Biker Vs The World Part 24

If you’ve been following me on YouTube you’ll know all about my infamous ‘Biker Vs The World’ videos.

These are a compilation of ‘incidents’ from my helmet cam footage onboard my bikes.

Whilst the clips everyone wants to see are those where I almost get killed by idiot car drivers, or where I get involved in road rage, I do try to inject a bit of humour and even ‘feels’ into them – you’ll see the trucker at the end of this one!

The first clip in Part 24 is a recent one from a terrible rainy morning. A Mini had sped past me and I was loosely following. He went through a crossroads where a car was waiting, and as I approached I was in direct line of sight to the – let’s call him a Cunt, because he is – Cunt, he waited until I got even closer and then went directly across the road in front of me.

I had to slam on my brakes, and the ONLY reason I didn’t crash right there was because that piece of road is covered in Shell Grip. I was looking for a place to turn around to go and batter the absolute fuck of that Cunt (and I don’t actually know if it was a man or woman driving, because I couldn’t see – I just get the feeling this was a male), but there wasn’t a handy turning place.

There was no excuse.

Incidentally, I almost burst a blood vessel in my neck or something when I shouted. That hurt.

Enjoy:

 

The New ‘Crap Bike’ – Yamaha FZR600R

The New ‘Crap Bike’ – Yamaha FZR600R

After around 6 years of service, the GPZ500, or as I fondly refer to it, The Crap Bike is being retired.

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It’s rideable and fixable, but after new front wheel, head bearings, welding to repair the exhaust, wheel bearings, and many more hours work, it will still be just an old slightly less-crap bike.

So I decided it was time to upgrade.

I looked at what I could get for as little as possible that would do for a commuter – not even considering something a bit fun this time (apart from a CBR600F that tempted me…). It was CB500 and EN500 city, with a slim chance of snagging an SV650 to join my V-Twin stable.

Then a friend with some unfortunate circumstances offered me his bike. I dismissed it instantly, as I knew he’d done loads to it, and didn’t think he’d appreciate me killing it through the Winter.

I was wrong, and he gave a good price – and so here is my new, sensible commuter (which I’m not sure I can call ‘The Crap Bike’):

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Ooh yes! My very first bike was a blue and white Yamaha TZR, so this was going back to my roots!

I picked the bike up, realising that this would be the first time I’ve ever ridden a 600cc bike on the road, the rest being on track, and pootled it home to see what I’d bought.

It wasn’t running great, possibly needing a carb balance, but I was happy with the deal in whatever state, and you can’t buy a 19 year old bike and expect it to not have any issues. And it had been stood for a good while.

Other than not wanting to pull away or rev at the top end, the low-down grunt was ok. It felt much lighter and flickable than I’d expected, and with those combined it was already seeming like a good commuter.

It felt old, and with the speedo showing up to 180mph, it seemed the bike was barely moving as I was doing around 60mph – I thought that might be a bit of an effect of using such a small portion of the speedo, as a really good one may get just over 150mph back in the day.

The front brake isn’t as sharp as I’d like, but I can put R600 calipers on and sort that out, and tyres are all good.

I took it out for a blast the next day to see if I could blow the cobwebs off, stopping off for a few pics as I tried to get lost down country lanes as I got a feel of the bike.

After about 25 miles I headed back towards home, having given it beans and not scared myself. But then, after the VTR ripping my arms out on the throttle, what could I expect from a tiny old 600?

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Then I accidentally over-revved it and it was like flicking a switch!

The sound changed as all four cylinders suddenly woke up. I got back on the power and hooooly poop!

The front lifted as the race can snarled out its true potential, and I revved out the first few gears to see what it had got.

It’s got more than I thought!

The exhaust note was now reminding me of the 600 track bikes I’d been on, hitting that sweet spot at about 13,000rpm where it’s like a drill being rammed into your eardrum.

I was suddenly approaching the corners “quite a bit” faster, and now KNOW I need to sort out the front brakes.

It also means a track day might be back on the cards!

Who was it who told me 600’s were crap on the roads? And that old bikes are slow and heavy?

