THE BIKER PARTY

On my way home from work, I stopped at the local Burger Barn and picked up a bag of sandwiches for supper. I'd owned my old 1950 Harley Hydra Glide a couple of years by then. Bought it and a nearly new black Mustang fastback in 1965. So I'm guessing this was 1967, making me 28.

1949 or 1950 was the first year for hydraulic forks and 1950 the last of the few with tank shift other than police trikes. That big chrome ball on the shiny shifter bracket on a coal black tank showed up and attracted many.

This was a 74 CI Panhead type engine. Bone stock black motorcycle, wide white wall tires, black leather bags with shiny metal buckles and leather tassels, plus a large blue tinted windshield.

Not cool by today's standards.

In cold weather I wore a full helmet with a blue bubble shield to protect my glasses and my eyes from watering. But when nice out we neither wore helmets.

I'd called Dollie from work so she knew I was bringing supper from the little town where I worked twelve miles away. A couple my age walked over to look at my old bike. They'd both gotten off late model Sportster's.

He looked like a wrestler, black leather sleeveless bike vest, arms like a weight lifter. Her, maybe six feet tall, slender, filling out her tight fittin jeans in the right places, blonde, pretty face, wearing a man's ribbed undershirt.

Back then I don't remember women's tank tops. A lot of gals went braless wearing those thin scooped neck men's undershirts. The ribbing was very narrow and seemed transparent between the ribs. Well tanned and braless, she almost appeared topless in the sun.

I may have been looking closely as we talked about my bike. He asked " ya like those titties huh?"

I said YES! From the side they didn't really stick out a lot from her slim shapely body. But from the front they appeared like two nice sized turtle shells, filling out that ribbed undershirt quiet well.

The guy told me he was Ron and her name is Rhonda, handing me a business card. He asked if I had a wife or girlfriend. After answering he said bring her out to our clubhouse this Saturday to party. Food, beer, and boobs are $10 to our guests. Rhonda and some of the other gals will be topless and you can stare at them all ya want. By the way, if your wife goes topless, the drinks are free.

Ron went on to ask some personal questions. Like, do you guys swap partners or get into bondage? I told him we have some friends down south we mess around with but my wife doesn't do bondage or swapping.

Either him or Rhonda said only a few of their friends mess around and may not even go topless. The rest just watch. We don't really care. Just bring your wife and come on out. He scribbled directions on a napkin and I stuffed it in my work pants.

Several days later, Friday, Dollie handed me the napkin with the directions on it. I told her about Rhonda and Ron. Dollie has always been crazy about bike events and parties. Especially when I mentioned the free and topless part.

Back then motorcycle groups were mostly called gangs. Not far from where we lived was a well known wild gang known to rape and molest young women. They even took over a local bar and others were afraid to go in there. Rumor was some girls were lured inside, used and abused, never to be seen again.

We'd eventually find those were not all rumors when police raided the club house and found shallow graves with missing young girls.

Stupid me. A good friend and co-worker, Hippy, took me to the bar several times. We'd ride home from work together, him on his old blue Chopper, me on the black old Harley. Since he was a member and I was invited I always walked back out alive. Still some of the shit I saw being done to sweet young girls was enough to make me never return again.

Of course this made us hesitate going to the biker club we'd been invited to. With a wife like mine, a few rumors didn't bother her! Seems like it was raining later Friday evening and all night. But the weather was warm.

Might have been sprinkling Saturday morning but Dollie was begging me to go to the biker party. Unlike many women, rain, snow, sleet, and crazy bikers didn't bother her. Dollie put on one of her low button front tops and short shorts and I wore a tee shirt and shorts. We didn't care if those got wet. We had half helmets. Hers protected her hair and with my blue bubble shield snapped on, we were ready to ride approximately 25 miles to the biker club.

The rain was coming down pretty good when we arrived. Still there must have been 20 to 30 bikes there. More came later. I got teased about our clothes and the factory stock old Harley. But mostly they told us we were real bikers for coming out in the rain. We were treated like royalty and old friends. As Rhonda and Ron promised, there was plenty of food, beer, and boobs.

Rhonda looked a lot different without that tight men's undershirt. Obviously it had been very tight. Her bare titties were now sticking out and her nipples lifted upward. Again Ron noticed I was staring. He said something like "told ya you'd like the view."

By then Dollie's mostly unbuttoned wet blouse wasn't covering much. She removed it and put it in one of the saddle bags. Her and Rhonda seemed to have the largest boobs in the bunch. But there were many I enjoyed watching as we partied and boobies bounced.

Whatever we ate we had plenty. But we nursed only a couple of free beers, even though more seemed to keep coming. Bikers were wandering throughout the clubhouse fondling every bare boob they saw, including Dollie's.

A group of guys carried one of the well endowed topless gals over to the only pool table, removed her shorts, and tied her with leather straps spread out for everyone to see. No panties. One at a time several bikers had sex with her, as others played with her boobs.

It wasn't long before other bikers were fucking on tables, chairs, even the bar. A few gals were tied to chairs as bikers fingered and fondled them. I remember us being asked several times to swap or if I or Dollie wanted to fuck.

Apparently Ron had told others we weren't into bondage or Dollie into intercourse with others. When a few got a little pushy Ron or another friend of his lead the guys away and told them to lay off.

All in all, it was a fun evening. Dollie got her boobys fondled and I got my share of tittie touchy feely too. Yes, Rhonda's titties really were semi-firm. When squeezed or pushed inward, they'd bounce right back out.

The place was crowded, noisy, getting wild, and smokey. We thanked a few and left before things got out of hand.