Riding his Hog Ch. 03


This is the story of my first fight with Dallas and the resulting make up sex.


It was a beautiful day for a motorcycle ride. It was a brisk day in early winter along the Sea of Japan coast, some wispy clouds decorating an otherwise beautiful blue sky that stretched to the horizon beyond the water. My first short story had just been published on an online sci-fi literary magazine (you can probably find it if you look hard enough), and in celebration, I spent the night at Dallas’s apartment again. After a night of celebration in the form of slippery debauchery, Dallas let me borrow his motorcycle and riding jacket for the day and I was riding along a long coastal road.

I turned into a rest stop parking lot overlooking the sea. It was filled with motorcycles and cars coming and going for the weekend. Looking for an open spot, I scanned left and right for a place to park while riding along slowly in first gear. Once I found a place under some wisteria shade on the far side of the lot, I pulled in and then used my foot to pull the gear shifter into neutral. The bike’s V-twin engine continued to rumble loudly under me, its now inhibited torque vibrating my whole body. I let off both the brake and clutch levers, and then switched the bike off. It shuddered under me to a stop.

The engine was still hot after a long ride, the air around it wavering visibly. I put my gloved hands directly against one of the rocker boxes. The heat from the V-twin engine transferred to my hands, warming them after being cooled to a frigid coldness during my ride.

After I warmed my hands, I kicked the kickstand down and then, with my helmet still on and my tinted visor down, I stood up off my bike and fished my phone out of my pocket, stepping a few feet away from Dallas’s bike.

“Where the hell is this place?” I thought to myself as I pulled one of my gloves off so that I could keypad open my phone. I was looking for a tonkatsu restaurant that I had a found online, and it was supposed to be around here somewhere. Either I hadn’t seen it and had passed it already or it was just down the street.

“Dallas! Dallas!” I heard a feminine voice behind me shout, and I turned partially around, looking for the source.

A Japanese woman in her 30s was skipping over toward me from the other side of the lot, weaving between cars and bikes along the way, waving one lithe arm the whole time. She was wearing tight black riding leather pants and boots, which revealed the outline of nice long thin legs. A leather jacket zipped diagonally up to her neck covered her from her wrists to her throat, but it was obvious that she was thin at her waist and large at her chest. Her shining dark hair, folded into one plait braid bounced back and forth behind her in time with each long stride of her legs across the parking lot. As she approached, I could see better and better, dark almond eyes and thin eyebrows decorating a beautiful face. I was getting a serious “Nanako Matsushima in tight biking gear” vibe, and it was awe-inspiring. (Go ahead and look up “Nanako Matsushima”. It’s easily worth thirty seconds of your time.)

Yup. I just stood there, holding my phone in one hand as this gorgeous biker babe just walked right up to me.

“Dallas?” she asked again a few steps away from me, this time more quizzically, her head titling slightly to one side, the sides of her eyebrows curving up at the edges.

“Nope. Not Dallas. Sorry,” I finally said, simultaneously raising my face shield to reveal my face and stuffing my phone back into my pocket. She instantly took a step back, recognizing that I wasn’t who she thought I was.

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I thought you were someone I know,” she said, first jutting her hands palms out and then taking a step back, followed by some quick bowing in minor contrition a few times.

“Did you think I was Dallas ******?” I asked, smiling widely and pointing one finger at myself as I did so.

“YES! Your bike looks just like his!” she said excitedly, the index fingers on both of her hands pointing toward Dallas’s bike next to me and stepping one pace back toward me. She returned my smile, her face radiating warmth.

“Oh, it’s his bike. It’s his bike. I’m just borrowing it for a day,” I said, turning along with her to look at Dallas’s bike next to us. It was distinctive looking even though it hadn’t been customized very much. The make and model (and the rumble) were both fairly rare among Japanese motorcycles.

“Oh, so do you know Dallas?” she asked me earnestly, both of her hands resting on each side of her thin waist.

Since my first date with Dallas a month ago, I had spent the night at his apartment a few times each week, taking his fat cock up my ass and down my throat more times than I could count. Dallas was twenty years older than me, but he had quickly learned exactly where my g-spot was, and became a master at sliding his giant fuckrod right along it in just the perfect way, bringing me to some of the strongest orgasms I’ve ever had. He Cebeci Escort had done things to me that no man had ever done to me, and I always tried to reciprocate with my youthful lust, blowing his behemoth repeatedly and swallowing its impressively large load each time until he moaned his pleasure loud enough to notify the neighbors as to exactly what we were doing.