I think this little old FZR600R could make me fall in love with Yamaha again!

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Auto Aid – the best breakdown cover

Auto Aid – the best breakdown cover

The big names like RAC and AA take all the limelight for breakdown cover.

Without a doubt, they are good – but they’re also very expensive.  Even if you think you’re getting a good deal having cover free from your bank etc, the chances are you don’t actually have the cover you want or need.

A basic policy can be had for £60 that doesn’t include (what should be) essentials such as home start, and, more importantly, most of these will cover only a specific car, or you as a driver, until you start paying £200-£300 per year for a service you may never even use!

But even then, what  if you own cars and bikes, and want them both to be covered when you’re riding?

It still amazes me that so few people have even heard of Auto Aid.

You pay £40 per year, and that covers YOU as a driver or passenger in any vehicle.  And you get home start, forward travel, and pretty much everything you need.

So what’s the catch?

Well, assuming you are unlucky, and actually have to use the service you’re paying £40 per year for, you have to pay for any roadside repair or recovery out of your own pocket – but don’t panic!  All you do then is send Auto Aid your invoice, and they will reimburse you the full amount in about a week.

I was a little dubious about this aspect, but assuming you have a credit card, it won’t be a problem.

Having held a policy for years, I actually had to use it for the first time a few months ago – and I had to test exactly the dodgy stuff that you’d be worried they would refuse to reimburse you for.

Basically, the brand new Honda VTR1000 that I bought minutes before broke it’s drive chain on my way home with the bike.  So on all the DVLA systems I was not even owner of this bike, although I had taken out insurance (not that they ever asked – as the policy covers me as a person!).

I rang up at around 10pm, and they got a local contractor (exactly the same as some of the more expensive companies) to come out to me within about 40 minutes.

With no hassle at all, they loaded up my bike and took me and the bike home, as all the garages were closed at that time of night.

I paid their flat fee of £50 for a journey of about 20 miles by card over the telephone.

Now for the dodgy part – I had to get the bike from my house to a garage the following evening (again outside of working hours), and the person on the telephone had advised me to just call them again, and they would send someone out to collect the bike and take me there.

Again, no hassles – I paid by phone another £50, and they took me where I wanted.

Still nervous, I posted the invoices and receipts (keeping a copy just in case) back to Auto Aid with their simple claim form, and exactly as promised, they refunded the entire amount to me!

I’m not making anything from this, I’m just doing my good deed of the day by letting you know of a brilliant and much cheaper alternative.

You’d be crazy to sign up to anything else!

The New V-Twin Beast

The New V-Twin Beast

With Winter drawing in, frosty mornings, and my GPZ500 not entirely making it through its MOT test, I was offered a bike from a mate at a price I couldn’t refuse.

So I took the GPZ off the road last week in favour of my new sensible Winter bike:

Yes, it’s a Honda VTR Firestorm.  1000cc of filthy great V-twin hairy-chested bastardness!

It wasn’t without pain – very shortly after buying the bike, before I’d had a chance to get it up to speed, I had what I thought was a sudden box full of neutrals.  After pulling over, and walking a long way back down the road, I found the chain:

I’ve never seen a chain break on the roller pin before!  Luckily it went straight off the back of the sprocket, rather than through my leg, or the engine, or the head of anyone behind me…

A new chain sorted that out, and I got my first taste of a big twin.

It’s a bit like riding a horse!  It sort of gallops along lazily.  It’ll plod along sounding like Mr T on a treadmill, but then you look down and you’re in three figure speeds!

It’s very strange.

It only revs to about 9,500, but will just saunter up to the limiter in any gear at any time in a constant barrage of power – and I’m talking from 2000 rpm here!  It just doesn’t feel or sound like it’s getting there quickly, but it bloody well is!

In fact, I did read that when it was released, it was the fastest ever bike 0-60mph.  I’d believe it.

There’s not much up the top end, and it’ll run out of steam over 140mph – but maybe that will be a bit safer for my licence!

