The roar of motorcycles caused Margaret to look up from her compact mirror. She had been applying a fresh layer of shimmering raspberry to her lips while she waited in front of Beachside Arcade for Donald. He was late again, probably still playing Deathcon III. What a loser. Yesterday he had kept her waiting for over an hour. Their parents had met last year at a Republican rally in Houston and had hit it off so well, they decided they would take a vacation together at the Tropicana Casino in Atlantic City. How convenient that the MacPhersons had a son the same age as the Brendle’s daughter.

“Oh it’ll be great,” Delores MacPherson had exclaimed. “We can commandeer the blackjack table and let the kids entertain themselves.”

“We can even slip in a few rounds of golf at Harbor Pines,” said Margaret’s Mom, Julie.

When her parents returned and ebulliently related their plans, Margaret’s heart sank, but she just smiled and nodded. She knew from past experience she had no chance competing with golf, gambling, and gin, particularly the last one. She had considered more than once that her parents might be alcoholics.

So now she was stuck on the boardwalk on vacation with a geek and parents who wouldn’t have noticed if she had disappeared for days. At first the thought depressed her, but watching the motorcycle gang across the street wheel into the parking lot of the Dairy Swirl, her spirits lifted a little. She thought, hmmm, perhaps there was an opportunity here she hadn’t realized.

All the riders wore leather jackets that read Dykes on Bikes. Margaret had heard of them. They once snarled traffic in Houston for hours on their way to a gay parade. She was glad they weren’t some redneck biker group. Some of the women were beautiful. Margaret had never told her parents she was gay, even though she had known it ever since Trina Williams had kissed her in the sixth grade. She didn’t like Trina, but she loved the sensation of being kissed by a girl, the moist full lips, the soft smooth skin on her face. For a while, she wondered if it was a phase of being turned on by doing something naughty but after years of sneaking peeks at her Dad’s girlie mags which always made her soaking wet, she knew it was truly the way she was. She was a lesbian. She had little to no interest in boys throughout school. As she got older, she realized there weren’t that many girls for her to be interested in either. There were minor crushes, but nothing ever amounted to much. That all changed when she went with her cousin Irma to New York for a long weekend to catch a matinee of Rent. Irma’s friend Courtney escorted them around the big city. She was a cute tomboy and for the first time, Margaret had a serious affair with another girl who was experienced and tender and beautiful. They would have continued their relationship if Courtney hadn’t moved to Guatemala to teach English. She was lost in the sweet daydream oif Courtney’s mouth sucking her nipple when two women rode up and jolted her back to reality.

“Nice skirt, Honey Pie. I like a chick who doesn’t wear pantyhose, especially at the beach,” said the woman driving. “My name’s Lucille.”

“It’s a swim skirt – a skort,” Margaret retorted.

“Even better,” said Lucille. “Listen, me and my friend Betty were watching you from across the street. We’re gonna take a little trip down Ocean Highway and we thought you might like to join us.”

“You mean ride with you on your bike?”

“Sure, Honey Lips.”

“Will I fit? Is it safe?”

“A little thing like you? – sure you’ll fit. I don’t know about the safe part. It depends on what you mean by that.”

She and Betty looked at each other and laughed.

Margaret hesitated, but she began to feel hot between her legs. Both of the women were beautiful in a handsome dyke kind of way. They were tanned and muscular. Betty had a black crew cut. Lucille had a mass of hair that fell in blonde ringlets around her face. They looked dangerous and hot and tougher than any of the boys from school. She looked around. There was no sign of Donald.

“Okay, why not?” she said and climbed on.

She wrapped her arms around Lucille’s muscular frame and Betty’s legs covered her in a protective hold. Her skort shimmied up to her ass.

“Nice skort,” Betty whispered seductively in her ear, patting her on the rear.

“Alright,” shouted Lucille. “Goodbye loser dudes, hello ocean views.”

Margaret laughed and thought of Donald. She liked these wild women and wedged in between them like sandwich meat, she was getting wetter as they zoomed pass quaint summer cottages and hordes of tourists.

Finally, about two miles outside of town, they hit an isolated stretch called Ocean Vista. Betty scooted in tighter on the seat. Her leather chaps felt cool and sticky on Margaret’s thigh.

“You’re awfully pretty to be walking the boardwalk alone,” she said.

Margaret saw Lucille adjust her rearview mirror to get a better look.

