I loved their base attitude toward fucking and revelled in the skanky heat of the experiences. I often put on an act of resistance, thereby encouragin... additional roughness during these encounters. Being ‘manhandled’ and ‘verbally abused’ was like an elixir to me. There was no greater treat for me than getting home after one of my outings and observing my well-smacked arse in the mirror. The one thing that I had missed out on thus far was being fisted. I was very eager to try but wasn’t sure. I fucken near crashed the bike as I cut over and sk**ded to a stop. The other guys all weaving a bit to avoid my sudden movement just laughed and rode on. I shut down the bike and she came walking up. I watched as she walked up in the little frame of the mirror and I was watching her move like a smooth cat. she reached the bike and I could already smell her. She was fucking perfect. "where you going" I asked "Anywhere you are." She answered. "Hop on, put this on" as I handed her my spare brain. More

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