And it sounds like The Devil!  The vibrations from the twin Micron race cans would even terrify Jenna Haze or Stoya.  Proper porno power!  I feel like I should have more chest hair and a medallion!

So that brings me to the handling.

Well, it’s December, and around freezing most of the time – and then towards the end of the week, it rained.

It was hard to say much about the handling, because it’s on damned Pirelli Super Corsas with less tread than a Mumbai taxi!  The bike pretty much tried to murder me at every opportunity!

The first I knew was pulling onto the road one morning in the rain, letting off the throttle gently and weaving like a hooker walking down the aisle!

I visited several bike shops on Saturday, all of who pissed themselves laughing at my when I said what tyres the bike sat outside on the icy road was wearing!

Thankfully, the last one was where I swapped them for a brand new pair of Pirelli Angel GT’s.

Anyone will no I’m a massive fan of the Angel ST.  They’re flawless.  Knee-down from cold on the roads, good for Summer, Winter, snow, track days… I’m on my 4th or 5th set on my ZX9R.  The GT is supposed to be the same, but with more wet grip and even longer lasting!

Instantly, without even having had a chance to scrub them in properly, they’re better.  Loads of confidence and stability, and I’ve been able to have a bit of a play already.  The steering is much slower than the Super Corsas, but I’ll soon get used to that.

I never wanted a V-twin before, but now I seem to have got one, I’m starting to see why so many absolutely love them!

All I need now is some warm, dry roads to scrape my knees on it!

Nasty Evil Ninja – Customer Service Master

Nasty Evil Ninja – Customer Service Master

Ahh, with my email address, it’s not too often that I get genuine mistaken emails sent to me! Viagra and viruses, yes – but it’s very rare that anyone will type in ‘yousicklittlemonkey’ instead of ‘BobHodges@hotmail.com‘ or whatever.

But Kate did. And here’s what happened:

> Subject:
> Date: Wed, 9 Apr 2008 12:03:56 +0100
> From: K.****@lboro.ac.uk
> To: yousicklittlemonkey@thisaddress>
> Don
>
> I’m writing to send my apologies, I won’t be attending the AGM next week, I just wanted you to know that it’s not because I have no interest in the club, that’s not the case. In fact I’m not attending because I find the whole club very upsetting.
>
> As far as I can see there is very little point in appointing a committee when the club is, and if allowed to continue in its current state, run by one man. At the last AGM our captain stated that he wanted new blood into the committee, what he meant was that he wanted people who would agree with him to stand by him. I rather unfortunately had a slightly different opinion on the way OUR club should be run to our captain and it was made quite clear to me that any suggestions I made would get no further than dreaming chat in the committee meeting. Does the committee have any say on anything, from the key being taken away for the bar, quads being bought, to where the annual dinner is held?! (interesting that in Neil’s email about the annual dinner, he comments that the boat club is not the preferred venue of the whole club, they why has the committee allowed this to go ahead? again a case of agree with us, or stay out.)
>
> I would expect that during the captains round up at the AGM there will be a moment to thank Marcus and Boris for their hard work with the juniors last summer. Their dedication to the composite (welbeck/loughborough) 8+ was paramount in those kids winning their novice pots at Peterborough. They gave up a number of weekends to take the crews racing, some of the only racing seen by the whole club in the year. I think there are a number of people from the club regularly overlooked despite their best efforts to keep rowing alive. Has George been thanked for his endless work with the club?
>
> On the matter of rowing, or lack of, how does a rowing club survive without a coach? surely a club should revolve around a coach? Loughborough appear to have no direction in rowing and the ARA’S motto of “rowing for all” certainly does not apply at this club. Perhaps “rowing as long as your happy to go along with everything the captain says” should be the new motto for Loughborough. Loughborough as a club is letting down it’s juniors and novice rowers and quite possibly discouraging rowing in the borough of Charnwood.
>
> I’m sorry I won’t be attending but it seems a complete waste of my time and for that matter, everyone’s.
>
> I’d rather that this wasn’t read out to the committee, I’ve already been told my fortunes once by the captain and it’s certainly not an experience I’d like to go through again.
>
> I don’t know how the club should or will go forward but I hope that this years AGM marks the beginning of a new outlook for the club.
>
> Kate
>
> Kate ****
> Research Student
> IPTME
> Loughborough University
> Loughborough
> Leicestershire
> LE11 3TU
> UK
>
> Tel: (crikey, I could even phone her!)

