Riding Buddies

It had been five years. Five years is a long time. Five years is a long time to go without sex. Five years is a long time to go without any kind of intimate contact. A quick kiss before I head out to work is NOT intimate contact. My wife and I were basically roommates sleeping in the same bed. I had adjusted to the new reality so much that once when she touched my shoulder to get my attention I had flinched, not knowing what her intention was. I now have a large bubble concerning my personal space. I don't like to shake hands or fist bump. I've never been the touchy-feely type and I'm not a hugger. Obviously it's different with my wife. Correction...it was different with my wife. But five years is a long time.

So in regards to my self care I watch porn, but obviously when she's not home. Watching it while she was home would be rude. We work opposite schedules. She works the regular Monday through Friday like most regular people. I work Friday through Monday, ten hour days, and then usually cover at least one more day or more if needed due to call offs, vacations, extra work to fulfill the needs of the customer contract, and so on. So my wife and I do not often have days off at the same time except on major holidays. I know I get on her nerves at times, and vice versa, so our schedules work for us. It helps me relieve my frustrations with the help of porn in the living room instead of holing up in my office in a chair not made for that type of activity.

I must admit, over time the type of porn has changed. For a long time it was simply one guy, one girl type. Over time it started to change. I started watching hentai, femdom, two girls and a guy threesomes, cosplay, cartoon parody, bondage, and so on. I eventually went on a few apps and created "dating" profiles. It had nothing to do with dating. The problem with that was the guilt factor, so I never actually met any of those women. We would talk for a while, but that would fizzle out one by one when we ended up not hooking up. I would not host at my home. That was a "hell no" in my book. I did have a cover story in case it ever got that far. I ride my motorcycle. I'll take day trips out of the city just to ride around. I have taken multi day trips to other states to ride through the scenery. But I had not physically cheated...yet. The longer I went without human contact, the more interested I was in letting it happen though.

On my day off while watching my dose of adult entertainment, an errant click put me firmly into the guys with guys category. Instead of instantly correcting my choice, I ended up watching the clip. Then I watched another...and another. Soon those were as much a part of my viewing repertoire as any other. At times even more so. I was horny as well as fascinated. With women I loved their entirety. It was their hair, lips, breasts, hips, legs, and pussy. It was their soft, smooth skin and general femininity. With guys it was simpler, as guys are in general. With guys it's about their aggression and their cock. I have my own and yet now wanted to play with another.

As mentioned, I already had a few dating profiles. Well, let's classify them as hookup profiles, as that's really what they were. Not that they had been successful thus far. Now I made a couple of new profiles on a couple of different sites. The guilt factor didn't seem like an issue to me. I wasn't gonna to leave my wife to shack up with some other woman. I wanted to have some human interaction with another guy, and that was it.

You tend to learn new things when introduced to terms you thought you knew before, but mean something else entirely depending on the context. For example, she left her purse on top of the car, and the expiration date is on the bottom of the can. When filling out profile details, those words came up...top, bottom, or versatile. I actually had to look up the meaning of those terms in the new context. Then I had to actually determine how I fit into that spectrum. After a bit of self reflection and judging by the videos I now chose, I determined that I'm a bottom. I'm a bottom in terms of I want to be the one holding, rubbing and stroking another man's hard cock. I'm interested in licking it like an ice cream cone, and seeing how that affects the person I'm doing it to. In the bedroom, I tend to be a people pleaser. My wife never complained. Looking at our sex life in those terms, we're both bottoms. In looking at it like that, no wonder it's been five years. There were other medical reasons with her, but both of us being bottoms didn't help.

