your own story
excerpts from some of the stories ty has written
oasis road
The warm liquid splashes on the sweaty face of Dick as he takes a deep breath, his unconsciousness breaking, as he shakes his head. As he takes in the stale, greasy air, warm liquid falls into Dick's mouth, and he realizes he is tasting piss, piss that is soaking into his heavy beard. Opening his eyes, Dick blinks a few times as his sight clears, seeing two heavily leathered bikers standing over him, urinating.
As he remembers who they are and why he is on the ground, Dick tries to escape the flowing warm urine as it pools on the dirty abandoned gas station garage floor. Dick works his body to sit up but finds that he is unable as his arms are stretched over his head. Straining to get a view of his hands, Dick barely sees that his gloved hands have been roped to the center post of the vehicle lift in the middle of the garage. Upset at being in bondage, Dick swears at the two figures that stand over him, dumping their urine on the helpless biker, the two faceless biker’s piss soaking into Dick’s beard that covers his face, running off his thick leather jacket. Unable to see their faces, one wears a black full-face helmet with a dark shield that reflects Dick helpless on the dirty floor. The other biker has a standard red helmet, wearing a black and white skull face mask and goggles.
Keeping his mouth shut so as not to swallow the fowl-tasting piss, Dick has a hard time not getting piss in his eyes as the bikers keep moving up and down Dick's body, soaking all of him. Remembering that he was wearing a helmet when he started out, Dick's head is now exposed as the piss soaks into his dark hair and furry face, matting it down. As the last of the piss flows out of the standing bikers, Dick opens his eyes as the bikers kick the bound Dick. The boots leave muddy marks across the smooth, shiny leather of Dick’s jacket sleeves. Moving to avoid the apex of the kicks, Dick finds his booted feet roped together and tied to a workbench post on the opposite side of the garage.
As the bikers push their hard cocks back into their pants, there is a stare-down between Dick and the strangers whose eyes he can't see, as the piss that had soaked into his beard drips down his face and into his lips. The biker in the black helmet kneels as Dick sees his piss-soaked face in the reflection of the helmet shield. Lifting his head to get a closer look, Dick is surprised when, without warning, the biker lifts his padded gloved hand and plants his fist right across Dick's face. Whipping his head sideways after the strike with the gloved fist, drops of urine fly from Dick’s beard as stars circle his head. Dick's skull lands hard on the concrete, bouncing one time as Dick feels one fucking painful headache coming on. The red-helmeted biker drops a dirty rag over Dick's face, plunging Dick into darkness.
Feeling the throbbing in his cheek, Dick consciousness starts to fade. Dick can smell the dirt and grease in the rag but is unable to get it off his face. Laying in the darkness, Dick hears the squeak from his leathers as he writhes in the bondage for a moment, then stops as he hears the biker's boots walking away from him. Laying still, lowering his breathing so he can hear more, Dick relaxes as he recalls how he got into his helpless state.
The lone Peterbilt breaks the desert silence as a red glow from the setting sun brushes the sparse desert landscape. A breeze whisks through the creosote bushes as the day's heat begins to let go. As Interstate 8 crosses the flat land of Southern Arizona, the four lanes of divided highway cut straight across the flat land as the west bound traffic is headed to the river town of Yuma and California beyond.
On this stretch of freeway, the south side has a few miles of holding corrals for cattle, calm in their enclosures. The corrals are next to the train tracks where, in a few days, the cattle will be loaded up and shipped to the slaughterhouses in Texas or California.
The north of the pavement is the stark and barren desert that is empty for miles. An abandoned gas station sits off the interstate, long since abandoned because the great milage that vehicles achieve these days. The structure that covered the pumps still stands along with the walls of the building with the garage and small store. The windows were busted years ago, with plywood now covering them. The garage door is mostly intact, with only the upper slits of windows open to the air of the desert. All the structures are covered in years of colorful graffiti.
A good hour from Yuma, most people never even notice this location on their interstate drive. Few would want to exit, for the stench of the cattle on a hot evening would keep them in their vehicle!
As darkness falls across the desert, the cattle start to rustle as a low roar comes from the east off the highway in the distance. The roar gets louder as the three bikers’ approach; they are focused on their destination, exit 73, Oasis Road.
The bikers start to slow from their top speed on the interstate as their engines thud loudly as they down shift their machines. Zack leads the other two, with Dick and Chris riding side by side. The three ride Harleys, customized to their distinct tastes, reflecting their interests and hard-core devotion to riding.
