‘It’s in here,’ he said, as he unlocked the door of the old, dilapidated wooden shed. ‘My dad lets me use this as a garage.’
The shed was sited on the edge of the golf course that his father’s family owned.
‘I’ve never been on a motorbike before,’ said Maureen as they gazed on the chrome and black leather masterpiece that was Henry’s new acquisition, now that he was old enough to hold a full license.
‘It’s a real vintage Harley,’ he said. She walked up to it slowly, taking in its aura of power and danger.
She turned and held his face as she kissed him. ‘It’s lovely, Henry,’ she said. The kiss became more serious, he lifted her short summer frock and eased her thong down. It fell to the floor and she stepped out of it, momentarily remembering the scene last summer when she’d forgotten to and had tried to take a step backwards. Thank God they’d been upstairs at a party and there was a pile of coats to save them.
’Tits first, I’m not a slag,’ she whispered
’Tits first, I’m not a slag,’ she whispered and they both giggled — it was one of their private jokes. He lifted her gently and she sat side-saddle on the beast, enjoying the feel of the seat leather on her wet crotch. They kissed again and she moved herself back and forth slowly over the leather.
‘Climb aboard,’ he said. He reached down to pick up his helmet and looked upwards appreciatively as she swung her leg up and over. She stood on the footrests and grasped the tall handle bars as he slid the helmet over her head. He climbed on behind her and reached around to fondle her wet slipperiness. She helped him find the right spot then reached her hand back and felt his stiff cock, the fabric of his jeans made it feel enormous. She felt him unzip and manoeuvre it out. It rested warmly upright against her buttocks.
‘Try this,’ he said, leaning forward. He placed his hand over hers and showed her how to use the throttle then pumped down on the kick-start. The engine roared into life and she blipped the throttle experimentally, then leaned forward to help him push his cock into her. He began to move slowly backwards and forwards and she blipped the throttle in time to his thrusts and her growls of pleasure. His movements became faster and deeper. Suddenly he stopped and she felt him grip her shoulders hard as his spasms began. He jerked convulsively and knocked her foot off the footrest and onto the gear change just as she jerked the throttle wide open. The beast leapt off its stand and crashed through the thin planks of the shed, scattering fragments and splinters in all directions. They wheelied across the golf course, front wheel high in the air, still accelerating. Henry’s little head was spurting joyfully over the leather seat and Maureen’s buttocks while his big head was frantically trying to balance the bike. They hit a hillock and leapt into the air, then came crashing down into a water hazard. The bike fell on its side, spilling them off, and the engine gurgled, spluttered and died. Maureen lay on her back in the shallow water, her dress up around her waist. Henry was lying on his front levering himself up, spluttering and groaning. In the distance they could hear the whirring of approaching golf carts and men shouting.
Maureen pulled her dress down.
‘Fucking hell, Henry,’ she sighed. ‘That was amazing, can we do it again?’
Henry slumped back into the water muttering something incomprehensible.
Maureen gazed up at the gulls gliding on the up-draughts high above her. ‘You know, Henry,’ she said, ‘one day we’ll laugh about this.’