Throttle & Thrust

My palms slide slowly over her every curvaceous contour, mapping out her matte-black body like sacred terrain. Every line of her soft yet hard as steel form, is so decadent, bold, sexy, and laced with just the right amount of attitude to make me ache. My pulsing pussy, bare under the short skirt I wear as I straddle her, rubs against her leather and my hands grip her a little harder. The sweet, sharp zing in my core driving me crazy with need.

I bite my lip, forcing myself to focus, to breathe, and to reign in my control. I stroke her again, even slower this time. I’m curvy too, but in this moment, I wish my own body mirrored hers just a little more. She’s absolutely stunning.

It feels wrong, her being left here all alone in this dank, gas-laced garage. Surrounded by cobwebs, rusting tool chests, and forgotten camping gear. Something this beautiful, this elegant deserves to be worshipped, not abandoned when inconvenient.

Her name is Natashia. She’s a Panhead Chopper. His pride and joy. He calls her, Babygirl. And even though I admire her, fuck! I envy her…

Because that title should be mine.

She may make him feel invincible. Her speed, power, the way she roars down the open road, but I’m the one who makes him shake and shatter. I’m the one who sings to his soul every time his dick slides deep into my sloppy, eager mouth. While she purrs to the winds every time he chokes her throttle... I grip his cock with every delicious pulse of my body. I smother him with my pillowy sweet tits. And gasp and gag around his girth while my eyes redden and cheeks streak with tears. He should be at my bended knee, feeding me his delicious cock and calling me his Babygirl with such pride and devotion…

It’s against his rules, to straddle her. To touch her, but I don’t care. She’s off limits without his invitation, but I want to understand, so I mount her anyways. My hands gripping her, my thighs clenching her, my pussy licking her as it drips. I try to feel her the way he does, to see why she’s his Babygirl and not me.

Silly, I know, but it matters.

He treats me unlike any other, I’m happy with him, but why doesn’t he call me his Babygirl, like he does her? I’m ashamed of myself, because I’m jealous. It’s complex; my respect of her and how she helps him to feel and live for himself, but my jealousy in wanting to be better than her, wanting to be his only one… complicated as fuck. It’s my problem, my poor thinking. I know it’s wrong, but my intrusive thoughts play on the wound inside of me, the one of rejection and of abandonment that exists in me from my past and now taints me in my future. It’s a war, one I’m trying to make a peace treaty with, instead of shedding blood. But I haven’t won it yet.

I never heard him sneak up behind me, I’m not allowed to touch Natasha without his permission, remember? I know this, he knows this. So, when he straddles the bike behind me, gripping my hips to keep me here, enveloping me with his body in a way to cage me in, I startle. He grabs my wrists and then pulls out rope that he ties around them, then to the handlebars, locking me in place.

I’m not surprised… much.

“What was my rule? Hmm?”

“To ask before I touch.” I answer dutifully.

“So, what are you doing, Love?”

“Nothing.” What am I missing that Natasha has in spades? Do I need to love his cock even harder? Gag a bit louder? Am I not challenging him enough in bed?

“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me. Explain.”

“I don’t know.” I do know, but I’m feeling too shy to admit anything to him, it’s my red flag and while I’m working on it, I still broke his boundary and I’m ashamed of myself for it.

“Hmm… Don’t know, huh? Well then, I guess I’ll have to convince you to think a little harder and come up with a real answer, won’t I?”

He reaches back and pulls out a collar and more rope. He fastens the collar around my neck and then ties it to the handlebar as well. Now my body is stretched forward, my tits grazing his gas tank just lightly enough that my nipples rub enticingly over her ridges, as he scoots back and begins to pull my skirt up more, revealing that not only did I break his boundary, but I got his seat a little wet.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. What have we here?”

“I’m sorry.” I gasp “I couldn’t help myself”

He grips my hair and pulls my head back, arching my spine and perking my now hard nipples even more. A slight moan leaves my lips at the feel of her hard metal sliding against them. The sting his hair pulling is causing to my scalp makes my body break out in aroused goosebumps, as my pussy leaks a little more.

“Seems my bike turns you on, look at you. Dripping everywhere, nipples sharp, your practically ready to cum, aren’t you?” He pulls a flogger out, still holding my hair tight and slaps my outer ass cheek. My breath hitches, a groan of need escapes, and my hips buck, pushing my clit into the leather seat and grinding against it. I’m no longer thinking, only reacting and hoping he will give me what I want. What I need.

“You broke my rule, little one, your ass is forfeit!” He leans forward and growls into my ear.My clit is pressed hard into bobber seat below me; my ass sits perfectly tilted for his punishment. And he takes full advantage, spanking me for a count of 45. Every time one lands with a smack, my pussy clenches and involuntarily grinds harder and harder, as if silently begging to cum. My hands twist and fist around the handles they’re tied to, and my neck strains from wiggling around in the collar, while strapped in place.

The sounds tearing from my throat aren’t mine—they’re primal, desperate things. A prayer for it to stop, a plea for it to keep going, a begging for him to make me cum, for his cock in my mouth, in my cunt. I make no sense, but I make all the sense. He doesn’t dominate me; he decimates me, and I’m just a flurry of desire in the wake of it.

He reaches forward and gropes my tits, squishing them, pinching them, and flicking my nipples. I close my eyes, focused on the arousal building inside me as I hear him slide that key in and turn the throttle on. My eyes flash open in alarm.

“What are you doing?” My heart seized, then began to hammer against my ribs, a frantic, deafening beat.

