Motorcycle Stories Novels & Stories

Orion asked, leaning forward with his full attention focused on me. I took a deep breath and dove in. "I've been racing motorcycles." The silence that followed was deafening. Orion stared at me for several long seconds, his expression cycling through confusion, surprise, and then something that looked like anger. "You've been what?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "Racing. At the track downtown. I've been learning for about a month now, and I've won seven races." "Seven races." He repeated the words like he couldn't quite process them. "Athena, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

“So, tell me. Make it a good one.” He chuckles and leans back against the bar, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, it’s a damn good one. I used to ride for sport. Tricks, jumps, circuits, you name it. Anyway, I stopped by here years ago for a drink. Just a quick stop. One of the guys dared me to ride down the motorway while kneeling on the damn bike.” “You didn’t,” I say, already laughing. “Of course I did,” he says, grinning. “Wasn’t even a question. Cops got involved. Whole bloody chase. Helicopters. News reports. I turned it into a full-on show, and a bunch of the other guys joined in for the hell of it.”

“That story about the metal horse that moves on two wheels will stick with me forever. What did you call the conveyance again?” He narrowed his eyes before mumbling, “A motorcycle.” “A motorcycle,” I repeated in mock awe. “Such a very creative concept. I mean, who would ever think of crafting a carriage like that? Your mind is a wonderland, Indigo, I swear. Where do you come up with all your fantastical ideas, anyway?”

I need to find a more interesting approach with them. After thinking it over a bit, a brilliant idea hit me. I’ll take my nephews to work with me! They’ll find it insanely interesting, and I need to show up anyway to stay on top of things. A few years ago, I fully moved to the capital, where my relatives have multiplied a lot. I opened a store called “Moto-Style,” where I sell various types of motorcycles, from sport bikes and Harleys to mopeds and all kinds of parts for our two-wheeled friends. My store also has a repair service where different iron horses get serviced.

"Wait. This motorcycle, is it yours?" He looked at me with an amazed expression "Yeah. Why do you look so shocked? Haven't you ever ridden on one before?" "No," I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. "My mum would never let me, she said they were too dangerous. One of her best friends in high school died in a motorcycle accident, so she's always been against them." Cedric looked back and forth around him. "Well I don't see your Mum here," he said with a devilish grin as he continued to hold out the helmet to me.

"I don't want to." "Why?" He said. I shivered remembering what happened. Do I have to tell a story? I should tell a story, right? It's corny, huh! Come what may! "My driver used to take me on a motorcycle. He ate me from school, then Mama didn't know that Lucian was drunk, instead of taking a car, he brought Papa's motorcycle. Because of the drunkenness, Lucian fell asleep in the flight. We almost fell off the cliff, it's really good that someone saved us, otherwise we would probably be dead by now."

I panted hard, ecstasy and the orgasmic glow still rushing in my blood, and made my entire skin tingle--- and that's when I heard it! Motorcycles! “What’s that?” I frowned, getting to my elbows, and looked down at Steel, who smugly licked his lips. His entire face glistening with my juices. “My friends,” he replied as a matter-of-fact. “They also know when to fuck off!” Still panting, I tried to make sense of his words. My heart was hammering in my chest, and nervously, I glanced at the door, more or less expecting it to burst open and a bunch of rowdy men to enter. But the sounds of the motorcycles were slowly dying…

Cole "Dammit!" I cursed, kicking at the dirt next to my broken down motorcycle, a cloud of dust formed and made me sneeze in response. The black Suzuki had sputtered and coughed a few times before it lost all power and came to a stand still in the middle of bloody nowhere. I'd hoped it was going to be a quick fix, but once I'd eliminated all of the obvious issues, I knew I was going to need help with this one. I swore in every single language I knew, feeling better once I had got my frustration out of my system.

Damascus Arison could feel all 321 horsepower between his legs as he raced his Kawasaki Ninja H2 R down the highway. The night was as dark as his matte black bike. The only illumination came from the light that sat in the center of his motorcycle. The rain was heavy as it fell. The drops hit the front of his visor, but Damascus did not care. His heart had been shattered into a million pieces after he had left his grandmother's bedside in the hospital. She had taken her last breath while he was present. Damascus held her hand as the weight of it fell into his palm as her eye lids had closed with her last breath.

I grinned. "I don't feel honored about it at all. I'm scared." She muttered. But I cursed and quickly stepped on the break. My right hand held Abby behind me instantly, and my left hand held the motorcycle's handle, trying to control its movement. She screamed in fright, holding me tightly. The motorcycle turned three times. I tried hard to balance it, but I couldn't, and I quickly jumped off it, bringing Abby with me, and we fell at the side of the street. I groaned in pain while Abby was on top of me, holding on to me tightly, trembling in fear. My motorcycle bumped into the center island of the street, broken. I'm sure if I didn't jump, we're already dead. Shit!! That dog's fault." I ment