He offered me a lift to Newcastle, for free. Well, I

couldn't afford to refuse, could I, and he *was* rather

nice. Looking at my thin jeans and denim jacket, he

said I'd better borrow some leathers from him, or I'd

freeze to death. So we went back to his flat. In his

wardrobe he'd got a fantastic amount of leather gear --

must've cost a fortune.

He sized me up and chose one of those new leather

jackets in green (you know how well green suits me!).

'Strip to your T-shirt,' he ordered.

'Here we go,' I thought, 'here comes the pre-flight

entertainment.' I wasn't exactly unwilling to have it

off with him, but a bit nervous about all his leather

toys. I needn't have worried, though; that wasn't on

his mind at all.

The leather jacket fitted beautifully, like a second

skin, smooth and warm. Then he hunted for a

matching pair of green leather trousers.

'I can't get into those,' I muttered, 'they're far too


'Just leave it to me,' he answered. 'Take off your

jeans.' As I wasn't wearing anything underneath

them, this took only a few moments. My equipment

tingled in anticipation of the struggle to come.

Opening a can of some sort of oil, he poured some

round the inside of the seat of the trousers. 'That'll

make it easier.' He grinned at me -- rather wickedly, I


Sitting on the edge of the bed, I slid both feet down

through the trouser legs. They certainly went in easily.

Then I stood up and manoeuvred the slippery leather

round my thighs and arse. There was a zip running

from the belt at the back between my cheeks and up

underneath my balls.

'Careful now,' he delicately eased the balls into their

greasy pouch. 'Do up the waistband first, it's more

comfortable.' Grasping my cock (by now almost

erect) he held it vertical while pulling up the zip.

The effect of the carefully shaped smooth slippery

leather on my sensitive cock was almost too much. To

add to the sensation, he poured some more oil down

inside the front of the waistband. Then he stood back

to admire the result. Smiling lustfully, he said, 'Find

yourself a pair of boots while I get dressed.'

I willingly watched while he repeated the process on

himself, dressing in a set of supple light-brown

leathers, identical in design to my own. Squeezing

himself upwards to close the zip (and it was *quite* a

squeeze) excited him almost as much as it did me.

Gloves and helmets completed the outfits, but the

helmets came equipped with an extra facility in the

form of an intercom, with a microphone and small

ear-speaker built in.

'I like to be able to talk to my passengers,' he

explained, 'it's more fun that way.'

We went downstairs to the garage, where I stood

beside the machine on which we had travelled from

the pub.

'No, we'll use *this* bike tonight,' he called from

across the garage, pointing to an absolutely enormous

beast with several extra sets of switches and two

separate, strangely shaped saddles.

'What are these switches for, and why is the saddle

such a funny shape?' I enquired naively.

He just grinned and answered, 'Wait and see!' He

kicked the powerful machine into life, and I climbed

on behind him. Before putting his helmet on he said,

'Try yours on and make sure the intercom's

working.' I did so and found that, despite the noise of

the bike, it was quite easy to hear him.

With great skill the unwieldy bike was manoeuvred

out of the garage. He drove it rather carefully and

slowly, I thought, but this was explained when his

voice muttered in my ear, 'Don't want to be picked

up by the police, do we? They might ask awkward

questions about the bike.'

'Tell me what's so special about it,' I demanded.

'Wait till we're out on the open road, then you'll find

out,' was his mysterious reply.

It was completely dark, with just a few stars shining

in the clear sky. A gentle breeze was blowing, but I

felt quite warm in my comfortable leather skin. The

roar of the engine vibrating between my legs was

making me feel very randy, and I wondered idly

where he was taking me. It was obvious that we

weren't out just for the pleasure of the ride -- he had

some plan for seducing me, that was plain.

We turned off a roundabout on to a straight, unlit,

deserted road, and he opened up the throttle a bit. The

headlight showed only the black road, with hedges on

both sides and an occasional tree. I pressed myself

closer against his back, and put my arms round his

waist, feeling the supple leather warmed by his skin,

and smelling the wonderful odour of male body

encased in leather.

'That's more like it,' he said, 'just relax and enjoy

yourself while I tell you about this bike. The saddles

are shaped like this to give easy access to your arse,

and we have a variety of toys on board which should

give you a thrill. Do you like being fucked?'

'As long as it's fairly gentle,' I answered cautiously,

wondering how he was going to manage to fuck me

while sitting in front of me.

'Right. Undo your zip from the back, right round to

the front, then.' I felt behind me and found another

zip-pull, and with some difficulty got it round to the

front, exposing my arse to the night air, and releasing

my cock, which had been straining against the leather

for some time.

'OK,' I said, 'what now?'

