Daddy's Little Girl Pt. 02

"What do you say we spend the day riding through the countryside? We can take a trip down to Mt. Rushmore; it's about an hour south of here. After that we can ride through the Custer State Park. It's about 150 miles of riding."

"That sounds great, it's going to be a beautiful day. I checked the forecast they had posted back at camp. It's supposed to be sunny and warm," Bill said, "the temperature will be in the upper eighties and dry; no chance of rain."

"Perfect. When we get back we can walk around the town, maybe do some shopping."

After breakfast they got on their bikes and headed south. Less than an hour later they were standing at the base of the monument at Mt. Rushmore. Gail took Bill's hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze; the majestic beauty of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln sculptured in granite was both awe-inspiring and humbling. They listened to a brief lecture from one of the park rangers giving the history of the monument, watched a film documenting its carving, and toured the museum.

When they got back to their bikes, Bill said, "That was great. Now what are we going to do?"

"From here, we head a little deeper into the Custer State Park," Gail replied. "I read that the scenery is absolutely magnificent."

Gail set a leisurely pace as they traveled into the park. Soon they were into the Lake Sylvan region, traveling on along Highway 87, winding around, and sometimes through, slender granite formations called "Needles." The scenery provided the perfect background for motorcycle riders. Soon they were on the second leg of their journey, an eighteen-mile stretch of road called the Wildlife Loop Road. The terrain changed to prairie and rolling hills; Gail pointed out groups of elk and mountain goats. They turned the corner around an outcropping of rocks, and pulled off onto the side off the road. Below them, grazing in a large valley was a herd of bison.

"There must be over a hundred of them," Bill exclaimed excitedly. Gail turned to respond, "you're not going to believe this; turn around and don't make any loud noises." Bill turned just in time to see a small group of bison, maybe eight or ten, slowly begin crossing the road not more than twenty yards in front of them. They appeared to be heading down the hill to join up with the larger herd.

"Bill, did you see how big they are," Gail whispered as the last of them crossed the road. "Yeah, now I know why they say that you can feel the earth shake when they stampede. I sure wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of one."

When the herd was a safe distance away, they quietly as possible, continued their journey. They turned onto Highway 16A, probably the most breathtaking of the three drives, the Iron Mountain Road, which headed north back to the Mt. Rushmore National Memorial. They traveled over three pigtail bridges and through three tunnels and all too soon were leaving the park and heading back to Sturgis.

They rolled into town at a little after 4:00 PM, found parking on Main Street, and started to walk around town.

"I'd like to pick up some matching tee shirts." Gail said as they strolled down the street. Two blocks down they entered a shop, displaying all sorts of Harley-Davidson branded shirts along with other brightly colored shirts. A young attractive sales girl, dressed in short shorts and a brightly colored tight fitting tee shirt, walked up to them, "Can I help you?" she asked. Gail pointed to a black shirt that featured the Harley-Davidson logo in red and white on the front, and the Sturgis Legends Ride written on the back. "We'll take two of those, one in XXL and one in large."

When she left Gail leaned over and asked Bill, "What did you think of her shirt?"

"Well," he said, hesitating slightly, "I definitely liked the design and the colors, but it seemed really tight on her."

"You goof," Gail exclaimed, "when she comes back look closer; it's not a shirt, she's been airbrushed."

When the girl returned with their shirts, Bill gave her a closer look. Sure enough, she was naked from the waist up; whoever the artist was, he had done a superb job of blending the various shades of red, white and blue into a design which accented her breasts but had concealed her nipples in plain sight. Bill didn't want to stare; he thought that would be impolite. When he averted his gaze back up to her smiling face she asked, "Do you like my shirt? My boy friend did it."

Bill could feel the blood surging into his cock as he felt the warmth of his blushing face. Gail was perversely enjoying his embarrassment. She realized that these were probably the first breasts other than hers that he had ever seen in person. As they walked up to the register, Gail covertly gave his cock a little squeeze, and whispered into his ear, "You're a tit man, I see. And here I thought it was just my muscles that turned you on."

They paid and left the store, Gail with her arm over his shoulder giving him a reassuring embrace. They walked back to the bikes and stored their purchases in Gail's storage compartment.

