A Biker Uses Me in the Mud

A BIKER USES ME IN THE MUD author unknown

Some years back I joined a motorcycle club, which included a few members who had left a real motorcycle gang (most of the other members were hard-core wannabes).

The club did lots of group rides, and one year we went on a huge charity ride that ended at a fairground, where we were going to camp overnight. Unfortunately, it had been raining all day, and the field where we were supposed to park was one giant mud puddle. At least 1,000 other bikes had arrived before us, and the field was well churned when we got there. Some of the Harley guys refused to go anywhere near the parking field, but the rest of us pulled right in, having a little fun goosing the throttle and spraying the guy behind us. We always carried blocks of wood to put our side stands on, so we were O.K. to park, but decided to check the bikes periodically through the night to make sure they didn't fall over in the mud.

I pulled the 2am slot with Mike, which was O.K., because we both expected to still be up drinking and partying then. It was a warm summer night, the bands were good, and the beer and tequila were flowing freely. After the 1am check, Danno and Hump reported that some of the wood blocks were starting to settle, and that they had lifted a few of the bikes up and moved the blocks. Both of them had mud all over their chaps and vests.

A little after 2, Mike and I headed over to check the bikes again. The last band of the night was still playing, but things were starting to wind down, and at least half the crowd was already passed out or on the verge of it. A few of the tents were rather obviously the scene of some action, and we heard one particularly vocal biker slut telling everyone how much she loved getting fucked.

The mud was about ankle-deep almost everywhere, and just walking in it got it all up the insides of your legs, halfway to your knees. I was wearing a tight pair of leather pants and my fringed Bon Jovi leather jacket, and Mike was in chaps and jeans, a leather vest over his bare torso. Mud has always been a turn-on for me, and by the time we got to the bikes, I was pretty hard.

The second bike we checked needed to be re-set, so I lifted it and Mike squatted down in the mud and dug the block out, and then moved it a foot to a new location. I was straddling the bike, which meant that the crotch of my pants was stretched tight. As Mike was finishing and I was setting the bike down, he looked up and couldn't help but see my hard-on. He didn't say anything, but gave me a funny look.

The next bike also needed to be moved, but this time Mike told me to dig the block out of the mud. That was fine with me, because I was a little embarrassed at my obvious arousal - I'd never let these guys suspect that I was bi. Since I kinda liked the idea of getting a little muddy, I got down on my knees beside the bike and dug the block out, but this time Mike just stood beside the bike, so his crotch was right in front of my face. I tried hard not to look, but when I was finished moving the block and looked up to tell him to set the bike down on it, his crotch was just inches from my face. And it was no accident; he had a big bulge in those jeans. I felt my cock stiffen some more.

I got up to move to the next bike, and now my erection was obscenely obvious. I avoided any eye contact, and didn't say anything, as I was too embarrassed, but also intensely horny. Mike was a well-built guy, and acted as one of the club's "enforcers". He'd snap me like a twig if I did the wrong thing.


Of course the next bike had to be moved too. I didn't wait for him to say anything; I got down on my knees in the mud and waited for him to lift the side stand. The bike didn't move. I waited for what seemed like an eternity before looking up at him. His cock was fully erect now, and so long that the head of it disappeared into the top of his chaps.

He looked at me and said, "You want that, don't you?" I just froze, I didn't dare admit it, but my arousal was so obvious that I knew it was pointless to deny it. When I didn't say anything, he just shook his head and softly said "You cocksucking faggot" and then grabbed me by the hair at the back of my head. He pulled my face into his crotch, and I could feel the heat of his cock against my cheek right through his jeans. Bending over slightly, he hissed "You're gonna suck my cock, faggot" and ground my face into his crotch. He rammed my nose into the fly of his jeans, and I could smell the sweaty musk of his balls. I thought I'd lose my load right there. "Open them up - with your teeth, cocksucker" he growled, and I gave up all pretense of not wanting his cock.

I placed my muddy hands on his hips, and gently bit the denim around the bottom button, pulling it up and to the side until it popped open. I moved my mouth to the next button, and then the next. As the fly opened, I buried my nose into it, breathing deeply and moaning in pleasure at the musky smell. He yanked my head away from his crotch by my hair, and then reached into his jeans and pulled his cock and then his balls out. His cock was like a rock, and waved gently in the warm air. I let my legs spread slightly in the mud, and lowered myself into it to be able to lick his balls from below. He grunted in pleasure, and stroked himself with his free hand. Then he pulled my head up to his twitching cock.

My mouth was already full of saliva, and I rolled my lips around my teeth, opened up and swallowed his cock in one smooth dive. He must have been 8" long, and just the perfect width for my mouth. He gasped as his cock hit the back of my throat, my nose buried into the open fly of his jeans, and I slowly pulled my mouth back, using my tongue to caress the underside of his cock. He exhaled slowly and softly said, "Fuck, you're good" before ramming himself back into my mouth. He pulled back, and then slammed it into me again, all the while holding my hair in a death grip. I would gladly have made love to his cock with my mouth, but I was just as happy to have him roughly face-fuck me as I knelt in the mud for him. "You fucking cock-sucking pig" he said, and he started to pick up the pace. "Fucking cock-sucking pig, fucking cock-sucker!" His voice was getting louder, and I was afraid they'd hear him even over the music. It was bad enough that I was sucking his cock, but I didn't also want to get beaten within an inch of my life. I needed to make him cum fast, before anyone realized what was happening. I grabbed his ass hard, and started slamming my own head down onto his cock, gagging and choking as he hit the back of my throat again and again. That did it; he suddenly grabbed my head with both hands and spasmed deep down my throat. I swallowed and swallowed as fast as I could, but still gagged as he pumped a huge load of cum into me. He started to slow, and I kept sucking, gently moving my mouth up and down his softening cock, teasing the last few drops of cum out of him. Mike moved his hand back to the hair at the back of my head, and pulled my mouth off his cock, and then twisted down hard, forcing me to look up at him. "Goddamn faggot" he said and spit hard into my face. Then he yanked my head sideways, and shoved me over hard. I fell full into the mud, and then felt his muddy boot on the side of my face. He pushed my face into the cool mud, but not as hard as he could have. "Get the fuck out of here, you fucking cocksucker" he said as he put his cock away, and kicked some more mud into my face to make sure I understood. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

I didn't bother going to get my tent and sleeping bag - I dug my keys out of my jacket, got on my bike and got the hell out of there.