The Babe Bike Blues

by Lubrican

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

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Chapter Six

Bob wasn't used to things being muddy or vague. Most of his adult life had been spent in an environment where things were pretty much black or white. Someone was the enemy...or he wasn't. If he was the enemy, you killed him. If he wasn't, you watched him to make SURE he wasn't. A task either needed doing or it didn't. Women were either candidates for bed games or they weren't.

Jennifer was suddenly very vague indeed. She was blossoming, sexually. That much was clear. Even if it was unintended, it was happening, and the purely male part of his mind put her in the bed game category. But she was his best friend's daughter, his "niece" for all intents and purposes, which meant she wasn't fair game and should never have had that pretty pussy of hers pressed against the clitty whizzer.

She was innocent...pure as the driven snow. He was sure of that. And yet her innocence was undeniably beginning to fray a bit around the edges. She'd watched that porn, even though he'd told her not to. She'd intentionally masturbated — on the bed, in front of the TV and on the Babe Bike. He suddenly wondered now if her hand on his morning wood HAD been accidental. She DID know he'd seen her naked loins two mornings ago, and she just about HAD to know that she'd exposed herself to him just a few minutes past. He'd seen emotions ripple across her face as she realized he was in the room and had obviously seen her sex.

The trouble was he couldn't tell what those emotions were.

She'd been obviously embarrassed the first time. Now, this second and much more intimate view had resulted only in a casual kiss on the cheek and what sounded to his ears like a sultry greeting. How many women had gotten out of his bed in the morning and said exactly the same thing, in exactly the same tone of voice?

He heard the toilet flush and was startled to find that he hadn't moved. He was still standing in the middle of the bedroom in his jockeys. He almost jumped toward the backpack and hastily pulled out clothing. He had his jeans on and was pulling a shirt over his head when she came back into the room. He suddenly had no idea what to say to her.

"Hungry?" was what came out of his mouth.

"Mm-hmm," she responded. "D-d-don't l-l-look while I g-g-get d-d-dressed."

"Sure," he said.

He went to the door and flipped a switch, which turned on the two lamps above the beds. Then, moving sideways and facing away from her, he went to the end of his bed to sit and put socks on. His eyes lifted to the big flat screen of the TV on the credenza and he felt almost guilty as he looked for her reflection in the dark glass. She was standing behind him, hopping up and down as she wiggled into her jeans. He watched the reflection of her naked breasts bounce up and down and cursed himself for being a dirty old man. Then he cursed himself for not closing his eyes. Then he gave up and watched shamelessly, admiring her youthful curves and the pristine, innocent sexuality of a young woman who was not trying to be sexual at all, but just couldn't help it. He almost sighed as she dropped a T shirt down over her body and wondered idly why she hadn't put on a bra.

Jennifer's thought processes weren't quite so complicated. As she tugged jeans that were getting too small over her hips, the only thought she gave to the fact that she'd slept, almost naked, with a man, all night, was the fact that she had liked doing it. She'd liked it a lot and she hoped she got to do it again very soon. She then reflected on the fact that Bob had seen her in a very intimate way, and that it had made her feel good. That seemed crazy, somehow, because she'd never even THOUGHT about exposing her nakedness to a man. And yet she couldn't deny that she'd not only felt no embarrassment...she'd liked that, too.

That made her think of what it might be like if some other man saw her that way and that thought left her cold. She wasn't interested in just any man seeing her — only Bob. And THAT reminded her of the words she'd whispered in the night. She pulled her shirt over her head and began raking fingers through her hair to get the big tangles out. She knew something had changed about the way she thought about Bob, but she couldn't quite understand what that was. She'd always loved him, but it felt so completely different now. Her fingers stopped combing her hair and she looked at Bob, who was sitting rigidly at the end of the bed. He had one ankle sitting on top of the other knee, but the sock that was supposed to go on his bare foot was just hanging from his hand. He was frozen again...not looking at her, as she'd asked him to do. And THAT was odd too, because she'd only told him not to look because that's what she was SUPPOSED to do...not because she'd be embarrassed if he saw her naked. She suddenly felt hot at the thought of him seeing her naked.