"I don't know about you but I'm getting hungry," Gail said. "Why don't we grab something to eat? A couple of ice cold beers would be great as well."

They started to walk up the street when Gail spotted a bar up one of the side streets. "That place looks interesting, 'The Knuckle Saloon;' let's check it out." As they walked, they realized that the front of the building was around the corner and was made up of several buildings connected by a two-story façade in the front and the back. There appeared to be an open courtyard in the center of the combined structures. Gail and Bill entered the dining room and found themselves in a room whose décor reminded them of a bar in old western movies. Soon a 32-ounce beer and a "Knuckle Sandwich", a one-pound burger with all the fixings, sat in front of each of them. The food was great, the prices were right and the atmosphere was outstanding. During their meal they could hear cheers coming from the courtyard behind the bar. Curious after dinner, they walked out into the courtyard.

In the center of the huge courtyard was boxing ring. There were chairs set up on all four sides and a balcony surrounded the courtyard. Gail could see men and women standing at the rails looking down on the ring. Currently in the ring were two fighters; neither of the men were very skilled and soon the boxing match deteriorated into a barroom brawl. There were two referees trying to control the action. When one of the fighters appeared to be in danger of getting hurt, the refs signaled for the bell and jumped on the obvious winner in order to prevent any serious injuries. When the winner was announced there were cheers from the crowd and many headed back to the bar. A voice announced that there would be a thirty-minute break and then the women's heavyweight champion from the prior year would be fighting this year's challenger.

Bill turned to Gail and said, "Why don't we stick around for the next fight; we can get ringside seats if we move fast." When Gail looked hesitant, Bill insisted. "Come on, it could be good for a couple of laughs."

"OK, you get us some seats; I'll go to the bar and get us a couple more beers."

Bill went down to the front row and took two seats in the center of a ring side. After about ten minutes, the announcer came on explaining that the challenger had decided not to fight and asked if anyone in the crowd wanted to fight for the championship. There were several boos and groans coming from those patrons that had stayed or who had taken seats expecting the next fight to begin shortly. After several more appeals to the crowd, a large woman climbed into the ring, wearing shorts and a football jersey. She appeared to be about 5'8" tall and looked to be really heavy -- not obese, but very large. She stormed around the ring, taunting any of the females in the courtyard.

"Come on, are you all chicken; doesn't anyone have the guts to fight me? I'll even fight one of you sissy guys out there. You. You, yes, you sweet cheeks; you look like you're in pretty good shape, you want to fight me?" Bill couldn't believe what was happening. She was leaning over the ropes pointing directly at him. "What's the matter, you too chicken to fight? Come on, I'll make you my bitch for the night."

"You leave my man alone, you tub of lard!" Gail bellowed.

Bill turned to see Gail walking down the aisle, her hands holding a couple of beers, and a fierce expression on her face, not unlike a lioness protecting her young.

"You want to fight someone, how about fighting me?"

Bill was dumbfounded as to what was happening. One minute they were enjoying the friendly atmos-phere that permeated the rally and now everything was spinning out of control.

"Hold these." Gail handed Bill the two beers.

"Gail please, don't do this. I'm fine, no harm was done, just a little gamesmanship on her part; it meant nothing to me."

"Well it meant a lot to me; no one threatens me or mine and gets away with it. All my life I've run in to people like her, bullies pushing around people who can't defend themselves. My Daddy used to tell me that it was up to the strong to defend those that couldn't defend themselves from people like her. I think it's time for her to have an attitude adjustment."

Seemingly out of nowhere two of the saloon employees came up behind her an escorted her into the building.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, there will be a slight delay, while the challenger gets ready."

