by Avery Aster
Hot. Ford exhaling, in the way I fantasized he would, if buried deep inside my Lady V.
“Lex,” Ford saying my name in my ear, as I held onto his shoulders while he…wait a second. He did just say my name in my ear, and I was holding on to him.
Instinctively I leaned forward, gripping him tight. He felt good.
V-shaped back? Check.
A broad set of shoulders? Like two boulder stones, next to one another.
How about a tight waist with a little bit of love to squeeze on? Ding. Raking my nails up and down, I could feel each ripple of his six-pack.
If I lowered my hand a smidge, I bet I’d brush up against his bulge. He must be hard. I’m certainly wet.
“Lex,” he said again.
I didn’t reply. Instead I bit down on my lower lip and enjoyed hearing him say my name.
In my mind, I was on an erotic journey. Totally. I envisioned myself as actress Marianne Faithfull in the 1968 movie Vive and I had watched a zillion times called Girl on a Motorbike. In the film Marianne rides through the French countryside going on a quest to find her lover.
Could this summer finally turn out the way I’d hoped? Something sexual and fun like it was for Marianne?
Wait. Did Ford have a girlfriend? I bet he does. He’s too handsome not to have himself a few girlfriends. Did it matter? Yes, to me it did.
We slowed down, approaching a stop light.
The bike hummed. On the inside, my entire body did too.
“You okay back there?” With a raspy voice, he asked. I wasn’t sure I could even put my thoughts, this ride, and my last twenty-four hours into words.
“More than just okay,” I paused, taking him in, taking this in. “I’ve waited to go on this ride for a long time.”
“How long?”
Unable to cover my mouth through the helmet, I giggled. I hadn’t laughed since, probably before graduation. So a few months ago, I guess.
“Tell me!” His body tensed.
“Longer than I care to admit.”
“You excited about your birthday?” His left arm came back. He rubbed my leg.
No desire left in me to talk about Paris or what was supposed to be, I looked ahead and asked, “Where do you live?”
“North. A place the paparazzi won’t bother you.”
“Canada?” I asked, thinking back to my earlier conversation with Blake.
“Close,” he replied, then chuckled. “We’re almost there.”
“You have any roommates?”
Clearing his throat, he asked, “Are you scared to be alone with me?”
Ford answered my question with a question, which I didn’t like.
The light changed to green.
Picking up speed, the entire West Side Highway ahead of us, every car and truck was left behind. We took the far right lane following the sign for Inwood, the northern-most tip of Manhattan. Inwood was an area of town for families, people with kids. Think Westchester County but still on the Big Apple island.
“Are you single?” I continued this game of question-for-question.
“Do you care?”
Dang. Ford was good at this, quicker than me. And I’d been trained by Taddy, Blake, and Vive. Hello!
“No. I’m not scared.” I gave up. He won. “And yes, I do care if you’re single or not.”
“Good. Don’t be nervous. I like that you want to know if I have a girlfriend or not.” He still didn’t tell me.
“You do?”
“Yeah. Your curiosity about my life turns me on.”
“You turn me on,” I muttered.
“What?” He jerked his neck back, glaring at me so fast I thought we’d fall off the bike together. “Lex, what did you just say?”
“Nothing…” I played dumb realizing he wasn’t sure I had said what I did.
I was never good at this girl-to-boy repertoire thing. I’d taken a few pointers from Taddy and Vive such as bite your bottom lip, stare at him intently then look away when he notices you, and lastly, twirl your hair.
Regardless, we hadn’t covered how to flirt while riding a motorbike. Let alone while wearing a helmet, which included an earpiece enabling me to hear every minor grunt and major swallow this man made.
Let’s face it. Everything Ford did caused my body to wet with excitement. But he probably had a girlfriend, some skinny, boney thing. There was no point in continuing this conversation or going over to his place if he did.
After Kelle had crapped on a stick, obliterating my Lady V parade, I’d smashed my rose-colored glasses along with any hopes of those fantasies coming true. From now on, I’d take men for who they were and what they did or did not want from me.