Pulling off the freeway and riding down the exit ramp for Oasis Road, the three bikers don't stop at the posted stop sign. Dick has slowed to where he is now, following the other two as they head towards the abandoned gas station, their headlights bouncing up and down shining on the graffiti-covered building. Each rider is in their own combination of leather, denim, helmets, gloves, boots, and chains.
Zack leads them away from the former fuel station and into the desert as their headlights cut through the falling night. The gravel road is rough as the bikers travel through the small dips and washes in the desert, away from civilization. Once they have ridden far from the Interstate, Zack starts to ride in a circle, with the other two following. After making several loops, Zack rides up to Dick, maintaining his speed to be parallel to Dick.
Dick is surprised as Zack maneuvers to be beside Dick as they continue to ride in a loop. Happening very quickly, Zack kicks Dick's bike with his well-used black gold-laced logger boot, which causes Dick to lose balance. Trying to right his machine, Dick can't get control, crashing into the hard yet sandy desert. Dick slides with his bike a few feet before coming to a stop, his FXDR Harley laying on his left leg,
Laying still for a long while, the other two bring their bikes very close to where Dick lays in the dirt, turning off their rumbling engines and watching to see what Dick does next. The two point their headlights to illuminate the victim with his bike lying upon him. Dick shakes his head, struggling to pull the bike off his leg.
Dick looks around, turning his helmeted head to see the other bikers just looking at him, Chris with his arms crossed, leaning against the sissy bar on the back of his Harley. Pulling his leg out from under the tank of his hog, Dick rolls on his back, hearing the sound of his leather jacket and chaps as he works his way free. With a grimace on his face under the clear shield of his full-face modular black helmet, Dick feels the pain in his leg, moving his leg by bending it at the knee; while painful, he can tell that his limb is not broken.
With his Schott black leather jacket zipped up, Dick pushes himself up, looking out to the vast desert and the last of the orange light fading behind the mountain range in the distance. Sitting on his ass in the dirt, Dick sees that the two bikers he was riding with are watching him, offering no help after his crash. Dick runs through the actions that just occurred as his anger begins to grow, with Zack kicking his bike, bringing him down into the desert. Blinded by the headlights of Chris and Zack's bikes, Dick, wearing well-used riding chaps that cover his snug Levi 501s, struggles to his feet, defiantly standing to face Zack and Chris.
In the silence of the desert, the sound of Zack’s leather creaks as he crosses his arms as both biker’s stare down the standing Dick. Being stared down by the two on their Harley’s, Dick wonders just what the fuck he has gotten himself into.
Dick stands, moving his gloved hands casually behind his back to hinder any potential tension that Zack and Chris might consider threatening. Dick feels his cock growing inside his jeans as the tip of his cock slides against the edge of the leather chaps providing an erotic sensation. Dick has been intrigued with these two since they met in the Gila Bend biker bar a few hours ago; now, there is an erotic feeling moving in Dick’s blood as he is getting a submissive feeling by the stance these two are taking.
As the tension builds, Dick reflects on his other rides out in the desert. Dick loves to get out on his Harley, especially on the open road. Having founded his own "gang of bitches” that want to be with him. Dick loves fucking after long rides as the vibration from his hog increases his libido. Finding some biker pussy wrapped in tight black leather, their leathered arms wrapped around his waist, he has them work his hard cock through his jeans as the desert races by at high speed. Dick will take them to his place or the middle of the desert and fuck them over his FXDR. A few times, he has gone into the desert with a biker dude or two, and they share an experience they both swear to never tell anyone.
This day, Dick got a few beers in him and might have let that little bit of information slip. Being the big showoff in the bar, Dick was buying drinks for his newfound friends, Chris and Zack. Dick didn't remember that he had played poker with the two outside of Tucson over a year ago and lost heavily to them as they were cruising between LA and El Paso. After getting Dick slightly plastered, they suggested they go for a ride; Dick didn't expect to be so far out into the middle of nowhere and right now, he is unsure of just what these two have in mind.
Chris Latrique looks closer at Dick’s crotch, which is forming a narrow, long bulge behind his jeans, ending at the edge where the leather of his chaps wraps around his thigh. A smile is developing from behind the skull facemask that Chris wears, with a red open-face helmet. Chris likes seeing that this fucker is turned on by the gear they wear and the feeling of a powerful engine between their legs.