“Yeah, I know Dallas pretty well,” I replied, smiling broadly while unclasping the chin strap under my helmet and giggling at the question.

“Oh, are you two friends?” she asked me again, stepping closer to me again and under the shade of the wisteria.

“Yeah, you could say that. I only met him a month ago, but we’re close now,” I said as I removed my full face helmet, my dirty blonde hair spilling down out of it. I wiped my hair back past my eyes with one gloved hand.

Her eyes suddenly narrowed and her head titled slightly to the right. Then she took one stride toward me with her long legs and lightly touched my arm with one hand.

“You’re wearing his jacket,” she said flatly, gripping the wrist of the leather of Dallas’s riding jacket around my arm with one hand.

“Yeah, he let me borrow it,” I replied.

“Oh. You’re his new boyfriend!” she said excitedly, her hand on my wrist darting up to her lips, her lithe fingers partially obscuring her smile.

“Well, we’re just dating now. He’s not my boyfriend,” I said after a moment, holding my helmet in one hand, blushing slightly.

“Oh wow. I can see why he likes you. You’re really cute!” she said excitedly again, smiling widely and bobbing her body a little as she spoke.

“Thanks. You’re quite attractive yourself,” I replied.

She took one large step toward me and darted one hand out to shake.

“Hi, I’m Ruri by the way. I go touring together with Dallas a few times a year,” Ruri said, beaming her stunning smile again as I extended my own hand to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you Ruri. I’m Tesh,” I said, shaking her small hand.

“Nice to meet you too,” she said, shaking my hand back.

“You wanna get some lunch?” I asked her curiously.


I don’t know if there’s a bisexual version of the Bechdel test, but if there is, Ruri and I definitely failed it during lunch. While we ate tonkatsu at the restaurant that I had been looking for, we talked about Dallas, how I met Dallas, and how she met Dallas. I told Ruri that I met Dallas when I tried to buy his bike and that we’d been dating for about a month. Every time I went over to his apartment to talk about buying his bike, we’d get distracted with other things like Dallas’s extremely high libido.

Ruri said she met Dallas at a wedding. She’d already heard about Dallas from one of her friends, and she was struck by how attractive he was. From the stories that she’d heard, Ruri assumed that Dallas was only into guys, but he kept flirting with her throughout the whole ceremony. They discretely exchanged numbers. They were together for a year or so, and this is when she started getting into motorcycling. Things feel apart between them, however, when Ruri learned that Dallas had constantly stepped out of their relationship, with both boyfriends and girlfriends. According to rumors, Dallas had even seduced the wedding couple. She wasn’t threatened by the bisexuality, but she was angry about what she saw as infidelity.

I learned quite a bit about Dallas over lunch. Ruri said that Dallas had a lot of boyfriends, and that Ruri and Dallas had actually shared a couple of the younger ones. Ruri said that she’d never seen Dallas lend his riding jacket to anyone, not even her. Ruri also inadvertently revealed that they’d had sex recently. That pissed me off, but I contained my anger and we parted amicably.


After Ruri and I finished lunch and said our goodbyes, I walked back over to where I parked Dallas’s bike and rode home. I texted Dallas after I got back to my apartment later that night. I used a lot of emojis. “I met Ruri (hot babe emoji). You didn’t tell me your (girlfriend emoji) was such a (hottie emoji).”

Within a few minutes, Dallas called me back. His opening gambit on the call was pretty funny.

“You millennials use so many emojis that you’re going to forget how to spell,” Dallas declared in a flat voice. (I always thought it was cute that he didn’t know the difference between millennials and Gen Z.)

I laughed. Once I knew that Dallas hated emoji, I used them in every text.

“So…guess who I met today! She thought I was you,” I said excitedly, removing my riding boots at the entrance to my apartment with one hand.

“Yeah. Ruri already told me that you two met today,” Dallas replied, a quiver in his voice that indicated to me that he wasn’t looking forward to this conversation.

“Your girlfriend’s pretty. I didn’t think hot biker chicks actually existed outside of motorcycle marketing materials but there she was!” I said to Dallas, giggling Kolej Escort a little, dropping one boot to the floor.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Dallas said flatly.

“It’s okay Dallas. I’m not pissed off. (I was pissed off.) Me and you agreed that we’re just having fun for now. I was just wondering if there’s something you’re not telling me,” I said, quickly removing my other boot, which fell to the floor with a loud thud.