He was still rigid and she was reminded of a game they'd played when she was a little girl, where he'd chase her, threatening to tickle her. She could freeze him by yelling, "RED LIGHT," though of course it came out "R-R-RED L-L-LIGHT!" and then thaw him, when she was far enough away by calling the light green. She had loved the terror of almost being caught by the big man, but having the magical ability to avoid it just by telling him to stop. Of course he had the same magic when she was chasing him, which was a little frustrating, but she'd still loved the game. She spoke impulsively.

"Ok-k-kay, g-g-green l-l-light."

His head tilted first, and his shoulders fell from their rigid position. He began putting the sock on. She watched him do that and then pull his boots on. That warm ball in her belly flared as he stood and stretched and she saw muscles moving under his shirt. She went to him and slid her arms around to feel those muscles as she hugged him tightly.

"Th-th-thank you," she said softly.

"What for?" came his deep voice.

"Ev-v-verything," she said.

"I thought you were hungry," he said, his voice sounding strained as he felt her soft breasts pressing against his chest.

"I am," she said, pushing him away. "W-w-we n-n-need to hur-r-ry. I w-w-wan't to s-s-see my p-p-parents!"

Bob shook his head. She was such a puzzle to him, suddenly. So grown up one minute, and so much a girl the next.

Breakfast was completely uneventful, almost a polar opposite from the last time they'd faced each other in a booth. No one looked at them oddly. When she pointed to the menu item she wanted, and said "T-t-toast," the waitress simply wrote it down on her pad. People went to and fro without seeming to notice them at all. Thirty minutes later they were putting on helmets and fastening backpacks to the bike.

Jennifer climbed onto the bike first, feeling the lean of the bike as it rested on the kick stand. She stood awkwardly on the foot pegs and tried to adjust the pillow the way she wanted it. She was looking forward to the ride now, and not just because she'd get to see her parents. It was difficult to do what she wanted, though, because the bike leaned too much.

"Hang on a sec," said Bob. He swung his leg across his saddle and stood the bike up. She overbalanced and he compensated automatically, pushing with his right leg to stabilize the machine. She sat on the pillow and then leaned forward to test it. It wasn't quite right and she stood again, one hand on his shoulder, to move the pillow a little. He turned the key and the big motor rumbled to life as she sat back down. She leaned forward and felt the luscious zings she now wanted to feel. She leaned back, just to make sure she could get away from the stimulation if she wanted to, and then leaned forward again to snake her hands around his waist. Her hands landed on his belt buckle and she squeezed him.

He turned his head. "Ready?" he called over the noise of the motor.

She squeezed again. She was VERY ready.

It never occurred to Jennifer to count her orgasms. She just had one when she wanted to, and then leaned back to rest until she was ready to have another one.

Bob, however, was paying much more attention. She had fiddled with that pillow much more than would be necessary to just sit on it. And, as she leaned forwards and back, his suspicions about what she'd been doing the day before were confirmed. He almost laughed as he realized she was working the bike, instead of the bike working her. Her response wasn't quite as transparent today as it had been in the past. He could tell when she got off, because there was a tightening of her arms and her fingers pressed through his shirt, but it wasn't quite so obvious.

By the sixth time she squeezed him, he was painfully erect in his pants, and couldn't do a thing about it. In the next fifty miles she squeezed him that way sixteen times. When he stopped for gas, she just leaned back, shifting to the right a little to adjust for the tilt of the bike, laid the back of her helmet on top of the sissy bar and just closed her eyes and smiled.

Bob would never understand why he said it, but it just came out of his mouth.

"You's probably possible to overdo that."

Her eyelids flicked up and her head fell forward. Blue eyes framed by the helmet gave him a smoky look he'd DEFINITELY seen in other women's eyes, but which shocked him to the core, coming from this pair. She didn't blush or avert her eyes.

"Nope," she said simply. THEN her eyes cleared and her cheeks went pink. She leaned forward to put her hands on the king seat and got off the bike. NOW her eyes were averted, as she turned ninety degrees away from him. "I'll b-b-be r-r-right b-b-back," she gasped and then practically ran to the front doors of the convenience store.

