Shorts Box Set

Joy Ride-3

Mack waited. This was Brad’s show—let him make the first move. Coyly the kid approached him and ran a loving hand along the polished fairing at the front of Mack’s bike. “A motorcycle like this is almost human, kid,” Mack told him. He watched those strong fingers, so pale against the black paint, and imagined them on his arm, his chest, lower. “You stroke it the right way, it’ll purr like a tiger for you.”

Brad glanced up at him with a grin. “What’s it take to make a man like you purr, I wonder?” he wanted to know.

“I haven’t quite decided whether or not you seriously want to find out,” Mack replied.

That grin again, half-hidden by those long, blonde waves. With a flick of his head, Brad shook the hair from his face and stepped around the bike behind Mack. “Can I get on it?” Before Mack could answer, he pressed his face into the leather seat, still warm from the ride, and drew in a deep breath. “It smells like you.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Mack asked, turning around. As he stepped away from the motorcycle, Brad swung his leg over and pulled himself into the seat. “Hey, get off my bike.”

Wickedly, Brad dared him, “Come get me off.”

Mack shook his head, bemused. Even out here by themselves, Brad kept up the flirty banter, but the longer he stalled, the more Mack began to suspect that there wasn’t anything to it. Just a young cocktease, that’s all, who got hard on the game but never scored. “You don’t know what you’re messing with, kid,” Mack cautioned. “Show’s over. Get off.”

Brad’s hands froze on the handlebars where he had been pretending to steer the bike, and when he looked at Mack, all playfulness was gone from his eyes. “One,” he said, his tone serious, “don’t call me kid. I’m younger than you but not a baby. Yeah, it’s cute when you do it back at Sylvia’s, and yeah it gets a laugh out of your friends, but between us? Drop it.”

Mack raised an eyebrow, surprised. The kid—Brad—had spunk. “Two?” he asked.

“Two,” Brad echoed. His smile returned slowly, starting at his lips and lighting up his eyes. “I know what I’m doing here, Mack. I’m not the one standing off to the side with his arms crossed like a disapproving parent at a keg party. Everything I’ve said, I’m more than ready to back up.” Leaning back in the Electra Glide’s wide seat, Brad ran his hands down his flat stomach to the prominent bulge in the front of his tight shorts. His fingers cupped the obvious erection and squeezed—Mack felt that hand on his own d**k, those fingers encircling him. “I think it’s you who doesn’t want to find out what I’m talking about. I think you’re the one who’s scared.”

Mack gave a derisive snort, but couldn’t take his gaze away from those hands and the shiny red package between them. “I ain’t scared of you—”

Brad interrupted. “Then get over here and prove it.”

Mack hesitated. He didn’t want to obey this kid’s command, but watching Brad work at himself through his shorts left Mack’s mouth dry with lust. His hands had clenched into fists without his knowing—the sharp crack of his knuckles startled him and made Brad laugh. Pushing himself into the two-up seat behind him, Brad raised one leg, then the other, until his ankles rested on the handlebars. His fingers hooked into the waistband of his shorts and with slow, graceful movements, he slid the shorts down, exposing smooth skin—a thin hip, the hint of ass, a pale length of thigh. When the shorts reached his knees Brad shifted his legs, and now Mack could see dusky, reddened skin as his balls slipped down between his thighs, the hard c**k above them at attention. “Still think I’m just messing around?” Brad asked softly.

Something in Mack snapped. “Off,” he ordered. The tone of his voice made Brad scramble to comply—he tugged the shorts up as he clambered off the bike. His sudden frown and downcast eyes clearly said he thought he had read Mack wrong. Uncrossing his arms, Mack stepped up to the bike, one hand reaching across the seat for Brad’s shorts as the other drifted to the ache at his own crotch. “Who said anything about getting dressed?”

Brad’s smile flashed like the sun after a summer storm. “You could’ve been more specific,” he started, but his words dissolved into a gasp when Mack’s hand slipped into his shorts. Thick fingers found the tender cleft between his buttocks as Brad reached across the bike to fumble with Mack’s belt. When the buckle was undone, the jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, he leaned down to press his face into the bulge of white protruding through the open zipper. He arched his back, placing his ass more firmly into Mack’s hand, and covered the sheathed d**k with his mouth. His tongue danced across the cotton underwear, licking the outline of Mack’s c**k and balls, dampening the material until it grew transparent. Mack let his eyes close at the wet sensation, the soft lips, the firm tongue, his free hand tangling in the sweaty hair at Brad’s nape. His other hand found what he was looking for, and even as he rimmed Brad’s tight ass, one finger slipped inside. Brad responded by tugging Mack’s underwear down below his balls and taking the exposed length into his hot mouth. He traced the tip of Mack’s d**k with his tongue, then licked down, his lips encircling the thick shaft.

