The Babe Bike BluesChapter 2
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The Babe Bike BluesChapter 12 free porn video
In the parking lot she held out the key to the bike, letting it dangle from her fingers. Bob looked at the key and then at her face. He looked around, thinking about what had just happened. Jennifer's mother, who apparently knew exactly what had transpired between her daughter and a forty-two year old man, who she also knew was a renowned womanizer and party animal ... was not objecting to that course of events. At least not yet. She had said that they'd "talk more about this later." That attitude in itself was astounding, but the thing that struck Bob the most was that she'd run roughshod over Don as well.
And Bob couldn't remember a single time Susan had gainsaid anything her husband had proposed.
Jennifer was standing there, waiting.
"You wanna drive again?" he asked, feeling light headed.
A huge grin split her face. "If y-y-you'll d-d-do what y-y-you d-did last t-t-time," she said.
As she drove them away from the hospital, both of Bob's hands were cupping soft warm titties, under her shirt.
She had missed lunch during the police investigation. So she drove around, somewhat aimlessly, looking for someplace to get something to eat. He had been provided a sandwich and a diet Coke while incarcerated but, under the circumstances, hadn't been excited about eating.
She pulled into the parking lot of a Golden Corral and Bob saw a man, walking out of the restaurant with a woman, glance at them and then do a double take as Bob slid his hands off her precious breasts and out from under her shirt. He ignored the gawking man and got off the bike. When she offered him the keys this time, he took them, and they went inside. Once they'd visited the buffet and were seated, Jennifer brought him up to speed on what he'd missed.
She told him about screaming at her father for sending him away, and then having to run a mile or more to catch him at the motel. When they'd been separated there, she didn't know what to do. She said the police had made her follow them to the station on the bike. To drive it, she just did what she'd seen Bob do countless times on their previous rides and on this trip.
At the station she was afraid to just change her story when the police questioned her, so she told them a slightly altered version of the true situation. She described getting the call, and asking Bob for help, and how they got there. Then, when she described the "attack" she wavered and said Bob probably misunderstood, because she had gotten into bed with him when she was scared about her parents' condition.
Because she'd mentioned talking to her mother about "things," they'd taken her back to the hospital and questioned both her parents. Don had been truthful, saying that Bob had claimed that the situation had just gotten out of hand. Up to that point, the investigation had been coming down on the wrong side, as far as Bob would have been concerned. It was Susan who'd set things straight, asking Jennifer point blank if she and Bob had had sexual intercourse or not. Jennifer had collapsed in embarrassment, explaining that she'd only said he'd raped her because she didn't want him to leave.
The cop had been disgusted and warned Jennifer that Bob could press charges against her for making a false complaint. Susan had immediately said, "He won't," and then the cop had started making noises about her riding the motorcycle, which actually belonged to the alleged suspect, which might constitute theft.
"She's just been taking care of it, while this little misunderstanding got worked out," Susan had said. "She'll take it back to him, so it's there when he's released ... won't you, darling?"
Jennifer had nodded, still crying, and the cop had given up. He'd made her say out loud, however, that she had lied about accusing Bob of rape, resulting in her blubbering about how sorry she was.
While the policeman called in with the results of his investigation, Susan had motioned Jennifer closer to the bed.
"Did you really ride the bike by yourself?" she had asked.
That was the last thing in the world Jennifer had thought her mother would focus on, and it had shocked her out of her emotional outburst. She'd nodded and her mother had said, "Well how about that!" Then she'd said, "Go get Bob and bring him back here. Tell him I want to talk to him before he leaves."
"B-b-but I don't w-w-wanta him to l-l-leave," Jennifer had moaned, starting to sniffle again.
"That has to be his decision, baby," Susan had said. "You may have screwed the pooch with him."
Jennifer had blinked and frowned. "Sc-sc-screwed the p-p-pooch?"
"It's just a saying," Susan had replied. "It means he may be mad at you. He has every right to be."
Jennifer had hung her head.
The last thing her mother had said was: "Now go on and go get him out of jail and bring him here. If he says he wants to leave, just tell him I asked to talk to him before he goes, okay?"
Jennifer told Bob she couldn't have gone anywhere else anyway. The patrol car followed her all the way back to the station. It was while she'd been waiting for him to come out that she'd decided she was going to drive, simply because that way she knew they'd end up at the hospital.
Then she asked him what had happened to him.
"I sat in a cage for hours," he said, "waiting for somebody to figure out you'd gone stark raving mad."
"Oh." She blushed. She put her fork down. "S-s-so ... wh-what n-n-now?"
He made her wait, while he kept eating. When she began fidgeting in her seat he finally relented.
"I guess I'll stay."
She relaxed visibly and picked up her fork again.
"We only have one room now," he said, almost casually. "I cancelled the other one before I got arrested."
She had the good sense to keep looking at her plate, but he still saw the smile she tried to hide.
After their early supper, they still had two hours until visiting time.
"You want to ride around for a while?" asked Bob, expecting her to say she did.
"I w-w-want to t-t-take a sh-shower," she said. "And ch-change c-clothes." He raised an eyebrow. "I g-g-got all sw-sw-sweaty r-running," she added.
"Ahhh," he said.
At the motel he told a - thankfully - different desk clerk about the additional change in plans. The woman returned the envelope with the cash in it to him without batting an eye, once he'd shown her some ID.
Back in the room Jennifer unashamedly stripped naked and padded to the bathroom door, turning to look over her shoulder at him. "H-h-help me?" she asked hopefully.
Bob looked at her with serious eyes. "Have you really thought about this?"
"C-c-constantl-l-ly," she stuttered.
The thing going through Bob's mind as he removed his own clothing was whether Susan would put restrictions on them, later that evening. Maybe that had a little something to do with his willingness to play, just one more time.
While he still could.
In the shower she just held him, at first. Then she wanted kisses, and then she wanted his hands on her ... everywhere. While she stood spraddle-legged and his finger slicked in and out of her pussy, she kissed him almost nonstop until she shuddered through an orgasm, whining about how good it felt.
Then, before she'd even caught her breath, she sank to her knees and took him into her mouth, stroking his shaft with one hand and gently exploring his balls with the other. Some dim memory of Bambi Bangs Baltimore made her put both hands on his butt cheeks while she moved her face forward and backward, getting more and more of his cock into her mouth, until she went too far and gagged. Then, with his encouragement, she used her hand again, until streams of thick white semen leapt from the tip of his cock and painted her neck and breasts. As his penis began to soften, she closed her mouth on the knob one last time and sucked, milking the shaft with her fingers and pulling off at the same time. Bob had to lean against the shower wall as a result.
Dried off and back in the room, Bob sank down on the end of the bed, sitting upright, while Jennifer went to her backpack and began searching for something to wear.
"C'mere," said Bob, patting his bare thighs.
She looked over her shoulder at him again. The look on her face was much older, somehow, than her chronological age. "Again?" she cooed.
Vicky
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