hair.

He kept pumping and said, "As long as we're here and doing something, we're ahead of everyone else that isn't here."

I thought for a moment. "True." It did somehow make me feel superior.

He smiled. "That made you feel better didn't it."

I laughed. "Right again." I'd run out of small talk, but my legs weren't moving me away. "I guess I better get back at it."

He nodded and smiled.

Get your ass moving, Tannah.

Walking away, I noted the time on my Apple.

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The man with the flowing silver locks and silver beard kept violating my thoughts while I tried to write. I earn a living through the art of composing mundane copy, but like Superman's transformative change in a phone booth, I ascend to the throne as the queen of all things risqué in my alternate persona.

My salacious thoughts about him invaded my work, and that was a bad thing because it was the job that paid the bills. I needed to move him out of there and into my raunchy story-writing time.

I flopped on the sofa with my snacks. I was always more curvaceous and had to be mindful of not wavering into the fat lane, so my snacks were doubtful to most.

I dunked the baby carrot into the fat-free blah dip and licked it off the tip while wondering what it was about this guy. He is older than me. But then I tended to be attracted to older men. But a bearded long haired older man would be a first.

"Ooof." A big ball of orange fluff jumped and landed directly on my stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of me. "Willow, you always manage to land in the worst places." She could have cared less and was busy sniffing out my snack. "You don't eat carrots." As much as to say, you're right, yech, without even a purr she jumped down and pranced away.

I nibbled on the carrot while contemplating my immediate attraction to him at the gym. I considered the negatives. He did have a belly, like a too-much-beer kind of belly. On the other hand, he was there working on that. Along with better health. So that con just turned into a pro.

He was soft-spoken and friendly. Not exactly a turn off. He seemed to be a big man, although it was hard to tell since he was sitting on the bike.

Get with it Tannah! I tossed the dip and carrots back in the fridge and sat at my computer. A glaring white screen met my gaze and challenged my creative powers.

An hour later I powered through distractions and got my paid work done so I could now concentrate on my fun-- writing dirty stories.

I had two follow-up chapters in the works, yet I started a new story about a complete stranger I met at the gym. Kill me now.

One thing about my style of writing is I can let the whims of my imagination spirit me to another realm. What-if fantasies become reality on the page. You can shape and mold a person into the perfect character for the context. There is no compromise - it may get ugly getting there, but happy endings are a requirement. Even in erotica.

Just to banish him from my thoughts, the next four hours revolved around the bearded stranger. He now had a name, a job, friends, and lovers. It was the twilight hours when I closed my laptop and went to bed, satisfied that I had him pigeonholed and stashed him away. For good.

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The next day he was there on the same bike as before at the same time. I didn't know if he was warming up for the weight machines, or if that was his exercise. He again wore an oversized stretched-out t-shirt, but today it was olive green.

While I checked in, I had a chance to look him over. He was a big guy. Taller than I thought. His hair was longer. Well pirals went halfway down his back and a blue Van Zandt bandanna was on his head. It was difficult to pinpoint his age other than he was definitely older than me.

He pumped slowly but was sweating, meaning he had the resistance up. He meant business at the gym. I liked that. He wasn't just another hopeful face at the gym scoping the girls out. I hated that.

I rebelled against totally dressing up to work out and decided on nicer gym clothes. Just so as not to be ridiculous about the whole thing. Dark violet knit tank and black shorts. I was too old and too curvy to be wearing sports bras and midriff exposing anything.

"Still at it," I said, smiling and hopping on the bike next to him.

"We are!" He seemed pleased to see me, which gave me a little thrill.

We pedaled in silence, while we watched the television screen mounted on the ceiling. Daytime shows and all-day news. Neither held my interest.

"Time to hit the showers," he said, swiping a towel over his face.

Do you need help?

He swung his leg over the bike and stood up. He was much taller than I'd first thought, and he did have a belly. Not to the point of ridiculous, but I was glad he was working on it for his health's sake.

I smiled. "Have a good one." I tried to hide my disappointment.

He nodded. "It really was nice seeing you again," he winked, tapped the seat of the bike with his knuckles, and walked away.

Why did I feel so bereft at that moment?

An absolute unknown says hello, then goes about his day. Nothing unusual or unfair in that. Tannah, get over it.

I finished my workout. In some form of weird self-punishment, even knowing I'd pay for it later, I doubled up on all the weights and routines.

Fortunate to work remotely, I got my copy work done and had the rest of the day to create some indecent fiction. I loved to write and was thrilled when people were entertained by them. It's a good feeling for a writer to know they are connected with their readers. That their common interest, x-rated as it is, brought them together if only for a brief time.

I had those that waited for a story to be published and read it immediately, some that read each story chapter religiously, and I had some that popped in and out, reading whatever titillated them. I received praise, but criticism more than balanced it out. I used what I could to better my writing, the rest I ignored.

