The Biker - A Story

There is a place called High Beach that she likes to visit regularly. On the edge of Epping Forest, it’s hardly a beach, but a tourist spot where you can park and gaze over the forest, sit and eat ice creams, go for a long ramble or a drink in the pub on the top of the hill.

She doesn’t come here too often, but now and again when her work is getting too stressful, she’ll drop her youngest daughter at school and head up to High Beach, alone. The alone bit is vital. She loves people but having time on her own keeps her sane.

She didn’t wake up deciding to go, she had meant to come back, grab a cappuccino from the Belgian patisserie and get her head down at the PC. But it was a hot sultry day already and after the school run was finished, something made her keep going and she found herself on autopilot driving to the forest.

When she arrived it was still early and the air had the early morning feeling..not just a physical quality but also an excitement..the unknown possibilities that lay in wait for her that day. She sat in the car and looked out, pondering whether to just sit back and close her eyes or get out and savour the fresh air.

And then she remembered the bikers. There was a turn-off, about a mile before the car park she was sat in, that led to a smaller car-park, where she remembered the bikers used to hang out. She looked around at her leather seated hybrid four wheel drive and though she loved it, today she fancied getting a bit nostalgic and decided to visit the bikers’ hang out.

Walking wasn’t easy. She hadn’t dressed for a walk in the forest and even though she was on the lane, she was dressed in a button down dress and sandals and had to take small steps rather than the huge strides she would have preferred. She laughed at herself, tripping along, but the sense of freedom was rather nice. And perhaps not being quite dressed for the occasion added another layer of frivolity to, what was, effectually, her bunking off work.

The car park was reasonably full. The bikers didn’t really do much, just sat around chatted, and admired each other’s bikes, swapped advice or anecdotes. Her arrival didn’t make much of an impression; she got a few nods from some of the male bikers, a couple of smiles from the females. Of course, she didn’t mind, she liked anonymity.

She wandered around, smiling, as the smells of leather and oil brought back memories of trips across highways and long coast roads. Of course, she also remembered getting so cold she thought she was going to die and the one time she fell asleep on the back and almost fell off.

She decided to get herself a cup of tea from the van parked at the far end. To get there she had to pass one sole biker. He was sat on the floor, leaning against a Ducati. She smiled, back when she used to hang out with a gang of bikers, they would have consider a Ducati a show off bike, all style but not so much substance. She wondered if things had changed.

He must have caught her looking at him as the next thing she heard was a voice asking if she wanted a ride.

She turned the other way and hurried on, her face reddening slightly. Talking to people hadn’t quite been in the plan.

She grabbed her tea from the van and sat at a bench and table, her back firmly to the sole biker. The tea was hot. So hot she could barely hold it, much less put it to her lips. She blew on it self-consciously, wondering if the biker was looking at her.

She chanced a look in his direction but he had gone. Phew. And then, she felt someone take a seat next to her, on her other side. It was him, holding what looked like another equally hot cup of tea.

“You didn’t answer me, that was very rude you know.”

“Pardon?” she turned and gave him a look. One of her withering looks that could usually send annoying strangers back to where they came from.

“I asked if you wanted a ride. You seemed so interested in the bikes..”

“Oh..no thanks, just looking..” she said thinking perhaps politeness might be more effective.

They sat side by side sipping their drinks for a few minutes. Gradually she felt herself becoming more and uncomfortable, a stinging sensation telling her that her nipples were swelling. She glanced at the biker and realised he was looking at her. He held her gaze and she felt herself start to blush, a deep hot blush that started at her breasts and rose up to cover her neck.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he muttered.

Transfixed she kept looking at him.

"Finish your tea,” he murmured.

“Um...I don’t want it.”

“Okay,” he took their two cups and threw them into a nearby bin and then, taking her hand, led her to the bike.

“I think you would like a ride after all, wouldn’t you?”

She felt herself nod.

“The problem is, you’re not dressed properly to come on my bike.” She looked at herself, her bare legs and arms vulnerable. Of course she wasn’t dressed for it. Excellent excuse.

“You need to take your knickers off to come on my bike,” he told her firmly. “There, go behind that tree and remove them.”

She meandered off into the woods, feeling dreamy and surreal. As soon as she was out of sight she leant back against the truck of a beech and caught her breath. What the fuck was she doing going off with a stranger? He could be anybody? And yet.....

Two minutes later she found herself back and the bike with her knickers stuffed in her bag.

The sole biker had borrowed a jacket and helmet off someone and handed them to her. He raised his eyebrow and motioned for her to hop on. At only five foot two hopping on wasn’t easy but she managed to retain her dignity.

The ride was blissful. She could feel intermittent waves of heat and breeze on her bare legs, and the bike was as smooth as a panther.

Although she had been coming to the area for over twenty years, she didn’t recognise where he was taking her. She closed her eyes. She didn’t have to know.

Eventually they arrived at a secluded clearing where they stopped. They dismounted and breathed in the smell of the forest, crisp and clean. She wandered around whilst he rummaged in his pockets, only bring out what she recognised as bungee cords.

They looked at each other and she felt herself start to tremble.

“Do you want this?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Are you sure, I can take you back if you want..”

“No, I want it..” she whispered. He came close to her, removed the jacket and threw it on the floor. He stooped to kiss her, his tongue was warm and gentle and she felt herself reach up for him. And then, in one swift movement, she felt herself pushed back against a tree. He threw the cords around her, fastened them, and stood back to survey his work.

He didn’t smile; just looked at her as if she was a painting he had to get right.

Then, ripping open the poppers that run down the front of her dress, he exposed her, and with a knee, shoved her legs wide apart. She was moaning now, her head held back, her breathing coming in pants.

He moved closer and, standing right in front of her, started to finger her slowly, and, with the other hand, held her head steady so that she had to look at him.

“Open your eyes,” her commanded. She opened them and kept his gaze. He brought her to orgasm over and over again, so that eventually her knees gave way and he untied her. Dizzy and unsure of her feet, she felt herself thrust over a log, her dress pulled roughly up and then she gasped as she felt him thrust his way into her. She was moaning loudly now, if not screaming. He had grabbed her hips and was slamming hard into her, his mouth at her neck, biting, kissing, and growling.

She felt him come inside her, a hot sticky mess that felt as though it was boiling inside. They both sank to the ground.

She felt herself go, drifting into blissful exhaustion. She had no idea how long they were there, but when she came to her senses she found herself kneeling at his feet....