by M Jet
James had never once in his life even considered riding a motorcycle. "Sure, kitten," he drawled, climbing on. "Come on! Let's go."
Chapter 6
Somehow they managed to make it away from the bar without alerting anybody with the bike's loud pipes. He got the hang of the bike without a hitch. Awareness of Missy's laughter and vibrating breasts against his back had him hard again.
As the night grew older they rode, Missy's arms wrapped around him and stroking his chest. Eventually they saw the lights of a roadside service station.
"Hey, baby, stop there, I need the lady's room," Missy said, her breath hot against his ear.
They pulled into the deserted gas station. At four am, it was amazing the tiny place was open. Missy and James wandered inside. She scampered away to find the head. James looked around, picking up a six pack of beer and a pair of jeans from a small clothing display. When Missy rejoined him, he politely asked her if she wanted anything.
"Just some gum, please," she told him with a smile and a peck on the cheek.
Together they approached the counter and the decrepit old man sitting behind it half asleep. James placed their items on the counter and smiled pleasantly.
Missy reached into her bag and produced a revolver, which she trained on the cashier.
The mouths of both the old man, and James Kirk dropped open as she put her bag on the counter.
She brandished her gorgeous smile on the old man. "Now, you know I'm not gonna hurt you, sugar, long as you just be a good boy and empty the register into the bag."
The man moved slowly and complied with his angelic assailant. She kept her gun and her smile focused on him. As the man finished loading the bag, James stuffed his items into the bag and scooped it up. Missy leaned across the counter and kissed the old man, making sure to give him a good glance at her heavenly tits. Laughing, the couple ran from the store, hopped on the bike and sprayed gravel as they peeled out.
"Fuck! I almost dumped the bike pulling out of there, Missy," he yelled over his shoulder with another belly laugh.
She laughed again too. "You did?"
"Yeah, I have no clue how to drive this thing!"
"Jimmy!" she hollered, feigning disdain, "you dirty liar!"
"A dirty liar for a dirty, DIRTY girl!" James replied.
After they put a little distance behind them, Missy's hands that were clutching and massaging his chest began to creep downward. His cock was already rock hard, just from her close proximity and he nearly shot off as she began stroking him through his pants.
Because she was so close, he heard her sigh even over the loud, vibrating motorcycle.
Her stroking became quickly greedy and she unfastened his pants and freed his shaft as he managed the bike. With knowing hands, she worked his cock. She kissed his ear and neck urgently with a series of wanting sighs.
James could barely manage to get the bike stopped. She leapt off, nudging him back slightly, and then jumped right back on. This time, she straddled his lap. Resting her feet on the back foot pegs and her ass on the tank, she bent to feverishly suck his throbbing dick.
James buried his hands in the wild mass of blonde hair, pulling gently and making her whimper.
"Ah," he sighed. "Fuck me, Missy," he demanded in a voice scarcely above a whisper.
She hurriedly righted herself. Once again, she didn't bother removing the g string, just moved it aside and she raised herself up and then swirled her slick, hotness down his length, accepting him deep inside.
He held her thighs, relishing the feel of her flexing muscles as she used the foot pegs to push herself up and down. Her head tilted back and she practically cried as she thrust and grinded him into herself. He placed one hand between her breasts and pushed her slightly back, watching her eyes pop open as he positioned her to stimulate her g spot with his cock.
"AAAAAAAAHHH! JAMES," she screamed as she spiraled into oblivion backwards on a stolen Harley.
Chapter 7
Eventually, they found themselves back at the car wash. James noted the company Nissan still sat there.
"How 'bout that, they haven't found it yet, I guess," James commented, as they paused in the lot for a moment.
In a moment of spontaneity, James had an idea. They rode a few blocks over to a Walmart. Hand in hand, the couple walked inside.
Missy yawned. "What are we doing?" she asked.
"You'll see," he replied mysteriously.
