It was obvious on close examination that it was not a direct replica of a 1950 machine. The disc brake, of course, what looked like an electric starter, (though a kick-start lever was still present on the right side of the bike) and ... fuel injection? Electronic ignition? Looked like it."Interested?"He looked round. "Yes. Very." Made under licence in India." Really? What's the performance like?" Well, you don't want to be in a hurry. It'll do fifty all day. I've seen seventy on the clock, but I wouldn't want to ride at that speed for long. Of course, it's economical; I get over eighty to the gallon, usually." Sounds good." I like it." The other man paused, "A friend of mine wants to sell one like this, if you're interested." Could be. Got a phone number?" Sure."When he got home, he spent a couple of hours at his computer – not working, but researching Indian Enfields – ate a sandwich, and went back to the machine to do some actual work. Then it was time to collect Chloe and Robbie. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, no.” I groan, covering my eyes.I look at my door, knowing that my brother is in the next room, jerking off his thick cock to images of me and my words. I blush deeply looking at the phone, scrolling up to the top and reading through it. I can clearly hear him being the person behind the words, the playful banter, the goading, but not the sexual man that wrote these naughty things to me. I gulp slightly as I read over it, him asking if I touch myself, and I remember how wet I got from that.I blush even deeper remembering the rich dark head of hair I imagined being between my legs. It looked exactly like his does now. I am completely mortified. I drop my phone, backing up and gripping over my mouth to keep myself from screeching. I stand up quickly from my bed, beginning to pace from left to right, looking at my phone, my pussy trembling and aching as it slobbers its need. I close my eyes, cursing softly as my phone goes off. I pull it up, look at it.DarkPrince:.
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