“You hold on tight to Lucille and I’m going to make you forget all your problems. Okay?” said Betty. “Have you ever been with a woman?.”

Margaret nodded her head.

“Did you like it?” asked Betty.

Margaret wisely decided it would be in her best interest to not answer definitively, might as well make Betty work hard to prove her claim, so she nonchalantly raised her shoulders as if to say “hmmmm, I’m really not sure.”

Betty put her fingers in Margaret’s mouth.

“Suck ‘em real good. I need you to lube ‘em up Baby.”

Lucille revved the Harley engine. She could clearly see what was going on.

Margaret took one, then two, and finally Betty’s whole hand into her mouth and sucked and licked voraciously.

“Whoa girl,” said Betty. “Hey Lucille, we got us a live one,” she shouted over the roar of the Harley’s motor.

Lucille smiled and licked her lips.

Betty leaned back into the banana T-Bar on the back of the seat and put her hand up Margaret’s skirt

“Oooh Baby, you’re so wet and swollen,” she slathered in her ear.

Margaret gripped Lucille tightly around the waste and moaned as Betty stroked her clit. The motorcycle pitched and quivered. Lucille was accelerating and then braking on purpose so the whole machine became a riding vibrator. All of the women were turned on and hot especially with the Jersey sun beating down upon them.

Betty used one hand to part Margaret’s swollen pussy lips and finger her clit and the other to plunge three fingers into her wet little love canal. Margaret was in ecstasy and started to move, to hump Betty’s hand.

“I wanted to fuck you from the first moment I saw you from across the street,” said Betty. “You’re just my type, a little feminine, and just beginning to bloom. You college girls are the best fucks in the world.”

Margaret was about to come. She was moving faster and moaning loudly into Lucille’s ear. She began to tremble.

“Come on college girl. Give me some of that wet juicy milk. Cum all over my fingers so I can stick them back in your mouth. Don’t you want to taste your love juice?”

Margaret was stiff now, right on the verge.

“Me and Lucille flipped a coin to decide who would have you first. I won, but she’s going to have you on the ride back.”

An Ocean City patrol car was approaching and it slowed as it passed them.

“Act natural,” said Lucille. “For fuck’s sake act natural. She could bust us for riding three on.”

Betty did not stop fucking Margaret. Lucille waved at the officer.

“Nothing could make me stop fucking your love hole,” said Betty. “You’re so wet it’s like sticking my fingers into a tub of butter.”

“Uh oh, she’s turning around,” said Lucille. “Here she comes.”

In the rear view mirror, Margaret caught a glimpse of the flashing red light as she had the most intense orgasm of her life. As she was coming, Betty thrusts her fingers hard up into her and spread them apart to open her up and let her come flow out onto the seat leather.
She slumped into Lucille’s back as Betty fixed and smoothed out her skirt.

“Goddammit.” said Lucille. “Okay, Margaret you’re my niece and we’re out giving you a ride before you head off to Berkeley. Everybody just be real cool. Margaret, wipe your mouth off. Your lipstick is smeared.”

“Ladies,” said the officer.

“Hi Officer,” said Lucille.

“Dykes on Bikes, huh? Are you in town for a rally?”

“No Ma’am, we’re just out for a little spin with my niece. She’s heading back to school next week.”

“Is that right?” said the officer.

It was easy to see she wasn’t buying it.

“I’ve got a Road King myself. I rode it last year in the Rainbow Parade.”

“Really? Man I’d love to have a Road King,” said Betty.

Finally something besides Margaret had gotten her attention.

“How long have you been in Dykes on Bikes,” asked the officer.

“A long time,” said Lucille. “Are you in it?”

“I’m a team captain.”

“Lucky for us huh,” said Betty.

“Yep, lucky for you. Be glad my sergeant didn’t stop you. He’s got a serious case of fag gag. As a matter of fact he’s probably downtown right now checking out the rest of your group. The ones that aren’t out for a spin that is.”

She winked at Lucille.

“Be careful girls,” she said. “If you really want a threesome, check out McGraw House. An old lesbian couple owns it and they won’t give you any trouble.”

“Thanks Officer,” said Lucille climbing off the Harley.

She handed the keys to Betty.

“My turn,” she said. “Oh and Betty, don’t drive too fast, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“I think that McGraw House place is right down from the Tropicana. I wouldn’t mind checking that out, if you want to,” said Margaret.

Betty and Lucille gave each other the dyke bike handshake.