Once posted, I quickly got some interest. Requests for pics, crude comments about my profile, and offers of "right now" were prevalent. I wasn't interested in any of that. I wasn't looking for a one time thing. I wasn't looking for some anonymous blow and go action. It sounds interesting for a moment, but once that moment is over, it would be back to square one. So I was looking for a FWB. That's much more difficult to find than I expected. I guess the consensus is that blow and go encounters are much more of the mainstream ideals than what I was looking for. Another roadblock was that nobody seemed to be able to host. It looks like almost everyone is in the same boat as I was. Nobody had a place to play. It's one thing to meet and talk in a coffee shop or bookstore, but patrons tend to frown on someone whipping out their johnson to play show and tell in public. They tend to place urgent calls to the authorities. People end up in jail or having to register as sex offenders for that kind of faux pas.

There were constant challenges in trying to meet the right person. Times available, a place to play, only wanting hookups...the list went on. I was getting as exasperated with the guys as I believe women do. I was at work checking the sites when I got a message from someone I had never talked to before. Checking his profile, he lived fifty miles away. Well, that was definitely not too close to home. As I wanted to remain married, discretion was important. So I never had any intention of messing around with my neighbors, or even people in the same part of the city. Fifty miles away was far, but not too far.

"I ride also." his initial message stated. "What do you ride?"

He was addressing the part of my profile where I had mentioned that I ride motorcycles. I replied with my bike's information and he provided his. We both rode big touring bikes. I found out his name was Alan, and he was kind of in the same situation as me. He was married but without sex except on special occasions like his birthday or Christmas. The short messages back and forth were sporadic, sometimes a few in a day, sometimes no replies for a couple of days. I didn't mind this, as I was not rushing into a quick hookup. Eventually we got around to messaging information of a more sexual nature.

"So what is it you're looking for on here?" he questioned.

"I'm not entirely sure. I'm pretty new to this. I guess I'm open to pretty much everything at the moment." I replied.

"Maybe you think that, but you're probably not. Some people are into some extreme stuff that I doubt you would even entertain. My suggestion would be to start with the basics and work your way up."

"And what would you consider the basics to be?"

"If you're new to it all, I would say touching. Just get to know what you like doing with that before moving a little further to oral. Then maybe eventually work your way to fucking. Since you say you're a bottom you would be getting fucked. Maybe you're more versatile and would enjoy giving as well as receiving."

"That's the basics? That sounds like everything."

"Nope, that's still just the basics. You could always try out stuff like bondage, group sex, exhibitionism, role play, webcamming, domination, fisting, furries...the list goes on."

"I think I'll stick with the basics to start."

"Good idea." he agreed.

Alan and I agreed to meet to ride our bikes around some back roads near where he lived. I was nervous, as this was further than I had ever taken things before, and was now second guessing my decisions. I had committed to the decision though and that means something to me, so even with my second thoughts and feelings about backing out, I went to meet him.

We were to meet at a gas station that he chose. I arrived early as I tend to do, and fueled up while waiting. When it hit fifteen minutes past our agreed time, I started to feel that he wasn't gonna show. Maybe he got cold feet and reconsidered just as I had thought about doing. I mounted my Harley and was about to fire it up when I heard the rumble of an engine's exhaust getting closer. It sounded similar to my own, so I waited. Sure enough, Alan's own Harley pulled into the station and he parked it at the gas pump behind where I sat. He started filling his tank and then approached me where I still straddled my bike. He held his fist out for the greeting bump that had become a societal norm which I went ahead and exchanged. He looked just like the picture he had sent. His shaved head and goatee were in classic biker style. The tattoos that emerged past his short sleeves and ran midway down his arms reinforced the image even more. On this particular day his tattoos were not visible though, as he was clad in jeans, a long sleeve flannel shirt, and a black leather vest which completed that "biker" look. I was dressed much the same, but don't really consider myself to be a "biker". I'm just a guy who rides a bike.

"Sorry about that. This is the first time I've brought my bike out this year. I still think my tires are low, but I figured I'd check it once I got here rather than be even later."

