Biker Babes' Roadside Rally Strap-On Ride

I never meant for any of it to happen. I’m Jess, twenty-eight, married to a decent man who works too much and fucks me too little. For the last three years I’ve ridden my Harley alone on long desert loops just to feel something raw between my thighs and the wind whipping across my skin. That Sunday I was two hundred miles from home when the engine coughed, sputtered, and died.

The highway stretched empty in both directions, heat shimmering off the blacktop. I was still cursing the bike when I heard the low thunder of three other Harleys approaching. They slowed, then pulled off beside me in a loose half-circle of chrome and leather.

The tallest one swung a long leg over her seat first. Raven. Ink crawled up her neck and disappeared beneath a tight black tank top that barely contained her breasts. Her dark hair was shaved on the sides, the rest pulled into a thick braid. Next to her climbed Jax—curvy, brunette, hips that strained the seams of her riding leathers and a smile that promised trouble. The smallest one, Spike, had a shock of dyed red hair, sharp green eyes, and a compact, athletic body that moved like a predator.

They circled me slowly, boots crunching on gravel. I could feel their eyes dragging over the way my tight leather pants hugged my ass, the way my thin white tank clung to my breasts from the heat.

“Pretty little thing all alone out here,” Raven drawled, voice low and smoky. “What’s your name, sugar?”

“Jess,” I answered, and my voice already sounded too breathy.

Jax stepped closer, close enough that I caught the scent of motor oil, leather, and warm woman. “You married, Jess?” She tapped the thin gold band on my left hand with one black-nailed finger.

I nodded.

“Does he know his wife gets soaked every time she straddles a vibrating engine?” Spike asked with a wicked little grin.

My face burned. My clit throbbed so hard I had to shift my weight. They saw it. All three of them smiled like wolves.

Raven popped the side panel on my bike and started poking around while Jax and Spike stayed on either side of me, close enough that their leather jackets brushed my bare arms. Every filthy compliment landed like a slap.

“Goddamn, that ass looks like it was built to take a hard fuck,” Jax murmured, staring openly at my backside.

“Bet that married pussy is dripping right now,” Spike added, licking her lower lip. “Bet it’s never had three women want to wreck it at once.”

I should have told them to stop. Instead I stood there trembling, nipples tight against my tank top, a wet spot growing in the crotch of my panties.

Raven straightened, wiping her hands on a rag. “Fixed. Loose wire. You’re lucky we came along.” Then she reached into her saddlebag and pulled out something thick, black, and obscene—a realistic strap-on cock, veined and heavy, already harnessed to a wide leather belt. She stroked it slowly in her fist, eyes locked on mine. “You gonna keep pretending you don’t want this shoved up that married cunt, Jess?”

My knees almost buckled. “I… I shouldn’t,” I whispered, but my voice cracked with pure need.

Raven stepped in until her breasts pressed against mine. “Say it. Tell us you want three dyke bikers to fuck you stupid on the side of the road.”

I was shaking so hard I could barely speak. “I want it. Please. Fuck me.”

The tension snapped like a live wire.

They moved fast but not rough. A thick wool blanket was spread on the gravel beside the bikes, just off the shoulder where passing cars would be rare. The desert sun beat down on us, turning every inch of exposed skin slick with sweat. Raven buckled the thick strap-on around her hips while Jax and Spike stripped me out of my riding leathers with reverent, greedy hands. My tank top and bra were peeled away; my nipples were pinched and tugged until I moaned. My soaked panties were dragged down my thighs and tossed onto a handlebar like a trophy.

Raven spun me around and bent me over her own motorcycle seat. The leather was hot against my belly and breasts. She kicked my feet apart, lined up the fat head of the strap-on, and drove it into me in one long, relentless thrust.

I cried out as it stretched me open. The cock was thicker than anything I’d ever taken. Raven didn’t give me time to adjust. She grabbed my hips and started pounding me in deep, punishing strokes that made my toes curl inside my boots. The wet slap of leather against my ass echoed across the empty highway.

“Fuck, she’s creaming all over it already,” Raven growled.

Jax swung a leg over the bike in front of me, planted her boots on the pegs, and grabbed my hair. She was naked from the waist down, her shaved pussy glistening. She yanked my face into her cunt and I licked her like I was starving—long, desperate strokes over her swollen clit, sucking her folds, pushing my tongue inside her while Raven railed my pussy harder.

Spike knelt beside us, small and fierce. She took my right hand, guided two of my fingers into her tight, soaking hole, and fucked herself on them with quick, greedy rolls of her hips. The three of us made a filthy, moaning chain of leather and sweat under the blazing sun.

After a few minutes they switched positions like they’d done this a hundred times. Raven lay on her back on the blanket. They helped me straddle her face in reverse cowgirl. The moment my dripping pussy settled over her mouth, her tongue speared up into me and her strong hands gripped my ass, spreading me wider. Jax stood in front of me now wearing the thick black strap-on. I opened my mouth obediently and she fed me every inch, fucking my throat in slow, deep strokes while I drooled and gagged around it.

Spike knelt between Raven’s legs and used her fingers on my clit—fast, perfect circles that made my thighs shake violently. I was trapped between three dominant women, every hole used, every nerve screaming with pleasure. The orgasm hit me so hard I screamed around Jax’s cock. My pussy clenched and squirted across Raven’s face in hot, shameful pulses. They didn’t stop. They rode me through it until I came again, and then a third time, each one stronger than the last, until my voice was hoarse and my legs wouldn’t hold me up.

When I finally collapsed, panting and trembling, they were gentle. They wiped me clean with a soft cloth from a saddlebag, helped me back into my soaked panties and leathers, even braided my messy hair. Each of them kissed me slow and possessive—Raven claiming my mouth like she owned it, Jax sucking on my tongue, Spike biting my lower lip hard enough to make me whimper.

Raven slipped a folded piece of paper into the cup of my bra, her fingers brushing my still-sensitive nipple. “My number. Next weekend there’s a rally at our clubhouse. You’re going to show up wearing nothing but this harness under your jacket.” She tapped the thick strap-on now back in her saddlebag. “You’ll ride all the way to us with that fat cock strapped between your legs, rubbing your clit the whole trip. Then we’re going to spend the entire night breaking you in every way three biker dykes can think of.”

I shivered, already wet again at the thought.

They escorted me the last forty miles to the next town, flanking me like bodyguards. When we reached the gas station on the edge of civilization they gave me one last round of hungry kisses, then roared off in a thunder of engines and laughter.

I sat on my bike for a long time afterward, heart hammering, pussy still pulsing from the brutal fucking I’d just taken. My husband would be waiting at home with dinner and a kiss on the cheek. I should have felt guilty.

Instead I was already scheming.

I would tell him I was going to a women’s motorcycle safety course next weekend. I’d buy the biggest bottle of lube I could find. And on Friday night I’d buckle that thick black harness around my hips, slide the fat cock into place so it nestled against my swollen clit, pull my leather jacket over my naked body, and ride straight into the desert to find my new owners.

The rally wasn’t over. It had only just begun.