Harley's Secret Summer Nights

The lazy Saturday mornings were the best, especially when they stretched out endlessly, devoid of any obligations. I’d usually spend an hour or so sipping strong coffee and diving into the latest filth on MH, relishing in the vicarious pleasure of strangers’ escapades. It wasn’t that my marriage had been lacking, far from it, but the eight years we’d shared had been a whirlwind of passionate encounters, leaving behind a tapestry of unforgettable memories. Now, after the divorce, those recollections served as a bittersweet reminder of a happier time, a time when we carved our own wild fantasies into reality.

One sweltering summer Saturday, fueled by a sudden, impulsive urge, I decided to chase the thrill of the open road. I packed a small, rugged tent, a sleeping bag, a cooler filled with cold drinks, and some basic camping gear into the saddlebags of my Harley Davidson. My ex-wife, Sheila, had always been a passionate rider, which made her my perfect co-adventurer. When she emerged from the house in a light tank top, faded denim jeans adorned with strategically placed rhinestones, and high-heeled leather riding boots, a slow blush crept up my neck. She was a knockout, undeniably alluring, and we always drew attention when we rode together. The stares and whispers felt strangely gratifying, a silent acknowledgment of our shared sensuality.

Mounting the bike, we headed north, toward the vast expanse of Lake Erie. The two-hour ride was a scenic delight, passing through charming coastal towns, quaint antique shops, and stretches of pristine beach. The sun beat down relentlessly, but the wind whipping through our hair provided a welcome reprieve. I adored the way her long blonde tresses tangled around my face, the scent of her sun-kissed skin mingling with the scent of gasoline and leather. The feeling of her body pressed against my back, her hands wrapped possessively around my waist, sent shivers down my spine. She often dropped her hands lower, her fingers instinctively seeking purchase on my crotch. I'd playfully grin at her in the rearview mirror, anticipating the inevitable touch, the insistent digging of her fingers into my flesh. “The vibration really gets me going,” she’d whisper, her voice husky with anticipation. It was a simple pleasure, but one that ignited a primal fire within me.

Just an hour before sunset, we stumbled upon a secluded campground nestled along a tree-lined inlet on the lake’s edge. Finding a relatively quiet spot, I quickly set up the tent, securing the saddlebags inside, before heading over to the local bar-n-grill for dinner. The thought of other men eyeing my beautiful wife, their envious glances directed toward our shared passion, filled me with a surge of pride. It wasn’t arrogance, just an acceptance of my place as her lover, her protector, her everything. The air hung thick with the smell of burgers and beer, punctuated by the raucous laughter of the patrons. I caught a few wandering eyes lingering on Sheila, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of possessiveness.

After devouring a greasy plate of ribs and fries, we returned to the campsite, the warmth of the day still clinging to our skin. The night was too balmy for a traditional campfire, so we settled down on the picnic table, sharing a few cold beers and engaging in witty conversation. The lingering erotic energy from the ride earlier hadn't dissipated, leaving us both feeling raw and uninhibited. Soon, I initiated the inevitable, pulling Sheila onto my lap, facing me directly. The sparks ignited instantly, escalating quickly from playful kisses to frantic, desperate caresses. A few campers were scattered a short distance away, but the darkness provided a welcome veil of privacy, heightening the thrill of our transgression. The risk, however, only fueled the fire, pushing us further into the depths of our desires. As I pulled her tank top over her head and unclipped her bra, she leaned into my touch, her body trembling with anticipation.

I began kissing her neck, my tongue tracing the delicate curve of her collarbone before descending to her firm, luscious breasts. Her nipples were hard as rocks, throbbing with a potent heat that promised untold pleasure. I loved the way her breath quickened, the way her heartbeat pounded against my hand as she clung to me, desperate for release. She ripped my shirt off before I gently lifted her onto the edge of the picnic table, her boots coming off in a hurry, followed by the jeans and thong. Now, there was only tanned skin glistening in the dim glimmer of the starlight, a tantalizing invitation to indulge in our darkest fantasies.

Without hesitation, I stripped off the rest of my clothes, discarding them haphazardly beside the table. Then, I dropped down on one knee before her, bringing my face level with her lovely, sopping wet cunt. With a swift movement, I scooted her butt to the edge of the table, allowing her to lay back against the rough surface. Her bare feet rested comfortably on my shoulders, grounding her while she prepared herself for the inevitable. Her labia lips hung loosely, perfect for sucking and teasing, an invitation I couldn't resist.

In a matter of minutes, I could feel her body tensing, her muscles coiling with anticipation. Then, her hands grabbed my head, pulling me closer, forcing me to meet her gaze. She began grinding her hips into my face, the pressure building, the heat intensifying. It wasn’t long before she lost control, bucking and convulsing in a frenzied orgasm. The intensity of her pleasure was breathtaking, a raw, primal force that threatened to consume us both. If she came again, it would be even more intense, and this was already pushing the limits of my endurance. I held a hand over my mouth to contain my own moans, desperate not to alert any nearby campers.

By this point, I was completely lost in the moment, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our shared pleasure. Standing up, I still held her ankles over my shoulder, pulling her closer as I pushed my throbbing cock deep inside her hot, wet velvet cunt. Her hips rose to meet my thrusts, a perfect rhythm, a symphony of pleasure. I wasn't trying to pace myself, just letting go, surrendering to the overwhelming desire that consumed us both. The whimpers escaping from her mouth were a testament to her ecstatic surrender, only intensifying my own arousal. It took no time at all for me to reach the pinnacle of pleasure, releasing a torrent of semen into her waiting depths.

We remained intertwined, lost in our shared ecstasy, as we slowly descended from our orgasmic high. I was half standing, half lying on top of her, feeling the heat radiating from her body. Then, she started giggling, a sound that was both silly and incredibly intimate. It was then that I realized just how exposed we must have looked, naked, sweaty, and half-naked on the picnic table. The cool night breeze off the lake began to goosebump our skin, so I carefully lifted her into my arms. My softening cock slipped out of her, followed by a gush of cum and pussy juices that ran down our legs. I carried her into the tent, where we collapsed onto the blankets, spooning together in a tangled mess of limbs and desire.

The following morning, we woke to the bright glare of the sun beating down on the tent. After a languid hour of cuddling and slow-motion kissing, we carefully packed up our gear, mindful of leaving no trace of our wild night. As we drove away, I couldn’t help but smile, savoring the lingering memory of our shared pleasure. It had been a truly unforgettable weekend, a perfect blend of adventure, passion, and unbridled desire. A memory I knew I would cherish forever.

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