Jacks bad night in the saddle Jack Morris had watched the talent in the bar for a while, all the time getting braver thanks to the drink. The rugby player had been in the pub for a couple of hours. At some point a leather guy had shown up, probably a biker, he had that look about him-arrogance. Jack thought of the possibility of ‘capturing' him after all as a rugby player Jack was fairly strong. Oh yes, all that leather, the smell and the feel of the guy clothed like that was quite a turn on for Morris, even more the thought of dominating him. The leatherman was probably from out of the area, it would be easy to do. Jack was thinking bolder thoughts by the minute. Suddenly he realized that his ‘victim' had disappeared from sight. Jack moved slightly unsteadily towards the doors of the pub. Sam Jarvis was just straddling his machine only moments from departure and although he didn't realize it, only seconds from escape from what Jack had in mind. But Jack was confident in his own plan and without any more pause for thought he acted. The biker's engine fired up like thunder, Sam Jarvis kicked his huge dark Triumph into gear. Jack made a lunging leap and threw himself onto the biker's pillion. He threw his arms around the thirty something and laughed "I've got you now you cocky bastard, ha". But his plan was about to be utterly destroyed. Jarvis released the clutch as he applied power. Instantly, he converted the situation, idiot Jack had placed himself on the very spot that bikers use for the conveyance of friend, lover and victim. Jack realized his mistake too late. Jarvis knew it was entirely to his own advantage, it wasn't everyday that strangers allowed themselves to be kidnaped on motorbikes. The pub was on the duel carriage way and the biker was already heading down the slip road. And then Jarvis spoke. "I've fucking got you, cock". Jack's head cleared with the rushing wind in which he now sat. He realized the biker was in charge, Jack couldn't reach any of the controls, they were all in the bikers grasp (Jack didn't even know how to ride a motorbike). Sam was protected in his leathers from most assaults and even Jack realized that tickling a man carrying you along at eighty miles an hour was not a good game plan. He couldn't even pull his hair as his ‘victim' was wearing a black helmet. ‘Grief' thought Jack ‘if he head butts me with that, I'll be under that truck behind.' The motorbike overtook everything in its path, the rider seemed almost oblivious of his stowaway. The bike was certainly not troubled by a guest, it swept forward in its owners crotch with the force of a tornado. Morris thought that if he had been invited aboard for a blast he might actually have enjoy it but he was now feeling foolish and scared.. Jarvis for his part could not believe his envious position, one made even better by the fact that he filled up with fuel just before going to the pub. The Triumph was now good for nearly 170 miles even at high speed. He knew that his catch was powerless to do anything and it made Jarvis feel like some Roman Centurion. His slave was going to make this journey very special indeed. After a few more miles Jack realized he was not wearing a helmet, U.K. law was decidedly clear on this matter. Jarvis had also considered this himself but they were on a dark road going out into countryside, even if the cops saw them, they probably wouldn't notice. Anyway he was being hijacked (so to speak), his left pannier contained a lid but this violent thug, a drunk, had forced him to ride. He could smell the beer. If stopped it would not be his problem. So now, he ordered the pillion to hold him tighter, the order was obeyed. Prior to a long clear stretch of road in which he unleashed even more power, he forced the pillions hand down to his swollen crotch. The pillion stroked his leathered rod. Jarvis almost creamed himself with the attention and the ever horny thrill that he gained from roaring along on a bike in full leather. He ordered the pillion to sit tight once more and keep his hands further up. They went out to the hills, Sam landed his machine on a huge flat desolate area by a monument. The biker ordered Jack from his pillion, it seemed as if he was about to dump his guest. But Jarvis now rode around making close passes at his victim, Jack was now terrified. There was no escape, even his serious attempts at running were overwhelmed and controlled by the gleaming Triumph. Jack did think of trying to jump the rider but the speed which the fella was using would probably result in more injury to the ex-pillion than the bastard riding. He now realized that the rider was laughing at him. Jack couldn't help but think of the thrill the guy must have been having, he was after all in absolute control of a crazy situation. Jack's torment continued for what seemed an age What he would have given to be the biker. Jarvis was wearing his victim down, although young and fit, being tormented like this was taking its toll on the thug who had tried jumping him. Eventually Jack walked over to the monument and sat down on the plinth. He was trapped in the middle of nowhere, the only way out was on the bike and the rider didn't appear in the mood to transport him again. The Triumph circled around the monument before stopping in front of him. Its rider, silenced the powerful engine and dismounted. He marched over to the rugby player and pulled him up. He said "I am your only way out of here so listen up, if you don't want to walk home you do exactly what I tell you. Try anything and I'll fucking vaporize you". Morris was ordered to lie over the saddle of the motorbike, the heat from its motor heightened his feeling of weakness. The biker came round the side of his machine and handcuffed the rugby player to the frame. Jack knew what was coming he just wished that he was the biker. This was his sort of sadistic ideal but now he was on the receiving end. Hanging over the machine the blood was beginning to rush to his head. Jarvis now dragged down his pants, Jacks tackle felt both the heat rising and the cold metal and leather. The biker snarled "Lets take you for a ride now." He lay over him, his black leather uniform cold and sensual. Jack was aroused instantly but he was afraid that his dick might fry on the engine. The bikers gloved hand came round his chest and explored till the now firm rod was found. The biker kept him so near to orgasm but backed off every time. ‘I hope I fill his electric's, and ground the fucking bastard' thought Jack Jarvis now opened his leather jeans and forced his massive rod into Jack's waiting saddle, he now brought the passenger to orgasm. Jacks cream shot onto the Triumphs power plant. The liquid hissed on the hot metals. The biker now pushed harder and suddenly his own rod blasted into Jacks arse, hot and with painful force. The Biker just kept coming. Jack's position made him light headed and the erotic thrill of all this made him almost faint. Eventually, the biker released him and after letting him sit for a moment gave him the helmet from the pannier. Jarvis mounted his bike and Jack wondered if the swine was about to be humiliated, but no, the silence was shattered as Sam's awesome black charger powered up once more. "Give me a hand job on the motor way, and I just might take you back. Then again I might not" Comments welcome to enginefire@motorcyclecops.com