“Ford…” I had to know if this attraction was mutual. Blake would say I was being insecure and foolish and to shut my trap. Maybe I protected myself from something that could cause pain. So I asked, “Are you attracted to me?”
He cocked his head, and through the rearview mirror, he stared back at me intently. I could hear him hissing through the helmet microphone.
I inhaled a shallow breath. “Did you hear me?”
He nodded, turning the bike onto a side street.
The bike zipped past Fort Tryon Park. Green was everywhere. Green trees, green yards.
I started to feel green realizing Ford probably won’t give me the response I wanted. You’d think after yesterday that I’d be able to handle rejection. Nope. Like never ever.
“Yes, you heard me?” This drove me crazy. “Or yes, you like curvy girls?”
We pulled into a narrow brick driveway. The three-stall white garage door ahead of us opened. Sitting back on the bike, I glanced up and took it all in. It was a four-story, Victorian mansion that appeared to have been split into three townhouse residences.
The bike rolled into the garage and stopped. Ford pushed a button, and the garage lights came on as the door closed. Kicking the stand, he got to his feet and cut the engine.
Mindful of where I sat, he lifted his leg and got off the bike. When he removed his helmet, I noticed his eyes weren’t as dark as before. They had hints of hazel in them. His brow furrowed into a straight line when he caught me staring at him.
Quickly, I looked down at the bike and reached up to take my helmet off.
“Allow me.” His big hands came under my chin. He tilted my jaw upward. “Such a beautiful face, Lex. I like looking at you.”
“Thank you…”
I’d heard the “pretty face but” backhanded compliment my entire life. I waited for him to say, “But your body could use some work.” Or my personal favorite, “It’s a shame you forgot to take care of the rest of you.”
Ford didn’t say anything of the sort. He studied me just as he did back in the jail, from head to toe. I’m so uncomfortable. Not because of anything he’s doing, but because usually that is when men, and sometimes women, stop looking at me all together.
He unfastened my chinstrap and teased, “Let’s see if your hair has static.”
Trying to stand, I laughed nervously.
“Stay seated.” He removed my helmet and placed both his and mine behind me. He swung my right leg to the left side of the bike, framing my body with his. He cupped my face in his hands.
Hot cop fantasy? Heck no. This was real. He was going to…
Ford licked his bottom lip. His facial features strained, becoming serious. The tip of his nose touched mine. I smelled mint when he exhaled. “No roommate. Yup, I live alone.” Then he kissed me.
My head fell back into his grip.
With determination, he tongued me, deeply, clockwise, oh yes even his flippin’ tongue was strong and precise, just like the way he weaved his bike through traffic.
Enthusiastically he unbuttoned the straps on my overalls and then without even looking, still lip-to-lip, he worked the closure on the left side then the right. The denim flaps fell to the front and the back.
“Stand for a sec.” Ford lifted me up in the air as if I were a weightless f
eather. He planted both my feet on the ground, and then he shanked the overalls to my ankles.
“Ford—” Before I could finish whatever I was going to say, he lifted up my shirt and swiftly placed me back on the motorcycle. Worried I’d fall, I dug my back into the seat, reached for each handlebar, pulling myself up as I gasped and garbled some words.
He slid his fingers through the purple waistband on my underwear.
My entire body stood to attention.
“I want you naked so I can admire your body, and fuck you, on my bike.”
Air, I needed to breath. Afraid I might pass out, I inhaled through my nostrils and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Umm, Ford,” I whispered when he came in to kiss me again.
What the heck was I going to say? “Excuse me, but as hawt as this whole bike thing sounds, my Lady V and I would be more comfortable on a bed, sofa, or even the floor.” I felt as if I might knock the bike over any second now.
“Nervous?” Ford sensed my apprehension.
“Very,” I replied without thinking.
“I told you not to be.” He repositioned himself holding my legs over his right shoulder.
