We're riding on a narrow, twisting mountain road. The morning sun is warm on our faces, and your body is pressed tightly against my back. I can feel your full breasts against me, your nipples hard from the cool morning air. Your hair flows out from under your helmet in our slipstream like molten honey.

The road narrows, forcing me to drop the big Harley down a gear. The rpm and vibrations increase, the big V-twin engine throbbing between our legs like the pounding heart of a huge, wild beast. The rough surface of the road causes your crotch to move against my back, and I hear you moan softly against my shoulder as we lean into a turn. The vibrations travel up through the seat to caress your most intimate recesses.

Soon, I can feel you press tighter against me, your thighs squeezing my hips, as your hands move over my legs like velvet fire. My every sense is awakened by your touch, my flesh begging for your caress. As the road straightens slightly, I chance a quick glance in my rear-view mirror. The sunshine caressing your wind-blown hair turns it into a saffron halo. Your face is turned toward the sun, and I can see your eyes, partially closed behind the dark lenses of your riding glasses. Your lower lip trembles slightly, trapped gently between your teeth. My sweaty hands are slick on the controls as my own excitement builds from watching you, from feeling the heat of your body so near me.

I feel your legs squeeze me harder, and I reach down with my left hand. I gently take your hand, and guide it back to the waistband of your Levi's, where it disappears from view beneath the sheltering cloth.

I feel your fingers working against my back, and I know you're rubbing your clit, and pushing your fingers deep into the steamy wetness of your sweet pussy. Seeming to read my thoughts, you pull your hand free, pressing your fingers to my lips so I can lick and suck your sweet nectar from them before you return them to their task.

I savor the taste of you, licking the last traces from my lips as your body begins to shudder with your climax, the fingers of your right hand fiercely clutching the soft flesh of my inner thigh. You throw your head back, leaning into the wind, eyes tightly closed as a low moan escapes your parted lips. You cup your fingers, trapping as much of your sweet, musky juices as you can, and bring them to my lips again. I hold them on my tongue, savoring the taste of you, even as I suck your fingers dry.

I slow the Harley and pull off the road onto the sandy shoulder at the forest's edge, no longer trusting my shaking hands to control the heavy machine. We sit, engine idling, beneath the shade of the overhanging pines to let our senses return. Your cheek is pressed gently to my shoulder, your arms wrapped around my chest, your long fingers kneading my flesh gently. I turn and pull you against me, kissing you softly, sharing the enticing and magical taste of you.