Sitting in the stall, Jennifer didn't know whether to feel excited or embarrassed...guilty or worried. Conflicting thoughts tried to claim her consciousness. The closer they got to her parents, the more she worried, not knowing what she'd find when they got there. But there wasn't anything she could do about that and it had been easy to let the delicious feelings push all that away as they sped down the road. She could actually feel each orgasm building now, and could adjust the pressure of her pussy against the seat of the bike to bring it quickly, or revel in the anticipation. It was exciting to be able to control the feelings, but she felt like she should be thinking more about her parents, instead of...what she was thinking about. Uncle Bob knew what she was doing! That had been clear in that cryptic comment he'd made. She flushed again at the instantaneous understanding that had come to her when his words had sunk in, and the comment that had popped out of her mouth.

She almost groaned. He was waiting for her. The bike was waiting for her. Her parents were waiting for her. She had to go, even if she had to face Bob, knowing that he knew what she'd been doing.

On the way out, she was determined to put the pillow where it would prevent her from using the bike like she had been.

The next hundred miles were torture for the girl. The pillow worked flawlessly. But then all she COULD think about was her parents, lying in hospital beds, horribly injured. A dark thought kept trying to push its way into her brain. What if they had died? She cried silently, letting the wind of their passage deal with the tears as she clung to Bob for strength. By the time they stopped for gas again she felt almost sick at her stomach.

"Only another forty-five minutes or so," said Bob, getting off the bike to lean back and stretch his back muscles. He'd noticed the difference in his rider on this leg. Her hands had lain limply across his stomach, her head against his back most of the time. He stood up and got a good look at her face. Her eyes were red and she'd been crying.

"What's wrong, baby," he asked, concerned.

"Wh-wh-what if th-th-they're d-d-dead?" She sobbed suddenly and he moved to embrace her. It was awkward with her still sitting on the bike and him standing beside it.

"They're not," he said into the side of her helmet, hoping he was right.

"B-b-but what i-i-if th-th-they are?" she whined.

He pulled back. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and he worked the catch to release the helmet strap. She helped him pull it off and he cupped her chin.

"Jennifer," he said calmly. "Your father is tougher than nails. He wouldn't even think about leaving your mother and you. If he saw the grim reaper in person he'd just kick the ghoul’s ass. And your know how she loves to lord it over Don. There's no way she'd let herself die as long as she knew there was going to be a chance to wrap him around her little finger like she loves to do."

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead and then used his thumbs to wipe her tears away.

"We'll be there in less than an hour. You'll see them. Just try to keep from yelling at them for worrying you like this, OK?"

He got a wan smile and hugged her again. This time he could smell her hair and he kissed it.

"I love you," she sighed. Neither of them noticed that she didn't stutter, especially when she followed it with "C-c-can w-w-we please h-h-hurry?"

Bob got gas and mounted the bike again. He goosed the throttle as he turned onto the road again and let the G’s press them both back as he shifted smoothly through the gears.

His speech had given her hope again, and the speed was enough to jolt Jennifer out of her funk. She knew it would come back, though. In truth, she only jerked the pillow out from under her as a distraction. She stuffed it between her back and the sissy bar and then leaned forward to hug the man who was a rock of stability in the storm she was being blown around by. She almost sobbed as the overwhelming sensations began to pummel her immediately. Flashes of guilt whipped through her mind, along with apologies to her parents for shutting them out for a while.

Then she just let the feelings wash over her in an unending wave. She thought this must be what it was like to breathe under water, while waves and currents pulled and tugged and beat at you. But she didn't care. Instead, she closed her eyes and welcomed the mindlessness of one orgasm after another.

Bob followed the blue signs to the hospital. He pulled into the visitor's parking lot, selected a spot and killed the engine. The sudden silence seemed louder than the motor had.

Jennifer had been gripping his chest with ferocious strength for half an hour. Her arms were still locked around him tightly, as if they were still riding. He turned his head.

"Hey. We're here."

