The Babe Bike Blues

by Lubrican

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8-21 & Epilogue Available On

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Chapter Three

Jennifer was mildly interested in CSI Las Vegas when Bob came out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. It looked like a pretty small towel when she glanced at him. She'd never seen him like this. She stared at his chest and the muscles rippling there as he used another towel to dry his hair. He caught her staring.

"Sorry," he said. "I forgot to take my clean clothes in with me, and I've been wearing the others for two days. I couldn't bring myself to put them back on."

"It's ok-k-kay," she said, feeling a little flutter in her belly. She’d examined her uncle before, and had decided he was handsome in a dangerous looking way, but she’d never thought about what he might look like naked. That she suddenly found herself thinking exactly that confused her. Her eyes flitted to the front of the towel, which seemed to be tented out quite a bit. She felt guilty for wondering what the thing causing that tent looked like, but she still couldn’t help herself.

"I left you some hot water," he said, tossing the towel in his hand onto the bed. He bent over to get his clean shirt and pants out of the backpack and the towel ends split apart on his right thigh. She stared at that area and saw muscles rippling there too.

"R-r-right," she said a little breathlessly. She bounced up out of the chair and hurried into the bathroom.

She kept thinking about Bob as she showered, running her hands over her naked body. She suddenly realized her right hand was between her legs. It had already done everything necessary to get her clean down there, but it was lingering. She remembered all those delicious orgasms and, curious, began to feel around to see if anything felt different. It didn't, but she got excited and continued to rub.

Jennifer WAS a virgin, as Bob believed. She had played with herself before — lots of times — but she'd never actually inserted anything other than a tampon in her body. Now, tentatively, she began exploring deeper with a soapy finger. It felt completely different from when she just pushed her clitty around with a fingertip. She realized she was trying to have another orgasm and felt embarrassed. What was happening to her? Was she turning into some kind of sex fiend?

She jerked her finger out of her pussy and quickly washed the rest of her body. She washed her hair too, even though it would just have to dry nature's way.

It wasn't until she got out that she realized she'd done exactly the same thing...she'd forgotten to bring in a change of clothing.

There were two towels left. She wrapped one around her body, which left a little cleavage exposed and barely covered her butt. The other she wrapped around her hair. Her comb was in the backpack. She looked in the mirror and blushed. Then she went to the door and opened it four or five inches.

"Uncle B-b-bob?" she called out. She peeked through the door to see him sitting on the end of the bed. He leaned forward and pushed the off button on the TV. He had on jeans, but no shirt. He looked around at her.


"I f-f-forgot my c-c-clothes. Just d-d-don't l-l-look when I c-c-come out, o-k-k-kay? This t-t-towel is k-k-kind of s-s-small."

"No problem," he said, turning back around.

He really didn't intend to look. But with the TV off, the screen became a poor quality mirror and when she ran to the bed, where the backpack was, he couldn't help but stare at her reflection. With that other towel piled high on her head she brought to mind an exotic Egyptian queen.

When the towel around her body came off, he couldn't help but admire her full breasts, capped by nipples he wanted badly to turn around and look at directly. He wondered what color they were. It took her a while with her arms raised to work the neck of the T shirt over the towel on her head, and he was reminded of the statue of the Venus de Milo. His eyes dropped to her lower body just before the T shirt fell to cover her hips. The afterimage of the fluff of stark white hair on her mons was still in his mind as she wiggled into clean jeans. He realized she'd put on neither panties nor a bra, probably because of her hurry to get dressed. Twice he saw her reflection dart looks at him.

"OK," she said as she buttoned the jeans.

He turned to see her lifting her hands to the towel around her head. The T shirt was maroon, and those nipples, which might be maroon colored too, pressed outwards proudly through the dark cloth. She was, in his opinion, as close to perfection as anything he'd seen, and he just watched as she dug a comb out of the backpack and started running it through her tangled locks.

"W-w-what?" she asked, stopping long enough to stare at him.

"Nothing," he said. "You're just all grown up now. I hadn't realized it until right now, I think."

