tagMatureSnatching for Nickels

Snatching for Nickels


Sandy was an old biker babe. She was old and she liked old bikers. Old for bikers is over fifty. She could still throw a hairy tattooed leg over a chopped hog and stick to the seat. It was the combination of vibrations that did "it" for her. The four stroke Harley engine puts out the main two per. She preferred the chain drive over the belt drive. She liked the subtle amped up per, put out by the rear sprocket which was directly under her to the left. Under her and to the right was the one per vibration and patented sound of the big cube V twin. This was a wonderful one per vibration and sound thumping from each exhaust pipe. The power stroke was every other cycle. She didn't care her ass was not that sensitive.

Her clit was and she kept it slammed against the double sewed seams of the "Bailey's Wild Ass" logger jeans she was sporting. Her clit was in fine shape. She was well hooded and had no calluses, rings or road rash incidents. She could clit count the seams everytime she was joggled on railroad tracks. Curley loved railroad tracks. He was the male of the species that she had been packing with, since the death of her biker husband. Curley wasn't a biker he was a weekend rider with a 2003 100th anniversary soft tail heritage classic.

Her biker husband rode a 51 pan head he bought new from the Hog shop in Warren, Ohio. (Later they established the largest Hog shop on the planet in Daytona Beach, Florida) He had cut and raked the frame three quarters of an inch and mounted a 12 inch extended springer front end. He had never changed over his intake manifold seals from brass. He still had the 6 volt system, generator and battery. He had removed the spark advance on the left grip and added a small spring to the distributor. He threw out the foot (suicide) clutch and added a mousetrap eliminator. Tank shift became foot shift, this kept two hands steering the two wheeled 500 lb vibrator.

Sandy's biker husband was well known with the local rider's. He was the guy that would get fired up on whatever was available then brag that he "Had a cock that hung below his knees."

He would then pull up his pant legs to reveal a tattoo of a rooster with a noose around its neck.

Curley was a polite rider; his only weakness was that he loved railroad tracks. He always warned her, "Hang on baby, are you still there." Then he would reach behind his back and palm up grip her snatch with his hand. She would response by grabbing around him and leaning her 44 double EE's into his back. They were hanger's, soft over ripe melons in skin socks on a slow path to her waist line.

Curley would give out a baritone "Yahoo" as they crossed the tracks. Then he would comment on losing his hand, or hand entrapment. "Give me my hand so I can circle back, I think I saw a ten dollar gold piece on the tracks. Gold's high we got to go back."

When they circled the tracks several times Curley would get all excited because he could feel Sandy's nipples serenading his back. They were calling to him they needed attention. If any tracks were in the path of their travels. Curley had to get some tittie time. Curley was convinced that to live long and prosper you needed to spend time with titties. "Its simple math, I got two hands, you got two tits."

Curley had checked they were a perfect fit for his hands. "You wouldn't want me to get muscle atrophy in my hands. How could I steer and operate the clutch and throttle of this Harley with bad hands."

They were putt-ing over to a bikers place along the Big River for an old bikers party. The ride down the river was slow and easy. They drifted across the lanes following the bends of the stream. No smiling or talking, too many bugs out looking for impact blood.

The river shack was a survivor of annual spring floods and an occasional flash flood. "The water comes up, the water goes down." When the water goes down they get new washers and dryers from FEMA. The river leaves a slime coating that is easy to squeeze out, if it is still wet.

Snakes move in. The men sweep though, with the receding waters sporting various weapons of destruction. The women start the clean-up, as the men are shooting anything that lives without two legs.


After the road kill bar-ba-que at the river shack. The men walked around and admired each others scooters and lied about their sexual prowess and beer drinking ability. The old biker babes decided to have a game of nickel snatching. Threw in ten bucks winner takes all.

Nickels snatching is an indoor girl's game that would be difficult to play on a pool table or a carpeted floor. The river shack had the perfect floor. Oak with a flood generated patina. Curley didn't think he would be interested in watching some old babes play a game, but it was the only game in town.

When he walked in Sandy was bitching because they had only crossed one set of tracks on the way in. She had her Wild Ass pants off and was tugging off her soiled panties. "If we had crossed more tracks on the way in I would be winning twenty bucks for sure."

She whipped her panties over and around her head and threw them against the wall. They were several pairs sticking to the wall and hers joined up in formation. A pile of rejected clean panties lined the floor next to the wall.

Sandy yelled out, "I got a sticker."

Curley wasn't sure they would hang until the end; they were double the size of anything sticking. But the ugly stain revealed they might have more then double the glue surface area.

"Damn girl, you don't need your name on those pantaloons. You got a winner for sure. That wall will keep dogs barking for a month."

"Stick to what you do best, drinking cheap beer. I'm going to win the next event, the nickel snatch."

"Good I'll switch to better beer, and get you some German Moselle wine with a cork in it.'

"With a cock in it, sounds good to me."

Curley says, "You are a dirty girl. That's why I like you."

"Sure you do, you just like bike ballast as you ride around looking for railroad tracks."

Game on girls. The game host throws out nickels from a giant glass pickle jar with her granddaughter's picture on it. They are rolling all over the center of the room. The women are squatting and grabbing as many nickels as they can with their snappers or anything else that a nickel will stick to. The women can not use their hands. Then they duck walk over to their partners, who remove the lodged nickels in any fashion that they feel is acceptable. Several greatly bearded ones lie on their back and do a whisker scrap. Several use their hands. No french bikers in this crowd.

Sandy says, "Here I come Curley, I got the game winning load" Sandy starts her slider maneuver.

Curley says, "Go with the grain, splinters are your enemy."

"Bullshit I'm nickel plated"

Curley says, "I ain't touching that nasty thing; I might lose my throttle sensitivity. Plus the added attraction I don't want to dry up your double sticky pads. Shake and spit."

After several duck walks which generated a slime trail, Curley knew that Sandy was a top contender. This girl was going to the nickels snatching national championship in Daytona Beach and then international at Sturgis.

Curley used his beer bottle to line up the nickels into little lines of ten.


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