Fifteen minutes later, Gail stepped out of the building and into the courtyard. She had been given a pair of shorts and a Knuckles Saloon tee shirt to wear. She had on pink sixteen-ounce gloves and was barefooted. Bill joined her as she climbed into the ring. "Gail this isn't like working out; this bag is going to hit back, and from the looks of her she's going to hit really hard. Please be careful."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the women's heavyweight championship fight for the title of Ms. Knuckle Saloon. Three two-minute rounds to a decision. In the red corner, standing 6'2" tall, weighing 185 pounds, from Phoenix, Arizona, the challenger, Gail Young." The crowd cheered loudly, either in appreciation of her size or out of distain for her opponent. "In the blue corner, standing 5'8" tall, weighing 210 pounds, from Rapid City, South Dakota, the reigning champion, Bertha Cody." Mixed in with the cheers for the champion were several boos and cat calls. The head referee called the fighters to the center of the ring and explained the simple rules. "Stop fighting when I yell break, no biting, hair pulling, or hitting below the belt. Protect yourself at all times. Good luck. Shake hands and come out fighting."

Gail and Bill returned to her corner, he helped her with her mouthpiece, giving her some last minute instructions.

"She's fat and probably out of shape, use your size and conditioning to keep her away from you. Just keep hitting her with jabs and stay out of reach. Remember I love you. Please be careful."

The bell sounded for round one. Both fighters flew out of their corners into the center of the ring. There was not going to be any feeling each other out. This was going to be a brawl.

Bertha began throwing punches with both hands; undisciplined, ineffective, trying to end the fight with one punch. Gail stood her ground in the center of the ring, hunched over at the waist, bobbing from side to side, up and down, not giving her an easy target. Occasionally Gail would stick a hard left jab right in Bertha's face, knocking her head backwards. The only effect it seemed to have on her, however, was to infuriate her more. Her punches were becoming more and more erratic until she appeared to be totally out of control. Gail, on the other hand appeared to be in total control of her emotions and the fight. To anyone in the crowd who knew anything about boxing, they suspected that it was just a matter of time before Gail would unleash her fury.

Before he knew it, Bill heard the bell, ending the first round. Gail returned to her corner with a smile on her face. When Bill removed her mouthpiece, Gail gave him a kiss. "I can't believe how much fun this is. When I was young Daddy taught me how to fight; it was just another thing that my Mom hated about me. But, I never got a chance to actually fight anyone."

"Gail, this is for real, she's really trying to hurt you, please be careful."

From across the ring, Bertha's voice rang out. "Hey old lady, I'm going to beat your ass into a coma, and while you're out, I'm going to take your boy-toy back to my place and make him my sex slave."

Bill could see the expression on Gail's face change. "She's going to pay for that."

Bill put her mouth piece back in and touched her cheek. "Get her; end it now."

The bell for round two sounded and Gail glared at her opponent as she stalked across the ring. Bertha threw several hard left and right hooks. Gail caught them high on her shoulders and arms. 'Now it's my turn, Bitch.'

Coming out of her crouch, Gail hit her with a series of hard left jabs that stopped Bertha in her tracks and force her back towards her own corner. A left uppercut, followed by a straight right, literally threw Bertha against the corner, her arms high over her head before they fell over the top rope leaving her body totally exposed. With a vengeance Gail crowded her, throwing lefts and rights into her unprotected body. The referees who had little to do up to this point looked at one another, neither wanting to step in between the fighters as Gail continued to attack her foe ferociously. Finally the head referee, signaled for the bell while the other actually jumped on Gail's back, ending her onslaught. After a moment Gail turned and headed back to her corner as Bertha slowly sank to the canvas. The crowd was strangely quiet, stunned by the intensity they had just witnessed.

The announcer had only one thing to say: "The winner and new Ms. Knuckle Saloon, Gail Young."

Bill gave her a big hug and then helped remove her mouthpiece and gloves.

"Bill, I don't know what came over me." Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Bertha was being helped to her feet, seemingly all right. "At the end, I was back home working out, slamming the heavy bag. If the ref hadn't jumped on my back there's no telling how long I would have continued to hit her."

Gail turned and walked toward Bertha. She could see the fear in her eyes as she approached, her hand extended. Hesitantly, Bertha took her hand. "I'm sorry about what I said before, you are one helluva fighter. Can I buy you both a beer?"

"Only if you'll let us buy you one first. Let's get changed; we'll meet Bill, my husband, at the bar. Bill, why don't you get a table and a pitcher of beer while I help Bertha back to the locker room."

Bill could only laugh and shake his head at the absurdity of the situation, less than two minutes ago, they were trying to beat each other's brains in, and now they seemed like they were best of friends. When the ladies returned, Gail had her arm over Bertha's shoulders and they were both laughing.

