Free as a bird

She threw one leg over the seat and the engine thrummed between her thighs. Nothing between her and the wind but a thin tank top and the shortest cut-offs she owned. The road opened ahead like a dare, and she took it. At the first pull, her nipples tightened against the cotton, every seam rubbing exactly where she wanted. She leaned into a curve and the denim seam found her clit. The bike kept its steady pulse. Heat bloomed low in her belly, slick and insistent. She slipped a hand beneath her waistband, fingers sliding through wetness. The wind swallowed the small sound she made. No one to see, no one to stop her. Just the roar of the engine and the slow, deliberate stroke of her own hand. She lifted her hips, letting the vibration do half the work while her fingers circled faster. Blonde hair whipped across her face. The horizon blurred. Every nerve hummed. When the orgasm hit it rushed straight through her, hips jerking, thighs gripping metal. She kept riding, wet fingers on the throttle, body still buzzing like the engine itself.