“I swear I haven’t fucked her since I met you,” Dallas insisted.

“If ever there were moving goal posts,” I thought to myself.

After ten seconds of cold silence, I started talking again.

“It’s not that. It’s not that. Remember how we’ve been talking about you cumming in my ass? If you’re sleeping with other people, then that’s a hard pass” I said flatly, picking up both boots and putting them in the shoe box next to the door to my apartment.

“So you ARE thinking about it. Hot damn!” Dallas retorted, sudden excitement permeating his voice.

“Did you hear anything I just said?!?” I said instantly, my own voice raising an angry octave.

“Okay. Sorry. Whoops. Sorry,” Dallas replied in quick succession between his words.

I didn’t say anything for a few moments as I walked into my living room in my socks, still holding my phone to my ear.

“You still there?” Dallas asked in a low voice.

“Yeah” I said flatly, beginning to sit down on my sofa.

“Look. I’m sorry that you found out about Ruri this way. That’s not exactly how I was hoping that you’d find out,” Dallas said.

I stayed silent, hoping that he would keep talking. He did.

“But I swear I’m not seeing her anymore,” Dallas said insistently.

I stayed silent again.

“Can I come over? Maybe I can make it up to you?” Dallas said slowly, imploringly.

After mulling it over for a few seconds, I replied.

“Yeah. Yeah. Come over. I need you to return my bike anyway,” I said flatly, and then hung up on him without saying goodbye.


I heard the three-cylinder engine on my bike approach my apartment. Dallas had arrived. This was the second time that Dallas had been to my apartment. I unlocked my front door to let him in and then went into my living room and sat down on my sofa, waiting for him in a huff.

I first heard Dallas step up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment complex in his hard riding boots, and then heard the door to my apartment open. I heard Dallas drop his boots at the entrance, and then unzip his leather jacket. I think he put his helmet on my kitchen table. We still hadn’t greeted each other.

Dallas opened the door from my kitchen to my living room, and then stood at the midpoint between both rooms. His hunky frame faced me. He was in socks partially hidden under jeans that outlined his powerful legs. His black leather jacket was open, revealing a brown t-shirt that barely fit over his defined chest, and even under the leather sleeves, it was easy to see that Dallas’s arms were beefy and powerful. His riding gloves were halfway stuffed into his jacket pockets. His peppery hair was slightly disheveled from the ride to my apartment.

“Hey I’m sorry abo-” Dallas attempted an opening gambit, but I interrupted him.

“No. No. No,” I interjected. I stood up from the sofa and then strutted right up in front of Dallas, staring him in the eyes.

“I’m trying to apologize here,” he said, lifting his hands open to the air.

I just stared up into his uncomprehending eyes and waited a few moments.

“No. When we’re about to have sex, I don’t want any of this contrition bullshit. I want you to fuck me. I want you to take me. Take me like you fucking want me and won’t take any of my bullshit from me until you’ve gotten yours, okay?” I said to Dallas, continuing to stare into his eyes as I wrapped one arm around his shoulder while my other hand snaked into the side of his jeans.

“So…?” Dallas questioned as he stared down at me confused while my hand in his jeans drifted over to rub against his semi-hard mast.

“If you say any of that shit you say when you’re fucking me in public, then we’re never talking again,” I said lowering my hand behind his neck to his belt while my other hand slid up and down his quickly rising titan.

Dallas continued to stare at me but a smile broke out of his lips.

“But when we’re in bed, I want you to be dominant. I don’t want to be equal. I want to be your slut. You apologize after we fuck,” I said, releasing his belt and unzipping his fly. His gargantuan pressed hard against his briefs, and my hand had more freedom of movement to grip his immensity.

Dallas’s demeanor changed, and both of his arms wrapped around my back.

“Ah. I get it. This is our first fight, so I didn’t know how to approach this,” he said, leaning back against the wall near the door and dropping his leather jacket on the floor, which revealed his muscled arms and tattoos.

“Fuck first,” I said, a sly smile appearing on my lips.

“You want rough daddy Yenimahalle Escort again?” Dallas asked, smiling and rubbing my shoulders with both of his hands.

