The Motorcycle Diaries: Daddy’s Harley

The Motorcycle Diaries: Daddy’s Harley

Copyright © 2020 by Mojavejoe420

I felt my phone buzz just once in my back pocket. It was probably my dumbass ex-boyfriend so I waited until I finished making my drink orders. It was a pretty slow Tuesday afternoon but Applebee’s had a strict rule against texting on duty. I snuck back into the walk-in cooler where the cameras couldn’t see.

I smiled as I read the text from my dad, aka Daddy-oh! on my phone.

Hey Syd

You busy Sat? Lenore bailed on me for the charity run. Can you ride with me?

I checked my schedule on my phone and found it to be clear. But… I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.

Dad’s motorcycle club wasn’t some rough group like Hell’s Angels or Sons of Anarchy. Naw, the Smooth Operators just rode for fun on weekends. They didn’t have dues or meetings or membership requirements, you just showed up if you wanted to ride. Once every three months or so, they held a family ride with a picnic and games at the Great Park near downtown. I used to always go on those rides with Dad, had for years. But I got a little tired of that as I went through my late teens. And now at twenty-one, it had lost most of its appeal. I texted him back.

Is this one of the family rides?

I picked up some strawberry Daiquiri mix when his reply came back.

No hun it’s the TFT

Holy shit! I smiled again. The Tips For Terry rides collected donations for their friend Terry Martin who had since died from cancer. They now donated the money to the local hospital for cancer research, or to any member who needed help with medical bills.

Sounds fun dad i’m in, gotta jet I’m tending now

My eyes bulged out of my head on his last text, though.

One thing kiddo it’s a no bra ride okay?

I felt my face flush a little bit. The raunchy rumors and hearsay about the adult rides always intrigued me, and now I was going to attend one.