Mack allowed himself a few slow thrusts, savoring the warm wetness that worked at him, but he wanted something more for putting up with this kid’s antics for so long—he deserved more. Hadn’t Brad said he was ready to back up his talk with action? And back up he would… Mack pulled his hand free from Brad’s shorts. Large dark eyes glanced up at him through a shock of blonde bangs and Mack’s c**k slipped from between perfect red lips, saliva glistening on the hard flesh. “Lower right fairing,” Mack told him. At Brad’s confused look, he pointed and explained, “A box of condoms, inside? Unless you’ve changed your mind…”

Before he could finish, Brad was squatting in the grass, tearing into the compartment hidden inside the fairing. Mack took a moment to adjust his jeans a bit lower on his hips before he straddled the motorcycle and lowered himself into the leather seat. He scooted down to get comfortable, feet planted firmly on the ground and d**k in hand, fist pumping in a languid rhythm as he watched Brad hunt through the fairing. Finally Brad stood up. “Here,” he said, handing Mack a coin-shaped wrapper. When he bent again to pull off his shorts, his erection poked at his navel. “You want me to do it? I can roll it on with my teeth.”

As promising as that sounded, Mack shook his head. He opened the wrapper and rolled the lubricated condom on in a quick, efficient manner that only came with years of practice. “Take off your shoes,” he warned before Brad could climb onto the bike. “I don’t want you scruffing up the paint.”

“I’ve never done it on a chopper before,” Brad admitted as he kicked off his sneakers.

Mack patted his lower belly to show Brad where he wanted him to sit. “You couldn’t do it on that Streetbike of yours,” he pointed out. “It’d topple over and dump you on the ground. Come on, climb up here already.”

Brad turned and, holding onto the handlebars to steady himself, climbed back onto the bike in front of Mack. For a moment he hovered above the instrument panel, unsure, until Mack grabbed his round buttocks and spread them wide. Brad’s feet left the ground as he sat into Mack’s hands, one thumb rimming his asshole while the other reached between his legs to smooth the soft skin behind his balls. “Easy, kid,” Mack murmured when Brad sank into the touch, then corrected, “Brad. Sit back on me, like that.” The tip of his d**k kissed the cleft between Brad’s buttocks, slid down to where Mack’s thumb worked trembling flesh, then eased inside. With a low moan, Mack hugged Brad to him, driving deep into the tight ass. Brad lay back against Mack’s chest, his head on Mack’s shoulder, that blonde hair as tangled and sweaty as Mack had imagined it would be. Wrapping his arms around Brad, Mack took the kid’s swollen member and began stroking it, squeezing, tugging at the spongy tip already weeping c*m. Nuzzling aside a stray curl, Mack nosed the musky skin behind Brad’s ear, then nipped at the earlobe. In his arms, Brad trembled with delight. He clenched the saddlebag trim rails on either side of the bike as the two of them moved together towards a shuddering orgasm.

* * * *

The following afternoon Mack was at Sylvia’s again. He stayed on his Electra Glide and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t on the lookout for the yellow Kawasaki. What happened the day before was a one time tryst, the release of tensions that had been building between himself and Brad for a while now, nothing more. Nothing serious. He remembered them both on his bike—Brad draped over him as Mack moved inside that sweet ass of his, hard thrusts that exhausted them both, tender kisses like an afterthought once the deed was done. Maybe Brad wouldn’t be back. At least it had been fun for the moment. They both got what he wanted—Mack would probably never see the kid again. Just as well.

When a motorcycle buzzed into the lot, his heart leaped into his throat, but it was only Stan on his Deuce. “Where’d you guys run off to yesterday?” he asked as he drew to a stop beside Mack. Unstrapping his helmet, he ran a hand over his balding scalp and laughed. “So what happened when you caught the kid? Don’t tell me you f****d him up so bad, he never wants to show his face around here again.”

With a shrug, Mack said, “I laid into him some. Let’s just say he knows now that there’s no better ride than a Harley.”

Stan’s laugh cut off as a thin, high drone, like that of a persistent insect, drifted towards them over the sounds of traffic. “Well, dammit the hell,” he muttered softly. “Would you look at that?” Mack glanced up as the yellow Streetbike skirted the edge of the road. It zipped around a car in the turning lane, cutting it off to make the green arrow and earning an angry honk from the driver’s horn. The whine of the engine grew louder as the bike flew into Sylvia’s lot to stop mere inches from Mack’s.

Brad pulled off his helmet and shook clean, blonde hair out of his face. With a breathless grin, he winked at Mack. “Hey there, Daddy. I didn’t wear you out yesterday, did I? You ready for another run?”

In disgust, Stan said, “That bike of yours is no match for a Harley. Didn’t you find that out already?”

Without taking his eyes off Mack, Brad replied, “I’m a slow learner. Teach me again.”

Mack turned the key in his ignition and grinned as his bike roared to life.

THE END