Birth of a Biker Slut

Dear Letters,

I was getting home from work, ready to spend another frustrating night alone, You see I work six days a week, for what reason I don't know. I work a simple secretary job and never seem to have enough money. I'm only nineteen, I graduated last year, I'm in the prime of my life and I deserve a sex life. That is why I did what I did.

It happened when I walked past the bar under my apartment building. There was a line or Harley's lined up outside. I thought of the weekend rides I used to take with my step-father, and just then I caught his eyes, the biggest, scariest biker that I have ever seen. I don't know what intimidated me more, the muscles on his arms, or the grotesque tattoos that covered them. I felt butterflies in my stomach and a definite moist feeling in my panties.

I was fumbling with my keys, and when I looked up there he was. He reached down, took the key out of my hand, and opened the door. He walked me over to the couch and I sat down in the middle. I took off my shoes, crossed my legs, and he stood away from me and took off his shirt. I stepped forward and when my bare foot hit the floor I became the woman I have only been in my fantasies.

To this day when I walk by the water front on biker night I get so wet that I have to change my panties.

   Signed, Easy Rider