Motorcyclists live for those rare perfect rides, where things are in sync, the weather is right, the road is smooth and if you have one, your passenger is enhancing the experience…..
Maybe it’s my independent nature, but I hate organized motorcycle rides. The lazy pace, the riders with varied experience, and the fact that they are typically not designed for sport bikes. Occasionally, I ride with a few friends who share passions or destinations; For the most part I am a lone rider. I prefer to contemplate my life and my problems on long, fast rides on the open road.
Ironically, when I was a new rider, I learned to ride better on organized rides with one of my mentor riding buddies. He invited me along with his friends and put up with my inexperience and slower pace. I owe him a lot. Maybe this, and the realization that rides are more about socializing, is what had me agree to go on the ‘TNA Car and Bike Party’ (a ride for lifestyle people) on Saturday. The other reason was my friends Val and Robert, who I enjoy immensely, were going. I figured no matter how bad it was they would be there, as well as the chance to promote my photography work and web site with some other hot, sexy couples and singles. I do need to be more social, however, I did also need a date. Ok, I wanted a date. Before I get to the ride I need to explain the back-story…
Lifestyle activities, as a single guy are often very awkward and limited. You often feel like the odd man out. Most events are geared towards couples, even when singles are invited.
I met Heather a week earlier on my Birthday. Laura pushed me to attend an erotic party hosted by a couple we had met a few months back. I had previously shot some cool pictures of the couple’s female half. I wanted to go but I was unsure of my place there. Laura is not a sex partner, more of an enabler and an occasional independent participant if there are people there she connects with. When we arrived, I felt more comfortable as there were other people I knew, many of which I had photographed at other parties. I was happy to be referred to as “The Photographer”, always nice to have a rep. Standing in a group of otherwise uninteresting people next to us, was Heather. Curvy, voluptuous, and stylish she wore a sexy black bra and a sheer black tutu, a welcomed departure from the average “club” wear donned by many women at erotic parties. Over-hearing a little of her conversation, she seemed bubbly, engaged, and totally comfortable with her sexuality. To me, she was completely seductive with large green eyes and face length wavy black hair. As I talked to Laura and some other friends, I could not stop glancing in her direction. At one point my hand grazed her tutu, and I said “Sorry”. We spoke briefly but our respective situations prevented any deeper conversations.
Later my group went outside for some air and Heather was also there sitting at a table with her friends. While talking to another girl I knew and had photographed, I somehow dropped that conversation and got closer to Heather for a real talk. She was engaging and honest. She knew about my photos, a good start. I found out she was the rare, cool, single girl in the lifestyle. She had just starting dating the boy she was there with. Nice guy, sort of “average-young-guy” looking. She was more importantly very smart, a researcher with a PhD. We exchanged info and said we’d both be in touch for either pictures or coffee.
Back to the ride, I wanted a date. I didn’t want to be the odd man out. But whom could I take? My assistant Laura would have gone; a perfect choice, she is hot, likes to ride, tolerates my crap, Robert and Val love her, and she could help me promote myself. Unfortunately, she was on vacation back in Canada with her family, a dark two weeks for me for sure. Other familiar riding partners were busy, either working or being indecisive. Such is my life. I spend a lot of time finding outlets for my riding and erotic partners, no small task. Heather was still on my mind. I loved her mind and I thought we would have things to talk about. I wanted to ask her, however, it was an all day thing, hosted at a local sex club and we had just met. Yes, we met at a sex party but regardless; I had no idea if she even rode.
Understand, riding with a passenger is kind of like a dance. You have to be in sync, almost thinking as one. Everything you do together or independently affects the handling, speed, and comfort. When it’s good it’s great, when it’s bad it is really bad. All these worries aside, I had a good feeling about her and I was definitely more than a bit attracted. I emailed her about going with me. She replied that she would like to but was not sure if time would permit. She would let me know later in the week. Cool, I thought. She had not said “no” and there was interest. A few days later she was still interested but had some questions. I answered them, and we were a go. Fantastic. I had a smart, cool date.
Saturday morning came and I arrived at her door 15 minutes late. I had forgotten my sunglasses and had to return home for them. Rather than going to the door, I called her and she sounded so low key I panicked because I though she was still asleep. She said she’d be right down and she was, seemingly almost immediately. There she was, very curvy with a red low t-shirt, jeans and boots. Unlike many others I have ridden with, she at least wore proper clothes. I had brought her a women’s motorcycle jacket and a helmet, and as I helped her dress we made that uncomfortable first date small talk. She mentioned that this was her second time on a motorcycle. Great, I was thinking this might be ugly, however, I was happy to see her and I decided not to think about it. A few simple riding instructions, we mounted, and were off. Riding down Western Avenue, everything felt good and as I took to the highway it was apparent that the ride was going to be pleasant. The bike felt good, and most importantly, she felt good behind me.