Her arms fell limp, but she still lay against his back. In the quiet surroundings he heard her panting.

"You OK?"

She leaned back and he got off the bike. Her arms were hanging limp at her sides, her head back and her eyes closed, like they had been before. His eyes flicked to her crotch and saw there was no pillow. Then he saw the edge of it sticking out from behind her butt. She started to list sideways and he caught her shoulders to keep her from falling off the bike.

"Why don’t you listen to me?" he growled. "Didn't I tell you you could overdo that?"

She opened her eyes and blinked.

"I'm ok-k-kay," she said. She was too weak to expend any energy on being embarrassed. "It w-w-worked."

"What worked?"

"I d-d-didn't think ab-b-bout my p-p-parents."

"Well you need to think about them now, because we're going to see them in a minute."

That brought energy surging into her body, possibly from adrenaline, but it didn't matter. She suddenly had strength in her limbs again and she stood, putting a hand on Bob's shoulder so she could dismount the bike. Her hands went to her chin strap and she started walking quickly toward the hospital entrance. When the helmet came off, her fast walk became a jog, and then a run. She was waiting for him at the front doors of the hospital, holding one open, dancing from foot to foot, when he got there.

"C-c-come ON!" she yelled at him.

Don Brazelton opened his eyes when he heard the swish of clothing as someone came into the room. He'd never been a patient man. The Navy had tested him almost constantly with its hurry up and wait processes. The times he remembered as best were those times when he’d been in mortal danger, because then he and his SEAL brothers could do whatever was needed and patience be damned.

He'd been hazily conscious for four hours now, according to the clock on the wall. He couldn't move, because his right leg was swathed in bandages and immobilized. He knew there was something badly wrong with his ribs, too. Even with the morphine drip in his IV, he could feel the pain when the tube stuck down his throat inflated his lungs.

The nurses were kind and sympathetic, but he couldn't speak to ask them about Susan, or tell them that he wished they'd just knock him out until the ventilator wasn't needed. He couldn't do anything but lie there, trying to go to sleep. He couldn't sleep, because he had no idea if Susan had made it through the violence of the accident, which he could clearly remember.

He heard a sobbing sound and turned his head to see the slightly fuzzy image of his little girl, standing there looking horrified. She was dressed in a black leather jacket and he watched as the black motorcycle helmet in her hand fell from limp fingers and bounced on the floor. Just behind her was another face he knew well, looking sternly grim. Jennifer looked petrified, but a voice Don had badly wanted to hear spoke past her.

"Susan's going to make it," the voice said softly. "You're both going to make it."

Don tried to smile. He knew that voice. It was the same voice that had said Don was going to make it, once upon a time, long ago, when he had been in even more pain than he was in now, with bullets in his body.

Snake was here.

Everything would be all right now. If Snake was here...he could relax. He lifted one hand a few inches off the much as he could manage right now. Then he quit fighting the drugs and let them claim him. Everything faded to black as a sweet voice, sighing "Oh Daddy," made his heart soar.

"We need to get a motel room somewhere," said Bob.

"Y-y-you g-g-go on," she said. She was holding her mother's hand.

"There's nothing you can do here," he said gently. "We just have to wait." They had initially been denied entry into ICU, where both patients were recuperating from their original injuries and operations they’d had to repair the effects of the crash. Jennifer had broken down and Bob had run interference with the nurse supervisor, asking only that Jennifer be allowed to see them long enough to convince herself that they were alive.

"Y-y-you g-g-go on," she said again.

He sighed. "OK, I'll be back later to get you."


He left the room and distracted the nervous nurse by asking for information about what had been done and what the prognosis for both patients was. He learned that Don's breathing tube would probably be removed the next day. Susan's operation had gone well, but they were keeping her in a coma because of the pain. It was anticipated that in two or three days she could be awakened, at which time regular pain medications would be substituted. It was unclear whether she'd be able to walk in the future. Don's surgery was much simpler. His shattered femur had been replaced with a metal one and pins had been used to put his radius and ulna back together. His recovery would take months, but there was no reason he wouldn’t be able to resume his normal life eventually.