"I d-d-don't f-f-feel all g-g-grown up," she said sadly.

"Well you are," he said firmly. "And you're drop dead gorgeous to boot."

She stopped and put her hands on her hips.

"Y-y-you always s-s-say th-th-that," she said, laboring as usual.

"Because it's true," he said, grinning. "Now, don't argue with me. We've got a long day tomorrow. You're a stone fox, but I need my beauty rest." He looked around. Other than the bed, the only furniture in the room was the credenza the TV was on and one plastic chair with steel legs on it. The bed only had one pillow on it. At least there was a thin rug on the floor. He picked up the pillow he'd bought to defuse the problem with the babe bike. "You can have the bed."

She went back to combing her hair out, and her tugs at her hair suddenly seemed to be producing the stutter in her speech.

"You c-c-can't sleep on th-th-the f-f-floor."

"Sure I can," he said. "I've slept on dirt plenty of times."

"W-w-we'll b-b-both sleep on th-th-the b-b-bed," she said.

"I don't think so," he said. "Didn't you just hear me tell you you're all grown up and beautiful? Who knows what evil things I'd try to do to you in my sleep?"

"Ha...ha," she said, slowly and with obvious effort not to stutter.

"I'll be fine," said Bob. "Trust me on this, Princess. The last thing you need is me hogging the bed or rolling over and squashing your pretty little self all flat. Besides, your daddy would skin me alive if he found out I slept in the same bed with you."

"W-w-we're w-w-wearing clothes!" she said, frowning. "And D-d-daddy w-w-would n-never hurt y-y-you. You're his b-b-best f-f-friend."

"Just get some sleep," said Bob. "I'll probably get you up way earlier than you're used to."

He got into position on the floor, on his back, with his arms spread wide and the small pillow under his neck. He only intended to use it to keep his head from rolling to the side, which might cause a kink while he slept. This position was one he was very familiar with. It was for power naps and he firmly believed that twenty minutes of sleep in this position was worth two hours in a bed.

"Get the light, would you?" he said to the ceiling. His imagination was running wild. He thought he smelled pussy.

The room went dark and he heard the bed move as she got into it. It was quiet for half a minute, then she shifted, making the bed creak. She tossed and turned some more, but didn't say anything. He sensed the bed moving and heard the rustle of the sheets and blanket as she tried to get comfortable.

He was almost asleep when her voice came from right above his face.

"Uncle B-b-bob?"

He opened his eyes and saw the silhouette of her head, hanging over the edge of the bed.


"I'm sc-sc-scared."

"There are no monsters under the bed," he quipped. "I checked."

"Th-th-they m-m-might d-d-die." He heard tears in her voice and felt like a heel for having joked.

"They're getting the best care," he said softly. "We'll get there tomorrow and then you'll get to see that everything's going to be OK." He hoped he was telling the truth.

"I'm st-st-still s-s-scared," she moaned.

He stared up at her dark outline.

"I know, baby," he said. "Just try to remember something good. Concentrate on that memory and don't think about anything else. You'll fall asleep. I promise."

Jennifer stared at the ceiling. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and there was a surprising amount of light coming through the front window in the room. She tried to do what Bob had told her to do, but it was hard. Every good memory she thought of included her parents. Frustrated, she tried to think of something else. The recent motorcycle ride popped into her mind. She thought about all those delicious orgasms she'd had sitting behind Uncle Bob as the feelings overwhelmed her over and over.

Her hand drifted to the crotch of her jeans. She pressed firmly and felt tingles of anticipation. She unbuttoned the jeans, intent on keeping that feeling of anticipation in her mind, and slid her hand inside them. The jeans were too tight and she wiggled them down off her hips. Then, unable to spread her legs, she worked them all the way off. That was better. She stroked her pussy lips gently and let one fingertip find and produce zings from the hard little button that had so recently flooded her body with pleasure.

She felt a stab of shame that she was doing this while her parents were on death's doorstep in the hospital, but shoved that thought away. She concentrated on what she was doing, trying to keep her mind clear of the fear that went with thinking about her parents.