We made the short trip down 290 to Villa Park to pick up my co-riding friends, Val and Robert. They have become my new couple in crime. I often envy Robert. Val is beautiful, leggy, outgoing, uninhibited, loves to ride, and party. Everyone would want Val on the back of their bike. We all mounted up at took of to the club. As Val looked back at me from behind Robert, with an amazing smile of sexy delight that I wanted to photograph, I was mostly thinking of Heather’s energy at my back, a good sign for the day ahead.
The ride check-in was uneventful. We meet the other riders and joked around. As usual I began to take a few pictures. I had become the unofficial photographer. When the ride started, it actually did not. We only rode for a few minutes and then stopped for lunch, one of the four or five stops in an 80-mile ride. Many times we backtracked, lost people, and then stopped to wait for them. The ride was turning very unconventional, but fun nonetheless. At every stop there were jokes and something different. The next to last stop was a local strip club. Not a bad thought for a ride with erotic people, however, the seediness was too much for us and we left quickly. It reminded me of getting drunk, going home with a girl, and being horrified the next morning when the sun comes up. It was just another reason to get back to the real point of it all, the ride itself.
A note to all of you non-riders: Motorcyclists live for those rare perfect rides, where things are in sync, the weather is right, the road is smooth and if you have one, your passenger is enhancing the experience. Despite the disorganization, too many stops, and the bad strip club, Saturday was one of those rides. Speeding though the Illinois countryside, Heather and I became a unit. She was never too far away from me or too upright to make it feel like she was merely riding, and never too close to be to be a burden. As we rode, she was ever so lightly on my back, just enough to feel her breast and her legs gently squeezing my hips. Sometimes her arms were around me, but more often she had this way of placing them on the sides of the gas tank right below me for balance. Either way, riding down the rode with her either fast or slow was this perfect dance of balance and grace. A few times, I shut off everything around me except for her presence and our energy and let the rhythm of the ride take over me. It was an erotic experience better than any regular sex, proof that true eroticism takes on my forms. On the many stops along our ride route, I did not want her to get off and when it was time to get back on the road I could not wait to have her at my back again. At one point I considered not stopping and just riding on, thinking that maybe I could make it last forever. However, my age and experience told me just to savor the experience and enjoy her on the bike as long as I possibly could.
As the ride ended there were more pictures and food, and I found myself wondering what to do with all that had happened. A few couples took advantage of the hot tub and the pool, and the day slowly wound down. Then there was the decision, to stay at the club for the evening party, which was separate from the ride, or leave. Most everyone decided to leave including Val and Robert feeling that the day had been long enough. Heather had planned to stay with or without me. I had been to this club before and had hated it, however, I stayed because I liked her and she was my date. I was looking forward to riding home with her. We both changed into outfits more appropriate for the evening.
The club was predictably average, which is the subject of another blog. Heather, now looking sexier dressed in a lace top and a short leather skirt, had friends coming soon. They were a couple that was her backup trip home in case I had bailed early. They were all nice and cordial. Things were awkward, but ok for a first date at a swing club. I have to admit I loved being with her, still on the high of the ride. As the night wore on girls danced, got more naked and drinks were had. I showed off my photo portfolio, trying to be more self-promotional. Her friends decided to swim and we decided to watch. We talked a bit, agreed on some of our likes and dislikes about the club. When her friends decided it was time for adult play, we were not sure whether that included us. Couples tend to gravitate to other couples, and while we were there together our lack of longevity was a strike against us. We opted to be with each other in a small semi-public area. It turned out to be in sync, just like the ride. She responded to the things I sensed that she liked, and I was happy that she let me return some of the erotic high that she had provided me all day of the ride. Afterwards, it was nice to just hold her and stroke her soft hair. Her pleasure and the events of the day seemed to linger.
We emerged from the club to an unusually chilly August night. I was worried she would be cold on the ride home, about 40 minutes on the highway. I asked her if she wanted to wear the thermal shirt or the gloves I brought for her just in case, but she declined. We dressed and mounted up as we had done all day and headed out into the night. Our riding sync returned almost immediately. We settled into our groove on the highway. I looked down occasional to see her hands on the sides of the tank. Concerned, I covered them with my free hand for a few moments from time to time to shield them from the cold air. I thought about the day and mostly the ride that had provided me more pleasure than I have had for a long while. One motorcycle, the crisp night air, and Heather at my back, there was no place else I would have rather been.