"Objects in the Mirror..."

[sirhugs]

P notices the bicycle sneaking up inside his right turn lane, but does not realize how close it is until he starts turning and clips the front tire. Hopping out of his car, he sees a PYT in tight cycling garb spilled on the pavement.

He suggests calling the cops but she insists only her pride is hurt & not to bother. Then they notice that her knee is skinned, so he gets out his first aid kit. As he swabs her scrape, the contact with her warm tan firm young flesh has the predictable effect. He is then shocked when she asks if he might be able to do a better job if he took her to his place... she of course having taken note of his substantial girth.

 

[Hypoxia]

When I was a bike messenger and careless drivers scraped me against walls or other cars because they didn't see me in their right-rear mirror, NONE of them stopped to even apologize, let alone offer to bandage my scrapes, the bastards. But I was sometimes offered modeling jobs.

 

[sirhugs]

When I was a bike messenger and careless drivers scraped me against walls or other cars because they didn't see me in their right-rear mirror, NONE of them stopped to even apologize, let alone offer to bandage my scrapes, the bastards. But I was sometimes offered modeling jobs.

"modelling" huh?

 

[Hypoxia]

"modelling" huh?

Yeah, that was my reaction too.

But can I help it if I have great legs?
______________________________

EDIT: All bike messengers have great legs. That includes myself, my sister, our Uncle Ron, and my father-in-law. (The latter two are now deceased.)

Meanwhile, I have a related plot bunny, extracted from Uncle Ron's notes -- and I forget whether I included this in any RON'S JOURNAL story, but big deal.

Anyway, Ron used to walk SF Bay Area suburbs, throwing advertising circulars door-to-door for minimum wage and all the porch deliveries he could steal. He was around 22 then, over 40 years ago. He says he was walking down a street in a Spielbergian neighborhood (think E.T.) on a warm day, wearing shorts. At one house, a nice-looking MILF (also in shorts) was working in her front-yard flower garden. Her German Shepherd was sitting on the house porch. The dog growled. The woman said, "Down!" The dog ran over to Ron at the sidewalk, bit him on the calf, then ran back to the porch and lay down.

The MILF dragged Ron to her car and immediately drove him to her doctor for dogbite treatment. Then she took him back and gave him a $20 bill. Twenty bucks was worth something around 1972, hey? Ron was easy-going (and probably a little stoned) and didn't even think of suing her. So he continued on his way.

That's Ron's account. The plot bunny, related to this thread: She could have tended the minor wound herself, been enraptured by his lean, muscular physique, and dragged him indoors for a hot fuck. (Ron said that such had happened to him more than once, minus the dogbite.)

Ron had some bike-messenger tales too, like the woman who accidentally dropped her baby into the front basket as he rode his industrial-strength delivery bike through a street crowd. He rode a few feet, turned around, and returned the infant. Plot bunny: She was so thrilled by the kid's safe return, and by Ron's lean muscular form, that she took him home for hot sex.

Then there were the mass bike streaks, where dozens of naked quicksilvers of all genders rode screaming through the SF Financial District during lunch. Plot bunny: lots of public fucking, of course. Hmmm, maybe I should write a series of bicycle-sex stories. I'll see if my sister has any good tales too.

 

[JaxRhapsody]

Ever see the documentry; Line Of Sight? I could see making a story based on that. Some sort of sex orgy alley cat.

 

[Hypoxia]

Ever see the documentry; Line Of Sight? I could see making a story based on that. Some sort of sex orgy alley cat.

I just watched the trailer. Hey, couriers seem to have gotten crazier since my day! Yeah, that would work.