The third date is the sex date, right?
Morgan works in McDonald's. The job she had through college now taken on full time. She's twenty, and still unsure what she wants, on any front, so flipping burgers suits her for now.
And me, I work- now -too. A whole woodland to learn, to organise and familiarise myself with. Plus, the porn stuff.
We're both busy, which means there's only been shared free time for two dates so far.
Bike hunting, followed by a cooked pub lunch, holding hands across the table and trading small hopeful smiles.
The cinema. A really late showing because we'd been messaging, and neither of us tired I semi dared her into picking me up. We sat in the back row of a screen packed with eleven whole people, including us. No snacks, and we were both too busy making out, slipping hands inside tops to feel up the lace barely covering hard nipple topped breasts. Too busy kissing to follow the plot.
Around the dates we've messaged on and off, nothing regular, Morgan apparently content, as am I, to take things slowly.
Messaging, chatting, flirting.
Me sending a selfie, dressed for work in green logo stamped tee and jeans, stood beside the huge balloon like rear wheel of the red works Massey Ferguson. Grinning, because it's such a beast, and it's all mine. Morgan a half hour later, a teasing comment that she loves what I've done with the Hayabusa, but that I'm clearly not dressed for riding.
I'd replied at lunch, mornings work loading up the trailer with all the undergrowth I'd spent the previous day cutting down done. Sending Morgan a cheeky photo: boots and small faded blue denim shorts, white string bikini top doing a shit job of containing my breasts, orange hard hat with ear defenders and mesh visor flipped up. Holding a big chainsaw.
Receiving a whole string of choice- she likes -emoji back within minutes, making me grin.
A smile that widens that evening when I get a selfie back: Morgan in nothing but a white bra and matching thong, both more lace then fabric, with her unzipped Kings leather jacket worn over the top. The camera angled for maximum cleavage.
I send her a string of suggestive emoji back.
Flirting, kissing, fun times. But no nudity, and no sex.
But, my return to porn now six days past, still feeling horny like something sloshing around inside, an opportunity arises. A third date.
A car show, all sorts of vehicles, including apparently a good scattering of bikes.
Made that much sweeter by the fact my Hayabusa is finished, back in my possession.
Dave and Allen, two brothers, both Kings and mechanics running a bike only garage. Together we'd gone over what I wanted to happen, on the phone and again in person, the specs based on a combination of my choices tempered by their expert opinions: an engine now containing uprated parts, new tighter suspension and brakes with greater stopping power, performance exhausts and a new fat rear tyre.
She looks beautiful. The matt black paintwork effortlessly deflecting the light, that Japanese character ghost like, the bike, standing still, looks like pure speed.
I spend two afternoons on a re-familiarisation course, out riding with professionals, plus a further late evening cruising circles of the dual carriageways, getting used to the speed and sheer slightly frightening power on tap.
The Hayabusa something that demands respect, and caution.
Morgan lives with her parents, a mid terrace. She's outside waiting, jacket zipped up and helmet in hand when I pull up outside.
"Fucking," having to shout over the muffling of my helmet, the high revving eager whine of the Hayabusa at idle, "wow, B."
"I know." She can't see me grin, but I give a thumbs up. Morgan nodding back.
Putting her helmet on and taking the messenger bag off my shoulders, slipping her phone and stuff inside before climbing up behind me.
Leaning in, arms reaching around, taking hold of me. Pat on my stomach and the corner of my eye knowledge of her looking over my shoulder.
Off we go.
Meeting the other Kings: seventeen bikes and twenty-two people in total, at a lay-by on the outskirts. We make quite a sight, a mixed convoy of customs and tourers, sports bikes. Howling and roaring, choppy idles and high pitched whining revs.
It feels good, riding with the gang.
Arrived, taking over one small patch of the field turned car park, the others head in. Plans to meet up, a spot near the food village picked and agreed.
Helmets removed, Morgan and me have a sort of smiling face off, unzipping jackets to reveal the effort at dressing up we both appear, unspoken, to of made.
Sex, the ultimate goal today on my mind at least.
Jeans for both of us, because to ride wearing anything else is fucking stupid, my faded blue tucked into black steel toed boots, Morgan's faded black and paired with her own black boots, which zip and buckle closed.
Up top I'm wearing a very small tee, khaki green the fabric hugs my F cups, fabric ending abruptly to hang off them leaving my whole flat stomach on show, plus from certain angles the bottom of my black and pink lace bra cups.