Bob woke, suddenly alert, and then realized it was just the bed that was making noise as Jennifer tossed and turned. He heard her make a little sound in her throat. Was she crying? The bed moved more and she whimpered. He sat up. His eyes had adjusted to the dark too, and he saw her bare legs, knees slightly bent and spread—her hand busy at the juncture of her white thighs. He watched as her neck arched and a long sigh escaped her straining throat muscles.

He lay back down, aware that his jeans were uncomfortably tight. He had a raging boner. His mind whirled. She WAS grown up. She was fully a woman. If she wasn't his best friend's daughter she'd be a prime candidate for the Babe Bike. It had obviously gotten her going, and now she had HIM going.

He thought about masturbating too. The thought of doing that along with her was very appealing, but he had nothing to shoot his spooge into and he wasn't about to put it on the carpet. He felt helpless, something that was very unusual for him.

He listened and realized he hadn't heard her moving for a while. Maybe she was finished. If he played it cool, he could get up, go to the bathroom, take care of his aching prick and she'd be asleep by the time he came out.

He got up and, facing away from her, went to the bathroom.

Jennifer was in the middle of making slow, soft circles with three fingers, rubbing the tips of those fingers over the slippery lips that folded together to cover her clit. It had been delightful. Knowing now that she could have more than one of those delightful feelings in a row, she was slowly working her way up to another one.

Then she froze in horror as her uncle suddenly stood. She felt completely exposed, but could tell he wasn’t looking at her. She pulled the sheet over herself as he closed the bathroom door. Light suddenly shone brightly through the crack at the bottom of the door. She played possum, wanting him to think she was asleep when he came out.

It took so long she was actually sleeping when Bob slipped out of the bathroom, his prick now soft and empty. He couldn't help but look at her as he returned to his part of the floor. He'd thought about her the entire time he'd stroked his manhood. He knew he should feel bad about that...but he didn't.

Ten minutes later there was only the sound of two people breathing as they slept.

Masturbating had helped Jennifer get to sleep, but it didn't keep the nightmares at bay.

She woke, crying out at a dream in which two coffins were being lowered into one hole in the ground. She clutched at Bob, when he appeared on his knees beside the bed, and pulled him up onto the bed. It was just natural for him to hold her as she sobbed, stroking her back, whispering into her hair that it was going to be OK.

It was natural for her to fall back to sleep in his arms as the comfort he offered slowly soothed her fears. It was also natural for him to resist disturbing her by getting back on the floor. He was fully dressed, after all.

But he knew she was not. All it took was for his hand to slide down her back just a little too far...just once...where it slid off of the material of her T shirt and onto the smooth warm skin of her bare bottom. His reaction was natural too.

This time he couldn't do anything about it, though, and he finally fell into a troubled sleep with another erection straining in his jeans.

Bob woke to the feel of a warm, good smelling woman rubbing her pussy on his thigh. It was a languid, slow movement, but the leg thrown over his thigh made it clear what was rubbing against his leg. He opened his eyes. Her face was pressed against his chest and one of her arms thrown over him in a loose embrace. He couldn't tell if she was awake or not, until he concentrated on her breathing, which was the slow and measured cadence of sleep. He also couldn't tell if the erection in his pants was from what was happening or just his usual morning wood.

He realized suddenly that there was warm skin under his hand. He was cupping her butt, not exactly helping her rub, but not far from it. He lifted his hand and rolled away from her.

Her breathing changed and she lifted her head, looking around with sleep-glazed eyes.

"Morning," he said softly. "It's time to go."

Her hand tightened on his shoulder and she pulled herself against him.

"I love you," she sighed.

He noticed the lack of stutter in her voice just as SHE noticed she was still grinding her naked pussy on the rough cloth of his jeans.

"OH!" she yipped, rolling away from him. They both looked down to see that her T shirt had ridden up during the night, leaving her loins exposed to their eyes. Her platinum pubes were stuck together with the juices her body had produced, both before and during her sleep.

"OH!" she squealed, blushing furiously as her hands scrabbled, trying to grip the cloth of the shirt and push it downward. It was made very difficult by the fact that it was clear up to her rib cage and she was lying on top of it.

