The first role is a report constructor and beginning to a series, it's filled with a few childhood dramas ; that build the lineament of my later floor visibility.
It may not be to everyone's liking, but each story needs a start.
Bare with it, the sex scenarios begin after this chapter.


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From my early childhood, I had been fascinated with the rogue elements of society.
Be it rascal Motorbike work party, Latin pack or African American gangs ; silly I know.
Maybe these voodoo or fantasies stem from abuse at the hands of my immediate crime syndicate or it was always there.

I grew up in a neck of the woods that had a Biker gang and as long as I can remember, they never did anything wrong.
As five year old I used to sticky beak and sit outside the headquarters, hoping one day to be ridden around the neighborhood on the back of one.

They were always well-disposed to me and my lots older brother ; in fact my brother would do errands for them.
Like go to the shops, bring back a newspaper bag of shopping and so forth
Thanks to my brother, my dream came true.
As I was small-scale they had me perched on the tankful of the bicycle not the rear.
It was such a buzz ; I mentioned it the adjacent day at school at show and tell.

It was my daily ritual as a five to six year old, to hang outside the club ; and hope to get a ride.
Some days I got my wishing, but early Day I just got a wave.

By the prison term I was eight I was getting ride on the tooshie of the bikes and hugging my rider as we cruised around the block.
I was on cloud nine, the kids at shoal reckoned I was telling Trygve Halvden Lie ; until one day we cruised by a few of them.

At schoolhouse, no one messed with after that ; even though they did n't anyway.
My Dad did n't mind nor cared, as long as I did n't get hurt or they did n't ride to fast.
He did n't know my comrade was their gopher, though.



At home matter weren't so good.
Mum and Dad started arguing, it was about cash in hand I think.
My pal moved out when I was nine, and Mum went and found herself a part-time job at a topical anesthetic Clothing factory.
The argumentation stopped ; at least I couldn't hear any.

She started work before I was due home from body of work and finished, when I was in bed.
Dad was getting extra time and would get domicile until dark.

So with my brother out of the picture, they asked my Uncle ( Steve ) to look after me.
Up until then, I rarely saw my Uncle ; and now I was seeing him after school each day.
He would stay and feature Tea with Dad, then leave for his home.


matter seemed to patch up down for the adjacent few months.
Steve would see hemipteron bunny and cartoons with me, before starting to make our Tea.



Dad was coming home totally beat and would pass out sometimes on the couch ; after his XII hour shift.



It was sometime during the future year, that affair went pear-shaped.
I was ten close to eleven, when Uncle Steve finally tricked then forced himself on me.
With no one to assist me, I was at his mercy.

I have obscure retentiveness of this sentence, but I will never forget the annoyance and the blood of the outset time he molested me.
Almost instantly I withdrew from people and wasn't my formula self.
It didn't stop him, continually molested me everyday during the school day week.

This went on ; for well over a year.


Dad blamed my mental state of matter on the fact I used to worship the rockers, and now I wasn't mixing with them.
Steve was still molesting me, throughout this time.
The school advised my mum to seek counselling, for me.
We couldn't afford it so, nil was done.


I don't remember too much of those yr, only in blurs and flashes ; maybe trauma.



things didn't variety until one day when ; Dad came home early from work.
He stood outrage, as he witnessed me bent-grass over the couch arm and Steve fucking me.


Dad grabbed hold of him, and threw him against the wall.
Things smashed.
Steve tried to blame me but Dad wasn't having any of that, and beat him senseless.

They fought all over the house, until the police came.
The house was trashed.
Both Dad and Uncle Steve were arrested.



From then on, Dad stopped working over clock time ; and I had to attempt professional counseling.
I was placed on anti-depressants for about three month ; as I was in a coloured blank space mentally.


Uncle Steve was not welcomed in our home from then on.


I had lost two class out of my childhood and now I was twelve ; with a few mental issues but on improving.
So now after shoal, I was told to go to a protagonist of mine's house ( Julie ) ; and expect for Dad to pick me up.

When things in my head returned to normality and my smiling returned, I was allowed to return to my old routine ; of hanging out near the Biker Clubhouse.

They were my new baby-sitter, Dad would honk his car horn and then I would beckon goodbye to them.


argumentation returned to the house and by the time I was thirteen, my parents had separated and were divorced.


Unluckily, I was made to stay on with Mum.

I was always a Daddy's girl, before my recent trauma ; now Dad was gone.

Once Mum forced Dad out of the scene, she started doing her own thing ; and her inner demons were finally released.
Her demons were called ; Vodka and slot machines.



This is where my story begins.

One outlet wasn't the reason my parent divorced, be it my molestation at the helping hand of my uncle, which resulted in my mother drinking vodka or the changeless money problems, which weren't helped by her addiction to slot auto ; probably both don't help.

I blamed myself at the time.


One weekends I stayed with Dad, but briefly as he moved into state and I contact with him.

The Master of Education I was prescribed to battle my trauma and clinical depression ; made me zombie like and helped me mix up case and times.


On a plus side or negative side, I was taken of these meds after three months.
I was thirteen and suddenly I was out of my drug controlled like ; but I was always horny.

I couldn't beat the urge to constantly want to finger myself ; be it at plate or in social class or bed.
The need to rub my clit was overwhelming for the first few months ; after I came of my meds.