—————————–

RE:
From: (yousicklittlemonkey@thisaddress)
Sent:
11 April 2008 14:22:09
To:
Kate **** (k.****@lboro.ac.uk)

.. > Kate,

I fully understand and sympathise with your position, and apologise for my delay in replying!

A ‘committee’ run by one man is rarely a good idea, however in this case I think the ideal man for the job IS indeed appointed.

You seem to be missing the whole point about agreeing with us. You see, your negative attitude is no good to anyone, really. If we act upon the ‘disagreements’ of certain committee members all willy-nilly, where would that get us?

Neil had to see the back of my hand before he agreed with us. What better place for a dinner than the boat club itself? It promotes a sense of team spirit that we just wouldn’t get from McDonalds! I hope you don’t need the gentle persuasion of a big hoofing knuckley slap from my backhand to come around to this?

I like you, Kate – always have.

Marcus and Boris are indeed in line for recognition at the captains round up. Birdseye Fish Fingers may not seem at first glance to be more than an obligatory ‘thank you’, but let me assure you that we found the proper cod ones! We figured these will soon be surpassing gold in value, plus they’re much more useful than some poxy trophy or a Debenhams voucher. Not George, though. His eyes are too close together and the committee unanimously agreed that he looks a bit too much like that bed-ridden Grandmother from ‘Allo Allo’ for his own good. He will benefit from having to work harder in this coming year before his little piggy eyes see any breaded cod.

On the matter of the actual rowing, I will have to strongly disagree about our lack of direction.

You may have noticed that you are, in fact, sat backwards in the boat? So leave the direction to the damn cox and concentrating on putting your back into it, eh?

This point alone highlights your lack of understanding of committee matters, but then your ignorance really comes to the fore with your statement “rowing as long as your happy to go along with everything the captain says” should be the new motto for Loughborough” confirms that you shouldn’t really try thinking as much as you do. And your unwillingness to follow the directions of The Captain may be cause for revue of your position on the team. Or perhaps you fancy yourself as a bit of a Captain, eh? Little bit of Captain-material in you is there? Fancy wearing the special cap, do you?

No – I thought not, so shup.

I’m sorry that you’re sorry that you’re sorry about attending, because there’s too much sorrow in this world already – and just look what you’ve added to it? Sorrow.

Having already been told your fortunes once by The Captain, it leads me to believe that you are either a non-believer in our Captain’s talent, or are simply against all Gypsy types?

Remember Kate – there is no place for racists or bigots in rowing! I will not be reading this out to the committee – but that’s more to save our Captain’s feelings than to protect you from your inane rantings.

I hope this years AGM marks the beginning of a new outlook for the club. I also hope that in your absence, there will be some of those chicken tikka skewers left at the buffet, which I couldn’t help but notice disappear whenever your snatchy little mitts are around the place.

Have a nice night watching Dirty Dancing in your retro Jimbo And The Jet Set pyjama’s though, if you’re not coming.

Moody pie.

Regards,

Nasty Evil Ninja
MySpace Appointed Official AGM Loughborough Facist Committee Representative

***UPDATE***

Yay! She replied!!!

Subject: RE:
Date: Fri, 11 Apr 2008 14:29:40 +0100
From: K.****@lboro.ac.uk
To: yousicklittlemonkey@thisaddress

Excellent!!!

Don’t fancy standing as a captain for a rowing club do you? I think you’d be brilliant!!!

Sorry, got the .com’s and the .co.uk’s mixed up and you received my rantings instead of the poor soul they were aimed at!!

I will of course put your point of view forward!

The grumpy cow in Loughborough!