He led her through the store to sporting goods, where he picked up the first baseball bat he laid hands on and then led her back to the register. He paid for the bat, mentally urging Missy not to try any shit with the gun in Walmart.
Back outside, he helped her onto the bike and told her to hold the bat while he took them back to the car wash. He parked the bike and stepped off, taking the bat from his beautiful partner.
He turned and grinned at the company Nissan.
"Fuck you, MR. HINES," James Kirk muttered with a wide, wicked smile. Then he drew back the bat and pulverized the windshield.
"Oh, fuck yeah, baby," shouted Missy, gleefully laughing and bouncing up and down in the spot where she stood watching her lover come unhinged.
Chapter 8
"Baby, I need a shower and bed," murmured Missy against James' back where she rested on him.
He navigated the bike toward the closest hotel. "I know me too," he replied softly, feeling an overwhelming need to protect and care for her just then.
They pulled into the local Best Western and James got them a room with some of their robbery loot. They dragged into the room, which smelled like stale cigarette smoke just as the sun came up.
Missy sleepily drifted toward the bathroom, discarding her clothes as she went. It was the first time James had seen her fully nude. Her body was flawless, golden tan with no tan lines. Her hips swayed with each step. She didn't close the bathroom door, but went straight to turn on the shower.
"Wash me," she softly invited.
James made short work of shedding his clothes and slipping into the shower behind her. He grabbed complimentary hotel soap and pressing his hard body against her soft one, he lathered his hands and thoroughly stroked her breasts kneading and pinching her nipples. Then he rubbed the soap slowly along her flat abdomen. He gently turned her to face him and she sighed in tired bliss. He lowered to his knees and continued his massage with the soap against her pussy, which was hotter than the water showering on them. He spread the lips and gazed at her perfectly manicured snatch for a brief second before plunging his tongue into her once more. He held her hips firmly as she began to tremble.
The large tub was big enough for him to lie down and he did, carefully repositioning her to perch backwards on his face. She accommodated his unspoken wish and bent to suck his dick while he licked her ass with the hot water soaking them both. Only when he made her orgasm on his face did they leave the shower.
He carried her to the bed and laid her there. He immediately pounced, driving into her with force that sent her rocking toward the edge of the bed.
"Oh… Fuck… Me…" she moaned. He pumped her harder and harder until she was mostly off the edge of the bed and he was fucking her upside down with a perfect view of big, violently bouncing titties. As he felt himself about to climax, he reared back, pulling her back onto the bed. He roughly put her on all fours. He spread her wide open and she screamed as he hammered into her, pounding his hard hips against her ass. She buried her face in pillows to muffle her unbridled screaming until finally he exploded, pulling out of her and showering her ass with his cum.
They collapsed in each other's arms and fell into an exhausted dreamless sleep.
Chapter 9
James' eyes fluttered open and for a moment he was lost. He lay in a hotel bed in what looked to be late afternoon light, not knowing why. When the memory of Missy Raven abruptly returned, he sat bolt upright in a dead panic because she was gone.
But, there was a note on the pillow stating that she'd walked
to the corner gas station for coffee and would be right back. Fortunately, he found her note before ending it all over losing her.
There was a knock at the door. His pulse quickened at the thought of her on the other side and he didn't bother to cover himself or the already blossoming erection as he went to the door.
"You forget your key?" he said as he opened the door.
The two men standing there in suits and dark sunglasses were enough to be an instant boner kill.
Chapter 10
"I wanna see Missy, where the fuck is Missy?" Jimmy Kirk growled angrily for the umpteenth time.
He sat handcuffed to a steel table in a sterile concrete room containing nothing but a large two way mirror, a small TV and one of the guys in a suit who, OF COURSE was a cop.
The two cops had been taking turns questioning Jimmy for an hour, and he had yet to say anything except to repeat his plea to see Missy Raven. Jimmy Kirk was a swirling mass of tension; his entire body humming as he visibly trembled, gritted his teeth, and sat on the edge of his seat.