Mum was disgusted in me, and told me to do that in my room.
She would then go on one of her common drunk rants, until I left her alone in the lounge.
At the metre I thought Mum gave me license, to do it in my room.
oceanic abyss down, my own demons were surfacing ; I thought there was something wrong with me.


In class, I didn't see anyone else doing what I couldn't assistant doing.
I'd be arching my neck opening backwards with my centre closed ; as I fingered myself and moaning as I cum.
My colleague class fellow would snicker amongst themselves ; as they knew what I was getting up too.

I would finger so embarrassed so after, as I could see them staring at me and giggling.

"Gee does she call for a young man badly ”, I heard someone say, one time.
They giggled even more amongst themselves.



I spent more than metre in course of study with my digit in my wet pussy, biting my low-toned lip to block up me from screaming out ; then schooltime field of study ; and it showed in my failing grades.

My panties would always be wet and soiled, throughout the day.

Sometimes I would cum so hard, my legs would flicker straight and I would kick the death chair in front line of me.

It seemed because of my desire to get off ; I was the butt of everyone's jokes.
"Smell that, someone's pussy juice are advanced ”.
"Something smells fish around her ”.

It seemed the only time I wasn't fingering myself was in classes I liked.

After my first few time of having climax ; I would smack then gustatory sensation my digit afterwards.
Smelt a bit like a messy Anguilla sucklandii sandwich, but the taste was something special and I had yet to figure out.


I was eventually was busted in class one day doing exactly that, by one of the bitchiest girls.
"Ew, yuck ”, She, howled out.
That girl got me detention and a warning from my class co-coordinator.


My household was dysfunctional and almost unbearable.
One on face there was me constantly playing with myself without care and then there was my Mother on the other ; constantly wasting money on slot car and drunk.

I was happiest after school, she was at work and I could foray off and do whatever I wanted ; and I did.


Mum's money problem became an issue and we began to be active around a lot ; almost every few calendar month due to her problem.

We ended up settling in a jolting neighborhood, which was not a good country for a xiv year old ; to walk the streets alone.

Mum didn't care, she only cared for herself ; and some weeknights I never saw her.
When I did we would fight as she was drunk and always argumentative.

This is probably, how my Mum and Dad were like before ; but Dad wasn't here now to souse up her rubbish.

My response would be to rage off and out of the house, for long walks.
I can't wait to displace to out.


We had no TV now, as Mum hocked it off ; so it was boring at home.
Mum also rarely bought me new clothes, and sometimes didn't remember to do the washing.
At time I wore smelly and soiled dress to school.

Over sentence my urge to thumb myself wasn't as great but was still there.
After school I would still clean and walk the theater naked and eventually finger myself, in the waiting room on our couch.
I would feature a small nap and then apparel ; and research the neighborhood.


I had no friends nearby, so in this vicinity I was a stranger.
So I would ride my push-bike around, checking out a gym, some old factories and then a big fortified fenced building.

It was the old Motorcycle nightspot, my brother used to run errands for.
It looked slightly different to what I remembered, but it was the same club.
The iris flapping from the cap, gave it away.

It had been a few days since I bumped into anyone there.


I climbed a Tree to see over the fence.
What I saw was, loads of wrecked machine around the chiliad and a biker doing some work on some motorbikes.


Wicked, I thought to myself, it was bringing back memories of better times.
So my activities after school now for about a week was to, go house finger's breadth myself and the ride my bike to the golf club ; and sentinel from up this tree.

It was always the Lapp biker repairing bikes.
He spotted me and yelled out.
"Hey you, get down from there,"he yelled, and walked out and confronted me ; with a big dog.

I almost crapped my pants and fell out of the tree, in fear.

The dog barked and barked at me, as I tentatively climbed down from the tree.
My dame caught on branchlet and it made me fall, and it made a small rip in it.


I was on my work force and knee, and panicking.
Fearful of him, but I was more conservative of ; his out of control dog.

"So sorry,"I apologized softly.
The dog started snarling at me.

The man smirked as I dropped my gaze.
He ruffled my hair and presented me with his deal, and helped me to my feet.

"I'm castanets and this is Max ”, the biker said.
"Jessinta or Jess ”, I said.

"Would you like a coke ?"He asked, and he led me into the yard.
I followed and wheeled my biker into the yard.


Max started to settle down down once we were both, inside.
I sat on the hood of a wreck car, drinking a Coke.
castanets went back to working on a bicycle.

"What are you doing ?"I asked.
"Tuning the carburetor,"he replied.

I showed some pursuit in what he was doing and hang around him like gum, that day.

os was clean cut and in his thirties.
His crownwork had no patch but for one that said, ‘ Prospect ’.
All he seemed to do was fix motorbikes.


When it started to get dark, more bikers turned up.
I smile at them but dropped my gaze.

When it was drear, osseous tissue advised me to bequeath my wheel here ; and he would ride me home on a bike.

I did as he said.


He passed me a helmet and I spread my legs apart and sat on the spinal column of his Harley.

It almost felt like home, being back on the seat of a Harley and hugging a Biker ; as we rode the road.

With my puss and ass bedcover across the wide saddle, I groaned with each blow we hit ; but I wasn't complaining.


It was a beginning of a new found relationship ; that was empty in my life history for so long.
clappers was both my chum and father ; and friend.

I spent the majority of my evenings, flirting and pestering with Bones.

Over the adjacent three month, I became confining friends with Bones ; and I started learning about bike maintenance.


> > > JESSINTA 1B - Biker Girl