Without prompting I hopped off my bike and dug into my saddlebags for a tire pressure gauge and mini air compressor. I was the type who always liked to be prepared. The smallest issue could screw up an entire trip. The part where he mentioned not riding year round was foreign to me. It was only March, but whether it was 100 degrees or 30 degrees, I still rode. I would forgo the bike in favor of my truck if it was raining or extremely cold, but otherwise I rode all year long. To me, living in the south had its advantages for riding a motorcycle. The outside air temperature was already in the upper fifties and going up. It was supposed to be a nice day.

"We can check 'em and take care of it before we hit the road." I assured.

Both of his tires were low and it took a few minutes to get them properly inflated. Once we were ready to go he took the lead, as this was his area, and he was the one who knew these roads. I was happy to follow and check out the scenery.

Riding a motorcycle is a solitary experience. Even riding in a group, unless you have Bluetooth in your helmet connecting you to other riders, or a passenger sitting right behind you, you're by yourself in your own head with your own thoughts. I have neither a passenger nor do I wear a helmet, so my thoughts and the passing scenery are what occupied my mind. We rode for a couple of hours along back roads that I had never been on, and probably wouldn't be able to purposely find on my own again.

We stopped for lunch at a small diner, discussing this and that...little things that moved the conversation along without any real substance. We finished up, refueled, and rode for another couple of hours before reaching the end of the looping route back at our original meeting spot. With agreements made to meet up again and another farewell fist bump, we went our separate ways. I'll admit that I was disappointed that riding bikes was all we did. Even though I loved riding, our meeting held ulterior motives which had not been fulfilled.

The following day I got a message from Alan in order to set up another ride the following week. I readily agreed. Even if nothing happened, a Harley and the open road was always an enjoyable experience. Commuting to work and back just didn't cut it.

We exchanged a few messages throughout the week leading up to the next ride. Whereas our conversation hadn't even touched anything remotely sexual in person, in cyberspace it was different. Alan had much more experience than I, and he was open and candid about his likes, wants, and past encounters. His messages on those matters always left me hard and wanting.

The morning of our next ride we met at a different gas station midway between our homes. This ride was not as planned as the last, but more of a aimless wandering wherever it looked interesting type route. We followed much the same routine, filling up before heading out, and then it was the bike and the road. I was in the lead this time, and we ended up riding around a sizable lake before lunch. Lunch consisted of decent food and more small talk. After lunch was more riding and seeing the sights before calling it a day. I was once again a little disappointed that absolutely nothing happened or was even mentioned, but I still enjoyed Alan's company and our discussions. As an introvert, I tended not to have much of either of those things outside of work or home. By the end of our fourth ride I had kind of adopted the attitude of "if it happens it happens". Thus far it hadn't.

Another week went by before Alan suggested another outing. This time he wanted to head south to an area known for being a popular motorcycle route. This wasn't close to home, this was several hours away just to get there. The route once we got there was around three hours, and then there was the ride back home. This was definitely an all day thing. My wife had no problem with it, as she was used to my motorcycle trips. I had told her about Alan, in that I said that I met him out in the road, and we had ridden together a couple of times since. She was fine with all that. In fact, she seemed happy that I had expanded my social circle from zero to one. I'm an introvert, what can I say.

Alan and I had messaged leading up to the trip. We hammered out the details, the route, the fuel and pit stops along the way, and discussed the weather forecast. It was now well into May, and we expected it to be sunny and warm. We had postponed a couple of our previous rides due to poor weather conditions, but that didn't look like it would be the case this time.

We decided not to take the highway south. Although that would have gotten us there quicker, riding is not about the destination, it's more about the journey getting there. It was also decided that Alan would take the lead, which I was fine with. I actually had never been to that area before, whereas he had...twice. Both times he had been by himself and had taken different ways to get there. This was another different way as well, so he had been there before, but the route getting there would still be new. He also mentioned that it had been years since he was there last.