The panties came off. Then he lifted one leg and rested it on his other shoulder. Leaning down, his hands scooped under my back and unfastened my bra. No directions necessary. This dude could do this undressing thing, in the dark.
“But Ford, ya see, I’m—”
That tongue of magic. Thick and velvety, warm and wetter than the spot between my legs, Ford slipped back into my mouth. This time he rotated counterclockwise.
Dang. Ford is an Olympic kisser. For round two, I braced myself in his arms.
Legs spread wide, my ass still sat on the bike.
Rearing his head back, he said, “You asked if I was single.” Before I could even reply, he spread my legs wider, stood between them, leaned down and grazed on my nipples. It was indeed like my FDR Highway fantasy all over again. Vive could take her Prince from India stories and go Bombay Sapphire herself till she passed out. His nipping and licking, tugging and slightly-ever-so-gently-almost biting of my nipples, gave me a mini-orgasm.
“Oh, Ford.”
He laughed, realizing I’d come a little. “I’m single.”
“You are.” I reached down and fingered myself in front of him. I don’t know what the heck was coming over me. This was off the charts.
“I’m hoping after you and I get to know each other better, maybe that’ll change. No pressure.” And then he licked two of his fingers and found where mine were. “Birthday girl, no toys, except a motorbike will straddle your cunt when I’m with you. That means no fingering yourself.” And like that, he raised my hands up over my head with his left hand. His right hand hovered over my wetness. Raking his knuckles through my pubic hair, he complimented, “I love touching your pussy. Makes your eyes sparkle.” His hand stopped right at my clit. Foreplay, Ford did this well. He tapped as I gazed up at him, hungry, wanting him to get me off again.
He pressed down.
In a flash and in my mind, I was on the garage ceiling. “Oh my Godiva.” I trembled. I held on to this body. “I mean—great, I’m single too.”
“Alright then.” His hands must have magical powers because he worked my Lady V as she’d never been worked before. “How’s that feel, Lex?”
“Ahhhmazing.” I became more comfortable and relaxed. Maybe it was the faint smell of gasoline in the garage but I felt high. Not like Birdie high, rather euphorically tripping, more than when the girls and I had tried acid at Avon Porter. Okay, it was just once. But it was as if I was in Dylan’s Candy Bar, naked, decked in sugar and being enjoyed by Ford.
He pulled out a condom
This was happening pretty quickly.
“Put it on me.” He tore the wrapper open and handed me the disc. Then he unzipped his drawers. They dropped to the floor just like in my dream, but unlike my dream, his cock was bigger than I imagined.
“Shit!”
“Problem?” He asked tweaking the thick tip in my direction.
“No, Officer.” I smiled and sat up on the bike. Grabbing his balls with one hand, I rolled the condom over the tip of his fat dick with the other.
There was no flippin’ way this hunk of Ford was going inside of me, while on this bike, without my bum popping both of its wheels off. I didn’t know if I wanted to mount him and ride him across country like Marianne did in Girl on a Motorbike or make a run for it back to the Sherry Netherland.
“I’ll be gentle.” He leaned in to kiss me.
Instinctively my hands came up on his sculpted chest.
He pressed his cock between my legs, but waited.
“Look at me, Lex.” he said. “I want those beautiful, gem-like eyes on mine the entire time I’m inside you. Understand?”
I nodded. My mouth felt dry and itchy. God, I’m nervous.
“There’s one question of yours I haven’t answered.” Slowly a bit of his cock slid into my heat.
“Ohhh Ford, that feels—”
Then he stopped without filling me up. “I’m going to be straight with you, about that curvy girl question. Then you’re gonna be straight with me about what I wanna know.” He reached down and tapped his cock between my wet folds.
“Fine. Yes.” My nails dug into the leather seat. “Tell me.”
“I love curvy girls, always have, always will.” His hands, callous and rough, slid over my body. He leaned up and suckled my nipples for a while. His cock still teased my folds. Every inch of this man stimulated me. “See I have a theory…”
“Huh? A curvy girl theory.”