"Mr. Kirk," the cop said. "Are you high?"
Jimmy's mouth dropped open. "High?" he said indignantly.
"Yes. Are you currently under the influence of any illegal narcotics?"
"Dude, I came to the door naked at four in the afternoon, what the fuck do you think?"
After consideration the cop replied, "Yes?"
"NO," Jimmy roared. "Of course not, I was asleep! I just spent 24 hours getting my brains fucked out. What the fuck do I need drugs for, I'm high on her," Jimmy exclaimed passionately.
The cop stared at Jimmy blankly. With tears shining in his eyes, Jimmy continued. "Look, she just gave me the best time of ten lifetimes. I don't care what happens to me. I don't care about jail, prison, whatever. Just please, man to man, let me tell her good-bye," Jimmy pleaded.
Finally the cop revealed the fact that had hung heavily in the air since they'd hauled Jimmy in. "Mr. Kirk, I have absolutely no idea who this Missy is that you keep talking about…"
Jimmy's heart began racing dangerously. "What are you talking about? If you've got me, then you must know about our crimes…"
The cop studied Jimmy intently. "We know about YOUR crimes…"
With a frustrated shriek, Jimmy strained savagely against the cuffs and thrashed in his seat. He knew he couldn't escape, but he had to release some of the tension inside threatening to stop his heart.
The cop picked up a remote and trained it on the silent TV, bringing it to life. Jimmy became still, as a surveillance video of him washing the company Nissan played on the screen. His breath caught in his throat and he instantly calmed as he waited for Missy Raven to appear in the scene.
He clearly saw himself muttering as he angrily cleaned out the car. But, instead of Missy, this tape showed him finishing and pulling back out of the lot. No peep show. No red convertible.
Another scene from a surveillance video aired next, showing only Jimmy, holding the gun in the face of the ancient cashier in the gas station. No sweet kiss. No gorgeous tits.
Finally, he saw himself again in the hotel parking lot, seeming to laugh menacingly as he bashed the company Nissan. No fucking past dawn. No Harley Davidson.
The detective shut the TV off once more and sat staring at Jimmy, who sat staring at the cold steel table, trying to shake the cobwebs that formed in his mind.
"A Mr.," the detective paused to consult a small spiral notebook. "Gerald Hines reported that he called you to come into the office, is that correct to the best of your knowledge?"
Jimmy didn't look up, just nodded lifelessly.
"Mr. Hines told me that he and the senior VP were afraid you'd be discouraged by a recent sales plateau and seek employment elsewhere, so they planned to offer you a promotion…"
Jimmy's eyes snapped up. He suddenly felt like vomiting.
"He later reported the company Nissan of Jones, Jacobs, and Jackson Insurance Sales and Brokerage Firm stolen and we put together the pieces. I was just wondering if you'd care to fill in the blanks."
Jimmy Kirk laid his head down on his arms and cried.
THE END
O-bla-di, o-bla-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on...
O-bla-di, o-bla-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on. -The Beatles
Simone Miller's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Rose's fussing. Simone glanced at the clock and saw it was only three A.M. and Rose was waking for the third time that night. Simone sighed as she threw off the covers and heavily hauled her weary body out of bed. In the hallway, she encountered two year old Rose, who launched into Simone's arms.
Simone picked Rose up and cuddled her. "Rose," she murmured softly. "What are you doing up again?" Her voice bordered desperate.
"Want mommy," Rose whined.
Simone groaned and carried her little bundle back to the pink princess bedroom. She laid Rose down in bed and climbed in with her.
Miller house night time shenanigans were the common occurrence that had poor Simone on the verge of exhausted collapse daily. She loved her kids dearly. Six year old son, Blade kept Simone in stitches with his comical remarks. And Rose was adorable with her free spirit and wild ways. But their beautiful zest for life translated into never wanting to sleep. Simone was constantly chasing after wayward small people, playing Lego at 2 A.M., or sleep peeing in the living room, or waking up ten times a night for no discernible reason. Simone's days had become a muddled blur of fatigue induced confusion.
