Rough to Ride by Justine Elvira Page A

dashboard.
    I get out of the car to assess my surroundings. I’m in the middle of nowhere. The long stretch of road is surrounded by miles and miles of desert. There isn’t a human being in sight. I haven’t seen another car in the past fifteen minutes and the sign I passed a few miles ago said the next town was still a good distance away.
    It’s the middle of July and hot as hell. I can feel the little trickles of sweat running down the middle of my back. My car doesn’t have air conditioning, so luckily I'm dressed for this weather. I’m wearing a white, thin, strapless, cotton sundress that barely covers my natural d-cups. It's form fitting and hugs my curves perfectly, resting mid thigh. The dress looks good against my tan skin and makes my blue eyes stand out. I have a pair of wedge sandals on my feet and my dirty blonde hair is down and slightly wavy against my back.
    The car door swings open as I crawl inside and search for my cell phone that fell on the ground about twenty miles back. I find it under the passenger seat and pull it out to call for help. I'm clicking on the home screen button to get my phone off sleep mode, but nothing happens.
    “Motherfucker!”
    The battery's dead.
    I throw the phone against the seat and slam the car door shut. What am I going to do now?
    The gravel crunches underneath my shoes as I pace on the side of the road, kicking the rocks as I turn. I don’t know what to do. I have no way to contact anyone and it would be stupid to search for help on foot in this kind of heat. Although I'm not far from home, I’d be dead in a few hours. Plopping myself up on the hood of my car, I decide to wait it out. Hopefully, someone will come by and offer to give me a ride so I’m not stranded.
    After twenty minutes go by without any sign of life, I'm getting worried. Drops of sweat are forming on my skin from the sun beating down on me. My throat's parched and I lick my lips to keep moisture on them before the delicate skin starts to chap. I drag my hands to the bottom of my dress and hitch it up until it's resting just below the apex of my thighs. I'm trying to cool my body down, hoping to get some kind of relief from this excruciating desert heat.
    It's hopeless. No one is coming.
    Just as I'm about to get off the hood of my car and start walking, I hear the purr of an engine coming from down the road.
    I adjust my body to see if my ears are playing tricks on me. In the distance I can see a small shadow coming my way. The soft purr gets louder and louder until I can hear the roar of a motorcycle engine. My heart starts to race in excitement, hopefully I’m going to get picked up.
    Now I'm not going to sugar coat it. I have a thing for men and their bikes. You could call it a sexual fantasy of mine, but I have always gotten wet for a man on a bike. It could be the desire of having something hard, hot, and heavy between my thighs. It's about the hottest thing a woman like me can handle.
    I sit up and turn my body towards the road. My legs are hanging over the hood of my car and I quickly check to make sure my skirt is hiked up as far as it can go without showing my goodies. I need to expose as much of my legs as possible. Luckily, my white dress is already doing its job and helping me rock my curves. The top of my tits are exposed and glistening with drops of sweat, putting them gloriously on display. It looks like I oiled them up and am waiting for a good groping. Inwardly I'm ecstatic because I know this will draw the man's attention. I push my thumb out in front of me and wait, hoping he will stop.
    As the bike gets closer, it slows down until the man behind my newest daydream pulls up in front of my car and stops. I can only see the back of him, but what a back it is. He's straddling his Harley with his jean-covered legs. He's shirtless with only his cut covering his muscular back. His arms come off the handles and I watch his hand drag through his long, light brown hair. He stands and