Iron Disciples MC 2 Giving It All To The 1% by Eliza Stout Page A

clubhouse entrance
to make sure nobody was coming out to investigate, but soon the
vibrations of the bike migrated up through the seat and right
between my legs and for the moment I didn’t care about any of those
people inside of the clubhouse. My eyes rolled back in my head and
I bit my lip and pressed forward on the throttle as high as it
would go. The engine screamed and the bike vibrated fiercely. My
bare feet arched against the foot rests as the engine continued its
shrill wail into the empty night air and my hand held steady
pressing the throttle forward. I felt my stomach begin to tense up,
release, and tense up again as it felt like the vibrations began to
hum right to the core of me. When the orgasm finally ripped through
my body I lost all control and my balance went with it. I came
toppling off the back of the motorcycle and the motorcycle in turn
tipped over on its side. To be horrified amazement, it knocked into
the bike next to it, sending that one over on its side as well, in
turn causing that one to knock down the bike that was parked next
to it. Before I knew what was happening, this had set off a chain
reaction in which the entire row of motorcycles were toppling over
one by one like a string of dominos, each one causing a loud crash
that echoed throughout the stillness of the night.
    The distracted state of satisfaction
that I was in moments earlier had given way to an acute awareness
now. I scrambled to my feet and tried to stretch the nightie down
far enough to cover the huge wet spot on my panties. It wasn’t
doing a very good job of it.
    Like clockwork the doors to the
clubhouse burst open and the patched members of the club came
filing out, rubbing their eyes groggily and cursing under their
breath about being woken up in the middle of the night. They were
quickly wide awake when they saw their bikes lying on their sides
against the concrete, however. Skids had his hands on his head,
running out towards the bikes, the rest of the gang not far behind
him.
    “Oh! My baby!”
    They all rushed out to their bikes,
uprighting them carefully and running their hands along the frames
delicately as if they were some sort of fragile little pets or
something. The guys were checking their bikes up and down for
scuffs and scratches and moaning about their shitty luck, and the
only thing I could do was stand there sheepishly, my face as red as
a beet, and shrugging my shoulders helplessly.
    Johnny, after picking up his bike and
setting the kickstand, turned to me with his palms out. “What
happened?”
    “I… I… I just came out here for some
fresh air, and there was no where to sit…”
    “Jesus… you never touch a man’s bike.
That’s just… that’s a no no. Not even if you were my old
lady.”
    “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what
I was thinking.”
    “So, the keys… why were they in the
ignition?”
    My face turned a deeper shade of red.
“I got cold.”
    Johnny just shook his head. “You gotta
be kidding me.”
    “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean
to…”
    “Alright, alright. No harm,
no foul. You can’t be doing this kind of thing from now on though,
you understand? Come on, let’s get inside. It is fuckin’ cold out here.”
    He wrapped his arm around my shoulder
and walked me back into the clubhouse. The rest of the crew, after
getting their bikes standing up again and coming to the conclusion
that their precious babies had suffered no evident injuries,
followed shortly behind. I could hear their muttering and
complaining all the way across the lot, and I don’t think the
shameful blush faded from my cheeks until well into the
morning.
     
    *
     
    The next day I was sitting in the one
of the guest bedrooms of the clubhouse, bored and waiting. I was
examining various knick knacks in the room – motorcycle
memorabilia, photographs of past members of the club, a huge
American flag that was draped across the far wall. I wasn’t
particularly interested in any of that stuff, just