I just finished the first edit and decided to text my bestie.

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Me: hey what r u doing

Jo: working what else do i ever do

Me: i met someone

Jo: really?????

I wasn't known for dating around in my group of friends, so this was cause for shock or celebration to them.

Me: not really. we just talked. at the gym.

Jo: u don't sound enthused?

Me: oh i am. just hes older and different

Jo: different???

Jo: wait lets talk about this tonight???

Me: k

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Jo was the family I didn't have. I'm an only and my parents both died in a car accident. I met her when I was an in-house copy editor. I left to freelance, and she stayed.

I knew she'd want to talk about it, but I didn't think I was ready to verbalize it. Being in my mind and on the screen might be enough for now.

I started a new smut story about a young couple newly in love and both virgins. As far from my current story as possible.

That night Jo called, and although I was ashamed of myself, I let it ring through to voicemail.

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The next day I wrote and looked forward to the gym. As I checked in, I scanned the gym, but he wasn't there. Bummed, I went to store my bag in the lockers. Just as I passed the men's locker, he came around the corner and we collided with a thud.

He immediately reached out to steady me. "Sorry, I need to look first," he apologized. Then when he saw who it was, he smiled broadly.

"You're leaving," I said inanely, and I was sure that, although I tried, I couldn't hide my disappointment. I breathed in his spicy just showered scent.

"I am. I have to go pick something up before the store closes." I nodded. "Hey, you wouldn't want to go along. Keep me company maybe."

So here I am thinking about going somewhere with a stranger. Didn't even know his name. He could be a serial killer for all I knew. But would a serial killer work out in a gym?

"Sure," I smiled. I'm sure they wouldn't. They'd be busy planning their next victim, not worried about their health.

"Great! I'll lock your gym bag in my locker since we'll have to come back to pick up your car."

"Okay!" I replied agreeably to a possible serial killer. Stop it, Tannah!

As we walked out the door he said, "We don't even know each other's names." He laughed. "I'm Greg."

"Might be nice yeah," I laughed. "I'm Tannah."

He led me to a big shiny black and chrome motorcycle. Oh shit. I've never ridden on a motorcycle. I don't know how to do it. I'm twenty-eight years old and I've never ridden a fucking motorcycle. Ohmygod ohmygod. What a loser.

Don't panic, Tannah.

"You've never been on a bike," he said, reading my mind. I shook my head. "You'll do great. I have a helmet for you. I'll get on first, you get on behind me and just lean with me and hang on!"

I inwardly cringed but did as he told me. He fired it up and the engine went into a low deep loud growl that chattered my teeth. I had my hands on each side of his waist and he pulled them all the way around him.

Which plastered my front to his back and leaned me more forward on the seat. Which, as we roared away, had a lot of vibration.

We pulled up to the first stoplight and he turned his head and said, "You okay, Tannah?"

I nodded; the helmet felt heavy on my neck and my head wobbled. Okay, I'm doing more than okay, I thought. I got a vibrating seat between my legs, and I'm glued to a hunk's back with my arms around him.

Intimacy extraordinaire with all our clothes on. Holy freakin' crap.

The air streaming by, the sun directly on my skin, the deep resonance of the motor, the warm body I was clutching, his hair flying in the wind with the spicy scent of his shampoo, had all my senses on high alert. I wanted to ride forever, but to my frustration, he slowed to turn into an auto parts store.

We stopped and I dropped my arms, not knowing what I should do. Then I remembered I had to get on last, so I knew I had to be first off. Like a pro, I swung my leg over and stood next to the bike.

He smiled and asked, "So how was your first motorcycle ride?"

I grinned, and nearly bounced. "I loved it!" Coy was never in my DNA.

He laughed. "I'm glad. I'll run in. Won't be long and we'll get back on the road."

True to his word it was only minutes he was back out with a small box that he stashed in one of the small black leather saddle bags.

"Would you be interested in stopping for a sandwich?" he asked, and I nodded.

I felt better when I saw the same relief on his face that I'd been feeling. He was as unsure as me. New relationships could have potholes that we don't expect but had to try to navigate around at the last second.

I didn't notice until now that he wore a form-fitting t-shirt that showed off his physique. He was broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped with thick thighs. His belly wasn't as prominent as when he wore that oversized t-shirt. He was more like me in that we had to watch those few pounds that could trip us up.

I never had the body to be petite and svelte. I had thirty-eight D breasts and curvy hips to match. He was big and was never going to be lean. Perfect, I thought.

We rode further out into the country until we came across a small, battered building. The orange-painted wood siding was chipped and weathered. Spots were blotchy and faded from the sun. There were a few picnic tables with thick layers of chipped dark green paint. The rusted sign over the door said BURGERS and the metal-shaded light above it was rusted and missing the bulb.

I got off the bike and he unlatched the helmet, carefully pulling it off my head. I fluffed up my short curls and stopped myself from looking in the bike mirror to see how bad I looked.