————-

RE:
From: Nasty Evil Ninja
Sent:
11 April 2008 15:47:36
To:
Kate **** (k.**@lboro.ac.uk)

> I’d love to be Captain of a rowing team! I know which way the boats have to go and everything!

And you mean your head of committee is a ‘yousicklittlemonkey’, or were you just typing out loud?

Be sure to put my points forward – although I bet that filthy old fortune teller of a Captain will already be expecting it!

Good luck!

Nasty Evil Ninja

Huge Hairy Bastard Climbing In The Window!

Huge Hairy Bastard Climbing In The Window!

I was at my girlfriends parents house, in her bedroom, as we both lay on the bed, watching TV and kissing on a hot Summers night.  Umm… Just to clear this up this was me and my girlfriend – not me and her parents in her bedroom.  Anyway…

Suddenly we heard a *THUMP* sound.

I tried to ignore it, as I was hoping for some thumping of my own without the ‘T’…

*THUMP*

We both looked towards the drawn curtains at the window, where the sound seemed to have come from, just as the curtains bulged inwards with another *THUMP*

Whoa!  Playtime over – this looked like there was somebody stood on the other side of the curtain, PUNCHING it!

She jumped up, screaming, and I got into my Close Protection mode, shielding her with my body as I got to my feet and turned to face the curtain.

Who the fuck….???

As it was her bedroom, this was upstairs, at around 10pm on a dark warm summer night. Sure, the windows were all open wide, but this was still spooky.

Being the man, I bravely told her to stay there, as I moved towards the window, flinching and dropping into a subtle stance as the *THUMP* smashed the curtain inwards again.

Then, just as I got close, something came flying around the side of the curtain!

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“AARGHHHH!” I screamed bravely, accompanied by the (slightly) more shrill scream from behind me.

The biggest fucking bright red moth I have ever seen in my life, was now flapping about the bedroom!

This was bigger than my fist – I shit you not!  He was so big I could virtually see him wearing a charity wristband with “I HATE HUMANS” emblazoned across it.  And this fucker could seriously use some a back, sack and crack wax!

The wench behind me had gone hypersonic, as this moth bounced around, leaving huge clouds of red hair every time it hit something. I dodged, trying to stay calm and act like my girl’s Protector, and wondered how the hell I was going to sort this situation out?  And I hate moths!

“KILL IT!!!!!!!!” she screamed at me, resolving one problem.  Shit, she must have been scared if she was bypassing her usual ‘catch and release’ approach to creepy crawlies (and boyfriends, as it turned out) .  So Death it was.  I caught the Red Barron with several hard right crosses, knocking it out the air, but it would get up and come diving straight back at us, like some little red, hairy Rocky!

I’ve seen pretty big moths on David Attenborough programs, and this was a match for any I’d seen on there, but FFS this is ENGLAND!  This shit was about ten times bigger than anything I’d come face to face with, even in Zoo’s!!!!

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One blow knocked it down, and it started flapping around underneath her bed, making a hell of a racket with it’s wings. Still being the Wind-Up Merchant, I announced she’d be fine now and that I was going home!  Job done.

She didn’t find that half as funny as me.

After much more screaming, I felled the beast, trying not to hit it too hard, because that was a lot of ass to splatter! Then I was forced to pick the carcass up, using a JCB crane, and I chucked it back out of the window.

Unfortunately, by the morning it had gone… so no pictures or identification, and nobody else would probably believe the size of that behemoth (ha!).  Apart from some lucky cat/fox/hedgehog who got a free lunch…

Moves That Don’t Work In A Fight

Moves That Don’t Work In A Fight

You may have read the story about my school fight with Tompy – in this, I tell of a move I’d learned and perfected that would pretty much end any fight in a shower of blood and snot.

In this fight, I had my first opportunity to use it.  I grabbed a handful of his hair, so I could pull back his head and deliver a hammer fist/forearm strike downwards on his face with all my body weight.  Except I couldn’t pull his head back!

That was probably my first experience that almost every martial artist will have at some point:

Most of what they teach you does not work in a real fight.

Having a fully compliant training partner is a lot different from facing down some adrenaline jacked psychopath.