“Yup. Your body is like my bike here. I get excited just by touching your skin as I do when I sit on my bike.”
“Keep on…touching.”
“And when I have my bike between my legs, no one can take her for a ride but me. I own her. I can take her as fast as I wanna go.”
“That’s because you’re a cop.”
“The law has nothing to do with how I feel when I’m on my bike. Every time I ride her, I make love to her. She takes care of me, and I take care of her.”
“I see.”
“Her body is designed for comfort, speed, and love.” He spoke about it all so casually. “And so is yours.”
“I like this theory.”
He slid in more and moaned. “We’re almost there. I’m going to let you suck my dick into you, the rest of the way. Once I’m in, nice and deep, I’m then going to ask you my question. Okay, birthday girl?”
Ford had lost his mind. Forreals. I looked around. I wasn’t in jail, or on the side of the road. I was in his garage.
“Pull me. Come on. You got it.” He grunted.
Believe it or not, I’d heard about this thing called Kegel exercises from Blake. Apparently he’d talked about it with Mrs. Pringle, our gym teacher.
Contracting my cunt muscles, I brought Ford’s home into me as his thickness fucked me deeper and deeper. I glanced up at his wide smile. His eyes were drunk with bliss.
He held on to my shoulders and thrust once, then twice. That was when the sparks started happening all at once. Every part of me was on fire. He dropped his head and kissed me.
Then he pulled out.
WTF.
“You ain’t getting anymore.”
“The hell you say, Ford.” I grabbed onto his shaft, trying my hardest to shove him back inside me. I felt vulnerable, empty without him there. He had to finish. He must.
“My turn for a question,” Ford demanded. His hands cupped my breasts as I sat up glaring at him.
Shit, I knew what he’d ask me. This birthday bliss had been so short lived. “Go ahead.”
“Did Birdie cover for you and the girls?” He gently pinched at my nipples.
“Does it matter who did what?”
“Bad birthday girl,” he said, flicking one breast and then the other.
This was getting me off. Can you believe it? The control. His desire for right and wrong. Ford’
s control over my body. I loved this. “If I tell you the truth will you go back to what you were doing?”
“Trust me, I will.” He pounded into me, one hand on my hip, the other pinching my flippin’ clit. “Is this what you want?”
I could barely talk as he plunged. The walls of my vagina tightened. Holding onto the bike and him at the same time for dear life, I admit I’m utterly terrified and also completely exhilarated. I’d wanted to tell him the truth all along.
“Yes, Birdie lied. I’m sorry. I lied too.” My feelings were jumbled. I started to climax. “Oh my, I’m—”
“Come all over my cock,” he demanded.
“This is so fucked up.” Sparks inside of me turned to waves of ecstasy, and I panted, “I’m coming.”
“Me too,” he arched his back. Inside of me, his erection pulsated, packing that latex. Shorter in stride, becoming quicker, he pounded till every drop of his excitement released.
Everything came to a stop when he pulled out, tossed his condom in the trash, gave me a hand off the bike, and said, “Get dressed. I’m taking you in to accept your punishment.”
“In?” Did he mean like into the police station? Was he going to arrest me again? I picked up my underwear from the floor and put them on.
“You have two choices, Lex,” he spoke in an authoritative tone. It was as if I’d been splashed by ice-water. He zipped up his pants.
“You pigtard,” I shouted at him. I didn’t mean it but I was so pissed off. Putting my t-shirt back on, I said, “I knew this, you, the idea of us, was too good to be true.”
“Don’t get nasty with me. I haven’t told you what the choices are yet.”
“Screw you.” I stepped into my overalls. “I’m outta here.” I punched the garage door opener to leave realizing Vive was always right. These cops could never be trusted.
The door started to inch open.
He grabbed my wrists and cuffed me. Then he pushed the garage opener, and it closed.
“Don’t test me, Miss Easton.”
“What are my two choices?” My eyes started to tear up.