"Gail, don't make me laugh; my side hurts when I laugh."

Over pitchers of beer, Bill and Gail told Bertha their story of how they met and fell in love. They got to know Bertha, who they found out was twenty-six, a construction worker, and unattached at the moment, having thrown her former live-in boy friend physically out of her house after she caught him in their bed, fucking her next door neighbor.

'Bill, do you have any younger brothers at home?"

"Sorry, I'm the only one."

At the end of the night, they exchanged email addresses and promised to get in touch.

As they headed back to their bikes, Gail shook her head and laughed, "I don't know about you but I've had just about enough for one day. Let's get back to camp and settle in for night. I think I have a bottle of my perfume in my bag."

They both slept in the next morning. Gail was a little sore from the pounding her arms and shoulders had taken during her bout with Bertha. Bill's whole body was sore from the workout he had received when they got into bed that night. They dressed and made their way to the café for breakfast. As they ate Bill could see several groups of guys at some of the other tables, nodding their heads in their direction. He wasn't sure what was going on until he saw one of the guys swing his fists, mimicking a fighter.

"Don't look now, but I think you've become somewhat of a celebrity in camp. Apparently some of the other campers were at Knuckles yesterday."

Sure enough, before they finished their breakfast they were interrupted three times by good intentioned guys congratulating Gail on her win.

"Come on, let's get out of here; this is getting a little embarrassing."

Bill and Gail headed back to their camp to retrieve their bikes. "What's on the schedule today, Gail?"

"We're headed for the place that's billed as the world's largest biker bar, the Full Throttle Saloon."

"It's only 10:00 AM; we're not going drinking already, are we?"

"No silly; I booked us a spot in the Pappy Hoel Memorial Ride for charity. It's a nice leisurely ride up through Spearfish Canyon back to Deadwood. We leave at about 11:00. We can have lunch and walk around in Deadwood, and then come back for the finals of the Rumble in the Hills. It's a hill-climbing event for all classes of motorcycles. Afterwards we can have dinner, catch some live music at the Buffalo Chip, and whatever else we feel like. Today we have no deadlines to meet, or places we have to be."

"Sounds good to me, Babe. Lead the way."

Gail couldn't quite escape her celebrity status, however. After reaching Deadwood, several "fans" asked her to pose for pictures, which she reluctantly agreed to. They spent the rest of the day strolling the streets of the historic town, learning a little about its history; stopping in various shops and talking with fellow bikers. Late in the afternoon they mounted their bikes and headed back to Sturgis. They had dinner and attended a concert at the Buffalo Chip before calling it a night.

By Thursday it seemed her fifteen minutes of fame was over and they were able to attend the Rat's Hole Custom Bike Show without further incident. They got to view over 100 custom bikes up close, cycles created by some of the most famous bike customizers in the country. Later that evening, Bill and Gail attended a live auction at the Buffalo Chip Saloon. "Lingerie for Life" is a fundraiser for cancer research. Held nightly during the Rally, each night three bras are auctioned off to the highest bidder. As the auctioneer put it, "The beautiful Budweiser Roadhouse bartenders model three of the unique, one-of-a-kind, hand--painted-and-beaded bras, one to be auctioned off around eight o'clock, and two others around ten." Bill and Gail were there for the first of the 10:00 auctions.

The bidding was spirited, even Bill got into it, hoping to win one for Gail. The bidding came down to himself and a gentleman seated at the table next to theirs. When the bid reached $500, Gail put a hand on Bill's shoulder and whispered, "Let him win; it probably won't fit me anyway."

Reluctantly, Bill passed on the next bid, allowing the other guy to win. When the gavel struck, and the auctioneer said, "We have a winner!" the model was helped off the bar and proceeded to sachet over to the winner. Bill thought she was going to congratulate him with a kiss. Instead, when she had everyone's attention, she asked the winner to rise and, reaching behind her back, she released its clasp and allowed the bra to fall into his outstretched hands. That's when she gave him a kiss on the cheek and thrust her tits in his face; then she turned to Bill, did a little shimmy, and pranced out of the barroom to a standing ovation.