Fair Trade
Introduction:
An evening ride turns into a memorable night.
Several years ago, he bought himself a used motorcycle. It’s a sport bike, or a “crotch rocket”, although that second term has always annoyed him for some reason. It handles corners like nothing else, is stupid fast, and with the custom exhaust he put on makes an incredible sound. He’s spent quite a bit of time and money on this bike, tuning it to fit him perfectly, setting up the suspension geometry, etc. This thing is his baby, and riding it is his therapy.
Sometimes, after a long day at work, he gets his riding gear on and takes the bike for a sunset spin. Just outside the city are miles of twisting back roads with hardly any traffic on them. He’s ridden them so many times that he knows them all by heart, and he knows where to go to hit the best turns.
One evening, after a particularly annoying day at work, he threw his gear on and warmed up the bike. He was still livid from the day, because on top of the stupid workload, he had gotten a new manager who decided he needed to “flex his muscles” and show the programmers who the boss was. The evening chill was just starting to set in as he pulled out of his driveway, keeping the RPMs down so as not to annoy the neighbors.
He hit the highway and blasted west, the bike singing under him as he shifted through the gears. The sun was going down, and as the last rays of the day lit up the sky, he instantly felt better about himself. There were a long series of turns up ahead before the next intersection in about three miles. He downshifted hard and leaned in, picking an aggressive line and loving how the bike responded to his inputs, all thoughts of his idiot boss left behind.
By the time he reached the intersection, the first smile of the day had finally stretched across his face and the tension was leaving his back and shoulders. He stopped at the stop sign and sat up for a second to stretch to watch the last golden sliver of sunlight drop below the horizon. The sky was a blaze of red and orange as the clouds said goodbye to the sun.
He had just grabbed hold of the handlebars again, getting ready to leave the stop sign, when he happened a glance in the side view mirror. In that instant, time seemed to stop. He saw a beige sedan with a brunette girl at the wheel. He saw her talking into her cell phone. He saw the car coming too quickly to stop in time. The next thing he knew, he was laying on his back, looking up at the darkening sky.
Miraculously, he was basically unhurt, his now destroyed helmet and leather jacket saving his head and skin from being torn apart. He sat up, then slowly stood, taking stock. The idiot bitch behind the wheel had not seen him sitting at the stop sign, and had plowed into his bike. He had bounced off the hood of her car, and was lying in the grass next to the road. His bike, his baby, was a twisted wreck lying next to the stop sign.
The girl was still sitting behind the wheel of her car. She hadn’t even gotten out. To top it off, her phone was still in her hand, too. That fucking bitch. He saw red, and approached the driver’s side door. With every last ounce of self control he could muster, he knocked gently on the glass. The dumb cunt held up her pointer finger, in the standard “one second” gesture. He lost it.
Before he even knew what was happening, there was more broken glass. In those few seconds before clarity returned, he had apparently removed his helmet, smashed the passenger side window with a forceful swing, and reached into the car and opened the door from the inside. He unbuckled the girl from the seat, then grabbed her by the hair and yanked her out of the car. That was when he noticed the screams, and it was their noise that brought him slowly back to reality.
He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline, the rage, or a combination of the two, but he felt hyper-alert and physically powerful. The girl, a pretty, petite brunette in a summer dress and low heels, was cowering under him, looking up with green eyes large as saucers. Her phone was still clutched in her hand.
When he saw the phone, he let out a low growl, involuntarily. She killed his bike, wrecked his riding gear, and almost killed him because she couldn’t stay off the fucking phone. Goddamn teenagers. She was probably about 18 or 19 years old, doubtlessly talking to some other high school bimbo about something completely meaningless. These were the thoughts going through his head as he pulled her up by her hair, and dragged her around to the hood of her car.
He pointed at the wreckage of his bike with his left hand, his right forcing her to look at her handiwork with the grip he hand on her scalp.
