Bikery

All the outdoor tables at the cafe were packed which is why Suzy and I were sitting inside with our beers, watching the slice of sky over Valencia street fade into darkness. It was a one of those rare warm evenings in San Francisco, the kind that comes after an unusually hot fall day. Bikes were locked to every available vertical fixture, including the saplings that lined the block and it seemed like everyone was up for a long night of fun even though it was a Tuesday.

At least we had a table by the big open window so we could watch the crowd out on the sidewalk. I noticed a couple at the curb and gave Suzy a nudge. He was lanky with a mass of dirty blond curls, leaning against the crossbar of his bike with his back to us. She was tall, with arching brows, dark eyes, and a strong jaw; a serious face softened by full, friendly-looking lips and an easy smile. I watched her over his shoulder, her gaze moving to his mouth, then back up with a laugh, a pink tongue wetting her lips. She held her bike in front of her as if she were leaving.

As we watched, he moved a hand onto the seat of the girl’s bike, looked down at it where it now rested, seemingly the result of an unconscious gesture, and then very slowly he traced the length of the crotch-polished leather with his index finger, from back to front, then back again. I saw her suppress a squirm and take in a quick breath, her lips slightly parted, and a blush rose to her cheeks as she laughed.

“Smooth,” Suzy said appreciatively, tucking a strand of unruly blond hair back behind an ear as she leaned over her beer. Her greased-stained hands cradled her face. Suzy was an artist who’d gotten her start bringing her kinetic sculpture to Burning Man and now had several solo gallery shows in the city under her belt. She was also a mechanic at one of the most popular and hip bike shops in the city, five blocks up the street. “Bikes are sexy, no doubt.” she said.

“Yeah, why is that?” I asked her.

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’ve thought bikes were hot ever since I was 14 and inherited my older sister’s with a seat that was a bit to high for me – I came all over that thing. Rode it so much my cunt ached all time. I didn’t adjust the seat though!”

“Came?” I asked. “You mean came? I thought that was a myth – that girls could come from riding bikes.”

“Oh no, it’s true.” She smirked into her glass and leaned back into her chair.

Small and looking younger than her mid thirties, Suzy was one of those women who would get carded until they went gray. She looked particularly cute when she talked about sex, a favorite topic of conversation. Her peaches and cream complexion and small body gave her a girlish innocence, an impression that she love to subvert with a pornographic vocabulary.

“I can’t believe you never told me about that! It explains a lot – like your job.” I gestured to her grease stained hands. “Do you still come riding bikes?”

“Sometimes.” She hesitated for a beat and then leaned across the table with an impish look. “Let’s go to my place, I want to show you something. You’ll like it.”

Suzy dated mostly girls, but she’d occasionally requested my friendly cock when she’d had a craving and I had happily come along for the ride. I wondered if a fuck was on the menu for tonight? There was a hopeful stirring in my jeans. I knew she knew exactly what I was wishing for but she refused to tell me anything more about what she had in mind. I drained my glass in a couple large gulps which gave her the giggles. Was it nervous anticipation? That wasn’t like her and made me even more curious.

Her place was three blocks away, an old carriage house hidden behind a larger place that might have been a church once. She let me in and flicked on a floor lamp. The bottom floor was her studio, a sprawling workshop filled with a small kitchen set up in the near corner. Her bedroom was on the upper floor and so I turned towards the stairs.

“Uh-uh, over here.” Taking my hand she led me across the shadowy room, around bins of salvaged metal parts glinting in the dim light, unidentifiable old machines strewn across the scarred hardwood floor and half completed sculptures that looked like relics from a forgotten and mysterious civilization. In the far corner a space had been cleared away and a semicircle of mismatched chairs had been drawn up around a stained canvas tarp covering a bike-like form.

“This is my latest. I just finished it,” pulling off the tarp she revealed what used to be a bike but was now something much more and I heard myself gasp and a jolt of excitement slapped me in the crotch.

I took a few steps back. “Shit! It’s amazing! It’s beautiful Suzy!”

The thick, shiny, black tubes of the frame and the sweeping chrome of the handlebars gave the thing the appearance of a beach cruiser pimped out by a vampire, but this bike wasn’t meant for riding the roads of Transylvania. Instead of holding a wheel, the front fork swept down to support the frame with a serpentine curl on the floor. Delicate gold and white pin striping flowed across the dark armature, and the words “Boink Bikes Ltd.” decorated the crossbar.