Morgan's tee is white with 'Honda' in red splashed across her chest. It's an obvious tight fit, and she isn't wearing a bra.
I can, damn tease, clearly see her nipples.
Smiling, and I'd swear I can feel the spark jumping between us.
"Amazing." Looking at me but patting the Hayabusa's fuel tank. "Felt so smooth all the way here."
"Handles well." Not taking my eyes from her either.
"You too." Stepping in, Morgan mirrors me, her hand coming off the bike to slip around my waist, my own cupping her head as we kiss.
Slipping my bag from her shoulder as we do, moving it to mine.
We head in too.
It's a good day, walking hand in hand, checking out fast cars and fast bikes. Morgan teasing as I lead her through the tractor display, pointing out this and that. Stuff I find cool.
Meeting the other Kings for lunch, a loose congregation around three wooden benches and a low wall, chips and burgers, hot dogs dripping onions. Morgan sitting on the wall, legs spread invitingly wide bracketing me, stood facing her. Close but not touching and yet I can almost feel the connection ghost like. The spark. Sharing chips in a polystyrene tray, drizzled in ketchup.
My F cups more or less in her face, and more then once her voice wavers slightly. Affected by our close but not touching slow climb to later too.
The whole day like one long teasing build-up, like we both know, unspoken, what's coming.
A fact confirmed when.
"Come inside." Helmets off, me leaning against my bike, Morgan pressing against me. Outside her house as the sun goes down. I've got one hand stuffed inside her jeans butt pocket, Morgan reaches up with hers, running a thumb across my lips making me shiver. "Please, B."
Everything, it all feels right. Not rushed.
"Yes." Squeezing her butt cheek for emphasis, resting my forehead on hers. "I'd love to."
Morgans grin, the flash glint of her lip ring in the streetlight. She wants me just as much.
There's a garage, just for Morgan's bike and a ton of boxes, a lawnmower. Her parents car- a hulking red Nissan pick-up -too large to comfortably fit. One in a row of eight not far from the house. I wheel the Hayabusa silently in, Morgan locks it up.
"You're back sweetheart."
"Um." We'd, Morgan near dragging me along, been making for the stairs at speed. However, bad timing or just them having heard my noise machine pulling up five minutes ago, her parents 'conveniently' emerge from the lounge just as we're passing.
"Evening." Not shy, and yes I'm a porn star, prehaps not exactly ideal girlfriend material? To some I suppose. But they likely don't know that.
Does Morgan know that, what I do?
And I'm not exactly dressed sensibly with my F cups all pressing at and visible beneath the tight small tee, but.
Not shy, and happy to be polite.
"Evening Brooke." The Dad, shaking my hand and- good for him -not even a flicked glance at my chest. Both of them are fourty something at a guess, not slim but not unhealthy looking either. The Dad looks like a trucker, ink on both arms, the Mum, curvy, hair just starting to grey, gives me a friendly smile.
"Want to join us?" Mum, a genuine invite it sounds like despite only just having met me. Very welcoming and not at all upset I'm not a guy, which would I suppose be traditional or some shit for their daughter. "We were just about to get a beer and break out the chocolate."
"No, Mum." Morgan, bless her looking like she wants to curl up and die of embarrassment. "We're. Well."
She can't say it. And, be fair, could you?
"Goodnight then girls." The Dad, nodding as the Mum half smiles, both of them continuing into the kitchen.
Fit of giggles on the landing, can't help it. Morgan, after a moment joins in.
Both of us sobering up once her bedroom door's closed though.
A metal framed single bed and wooden furniture: wardrobe and bedside unit that are two different colours. Her room is small, filled by those three items not much floor space left. Posters of bikes and anime fill the walls.
Shrugging off bag and coat, placing them plus my helmet beside the door, I turn to find Morgan having done similar. Standing quite close.
Looking at me, biting her lip.
Nervous now the moment's arrived.
Not- no shame and not shy Plymouth -me.
Stepping in I push my body into hers, pushing her back against the nearest wall, locking our lips, a proper kiss, breathing Morgan in deep as my tongue darts out, finding hers come tentatively out to meet me.
She doesn't resist as, mid kiss, I take hold of her tee and pull, our lips breaking contact for a handful of instants and Morgan's arms going up, helping me slide the tee off, tossing it away.
Revealing for the first time her B cups, small yet pert, nipples already hard.
"Bbbbeeee." She sighs as my hands find and run across them, fingers catching nipples which instantly harden under my touch, eyes closing.