The date arrived and we met closer to his house, as our route began over his way. A gas station was always our meeting spot, as just getting out there would put a dent in my fuel available for the ride. I arrived a little early as usual and was filling up when Alan pulled up behind me to do the same. The familiar fist bump was exchanged and we soon were ready for the road. It was a long, leisurely, and thankfully uneventful trip south. That's exactly what you want on a bike. We weren't the only ones out and about either. We saw lots of other bikes on the road. It seems that our aversion for highway travel was shared by numerous others on two wheels.

We made a couple stops along the way for the requisite fuel and food, as well as just to stretch our legs and see the sights as we took a break. We got to the beginning of the popular looping route just after filling up the tanks again. When you can only go around two hundred miles before filling up again, you never pass up the opportunity to refill before it becomes absolutely necessary.

The route itself was everything I had heard it to be. In my opinion, the straightaways, twisties, hills, sweeping curves, and up close scenery can be appreciated from inside a car, but not nearly as much as from on a bike. We stopped at several points of interest and scenic overlooks that most cars would fail to notice or want to stop for. Once we finally completed the full route, I realized how late it was compared to the hours it would take to get back home. Even if we hit the highway immediately we would be out well past dark. We had already been in the saddle all day, and I wasn't as used to the long distance as Alan seemed to be. My legs ached and as much as I love riding, getting back on the bike and heading home was not exactly a joyful prospect at that moment. We were at another gas station filling up when I broached the subject.

"It's kinda late to be trying to head for home, isn't it?"

Alan looked at his watch and looked at the sun in the sky. I saw him doing the calculations before answering.

"It is later then we planned, but what are our options?"

"Well, we can still head for home, but that'll make it a really long day. We can get as far as we can before we just decide that it's time to stop, and then look for a place to sleep. Or we can find a place close by here, relax, and get a fresh start in the morning."

Alan thought about it for only a moment. "It's dangerous to ride when you're tired. It sounds like the best option is to find a place nearby. Also, we can do the loop in the opposite direction tomorrow morning before heading back. They say it feels like a different ride in each direction."

"Sounds like a plan. Know of any hotels that are close?"

After briefly consulting the internet, Alan rattled off a list of names. None of them were the regular hotel chains I was familiar with. With no sense of quality besides their reviews, I simply let Alan decide. He chose and off we went. He picked a place that the price range fell right in the middle of the two extremes, but was really close to the start of the route for our ride out in the morning. On our arrival, Alan went inside to check in while I waited with the bikes. We had decided on one room with two beds in order to save on the unplanned expense. After a few minutes he returned and we rode to the far end of the lot. We were on the ground floor in the last room at the end. Alan opened the door while I gathered my stuff from my bike.

For those who don't ride, when you've got a touring bike you're always carrying certain things, even when just going down the street. You leave that stuff in your saddlebags so you have it if you need it. I have a toolkit, first aid kit, a small overnight bag of essentials, usually containing a spare set of clothing, coat, gloves, and assorted conveniences. Also, motorcycles are much less secure than cars, in that it takes very little effort to break into locked saddlebags on a bike. You can break a car's window, but that's noisy and obvious, and now most cars have alarms.

As I went in Alan grabbed his stuff which seemed similar to mine. Riders quickly find out what they do and don't need to carry, and more often than not, it's typically the same types of things. The room was pretty spacious, with two queen sized beds and a separate area with a loveseat and large TV. I guess I hadn't been expecting much from a place I had never heard of, so I was pleasantly surprised. I was turning on the TV as Alan entered with his own stuff. He tossed his stuff on the bed farthest from the door and immediately took off his coat and boots.

I frowned slightly at his choosing without debate. I always prefer to be as far from the door as possible, but Alan hadn't asked. To be fair either had I, and I had been in the room first so I had my chance. I shrugged it off and took the other bed.

"Taking off your boots already?" I asked. "What did we want to do about food?"

"Eh, we'll order a pizza to be delivered."

That sounded simple enough. I doffed my coat and boots as well. We sat on the loveseat and Alan grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels, stopping every once in a while to see if the program was worth watching. The screen lit up with a certain show.