There was a Best Western about a mile from the hospital. Bob didn't care about the expense. They were likely to have to stay several days, and he wanted someplace comfortable. In light of everything that had happened recently, he got two rooms for five nights with the understanding that they might check out early. There was a door in the wall between the rooms that could be unlocked, if desired.

He dumped the backpacks and then made a run to the local Super Center to get snack foods, some thermal mugs and something to drink. He didn't know how much time they'd be spending in the rooms. They'd probably either be there or at the hospital, though, so they might as well have something to nibble on when they were actually in the motel.

He called the shop and talked to Brad, telling him he was going to be gone longer than expected. Brad said everything was fine and that they'd keep things running as long as necessary.

He'd been gone three hours by the time he got back to the hospital. Jennifer was still in her mother's room, though she was sitting in a chair beside the bed, instead of standing. She was reading from a magazine. Jennifer, like many people who stutter, was capable of reading something aloud without sounding any different than any other person would. When she read, she didn't stutter, unless there were unfamiliar words in the text she was reading.

Bob stood and listened as she read an article about how the latest Dodge Ram had been selected by J.D. Power and Associates as the best truck in a road test. Apparently it was the only magazine she'd been able to find. He must have made a noise, because she turned her head. She smiled.

"Th-th-they said s-s-she m-m-might be ab-b-ble to h-h-hear me."

Bob walked over to Susan's bed and bent over to speak softly into her ear.

"I'm taking care of Jen. You're going to pull through fine and so is Don. You just concentrate on healing. Everything is under control."

He leaned back and looked at Jennifer, who was looking at him.

"Y-y-you think sh-sh-she heard y-y-you?" asked the girl.

"Probably," said Bob. "I shouldn't have said anything. Now she's probably all worried about you."

"Why?" asked the girl, her voice surprised.

"Because I told her I was taking care of you." He grinned.

If he expected her to smile, he was disappointed, because she didn't smile at all. Instead she pushed him toward the door.

"G-g-go on," she said. "I'll b-b-be there i-i-in a m-m-minute."

Bob left the room and went to the nurse’s station, which had a view into all the glass-walled rooms that the seriously ill were in. He approached a square-shouldered woman in her mid to late forties, whose hair was graying.

"Thanks for letting us see them," he said to the nurse supervisor.

"We shouldn't have," said the woman, her gaze level with that of the big black-bearded man. She glanced past him to the room. "But I know how important it was to her."

"It was important to me, too," said Bob.

The woman looked back at him. "You're not really his half brother, are you." It was a statement, rather than a question.

"Why would you say that?" asked Bob calmly.

She looked him up and down. "Because there's no way in the world that you two share a parent," she said.

Bob smiled. "We were on the same SEAL team in the Navy. We're closer than blood brothers. I saved his life once, and he saved mine twice. I couldn't just let him go untreated."

The woman frowned and picked up a chart. She flipped through a few pages and ran her finger down a row of numbers before looking back at Bob.

"His vitals improved as soon as you two got here," she said. "They've been improving ever since. But if the wrong people catch you in ICU like this, I'll swear you barged in and wouldn't leave."

"And I'll apologize for barging in and refusing to leave," said Bob calmly. "Just get them well."

"It's not really in my hands at this point," said the woman. "It's up to them and God."

Jennifer came out of her mother's room, putting on her jacket. She had to transfer the helmet from one hand to the other to get it on. She walked up to Bob and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Bob looked at the nurse. "There are papers she needs to sign."

"Already done," said the nurse.

"Let me give you my cell number," said Bob.

"Already have Jennifer's," said the woman, looking slightly impatient. "Got yours from her phone, too. Now go on, before you infect somebody."

"C-c-can I c-c-come back tom-m-mor-r-row?" Jennifer labored.

"Not until after noon. With any luck they'll be out of ICU by then."

"Ok-k-kay," sighed Jennifer. She moved suddenly and hugged the nurse, who looked startled first, and then slightly embarrassed, before her face calmed and she gave Jennifer a quick hug in return. Then she pushed the girl away and shooed them out of the ward.

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