Stepping back, releasing her after another kiss, Morgan lowers herself onto the bed, sitting then laying.
Gaze flicking to my bag, because. I'd bought some ropes, a gag. Because I'm a horny little rope slut, and since the shoot I've been desperate for a binding and a fucking. I just wasn't sure how, when, if, I should introduce my toys into the mix.
Not for shyness, I just don't want to scare Morgan off. Because she's cute, and I'm liking her more each day.
A quiet clicking sound, familiar? Brings my attention back to the room, my gaze swinging back to discover.
Morgan, still topless, laying down on her back. And she's just used a pair of steel cuffs to pin her wrists together on the other side of the headboard, either side of the central of seven metal poles on the headboard.
Trapping herself in place.
"Oh." Grin spreading as Morgan looks up at me, breathing fast her B cups rising and falling. Nervous smile on her face.
"And what's all this for then?" Still standing, purposefully, being tall like taking charge hands on my hips, but smiling still making my words a game and a tease.
"I." Licking her lips, staring up at me and I can see my pose affecting her, throwing whatever submissive levers she has. "Thought you might like." Another pause, small shiver. Excitement? "Me?"
"Do I get to play?"
"Yes." Barely a whisper, into it. Or does she know what I do? I wonder again.
Is this for me or is Morgan into bondage already?
"You can. Play." Definitely an adrenaline shiver, Morgan wriggles her cuffed wrists which clank softly against the bed frame. "With me. B." Looking up at me, a nervous half smile. "Please."
Boots and socks, mine, off.
Then I strip Morgan, completely. Because there's a lot to be said for the tingled thrill when you're naked and the other person's still fully clothed.
I can see in her eyes, laying there cuffed and naked now as I kneel not naked between her spread legs, that she's feeling it.
Her skin is all over pale and not tanned like mine. Ink that I've already seen covers her left forearm, symbols that look like Hieroglyphs forming a line down, each design dripping red off the blackness of it.
Morgan's pussy is shaved, and seems to be staring at, calling to me.
Meeting her gaze I reach out, brushing nails up her inner leg, across her pussy, the lightest of touches, back down inside the other leg.
And back, making her squirm, bite her lip.
Clank of metal on metal, more squirming as I stroke her pussy lips, up and down, not slipping inside.
Teasing. In control.
And is she into this? Has Morgan done bondage before, more then just this simple wrists cuffed, or is this the extent of her play?
Is this just for me, because she knows?
She certainly looks into it, moaning softly, no panic on that pretty face. But.
Does she know, what I am?
Does she know she's swimming with a shark?
And, I could, show her. I could take this one cuff situation so much further.
I want to. I can feel the urge building, the beast straining to be free, to go all out and play.
"You." Not this time. Morgan, cuffed to her bed, an act of self bondage her own choice. Will do.
Coming forward, sliding down to lay atop her my jeans clad crotch pressing into hers. "Look." Using one arm for balance I run the other hand, long nails, up Morgan's body from knee to wrist, not quite touching her breast on the way through. "Stunning."
Running my hand back down, Morgan sighing as my nails find her breast, her nipple.
She's putty, easily. Unable to touch me back I simply do as I please, taking my time exploring, tracing patterns all across her slender frame, the small hump of her belly. Those pert breasts and of course back to her pussy.
Using my fingers even whilst we continue to kiss.
"Please." Breathless. "B."
"What." Teasing, because I know what. I run a finger across her pussy lips again. "This?"
"Yes." Moaning as I slip a finger in.
I wonder how she'd sound gagged?
"Please let me cum."
Is she asking as a proper submissive, like permission, like I can refuse?
The thought makes me shiver, something there, in the holes. Some buried part of me both exciting and thrilling and terrifying.
Some part of me I don't yet remember.
Flash across my vision of the two shadowed girls.
Throwing myself into this, now, with Morgan. Banishing them back into the dark.
I use my tongue, licking and probing. Morgan panting, breath coming faster and faster her body bucking, her legs wrapping my face, pinning me to her crotch.
She whimpers out her orgasm, no screams just a satisfied sounding come down from the increasing moans, her body locking, then relaxing.
I, once she tells me where the key is, remove the cuffs, tossed away with my clothes as Morgan watches. Her eyes on me going wider as my breasts come out, drinking me in.
Welcoming me with wide arms as I climb back into bed.
Where we spend a happy forever exploring each other, trailing nails and planting a hundred soft kisses. Taking turns on top.
Drifting off in each others arms.