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Ben and his men had stopped off at their old haunt, the Kickstand at the end of a long hot ride. Quohog was a biker's barkeep. He knew when to talk, what to talk about and when to shut up. Too many people tried to fill the silence with stupid chatter, Quohog didn't. He also had the best home made beer in the desert. His place was made for bikers as well. It was run down, the tables were scratched and the place stunk of old fried onions. The handlebars of Corley bikes old and present adorned the walls, and the jukebox, an old CD one dating back to the 90's, had none of that country or techno crap. It was always on the fritz and played what in wanted to when it wanted to, but that was ok. No one ever put any money in the damned thing anyway.Right now it was playing George Thorogood, 'Bad to the Bone'. Yeah, that was good.Ben was on his second brew, meditating on the finer points of life, when they all heard the single motorcycle approaching from the west. Jackson, his second in command. I was really carried away with ecstasy, and couldn’t say much myself beyond, “Oh yeah” and “Oh mum I love you”. I pushed hard, ramming it in and out as she writhed beneath me, getting faster and slower as the feelings took me. We kissed and I pressed her breasts. “Squeeze them”, she instructed me. As I was squeezing them, I felt I was about to come. I raised myself up on my arms so that I could gaze into her eyes and went as fast as I could, then with a long spasm of jerks in decreasing waves, flooded her womb with my jizz. We made love another four times that night, and slept together every night my dad was away after that. Her belly grew fat as a whale and her navel stuck out. Eventually, I had to fuck her from behind, which we loved. Even when dad was at the local office, I used to screw her before he came home, after school or college.When my sister was born, my mum had a sterilization so that we could fuck without worry. All three of us drank her breast milk..
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