As grandma and I fucked more often, we discovered more about what we liked. We both liked rough, passionate sex. I loved fucking her in all kind of positions - - from behind, on the motorcycle, standing up. Grandma loved to stroke my cock - - sliding her hands up and down on it, squeezing it, playing with my balls. Some nights, we'd drive out to the country, find a remote spot, strip naked, and grandma would get on her knees and just play with my cock until I came. I've always enjoyed a good blowjob, but I never really knew how exquisite a good handjob could be until grandma showed me.
A Saturday rolled around and my weekly club ride approached. I asked grandma if she'd like to come with me. She agreed - - enthusiastically. I think that passionate sex and riding a motorcycle had really loosened her up - - making her feel younger, more adventurous, willing to take more risks. She positively glowed during the day.
Saturday morning was bright and warm. The club rally point was a 7-11 on the south side of town. I got up early, tinkered with the bike, and changed into a pair of clean jeans, boots, and a leather vest without an undershirt. As I headed out to the garage to pull the bike into the driveway, grandma came out of the house. She looked fantastic. She was wearing a new leather bra that showcased her big tits, some really, really tight jeans, and a pair of short cut motorcycle boots. Her hair was gathered into a ponytail. It was all I could do not to nail her right there in the front yard.
She climbed on the bike, gave my cock a quick stroke or two, jammed her tongue into my ear, and we were off for the rally point.
Most of the club members were older than me - - in their thirties or forties. They were good guys. A little booze and pot maybe, but no meth or crank or harder stuff. A lot of the guys brought their girlfriends or wives with them along on rides. And, let me tell you, these were not the kind of chicks you see on the cover of Iron Horse magazine. Most were pretty worn-out looking. Some were downright ugly. Still, the point was to get together, ride, and have some fun.
I pulled into the 7-11 parking lot with grandma on the back of my bike and the guys waved to me. Granny and I had decided not to reveal our family relationship. Instead, I just introduced her as Shirley. Of course, no one in the club went by their real name. Everybody used their "club" name. I was "Elway" because of my football playing. We had: Gunner, Pancho, Shorty, Crank, Dillweed, and about nine or ten others. Grandma and I stood with the group as we all joked together. Later, as we were about to mount up, Gunner sidled up to me.
"Man, Elway," he half whispered. "I didn't know you were into older chicks."
I laughed. "I'm into chicks period, compadre."
He laughed. "I can see that. Man, that girl's cans are spectacular. Who cares if she's old enough to be my mom. She's one hot bitch."
I slugged him on the shoulder and laughed.
"Okay," he continued. "You and Mom be careful out there."
His face lit up in a smile. "Yeah. Mom. That's her club name."
I grinned.
"Hey, Mom," Gunner called out to grandma. "Why don't you and Elway saddle up and we can show you what the road looks like."
Grandma smiled and gave me a hug. We French kissed and then got on the bike. Soon, a long snake of 12 motorcycles was wending its way out of town, along the main highway, and north to Spooner Lake. Grandma clung to me as the wind whipped through our hair and as the hot July sun beat down on our bare shoulders. I could tell she was happy. She kept squeezing me around the waist and rubbing her cheek against my shoulder blades.
Because it takes a bit of an eccentric to ride a motorcycle on Saturdays in a group, most of the guys didn't even give me and grandma a second glance. The "civilians" (as Gunner called them) that we passed did give us second, and even third looks. But we didn't care. We were having a great time. In fact, several times when cars pulled up next to us and slowed down to get a look, Grandma raised herself off the seat and stuck her tongue in my ear. Showing off our love in defiance of the drivers' stares.
We got to Spooner Lake, dismounted, and drank some beer. There was a lot of joking around, and Gunner made "Mom's" club name public. After a couple of hours, we drove home. Grandma and I peeled off from the club outside of town and found a quiet spot to release our pent up horniness.
The next Saturday was an overnight ride. We were to head east toward a larger lake that featured a beach. A week passed and grandma eagerly donned her sexy biker outfit, I put on my jeans and vest, we met up with the club at the 7-11, and arrived at Monticello Lake by late afternoon. We drank and partied and scoured the woods for brush to build a bonfire on the beach of the lake. A couple of guys swam in the lake in their skivvies. We cooked some steaks that Crank's wife had brought, lit up the bonfire, and settled back for some serious drinking.
Grandma and I with our backs against a log, my arm circled around her waist and hers around my shoulder, while the bonfire danced in front of us and the guys started goofing around. We were all pretty drunk.
Cueball, a tall, skinny, bald guy, put some old r 'n b on the boom box and announced that we were going to have a sexy dance contest. His girlfriend, a really fat woman with a laugh that shook her whole body, hopped up and the two of them did the least sexy dance I'd ever seen. They sat down and another couple popped up. The longer the dance contest went on, the crazier the couples became. By the time Dillweed danced with his wife, she was licking his chest and he was squeezing her tits as they swayed to the music.