“You think you’re in a position to be asking questions?” He scoffs. “No. Bad girls get lessons. And you’re about to get a very intensive one.” His voice is a low rumble, and every word dripped with a danger that made my own body betray me, a slick heat pooling between my thighs.

“Yes, sir.” The words were a ragged whisper, stolen from lungs that refused to draw a full breath.

His hands traveled all over me, gripping, caressing. One slid between my legs, and a low groan was his approval as he found what he was looking for.

“I promise to follow the rules,” I breathed, pressing into his touch. “I’ll be a good girl. Please… fuck me right here, right now. I need you inside me.”

A dark, rich chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Oh, you’ll be fucked,” he promised, and I could hear the smile in his voice, a predator’s grin. “But not until I’ve made sure to break you apart first.”

The bike purrs to life just then, vibrating my clit as she does, and I gasp loudly, trying to cave my torso and raise my hips, protecting my sensitive parts from the intensity, but he doesn’t allow it for long. He grabs both hips and presses me even harder into the seat. Then he kisses the back of my neck and leans his chest against my spine to force me and every awakened nerve to feel every vibration his throttle revving produces.

“You like that?”

“Yes!” I rasp. It’s too much though and I fight a little to get some reprieve, but he ominously giggles and presses me harder, bringing his arm around me and rubbing at my clit to add even more sensation.

Soon, I’m bucking against Natashia, the seat slippery with my juices. Every time I moan too loud, he revs the motor higher. He has one hand at the throttle, pulling back the handle, the other hand buried deep in my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit as his fingers flick my inner spot until he has me near screaming incoherently when he makes me cum, finally.

“Fuck, I love that sound!”

I can’t tell if he’s referring to the motor revving or me cumming, and he doesn’t give me time to get a breath and ask, because with the manner of a rabid animal he grabs each ankle and brings my legs up behind me. He fastens them to the back foot pegs so now I’m laying a little more on my stomach, locked in place and helpless to the vibration of the bike, as he lets go of the throttle and readjusts himself.

I feel his bare skin against my ass a moment later. He’s removed his clothes and is lining himself up with me. Hungry and aching for his cock, I arch my lower back, angling my hole for him in a pleading way and then, happily, finally I feel him slowly sliding his hard cock into my pussy. His cock is warm, thick, long and feels like the purest ‘home’. His abdomen pressing against my ass as the bike continues vibrating against me. I’m his come to life vibrating sex doll now.

His hand reaches up and turns the throttle every now and then to rev the engine, as he thrusts in, causing my channel to clench around him when he does. My entire body is lighting up at once, overwhelmed but still needy, so I accept the pain of the overstimulation in favor of the harder hitting, more full body explosion I feel coiling up inside me. I can’t help how much moaning and squealing is escaping my lips, I’ve lost my ever-fucking-loving mind to him.

“Yes! Right there!” I mewl and whine.

“Please, Daddy! Fuck me deep! Unh, right there! Yes!” I beg and scream, my voice hollowing as pleading enters into my tone.

“Fill me up! Use my hole, please!” I chant as he slides back and forth, riding me while I’m riding his bike, and we never even leave his garage. I’m getting so close, again.

“I’m gonna cum! Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” And that’s when he stops.

He holds himself so still and leans in careful to whisper in my ear,

“If you want to cum, you will tell me why you broke rules today.” The bastard knows me well! He knows what will always make me talk…

“Please! Just let me cum! Please!”

“Uh uh! Speak up, Love. Tell me now or I leave you like this, all day.”

“I was just trying to figure out, on my own, why you’re so loyal and devoted to your bike, calling her Babygirl, when I’m right here, I’m your Babygirl!” I blurt out, the jealousy evident in my tone.I know he needs to know how I feel, the communication has to be strong with us for this to work, but sometimes I still need a little push of confidence. I need to feel safe and wanted to share my feelings, and being touched like this always makes me feel that safety. It’s easier to be fully transparent in these moments and I so appreciate that he doesn’t judge me for that, instead he facilitates it.

“There it is! Good girl! Thank you for trusting me with that, now let me open your big, beautiful eyes to something you’re not seeing here...” That perks me up, I am very strong in always wanting to understand things, wanting to be educated if I have something wrong instead of reacted at; other people’s perceptions, feelings, and when I’m missing things and being stubborn. I like to learn and grow, as dorky as that sounds.

“This bike is my Babygirl, my escape from humans and a way to process my thoughts alone when I work on her, when I ride her... but you?… You are my Queen! My safe harbor for my heart and soul, a warm bed for my cock and the beautiful residence for my love! You are the most important piece to my life. Babygirl is not good enough for you, because you’re more than that, you’re my Queen, my Love! You’re perfect the way you are, even when being stubborn, bratty, and a troublemaker! Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He wraps his strong fingers around my neck, just the way I like it, and gently stretches my head back, pulling my whole body into an arch to tighten my hole as he pounds into me hard while revving that engine again and again. Sparks fly so bright that passionate screams of ‘Fuck!’ shoot out from all directions as we cum together. Warm fuzzies surround us, from his words coating the moment in even more pleasure than before, from his warm slick cock pummeling my achy cunt, and my wet walls crashing and clutching against his.

I’m not his Babygirl… not just a little needing care, a toy to be played with, a pet to be his companion. I’m his partner, his equal. I hold a permanent part of his heart, as his ride or die, and him mine. He doesn’t just own me—he cherishes me. I’m his Queen—and that is even better, because he absolutely is my fucking King!