Missy Rides

Missy and Nancy walked slowly and mostly silently, the long way, to their houses after school. It was the weekend and Missy was stalling; she didn’t want to go straight home. She was grounded, again. She and her stepdad had been fighting for the last few weeks, about everything and nothing. She purposely did what she could lately to get under his skin, she knew she was being a total brat, not acting her age at all, but she couldn’t help it. The biggest argument was her curfew. He wanted her in by 10:00, which had been her curfew for a long time, and she wanted it changed to 12:00 for the summer before her senior year.

They had fought again last night and he had laughed at her when she said she was practically a grown woman. She had shown him what a baby she was then when she stomped off to her room crying and slammed the door, calling him a big fat jerk at the top of her lungs from the safety of her room. A few minutes later her door opened and he came in holding a screwdriver. Bending behind the door he began to remove it from the hinges.

“I told you about slamming this door, Missy. And now, you can just spend the weekend sitting right here, with no door, no phone, no friends and no TV.” She could see that he was angry, probably at the jerk comment, so she just sat on her bed silently. “Act like a baby, get treated like one.”

He walked out the open doorway with the door held sideways in his hands. She was so mad, all she wanted was for him to see her as a woman, not a little girl and all she kept doing was acting like a little girl.

“Hey thanks, Bob.” She yelled after him.

She had thrown herself backwards onto her pillows and sighed. She and Bob used to be close, he was a good guy and she had called him dad most of her life, but last summer she had stopped and started calling him by his name. She could see that it hurt him, but he tried to act cool about it. Turning onto her stomach she remembered why she had started calling him Bob.

Her mostly absent mom was gone on one of the trips she was always taking for her company, which she and Bob were used to. They had learned to get along just fine without Mom. It was just shortly after she had lost her virginity to the football captain, who was a senior, and she and Bob were going about business as usual with a cookout by the pool, but Missy was aware of him and herself in a way she never had been.

They swam and joked around with each other and she asked him to put suntan oil on her back, and then turned over to see if he would just keep going and put it on her stomach. She realized she was flirting with her stepdad the way she would have with Kirk. Then she felt his hand on her stomach, rubbing the warm coconut scented oil into her skin, his fingers massaging the oil in. Missy was watching his hand and then realized her nipples were hard pebbles under the tiny pieces of fabric. Glancing quickly at his lap she saw that his shorts were thickly bulged, and then, their eyes met.

He stopped, resting his hand for a second on her quivering stomach then stood and went to the grill where he picked up his beer and took a long drink, then asked her if she was ready for him to cook her steak. It was a quiet, uncomfortable evening and she went to bed thinking about his hand on her stomach. She hadn’t called him dad since then.

Now, they fought all the time, he was always mad at her and she always made it worse. She almost tripped when Nancy elbowed her.

“Look.”

Missy whistled quietly and Nancy laughed.

“What ya whistling at?” Nancy whispered, “the guy or the bike.”

Everyone knew that Missy had a thing for motorcycles, and this was a sweet Fatboy, which she had always wanted to ride. She was silent though, because just then the guy looked up and saw them. Missy tossed her hair over her shoulder and strode up to him.

“Nice bike.” Lame, she thought…

“Want a ride?”

Missy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Boy would her dad be pissed.

“Uh, Missy,” Nancy tugged at the strap of Missy’s book bag shaking her head. Missy’s shoulders fell a bit and she wistfully turned back to Harley Guy.

“Scared?” He dipped his head and looked at her over the top of his sunglasses.

Missy smiled and shrugged the bag off into Nancy’s hand. “Be right back.”

Harley Guy started the bike and looked back at her. She walked over and put her hand on his shoulder to steady her as she climbed awkwardly up behind him. She settled into the narrow seat, placing her hands gingerly on each side of him, grasping his shirt in her fingers.

Missy was in awe of the rumbling energy going through her skin, then going deeper into the tissue vibrating with a strangely gentle power, up into her thighs. She released her grip on his shirt and spread her fingers out onto his sides. There were a thousand tiny pinpricks dancing across her bottom and into the very center of her. He revved the engine and she gasped and reflexively squeezed her thighs together, which closed onto the seat and the guy in front of her.

He chuckled and adjusted his mirror, lowering his glasses to wink at her in it and then, they flew.

It wasn’t like anything she had ever felt before. The wind was alive and it’s hands were in her hair, caressing her face and delving into the button down school shirt, flapping the hem of her skirt where it sat scrunched at her hips. The bike was a shifting, moving animal beneath her and she threw her head back and sank her nails into Harley Guy’s rib cage.

The honking horn and sudden stop not even six blocks down the road had her opening her eyes in confusion. She was mortified to see Bob coming up behind them, jumping angrily from his truck and striding toward them.

“What in the hell are you doing?” His grasp on her arm was painful as he hauled her off the bike pushing her heartily toward the truck. “Move.”

Missy ran to the truck and got in, just noticing Nancy in the back seat. Bob said something to Harley Guy and then was coming toward them like a bull. Missy glanced back at Nancy and they smiled, then quickly lowered their heads as Bob opened the door and got inside. The silence was heavy and dark, making the four minutes to Nancy’s house and two more to their own seem like hours. Missy glanced at him every few seconds, noting with a bit of fear the vein that throbbed in his jaw and neck.

She was out of the truck and into the house in a heartbeat, but her heart sank as she saw her bedroom with its empty doorway. Bob was behind her in a second, as angry as she’d ever seen him. He walked her briskly, almost on her toes, down the hall and into her room. He sat on her bed and pulled her down over his lap, her face on the bed, feet dangling out into the room like a two year old. She was stunned and humiliated.

“You’ve gone too far, Missy. You don’t even know who he was.” His hand came down hard and she cried out in surprise. “My God, do you have any idea how that looked?”

He spanked her hard and she squirmed and cried, begging him to stop. He was ...


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