Bob rolled off the bed, fully awake, and landed on his feet. He turned his back to her.

"Come on, sport," he said, his voice over-loud as he tried to ignore what had just happened. "No time to lollygag around in bed. We've got miles to go and I need something to eat." He stayed where he was, though, waiting until he thought she'd had time to rearrange things. "You decent now?"

"Y-y-yes," came her muffled reply.

He turned to find her sitting up, her lower half covered by a sheet quickly pulled over her legs. Both hands were covering her flaming red face.

"No big deal," he said, heading for the bathroom. "You ain't got anything I haven't seen before. Get dressed while I take care of things in the bathroom. Then you can have your turn."

Jennifer got up, feeling miserable and embarrassed. She had been in the process of waking slowly, enjoying the dream she was having, and not wanting to let it slip away from her. It had included Uncle Bob, somehow, in some hazy way, and she was about to have another one of those delightful, wonderful orgasms she'd had so many of recently. His sudden movement had confused her, because his moving wasn't part of her dream. Then, as she realized he was pulling away from her, her dream mind didn't want to let go of him. That was when she’d told him she loved him, hoping he'd come back.

Then she woke fully, and the dream turned into a disaster.

She found her jeans and wiggled into them, still without panties, again because she was in such a hurry. The T shirt she just left on, because that's what she had intended to wear for the day anyway. She only had two changes of clothes in the backpack, and was obviously going to have to wear each set for more than one day, unless she could find a washing machine somewhere.

The bathroom door opened, but only a couple of inches.

"Safe to come out?" he called.

"Y-y-yes," she moaned. Her face felt hot and she wished she could run away. "I'm s-s-sorry," she whined as he opened the door the rest of the way and came out.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he said briskly. "I told you you were all grown up. That's just part of being that way. Don't worry about it."

What struck her was the sincerity in his voice. She could tell that he really meant what he was saying. He DIDN'T think she was some kind of slut, or that she had done anything horrible. She felt an explosion of relief and warmth suffuse her body and she lurched toward him. His hug was both strong and gentle at the same time.

"I love you, too," he said softly. "Now, let's get moving and get something to eat so we can go yell at your parents for worrying us."

The truck stop he pulled into was about ten miles down the road from the motel. She had been relieved when the pillow, back in place between her crotch and the motorcycle seat, had let her ride without those feelings which, right now, were the last thing she wanted to experience. When they got off the bike, though, she didn't know what to do with the pillow. He plucked it from her hand and stuffed it between the sissy bar and the seat. They took their helmets inside with them.

Inside, seated in a booth, Jennifer looked everywhere except at Uncle Bob. She knew she was still blushing because she could feel it in her cheeks. He ignored her, his eyes scanning a menu.

"No coffee," he said. "Coffee means potty breaks and we don't want those today."

"Ok-k-kay," she said.

The waitress arrived with silverware and two glasses of water.

"You need more time?" she asked, pulling a pen and her order booklet from her apron. "Coffee?"

"No," said Bob. "Water is fine. I'll take the biscuits and gravy, extra gravy, and some fried potatoes."

The waitress wrote it down and looked at Jennifer. Having done this before, Jennifer just pointed to what she wanted on the menu.

"Toast or pancakes?" asked the waitress.

"T-t-toast," Jennifer stuttered.

The woman looked at Jennifer and then at Bob, who leaned back, unconcerned.

"Toast it is," said the waitress. Then she turned and left.

Bob couldn't think of anything to say, so he just kept quiet. Jennifer saw the waitress go behind the counter and put their order up on a big silver wheel that had clips around the outside of it. Then she leaned over to talk to the man on the other side of the window, in the kitchen. The man looked sharply in Jennifer's direction and seemed to ask the waitress several questions.

Ten minutes later the man from the kitchen brought them their plates of food. He set them down and stood, looking at Jennifer.

"I didn't know what kind of jelly to bring you," he said casually. "Connie forgot to ask you."