He opened the door and I walked into an atmosphere that was surprisingly bright, scrupulously clean, and friendly.

The silver-haired cook called out from the back. "Greg! Great to see you again my friend."

Greg saluted him and grinned. I looked at the menu board above the window to the kitchen. I gave Greg my order and turned to find our seats.

Most tables were large and were for a small crowd of people. I didn't want to take one of them for just us two. A long blue vinyl banquette lined two short walls and I slid in behind a table for two. Greg could pull up a chair across from me or sit on the booth seat next to me.

He slid in next to me with two longnecks. I felt the heat of his body and shivered.

"You cold?" he asked, putting his arm across my shoulders.

I could be a player when necessary. I nodded and leaned a little more toward his body. He rubbed his hand on my upper arm and held me close.

"They know you."

He nodded. "I've been coming here a long time. That's Bert back there. The BERT part of the burger sign out front fell off long ago." He took a long draw of his beer. "So, tell me, what does Tannah do?"

Oh boy, here we go.

"I'm a copywriter and I write too," I replied in one breath.

"Oh? Anything I'd know?"

I fucking doubt it unless you read nearly porn.

"It's unlikely. Pretty dry stuff." A little private pun, I thought, laughing to myself.

"Ever been married?" He hesitated. "Assuming you're not currently married," he laughed.

"Nope, not now and never have been. Just a few dead-end relationships along the way."

"I hear that," he nodded. "I thought I'd found the love of my life, married her, and she died within a year."

"Oh my god, that's terrible. I'm so sorry."

He nodded. "She was divorced and had three daughters, so I have three step girls. They're young adults and live on their own. But we're close."

"That makes it nice. Keeps you all more connected. A lot of stepchildren get forgotten."

"They're great girls. Always worrying about me," he laughed. "But I appreciate it. Brianna, or Bri, the youngest, gets carried away sometimes. She's overly protective." I laughed.

"They love you."

He nodded, "They do."

Bert brought our hamburgers and French fries and exchanged a few words with Greg. I chilled when he moved his arm to eat.

Bert and Greg exchanged a few words before we walked back out into the brilliant sun.

"It's hot for June," I commented.

"Yes. And early in the month to boot."

Greg strapped on my helmet, got on the bike and I climbed on behind him. The bike roared to life, and I wrapped my arms around him. He patted my hands on his stomach affirmatively.

The ride back was just as thrilling, maybe even more so because I wasn't nervous. We got back to the gym too quickly and went to retrieve our bags. He walked me to my car.

"It was a nice day, Tannah. I really enjoyed your company."

"I had a great time."

I squinted, looking up at him and into the sun. He softly ran his knuckles over my cheek and left.

On the way home I lamented that he hadn't even mentioned it a second time. A date. Nothing. I guess that was it.

I still didn't know how old he was, but if he had adult stepdaughters, he would be older. It didn't make any difference in our day. An age gap wasn't apparent in our conversation today. I can't imagine it ever would. To me. But maybe to him, it would be an issue.

Stop it! Don't overthink, Tannah!

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A new client gave me a load of work under a deadline, and I worked twelve hours a day for two days to get it done. No fun smut. No workouts. Nothing but work.

With relief, I turned it in with time to spare, and accolades from the client. Which made my boss very happy, which made me very happy.

Not much time to think about Greg, and when I did, I put him right back out of my mind. Also, I didn't harbor any grandiose fantasies of what our future would look like.

I was an hour later than my normal time at the gym and I noticed that he wasn't there. I figured he altered his time to avoid me as well, so it all worked out. I stashed my gym bag in the locker and went to the back of the gym to the leg machines.

"Finally!" I looked up to see Greg, hands on hips glaring at me. "I've been worried sick. You're here like clockwork. We have one date or whatever and you disappear out of my life."

I slowly let my leg pull back on the machine and looked at him. "I had worked with a tight deadline and was busy."

I saw the shadow cross his face. "Oh, okay. My mistake in thinking we might have something going." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I know I'm older than you, and wondered if it would be an issue. Not with me, but possibly you."

"You never said anything about seeing me again when we left here last time. I figured you were bothered about something, so I didn't want to push it. The age thing is nothing to me."

He put his elbow on top of the machine and stroked his beard.

"I don't want us ever to have a communication problem like this again. It leads to nothing but problems and hurt feelings."

I nodded. "I agree. We need to be forthright."

"I'll see you here tomorrow, same time as usual?"

"Yes, same time. Here."

He handed me a business card and left. I shoved it down inside my bra and continued working out in a much better mood.

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Later that evening I got the card out of my gym bag.

Greg Johnston

Motorcycle Mechanic

And it included his phone number.

Feeling like that took us to a whole new level. Having his number meant I could reach him at any time. He entrusted me with the number on the chance I could be a serial phone harasser. That is a thing too.