'Now I just press this switch here, and *hey presto*!'

Nothing happened for a moment, and then I felt

something smooth, hard, and warm prodding gently at

my arse. 'There's a flap behind your saddle with a

nice big dildo resting in a pool of lubricant under it.

When I press the switch, the flap opens and the dildo

starts to rise. It's powered from the engine, but I'll

leave it on low-speed for the moment.'

Gradually, the slippery dildo closed in on my tight

arsehole, and its gentle vibrations and insistent

thrusting motions soon had me opened up and longing

for more. I stretched my arse over the gap in the back

of the saddle and the artificial cock eased its way past

my sphincter. The oil inside my trousers had already

lubricated me quite a bit, so it wasn't at all difficult to

take in the full thickness and length of it. Finally, just

when I thought I couldn't take any more, the dildo

stopped rising, but carried on vibrating and thrusting

gently, rousing me to a fever pitch of excitement.

'Have you got one, too?' I gasped between thrusts.

'Who needs an artificial one when they've got the real

thing behind them?' came the reply.

'But I can't fuck you from this position,' I said in

surprise, 'it's the wrong angle.'

'We'll soon solve that problem with the help of some

more of these gadgets,' he answered. 'Undo my zip

from the back.' He eased himself up off the saddle so

that I could pull his zip undone from the back right

round to the front. I felt his cock spring free. 'Now I

press this button here, and -- up I go.'

His saddle began to rise slowly upwards and

backwards, until his arse was poised temptingly just

over my throbbing cock. 'Now another button, and

down I go again,' he said, pressing the button as he

did so. Very slowly, his saddle moved down again,

impaling him on top of my cock. I squirmed with

delight as I entered him, but couldn't move very much

with the dildo inside me and him on top.

'I shan't be able to thrust into you in this position,' I

said, 'but it's very exciting as long as it's all right for


'Why waste energy moving about when the bike will

do it for us?' came the answer. 'Another button, and

away we go!' By pressing another button his saddle

started to rock up and down in an undulating motion

which caused my cock to force its way into and out of

him, while at the same time stimulating me almost to

the point of coming. 'Do you like it?' he shouted


I could scarcely speak, I was so full of lust, but I

managed to croak, 'Yes, of course I like it -- what


'Now we just increase the speed a little,' he said,

opening up the throttle, 'the mechanism is all geared

to the engine revs, so if we go faster, so does all the


He was right. The bike's equipment, as well as my

equipment, were all working overtime. The dildo

behind me was thrashing in and out, causing a great

hot flush to come over me each time it reached full

penetration, and my cock was at full stretch and near

to bursting as it rammed into his well-lubricated tight


'Hold on to my cock,' he yelled, as he increased the

speed yet again.

I reached round in front of him and held his slippery

cock in one hand, his big hairy balls in the other. The

incredible sensations which filled my body, linked to

the speed of the roaring bike, nearly made me faint.

Then he slowed right down, so that there was just a

slight movement of the dildo and his saddle to keep us

both interested.

'It's much better if you start off fast, then have a slow

session, and end up coming while we do the ton,' he

said. 'Wank me off slowly at first, and then speed up

as I start to race the bike.'

My hand moved up and down the length of his

beautiful cock. His heavy balls squirmed as I

scratched their surface with my nails. I could hear his

heavy breathing through my ear-speaker. Matching

my wanking rhythm to the movements of the bike, I

soon felt that we were both in complete harmony,

moving inexorably together towards an orgasm which

I couldn't even imagine. Gradually he increased the

speed of the bike. The automatic fucking speeded up

too. So did the movements of my hands. The roar of

the bike grew louder, even through the thick padded

helmet. My body seemed to consist only of cock and

arsehole, both experiencing sensations stronger than

ever before.

'We're doing the ton now!' he cried suddenly. 'Here I come!!'

Putting my hand over the tip of his tool, I felt great

spurts of spunk hot against my palm. I carried on

rubbing his cock with the sticky, slippery juice, as my

cock swelled in uncontrollable spasms inside him.

One final thrust of the great hard dildo sent me over

the edge. I seized him round the waist, and pressed

my body hard against his back, and began to come

with such force that I thought I would do myself an

injury. At the same time, it was such an exquisite

feeling that I hoped it would go on for ever. I writhed

and panted in the aftermath of the explosion, which

left me drained yet buoyant.

'Have you had enough for now?' he laughed. 'Most

people can't stand any more the first time.'

'My god, do you mean to say that anyone can manage

second helpings of that?' I gasped disbelievingly.

'Sure they can -- so will you be able to, after you've

had a rest. There's a transport cafe up ahead where

they know me. We'll go in there and let you recover.'

And the rest, as they say, is left to the readers'




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