Help in your own special way

You sigh, and go over to help.

“Is there a problem?” you say when you reach the pair.

“This asshole bumped into me! Made me drop my ice cream,” growls the Biker Chick. You can see the scoop of ice cream splashed down her collar. Her damp shirt lets you catch a glimpse of her bra-less C cups, nipples rock-hard from the ice cream.

“I-it was an a-accident,” the business man whimpers, cowering in fear and looking at you pleadingly.

“‘I-it was an a-accident,’” Biker Chick squeals mockingly. She grabs the man’s collar, pulling him close “That ain't getting me a new shirt, or a new ice cream. You better pay me back.”

“Let’s just calm down here.” You step in between them, delicately taking Biker Chick’s hand and loosening her grip on the bunched cloth. “No need to get violent.”

“Fine. I won’t pulp him.” Biker Chick reluctantly releases the man, allowing him to stumble back. She turns to you. “But what do I get in return?”

“How about some sex?”

“From this lump of lard? You think I’m some kinda slut? I’m already pregnant,” Biker Chick says, pulling up her shirt to let you see. As she says, her belly bump is small, but obvious.

“No, of course not. I meant me. Lets you and me have sex. If you’re satisfied with my performance, we’ll call it square between you and him.”

Biker Chick gives you a long, appraising look. You worry that she won’t take the bait, but she smirks. “Alright, show me what you got.”

Biker Chick pushes you onto your knees and slides her pants and panties off, baring her muff. Although her mohawk is pink, her bush reveals her natural hair to be blond. You take a moment to stick your nose into the thick of it, savoring the musky scent, with a hint of vanilla body wash. Then you gently spread her meaty pussy lips and start licking. You feel her vagina twitch under your tongue as you taste the sweetness. Biker Chick hums in appreciation as you suck on her clit.

Slit sufficiently moist, you keep a finger swirling inside as you move up her body. You lick her belly as you migrate upward, following lines of melted raspberry ice cream, eventually reaching Biker Chick’s shirt, which she obligingly pulls the rest of the way up. You focus special attention on her breasts, licking the ice cream left from her cleavage, and sucking on her nipples until squirts of milk dribble out.

“You’re pretty good,” Biker Chick murmurs as you finally reach her head. Cutting off her words with a kiss, you pass the pussy juice, ice cream and breast milk from your tongue to hers. Mouth pressed to mouth, you pull your finger out of her nether regions and gently lower Biker Chick onto her back. Freeing your erect cock, you tease her pussy with the tip of your prick, eliciting a lustful groan, before slowly plunging it in.

“I’m back, what’d I miss?”

The sudden comment throws off your rhythm and you freeze mid-fuck. You look back to see Amy and the businessman sharing some cake and chatting, with Liz walking up the boardwalk to accept a slice.

“Liz was just cleaning up after that railing earlier,” Amy explains, mirroring your frown as she hands Liz her cake. Her skirt is back in place, legs cum free, you notice.

“Sorry, I’ll be quiet,” Liz whispers, seeing you with your rod halfway inside Biker Chick’s poon. She slaps your thigh to get your attention. “Hey! get back to the fucking.”

“Right, sorry.” You get back to it, sliding in up to the hilt, before pulling out with a wet slurp. You slowly build up speed, until your pistoning inside Biker Chick’s beaver. You fuck her hard, thankful that her leather jacket protects her back from being scraped raw on the boardwalk.

“Oh yeah, just like that! I’m almost there!” Biker Chick gasps between moans of pleasure, wrapping her legs around your waist. She bites her lip and tries to stifle one last moan as she orgasms. You follow closely behind, shooting your load inside her. Again and again you shoot wad after wad of seed inside her.

Finally spent, you pull out with a wet schlorp, your load seeping out onto the bottom of her jacket. Still panting, Biker Chick pulls out a cigarette and offers you one. When you decline, she lights it and takes a puff herself.

“So, we square?”

“Gimme your phone,” Biker Chick says after a moment. Nonplussed, you hand her your cell phone, which you now see is much more high-tech than the one you remember. Taking her own (equally advanced) cell phone out, she holds them together briefly before handing it back to you. A new number labeled ‘Gracie’ has been added to your contacts.

“Call me.” Gracie collects her pants and gives you a kiss on the cheek, before walking down the boardwalk. You get up too, and look back at your phone, noticing a lot of other unfamiliar numbers.

“Want me to clean that up?” Amy carefully crouches down without waiting for a reply and starts sucking your rod clean.

“Thank you so much for your help,” the businessman grabs your hand, enthusiastically pumping up and down. “Thought I was a goner there. How can I ever repay you?”