“I was wondering if you have a bike, Mo?” Grace asked him. She’d stopped grinning, at least, and was just looking steadily at him, with those ey...s.“Yes I do.” It was a relief to give that positive answer. He couldn’t keep up with a car on a bike of course, but something in her eyes made him not say that, just yet.“Cos with four of us, depending, you know, which way he goes, we could follow him for a little way, and then next day be waiting further up the road, at the next junctions...”“We could. "You mean doggy?" Mike whispered.His fingers dipped into my moist cunt, exciting me; persuading me to reveal more breaking down my natural reserve."Yes, doggy! Gripping my hips from behind and fucking me!" Would you really like that? Would you like someone to fuck you in all those positions?" Mike's voice quivered with excitement.I was elated although still a little cautious. "But I couldn't, it wouldn't be fair to you."His intimate caresses were adding fuel to my imagination; his fingers. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said, ‘can I help you?’ She looked at me speculatively for a few seconds and then, as if coming to a decision, she asked: ‘How would you handle it if a passenger did ... this?’I nearly jumped, for ‘this’ consisted of her hand going up between my legs like a homing missile, under my skirt to grip the front of my panties between her thumb and index finger. I was too surprised by this sudden assault to do anything for a few seconds, and then I replied: ‘If it was a man, I would. I doubt if they ever had to change the tires for wear,’ Marty said. News of its existence was spread in the car world by my articles about it in a couple of car magazines. I made $600 each for the articles and was able to eat for a couple of months. We hyped it hard for about six months and Marty just kept making it look better and better. The other factory prototype had gone out in a flaming wreck in 1961 on a highway in Nevada when the playboy owner had tried to see just how fast he could.