Like the front, the back of the bike frame was held off the floor by arching steel struts and a large, heavy looking silver disk took the place of the rear wheel. “That’s the flywheel,” Suzie pointed out. “And see here? This is where the magic happens.” She pointed to where a second chain ran from the flywheel up to an dense assembly of clockwork under the seat.

The seat itself was sleek triangle of black leather and with a horn that curved upwards to cup the rider’s crotch. “I think I get it, but that bit doesn’t look very comfortable.” I pointed to a three inch rod of chromed steel poking up through a hole in the middle of the seat. Suzy pressed a thick red rubber dildo down onto the rod, reached down to give the pedals a quick spin with her hand until the flywheel was turning, and then flicked a lever on the handlebars. The machinery under the seat started a rhythmic whir and the dildo writhed and vibrated like a sea cucumber having an epileptic seizure. The mental image of Suzy mounting this thing and pedaling herself towards a quaking orgasm flashed across my mind’s eye and I grinned into her face. “Whoa!”

“Take a seat.” She motioned to the sagging velour armchair behind me. I gave her an encouraging look and  flopped down for a front row seat at what I was guessing would be a personal demonstration.

“Ok, I’m feeling shy now, but fuck it. I’m going to just pretend you’re not here for a minute.” She turned her back, pulled off her tank top, kicked off a tangled wad of jeans and panties and took a deep breath. “Ok. Now some lube just to get things started.” She squeezed a few drops into her palm and stroked the red dildo to a glossy, slippery shine. I stirred in my seat, my cock now poking up under the waistband of my pants asking for similar treatment.

Suzy threw a leg over the crossbar and stepped up onto the pedals which I noticed were wrapped in padded leather. She reached back, holding the dildo in position and slowly lowered her herself down onto the seat. She grasped the handlebars, closed her eyes, and began to pedal. The heavy silver flywheel was spinning with a heavy whir now and I saw her slowly thumb the lever upwards. The clockwork under the seat shuddered rhythmically and Suzy with it. “Oh yeah.” she groaned and threw back her head, mouth open in a sigh of pleasure.

She turned towards me now and took account of my situation with a laugh. “Watch this.” Lights flickered on from somewhere in the frame, bathing her shiny face and swaying breasts in a pulsing red glow. “Feel free to pay homage to my creation,” she said, and she nodded in the general direction of my crotch.

I pulled off my shirt, wriggled my jeans down around my ankles and gave my rigid cock a liberal squirt from her bottle of lube. It was time to take in a full account of this pedal-powered, erotic spectacle. Suzy had found her cadence and looked utterly transported, eyes closed, her hair sticking to her face and shoulders as she pedaled and moaned louder and louder. I stroked my slippery cock to the rhythm of her machine, watching pleasure sweep across her face, my balls tight with anticipation. She thumbed the lever higher, the red lights pulsed faster, and her head dropped between her shoulders. “Oh God, oh God, oh yesss!” Her voice was husky and tight and I knew she was close. I stroked myself faster, knowing I couldn’t take much more either.

Her knuckles where white where she gripped the handlebars, her eyes were tight shut and her lips pulled back over her teeth as she gasped for breath. Then suddenly her face softened in a spasm of slack-jawed pleasure and she yelled out and bucked on the seat as she came and came. I had a second to take it all in before a final tug on my cock blinded me with an orgasm. It was as though a sex bomb lobbed from some distant canon had detonated in my head and I felt hot cum splash on my shoulder and neck as my body jackknifed and shuddered.

Suzy had disengaged the drive and draped her sweaty body over the handlebars, no longer pedaling as the flywheel still whirring behind her. She slowly stood up from seat and let the wet dildo flop out of her, got of the bike, wobbled over and collapsed into the chair next to me. “Oh my God. It made it even better having an audience.”

“Always happy to help” I mumbled. “When are you going to make something like that for guys?”

She looked me over with sex glazed eyes, from where my pants were gathered around my ankles to the streamers of semen decorating my chest. “I think I already did” she smirked and tossed me a greasy shop rag.