Eventually Simone woke once more, uncomfortable in Rose's small bed. She slipped out of bed and returned to her own room. She looked at the peaceful mound of her slumbering husband. She couldn't help but feel a modicum of contempt at his ability to sleep soundly through the kids as she fell back to sleep.
***
Simone met Desmond Miller when they were both sixth graders. He wore black t-shirts, said cuss words, and occasionally smoked Marlboro's if he were somehow able to come by them. Even then, Simone had a penchant for that rebellious nature and no other boy ever existed for her besides Des.
By high school they were desperately in love and lost in each other. Simone was the top of her class while Des was lucky just to pass. People probably wondered what they saw in each other. Two days after graduation, they married.
Simone and Des shared several blissful years together. He was an auto mechanic by day and played in a southern rock band on the weekends. She tended bar where he played music. They lived in a tiny apartment nestled in the upstairs of an old house.
For the first eight years, it was just the two of them. They enjoyed total freedom. Her sense of responsibility complemented his wild recklessness. She taught him to pay bills, he taught her passion.
Finally, Simone's biological clock began ticking and when they were 26, they welcomed their son Blade to the world and bought a small three bedroom home in the suburbs. Des seemed like a direct contrast to quiet nights and picket fences. But, he held onto his wild nature by parking a Harley in the garage. They both loved being parents and settled easily into their new roles. Des still played his guitar, Simone became a stay at home mom.
Things weren't so easy after Rose came along.
Rose wasn't quite the easy baby Blade had been and following her birth, Simone sunk into a deep post-partum depression. Her recovery was a long dark road and the fatigue of keeping up with two young children wore her down.
Simone still loved Des every bit as much as when she was a teenager. His strong tattooed arms, his chiseled face and rugged red tinged beard, still gave her a thrill every time she set eyes on him. And after having two kids, she still looked much like the girl she'd been in high school with her delicate freckled face, long jet black hair, and slender shapely curves. But, what had once been a wild, hot sex life had mellowed to a sweet, consistent love life, and finally wasted away to practically nothing at all.
Simone often cringed at any small gesture of affection Des extende
d. She spent all her time with kids climbing all over her and became greedy about rare moments she had her personal space to herself. Des tried to understand what she was going through but after being rebuffed time and again, he missed and longed for his wife. It was hard not to be hurt by the distance between them. Simone desperately wanted to bridge the gap, but no longer knew how to be the girl he married. So, she hurt too.
***
One Friday evening, Des came home from his job in the shop to shower and relax for a bit before he left to play a show. He sat at the head of the dinner table joking with the kids as Simone finished supper and served it to her family.
"Thank you, baby," he said, patting her hand as she placed his plate in front of him.
"You're welcome," Simone replied with a weak smile. People who didn't know her husband well would probably be surprised by his lovely manners.
The family ate supper with their usual banter and the kids each took off to play when they finished. Des was left gazing across the table at the gorgeous creature who was his wife as she picked at her food staring lifelessly at her plate. A thousand different memories of her danced in his mind and he felt his longing grow uncontrollably.
"Simone," Des said intensely.
Her blue eyes snapped up, noting the undeniable heat in Des' stare. "Yes, baby?" she said meekly.
"What's the matter, love?"
She sighed. "I'm just so tired, Des," she said sincerely, her eyes feeling heavy even as she spoke.
He considered her for a quiet time before he continued. "Well," he said gently. "I know you're very tired, but I would love it if you'd come to my show tonight."
"Oh, Des," Simone said, an arsenal of excuses springing to mind, "we don't have a sitter, honey."
Des smiled a slow sexy promise that spread across knowing lips. "Well," he said again. "I talked to my mom today and she said they can come spend the night at her place!"
Simone frowned, the thought of staying out until two A.M. just making her feel more exhausted. "Des, I-"