I planned to take it easy the first time around, but Brook took off like her butt was on fire. Like a complete dumbass, I followed her. On the track, they had two paths when it came to the bigger jumps. One was flat and safe; the other had the big hills. As we screamed out of the corner, we came upon the first jump. There was a small kid in the safe lane, and Brook braked so she didn’t run him over. I was playing catch-up and came out of the corner to find them bunched up in front of me. I couldn’t get stopped, so I swung into the jump lane. I’m sure that, with practice, I would have known how fast I could take a jump like that and land safely on the next hill. All that came to mind was that I needed speed to get up high enough to land on the other side. I had visions of coming up short and smashing into the other hill. I was pretty sure that would hurt.
I rocketed up the hill and launched into the air. My life flashed before my eyes as my motorcycle took flight. It was apparent that I would outjump the landing hill as I continued to rise from the face of the earth. As I reached the apex of my trajectory, all I could think of was that I didn’t want to be seated as I landed because that would break my tailbone. I wanted my legs to absorb some of the impact, or I would kill myself.
As I rushed toward earth, I made sure my bike was straight and then looked up. To my horror, there was another jump.
“Oh, shit!” I yelled.
I barely touched the ground before I was once again rocketed nearly twenty feet into the air. When I hadn’t died, the little kid inside me came forth.
“Hell! Yes!”
As I came down, I found a turn with an embankment that I found I needed to get the bike around the corner. I made my way around the track, and where the younger kids were seated there was a triple jump. It became clear I was going too fast when I launched over the second jump and landed on the downslope of the third one. Okay, I was hooked. I tried to run the track at full speed for five laps. On the fourth lap, I passed Brook again.
When I finished, I knew two things for certain: the first was that if I did this very much, I would eventually kill myself. The second was I would do this again for sure. I couldn’t wait until I turned 18 and could buy a bike of my own. This was an adrenaline-junkie’s dream come true.
Brook finally came off the track. I was bouncing around with excitement.
“Did you see me?” I asked.
“What were you thinking? You could have killed yourself!” Brook said.
“Yeah, wasn’t it cool?”
“When you launched yourself on the first jump, all I could think of was what was I going to tell your mom.”
“Oh, she can NEVER know!”
“Then when you didn’t die and did the second jump, I figured you’d love it,” she said.
“Yes, but my mom can NEVER know!”
I cringed when Brook got an evil look on her face. I would be her slave forever!
Before we could talk more, the kids all came over and wanted to talk about the jumps. I took the GoCam off my helmet and let them watch the run from my point of view. They couldn’t wait until they were big enough to graduate to bigger bikes. They were running 80cc’s compared to my 250cc’s. I could see why you wouldn’t want to put them on the bigger bikes, but at the same time imagined them flying through the sky and having a wonderful time.
◊◊◊
After I had changed into my street clothes, I found Brook and Ellen talking about leather.
“There are several different types. Full-grain has been made from the whole hide, including the outer layer of skin. It’s tough, long-lasting stuff, but frequently has blemishes and marks from the animal’s life. Top grain would be the preferred material for most jackets; again, it’s the whole outer hide, but with the skin smoothed off to make an even surface. Genuine leather is an industry term for leather made from the inner hide. It’s thinner, cheaper, and less durable than top grain or full grain, but it has still been made from a whole piece of animal hide. Finally, there’s bonded leather, a cheap, low-quality material made from scraps of leather pressed down and chemically bonded together.
“Then we offer different types of hides. Steerhide is the skin of adult cows, which is the byproduct of slaughtering for meat. It’s tough, stiff, and requires an extended break-in period; but it provides excellent durability and protection. Bison performs much like steerhide, with a little added suppleness and a unique vein pattern that gives it a more prominent texture. Deerskin is a lighter material, often used for warmer-weather jackets. It’s not as damage-resistant as the other hides, but stretches well and doesn’t wear thin. Lambskin is the softest and smoothest conventionally used leather. It has an almost silky hand feel but isn’t as durable as other hides.
“There are also different treatments and finishes that can affect how the leather looks and feels. One steerhide jacket might be bright, glossy, and stiff, where another will be weathered, cracked, and softer. So long as you’ve got the material you want in a top or full grain, the rest is a matter of personal preference,” Ellen explained.
“What do you think?” Brook asked me.
“I like the smooth appearance, so I’d want the top grain. I would prefer either steer or bison, and I want it softer.”
The leather pants weren’t very comfortable. I knew if you wore them, they’d eventually break in, but I also knew that if they were stiff, I’d never wear them. Brook showed me her top choices. I was fine with both of them, so I let her pick.
◊◊◊
As we walked out to the parking lot, we found that everyone else had left. I was still a little bouncy from the adrenalin rush. When Brook glanced over at me right before we got to the Jeep, I saw desire in her eyes and attacked her. Brook was surprised, but she was no shrinking violet. She grabbed the hair on the back of my head, and we were soon in a passionate embrace. I shoved her up against the Jeep and grabbed her thighs so I could lift her up to my waist. She had no choice but to feel my desire as I ground into her.
Brook broke our kiss and began to frantically try to get my pants open. I pulled her shirt over her head and trashed her bra when it didn’t come apart fast enough. By then she had freed Mr. Happy. I put her back on the ground and reached for my pants to get a condom.
“Lose your pants,” I ordered while opening the foil packet.
Brook had her pants and panties around her ankles when I finished putting on the condom. I manhandled her and turned her to face the Jeep. She grunted when I forced myself in to the hilt in one mighty thrust. I grabbed her hips to keep her from falling down and began my powerful thrusting. Our coupling was frantic and wild. Brook brought out the animal in me. I pounded her relentlessly.
“Jesus you’re big,” she moaned. “Take me!”
I grasped the back of her neck and looked down at her upturned little butt. I had her face and breasts mashed up to the Jeep, so I reached down with my other hand and found her button. I used three fingers to rub Brook to her first orgasm. The walls of her tunnel grasped my member and milked it while she climaxed.
I jerked out, picked her up, and deposited her in the back seat. Her pants were still around her ankles, so I simply lifted them up and bent her in half. It raised her sex up so I could push into her. I found her entrance and began to thrust again. This time we could gaze into each other’s eyes, and I leaned down and kissed her.
Brook was made for this. She coaxed one of the biggest orgasms I had ever had out of me. I felt it build and build. I tried to hold back as long as I could but rapidly reached the point of no return. I’m sure she thought I’d had a brain seizure by the ridiculous face I made as I found my release. It was like football when you fall into the zone: everything went away except for the best orgasm I’d ever had.