Jennifer looked at Bob, who was pulling his plate in front of him. She looked back up at the man who was staring at her intently.

"G-g-grape," she said somewhat explosively.

"Are you OK?" asked the man suddenly. "Do you need help?"

Bob looked up at him, his eyebrows raised.

"Is there a problem?" he asked the cook.

"You tell me," said the cook, who was a big beefy man. "This little lady looks awful uncomfortable."

Bob looked at Jennifer, who looked flustered. Her cheeks were pink and she was obviously uncomfortable, but that wasn't unusual when she had to speak to strangers.

"She's uncomfortable because she has a speech impediment," said Bob calmly. "And having to answer questions from strangers bothers her."

The cook looked at Jennifer.

"Is that true?" he asked. "If it's not, you just tell me. If this guy is holding you against your will or something just say the word, ‘cause we can solve that little problem right pronto."

Now Jennifer had the look on her face that Bob knew well. It was the look of someone who didn't want to talk being forced to, under circumstances that were getting more and more embarrassing. He didn't stand up, because he knew that would only escalate things.

"Look," he said calmly. "If you think she's been kidnapped or is in some kind of trouble, then call a cop. Right now we'd like to eat our breakfast before it gets cold, OK? We're not going anywhere."

Now the cook looked uncertain. His eyes swiveled from Jennifer to Bob several times. Finally he said, "Grape...right?"

Jennifer nodded and he left. She looked at Bob.

"You really do look uncomfortable," said Bob. "Don't worry about it. Eat something and then get up and go to the bathroom."

Jennifer looked confused. "I d-d-don't have to g-g-go," she said.

"I know, but that will show them you can move around of your own free will. But eat before it gets cold."

They ate in silence. Suddenly Jennifer scooted out of the booth and stood up, looking around for the bathroom. Bob ignored her when she walked away. He wasn't surprised when Connie, the waitress, arrived at his table with a coffee pot and cup in hand.

"You sure you don't want coffee?" she asked. She didn't sound at all nervous.

Bob glanced at the helmets sitting on the table against the window.

"How many bikers come in here and order coffee?" he asked.

That flustered her.

"Just tell whoever's bothering my niece to get finished so she can finish breakfast and get back on the road. Her parents are in the hospital and we're on our way to see them. She stutters, and it embarrasses her. You guys are putting her through the wringer because of how we look, and it's starting to piss me off. She doesn't need this shit on top of everything else that's happened. So just do whatever you have to do to figure out nothing is wrong here and leave us the hell alone, all right?"

Connie looked nervously in a direction behind Bob, who did not turn around to see where she was looking. Then she hurried away. Perhaps five minutes later Jennifer returned to the table and slid back into the booth. She stared at Bob.

"P-p-eople are s-s-stupid!" she snorted. Now the tinge in her cheeks was from anger, instead of embarrassment. "I h-h-had to t-t-tell them t-t-to leave m-m-me al-l-l-one!"

"Sometimes they see bad things in places like this," said Bob, trying to calm her down. "Truckers pick up runaways...stuff like that."

"I t-t-TOLD them n-n-nothing was wrong!" she almost shouted.

"OK, OK," said Bob, raising both palms to face her. "Just finish your breakfast and we'll be on our merry way."

She ate quickly then and glared at Connie, who finally brought two packs of grape jelly to the table.

"Check, please," said Bob to the woman.

"Gus said it's on the house," said Connie somewhat stiffly. "We were just concerned."

"I know," said Bob. "Every biker who comes in here must drink coffee and kidnap little girls. It's got to be a real trial for you."

"You don't see the stuff I see!" Connie said, defending her assumptions. “You don’t see the poor girls who come in here wishing they’d never left home!”

"I'm glad for that," said Bob. "Tell Gus thanks, but bring us a bill anyway. I wouldn't want there to be any more misunderstandings. If we come back through here on the way back home maybe we'll take him up on his offer."

"W-w-we're NOT coming b-b-back here!" Jennifer exploded.

Connie fled.

When they were done, Bob left a twenty on the table and told Jennifer not to hurry on the way out.

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