Sweat is slowly running down the face of Dick, as the heat is only now starting to fade. The layers of leather that Dick wears keep the guy's body well protected but also very hot when the temperature rises.
Slowly, Zach, who has taken the lead, dismounts his Street Glide with a flat black paint job. Wearing his leather jacket with a denim vest that features the Triangle Clan patch on the back, Zack steps forward with his dust-covered lace-up logger boots, leaving footprints on the sandy surface of the desert. Approaching Dick, Zack maintains a firm eye contact as Dick looks up to see the helmeted biker moving towards him.
Deciding he can't let these guys see any weakness, Dick stands firm, keeping a strong look on his face as he watches the hot biker in his black 501s and leather chaps approach. Moving closer, the sound of Zack's leathers can be heard by Dick as Zack cups his gloved hands together, holding them at chest level, rolling his right hand into a fist, cupped within his left hand.
Deciding he is close enough, there is a cocky grin on Dick's face as he nods to the helmeted biker. Zack doesn't respond, maintaining his stance.
Slowly, Zack reaches his gloved hand to the biker standing before him and lightly touches the leather jacket that Dick wears. Delicately stroking Dick's body, Zack steps very close as Dick can feel the heat from the helmeted biker, taking in the leather scent and sound from the biker gear that Zack wears. The stroking hand on Dick’s leather jacket is barely felt because of the thickness of the leather.
Maintaining his caution, Dick is enjoying the touch of the biker, the scent that he is taking in. While normally he would push away any guy that touches him like Zack is, Dick is intrigued while also being partly loosely horny from all the beers he downed in the bar. Zack brings his other hand up and starts stroking Dick's arm, sliding it upon the leather sleeve of Dick's jacket.
Soon, the two bikers are embracing each other, as Dick really wants to plant his lips on the face that is behind the helmet. Being drunk, Dick is exposing the hidden feelings he has for encounters with those of his sex. Always drunk, the liquor brings out the faggot state of Dick and makes him do things he often regrets when the sun rises.
Dick reaches down and starts to squeeze Zack’s crotch, the heavy denim protecting Zack's manhood. There is a moan from Zack under his helmet, letting Dick know he is making a connection with the biker.
Zack reaches behind Dick, grabbing the biker's denim ass at the edge where Dick's leather chaps fame his butt. Squeezing that ass, Zack unlatches the helmet that Dick wears and removes it, dropping it into the desert. Feeling the slight warm breeze skim across his face, Dick licks his lips, anticipating the taste of the lips of the biker that is hidden behind the dark shield that reflects Dick's lustful face.
Chris sits on his machine, lightly rubbing his leathered crotch with his gloved hand, enjoying the show that is being put on by the two bikers, lit by the headlights.
Zack and Dick continue to caress each other as Zack pushes his gloved hand to the waist of Dick's jeans, working his hand inside and fondling Dick's cock with his leathered hand. This brings an erotic sensation to Dick as he so wants to kiss the man before him. Dick leans in, placing his lips on Zack's helmeted face, lifting his gloved hand and gripping Zack's neck. Through Zack’s face shield, he sees Dick’s lips and beard press upon the plastic, slightly wiping up and down.
As the two bikers are making out, Chris dismounts his bike and stealthily approaches the two, making his way behind Dick. As Zack keeps Dick's attention by slowly stroking his hard cock inside his Levi's, Dick moves his lips off the helmet and starts licking the biker's neck as it is accessible by pulling down the bandana that wraps around Zack’s neck. Zack smiles under the helmet as he feels the brushing of Dick’s beard on his sensitive neck. Dick moans as he even takes a few nibbles of flesh from Zack.
Positioning himself directly behind Dick, Chris steps forward but maintains a space so that Dick doesn't sense that Chris is behind him. Zack looks over Dick's shoulder as he pleasures Dick, making eye contact with his riding partner. There is a slight nod from Zack with Chris nodding in return. After a moment, Chris lunges, taking hold of Dick's arms and restraining them behind Dick's back.
A struggle between Chris and Dick begins as Zack takes a step back. Without warning, Zack hauls off and punches Dick in the face. Stunned, Dick falls to the desert floor, landing like a brick. The uppercut to Dick was perfect as Zack looked down, smiling inside his helmet as he saw the unconscious Dick.