“You almost fucking killed me.” He said, his voice unnaturally calm all of a sudden.
“I-I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorry!” she blubbered, terror and shock making speech difficult.
“You’re going to make it up to me, right here, right now.” He told her, forcing her to look into his eyes.
He was 225lbs and 6’, a former high school football player. There was not much that she could do but nod and agree. He still had hold of her shoulder-length hair, and all of the effort that she had put into straightening it this morning was being undone. He had had stayed in shape, despite graduating ten years ago. He was well built and had no problem overpowering the 5’4” cutie in front of him.
He walked her over to the hood of the car, keeping her at arm’s length in front of him while he admired her from behind. She had a hot, tight little body; she obviously took care of it. The lightweight white linen dress she had on was tight enough to be interesting, but loose enough to make for a “good girl” look. As he turned her to face him, he noticed her mascara was starting to smear as tears started to run down her flushed cheeks.
“Please…” she began to say, before he covered her mouth with his free hand.
“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you make me.” He said it so plainly, so coldly, and never broke eye contact. He saw her shoulders sag as her eyes became downcast. In those few seconds she knew that he was in command of the situation.
He finally let go of her hair and turned her around to face the hood of the car again. He pushed on her back, and forced her cheek onto the cool metal of the front of the car. She sobbed slightly as her cheek made contact with the surface, not because it was too cold, but because of the compromising position she was now in.
He had grabbed her right wrist and used his arm to twist it behind her back, making sure that she couldn’t escape. With his other hand, he reached under the hemline of the dress and lifted it, revealing her perfectly round little ass. He saw, and felt, the white lace thong she had on under her dress, and took a second to appreciate how the material hugged her skin. She was incredibly sexy.
As she felt the cool night air caress her bare skin, she let out another sob. The only response she got was another twist of her arm, forcing her face and tits down into the cool metal even harder. The next second she felt a finger slide into her pussy momentarily as the man behind her got hold of the bottom of her panties and pulled them down. She was now completely bare-assed, forced over the hood of her own car at the side of the road.
He struggled awkwardly with his zipper for a second before he managed to get his cock out of his pants. Zippers are much easier to open with both hands. He pulled out his throbbing cock at pushed it against the girl in front of him, savoring the warmth and softness of her ass cheeks.
As she felt his cock slide along her ass hole on its way down, she let out one more feeble protest.
“Please, oh God, no! Anything but that!” she moaned and struggled as she felt the tip of his cock parting the lips of her little pussy, but there was nothing she could do about it. She felt a hand on her hip as the man behind her got a good hold of her.
He pulled her into him as he thrust forward, mercilessly burying his cock to the hilt in her tight snatch. He was surprised to feel her hymen tear- he had not expected her to be a virgin, not with a body like that. She screamed under him as the pain of his penetration registered, but by then it was too late- she had been deflowered.
She finally stopped struggling and rested her cheek dully on the hood, letting the cool metal take some of the warmth out of her face. The man behind her showed no sign of slowing down- on the contrary, he had both hands on her hips and was thrusting into her as deeply as he could. All of the anger and frustration of his day at work, all of his rage at his bike being destroyed, and everything else that bothered him, he was putting it into this girl’s pussy. Stroke after stroke she took, deeper and deeper, until he finally let himself come.
She felt his cock stiffen inside of her, then a warmth deep in her stomach. There were a few more slow thrusts, and then it was over. The man released the hold he had on her hips, and she felt the fabric of her dress slide down to cover her ass again. She watched the man bend down and pick up her discarded panties and put them in his pocket, as her cell phone finally fell from her hand and shattered on the pavement.
He took one more look at the girl he had just violated on the hood of her car, as he turned and started to walk away. He reached into the pockets of his leather jacket, and contemplated their contents. In his right pocket were the keys to his motorcycle, totally destroyed. In his left pocket were the white lace panties from the girl in the car, also totally destroyed.
Fair trade.
