Easy Riders. Richard’s in love, and he’s with the great love of his life right now. She’s always ready for Richard to ride fast and hard, she never says no when he wants to mount her, she does all the wild things he asks of her, and right now he’s with her giving her all his care and attention.
She’s five hundred pounds of motor bike: a big red tank, gleaming chrome, four cylinders aggressively abreast like horses in a Roman chariot race, ready to fire up and deliver enough raw power to punch herself and anyone brave enough to ride her at a hundred mph plus without hardly trying, while growling window-rattling snarls through two fire-blued exhausts sticking up like two insolent fingers in a V sign to all lesser vehicles that dare to be on the road. She sits proudly in the middle of the garage, where Richard’s worshiping her. Richard’s twenty three and he’s between girl friends. Girls always say they’re scared to come on his bike. His parents are away for the weekend, he’s on his own, looking forward to a weekend of motor bike, porn and masturbation. But as Richard’s polishing the red tank and bright chrome the doorbell chimes.