“Yes,” I said, cupping his balls inside his briefs with one hand while the other traced the outline of one of his arm tattoos. The times we role-played a daddy-son dynamic were always explosive, usually culminating in cum splattered all over whatever room we were fucking in. The first time I asked for it in bed, I was a little embarrassed, but Dallas told me that most of his partners wanted some form of it, and he was damn good at it.

“You want a hard spanking again?” Dallas asked, further elaborating on how far our game was going to go.

“Yes”, I replied, nodding enthusiastically while continuing my manual ministrations on his behemoth, which was now clear of his briefs. I loved that I could get this guy so hard so fast.

“Choking?” Dallas asked, eyebrows slightly up.

“Just a sexy little, okay?” I answered, smiling and holding the fingers on one of my hands aloft in an “ok” gesture. Dallas nodded receipt of message.

“Verbal?” Dallas asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.

“Oh hell yes,” I responded meekly, always a fan of his sex talk. I was rubbing his manrod with both hands by this point.

“You want me to cum while I’m in you?” Dallas asked, one side of his lips curling up in mirth after his question.

“Would you stop menu iteming and start fucking me goddamn it? I’ve had a bad day. Make me feel goo-” was what I managed to spurt through before what happened next.

Dallas’s hand darted to my neck and squeezed. Hard. I instantly gasped, surprised by the sudden move.

“You think you get to talk to me like that?” Dallas snarled at me, leaning into me, his face so close to mine now that I could feel some spittle.

“Sor-,” I tried to articulate, the fear of realizing that I might have gone too far finally dawning on me. There was real anger in his eyes.

“Consent is not a feeling. It’s a sound you make. And you’re going to say yes or no to everything I’m about to do to you. Do you understand?” Dallas stated in a marshal tone.

“Yasssss,” I managed to say through his grip on my neck, monosyllables being the extent of what I could muster under his grip. I said this as I rubbed my hand up and down his now throbbing member. I used his precum to grease him. He liked being in control, and his throbbing member felt warm in my hand.

“Good. So I ask again. Do you want me to cum in your ass?” Dallas asked, his grip on my neck substantially easing.

“Yeah. I want it, daddy” I said as I continued to jerk him off. This would also be a first for us. Dallas had taken my ass several times at this point, but he always came outside, either glazing my butt, or my face, my mouth, or whatever furniture we happened on.

His hand still on my jaw, Dallas leaned down slightly and lightly kissed me on the lips. I reciprocated, and our kiss morphed into tonguing and mutual caresses, my hands on either his broad shoulders, his muscular pecks below his shirt, his engorged behemoth, or his pert ass. His hands meandered between my hips, back, and face.

“Alright then. Come with me boy,” Dallas stated as he gripped one of my hands and led me past my kitchen and into my apartment bedroom. Once inside, Dallas began to strip while I closed the door and drew the curtains. Then I stripped. Dallas sat at the edge of my bed and watched me slowly take my clothes off.

“Bend over my knee,” Dallas demanded, pointing to exactly where he wanted me to place myself. I walked over to Dallas and then put both of my hands just beyond one side of his legs. Next, I bent over his legs, my stomach above his knees, my own knees on the bed on the other side of his legs.

It started immediately.


“You think you get to borrow my bike and not return it?” Dallas snarled at me, his hand remaining on my ass at the exact point he spanked me.

“I’m sor-” I attempted to blurt an apology before what happened next.


Dallas spanked me hard. It hurt. Bad. Dallas had amazing accuracy when he spanked me, always zero-ing in on exactly the same spot. My ass was already red around the area that he hit me.

“Dallas, ouc-” was all I managed to squeal before the next strike.


This time the strike wasn’t as intense, but I still screamed as if Dallas hadn’t adjusted at all. The flash of frisson on my ass reverberated through my body and my arms holding up the top half of my body faltered. As I quickly repositioned myself to compensate, and one of my hands glanced against Dallas’s throbbing member. I gripped Dallas’s massive fuckrod in one hand for balance.

“That’s right. Hold onto daddy’s dick. You’re going to need to hold onto something for the spanking I’m about to give you,” Dallas stated flatly.


“You think you get to hang up on me like some fucking child?” Dallas snarled at me again as I screamed at the flash of pain again and writhed under his hand. I just looked straight forward to my bedroom wall and smiled, enjoying Dallas’s punishment. I also massaged his hard member in my hand while balancing my upper body with my right. I gripped his fat cock and slowly oscillated my hand up and down its impressive girthy length, his precum lathering my fingers and his cock. I was already wet under him, getting very excited.

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