Lol no worries daddy-oh what time?

~~~

I checked out my look one final time as I heard Dad’s Harley pull into the parking lot below her. The sound, that Harley Davidson sound, blap-blap-blapping along at low idle, sent a little shiver through my body. I had my first orgasm on the back of his bike, a long time ago. How embarrassing is that, to have your first cum while holding on to your daddy? Afterward, I could barely get off the bike and Daddy kept asking me what was wrong. I didn’t know what to tell him but he suddenly got a knowing smile and gave me a big hug. Good times, right?

I sent him a quick text.

Just one sec!

I ran a brush through my fine, medium-length blonde hair. Then, I changed my mind for the last time and took off my Metallica t-shirt. I traded it for just a plain white tank top. Of course, it was rather short and tight and showed off my form really well. My nipples were relaxed, you could just barely make out that they were there.

Hurry up baby!

I couldn’t keep Dad waiting any longer. I put on a red flannel shirt, tied the shirttails at my belly button, slipped into my little cowboy boots, and bounded down the stairs.

I saw Daddy’s eyes widen as I bounced down the steps to the asphalt. I know he used to look at me sometimes, but I understood. Mom left shortly after I was born and he never seemed to be able to have a steady girlfriend after that. I was a handful, and probably a deterrent to his dating life, to some extent I’m sure. I used to tease him sometimes, a little, he would just shake his head and make faces at me.

He stayed on the bike as I hugged him.

“Daddy! Love the new headband!”

The skull and crossbones centered right on his forehead, the headband kept his somewhat long hair at bay.

“Thanks, baby, you look awesome! But, remember what I said? It’s—“

“I know! Here, look.” I pulled the flannel apart, showing him my tank top underneath. Of course, with all the bouncing and knowing he would be looking, my nipples had gone from sleepy to wide awake and were now plainly visible in the white shirt, confirming my no-bra compliance.

“Well alright, baby doll! Put on your helmet and let’s go!”

“Da-a-ad!” I whined. “Come on!” I hated helmets, girls don’t look good in helmet hair.

“Put it on. It’s okay if I get brain damage, but not you. Somebody needs to be the brains of this outfit!”

My hands went around Daddy’s waist, I think he still wore 34s, and I clasped my fingers together. We blasted out of the parking lot, down the tree-lined street through the cool morning air. I felt glad for my flannel, the day would warm up soon enough but I needed it now. I held Daddy tightly as we wove through the streets, the strong vibrations giving me that familiar tingle. This was another reason I hated this full-face helmet, I couldn’t smell Daddy. As a kid, I had an open face helmet and I would lay my cheek on his back, breathing in that old leather smell and catching lots of whiffs of him and his Stetson cologne. With this helmet, I could only catch an infrequent scent of his leathers, but nothing else. Still, this familiar feeling of closeness was something we haven’t shared in a long time. I cherished it, and swore to myself that I would go on more rides with him.

We pulled into Frank’s coffee shop and rallied with the other troops.

“Y’all remember Sydney?” my dad called out. I recognized several people from years ago and I just kept getting “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown” and shit like that. I mean, I’m a human, right? We grow, get over it. But, they were trying to be nice. I just felt kind of funny with everyone checking me out and stuff. The sun rose higher in the sky and since the ride was now officially about to start, I stripped off my flannel and tied it around my waist.

Several hoots and hollers accompanied my unexpected but apparently too-shirt striptease. I blushed and shook my head. Like I said, I knew most of these people for many years and they had always been nothing but polite and friendly. But now that I was on the “adult” ride, they treated me like they would any other female rider, with a lot of sass and very little class. I kinda liked the attention. I checked out the other women, as usual. My outfit seemed pretty tame compared to most. Many had almost see-through shirts, some halters, and some just wore leather corsets.

After about 45 minutes we glided into our first stop, O’Malley’s in Riverside. We Smooth Operators found more of our friends already there under the old oaks lining the outdoor patio area. The beers began to flow and the classic rock band began their first set.

It had been at least five years, if not more, since I had been on a ride, and yet, I felt at home. The cold beer and the warm atmosphere of old friends reminded me of all the previous rides I enjoyed while growing up. Except, of course, now I could drink the cold beer!

Our group spread out over several long picnic tables with me sitting right next to Daddy. People always called him “Deef” which, he explained, was short for “de Facto Leader.” Like I said, this club was very loosely organized, but everyone recognized him as the leader since he set up the runs and handled the donation money.

I liked this crowd. These were my kind of peeps. They weren’t like those lawyers and dentists who ride once every six months or something and call themselves bikers. These guys were like construction guys, factory workers, blue-collar I guess you’d say. I dated a few college boys, and I’m done with them. They looked down on these guys, guys like my dad, as second class citizens. Those dentist assholes would be surprised that many of these guys were more successful than they were. It’s good to own a business, even if it is just a fencing company or a shop that cuts metal.

Daddy slipped me a couple of twenties and I went to the bar to get a couple of pitchers of beer. When I returned I found my seat on the bench occupied by the reigning wet t-shirt champ herself, Sandra Morales. She was always champ due to her enormous tits. And she knew how to work them, too. Today she had on a sleeveless t-shirt, the kind where the side seams were ripped intentionally down from under her arms to the hem so everyone could see inside her shirt. I mean, damn, there was a lot to see! And under other circumstances, I would even like looking at her, but she took my seat! Bitch!

I leaned over between them to seat the pitchers on the table. And, yeah, I kinda made sure to slosh them a bit so they splashed a little in her hair.

“Sorry!” I called out apologetically. Her mouth smiled but I could see that her eyes were pissed. Well, maybe she shoulda moved.

“Oh, am I in your seat, dear?” she laughed. “Maybe, while you’re up, you could get me a seven and seven? And get yourself a Shirley Temple, honey.”

She laughed as all the people nearby gave a low “wooo” as they recognized the jab for what it was: she was trying to put me in my place as one of the kids, not a grown-up.

It was too early for a fight, I figured. Plus, she would kick my ass anyway. So I just told her I was fine, thank you, and was just going to drink beer with my dad.

I stepped on the bench with one cowboy boot, and I intended to sit on Daddy’s lap, but I kinda slipped. Daddy caught me and somehow I ended up sitting on his lap… but I was now straddling him in a suggestive position, kinda crotch-to-crotch, face-to-face.

People laughed and catcalled at us as my face went red again. Daddy looked at me like I was just a goof, so I shrugged and put my arms around him. However, since I was sitting on his lap and therefore taller than him… my boobs kinda went in his face when I hugged him. He grabbed me around my waist so I couldn’t escape and he shook his head back and forth, his nose in my bare cleavage. It was all very innocent, just for fun. Okay, no it wasn’t. Christ, my pussy began pulsing.

And that’s when I found out what these rides were really called. TFT started out as Tips for Terry, but several years ago that changed into the current Tips for Tits.

The table started chanting “Tips Tips Tips!” Or maybe it was “Tits,” I couldn’t really tell. It was probably tits. Daddy set me back on his lap a bit and reached for his wallet. He pulled out a twenty and threw it on the table as a tremendous roar erupted from the crowd.

Daddy, being a great salesman at his window company, knew an opportunity when he saw one. He slipped his hands underneath my armpits and lifted me up and over… and slid me across onto Sandra’s lap. I was now straddling her.

She grabbed me hard and hugged me tight, rocking her body side to side so our tits mashed all together.