Most martial arts will teach you to throw a punch, then as you for some weird reason leave your arm out there, fully extended, your partner will smoothly dodge around your extended arm and trip you to the mat.

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What actually happens in your average pub brawl, is this:

You either turn around just as a punch connects with your face, or your opponent talks some shit to scare you, and smacks you in the face while you’re suffering from adrenaline dump.

That’s a real opening.  You’re stood there with a silly look on your face as they hoof you into unconsciousness.

In the extremely unlikely even that you’re switched on enough to actually dodge their first haymaker, you’ll notice that they pull their arm back in almost instantly.  

As a slight aside, this is even more true of someone with a knife – so don’t even start to think about being the hero with that one!

The ONLY chance you have to use that arm is to dodge in such a way that you can hook your arm around theirs as they throw the strike, intercept their strike, or move inside it with a block.

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The first one I have tested successfully.  Basically, as they punch you move to their outside, sliding your hand over the top of their arm and the up under their armpit.  From there, and all in one fluid move, you can push the side of your hand into their shoulder-blade before they recover their balance, and take them face first into the floor or a wall, or apply a suppression hold as needed.  Even with this, I found I had to wait for them to throw a straightish punch – and most untrained people simply won’t do this.  And also remember to think ‘Trap And Snap’, rather then wrestling on the floor where their 4 mates can stamp on your head.

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Intercepting their strike I’ve already covered as being the best move you can ever learn, which will enable you to beat any opponent.  That is simply to get your elbow up exactly how your body wants to react.  They punch the point of your elbow, they shatter their hand, and the fight goes right out of them.  Job jobbed, and so easy I can train a 5 year old to do it.

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Moving inside with a block is one we all like to think we can do, but in reality I doubt it.  You can combine it with the elbow interception, but the idea of actually stepping TOWARDS someone who is punching you isn’t natural, and you can ony overcome your instincts with A LOT of pressure training or real fight experience.

People will tell you to “never kick above the waist in a streetfight”.  I would disagree with that.  Booting someone in the head is something they won’t be expecting, and even if they do grab your leg you can close in and reign elbows down on them before they can do much of use with it.  The main reason I think this would fail is because most people can’t kick to head hight from cold.  If you can’t – don’t.

And do you know what other moves aren’t a good idea to try in a fight?

Anything that doesn’t assume the opponents first strike will be a punch to your head or a headbutt.  Or anything that assumes an attacker will throw one attack at a time, rather than launch an assault like a frenzied windmill, or an Ameri-Do-Te Hurticane.

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If you survive their first assault, THEN you might get a chance to take control and show off your martial arts moves for your mates.

Just don’t expect them to let you do it to them!

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EROTIC STORY: “The First Hurdle”

EROTIC STORY: “The First Hurdle”

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He’d been trying to decide how long to wait.  And how long he should make her wait.

After a few dates, this was his first time in her house.  She’d cooked, they’d eaten, and now already the second film of the night was playing.

And of course there was the vodka.

Deciding to have a play and see what the reaction was, he idly traced his fingertip across the length of her shoulders as they sat together on the couch.

Her submissive purr told him all he needed to know, and as he ran his fingers up her neck and into her hair, her head lolled against his hand and her shiver of pleasure was plain.

He smiled in the dimmed light, lightly moving his other hand into action on her thigh.

She turned to him, no smile on her lips – just hunger in her eyes, and there wasn’t even an instant in which to consider having their first real kiss.  It was gentle but needful, embracing each other strongly as they twisted to get more of their bodies to touch.

The kiss broke and his fingers still massaged the back of her head, and between her moans her hot lips were against the side of his neck, then back on his lips again.

As she found how hard he already was, he moved his own hands over her corseted top, feeling her soft, firm breasts through the material and needing to feel more.

He pulled her body close to his, reaching around her back to the corseting.  Biting her neck softly, he pulled at the ties.

“Not like that…” she panted, pulling back and showing him the hooked fasteners at the sides.

He smiled again, somewhat disappointed to have the new challenge of undoing a corset denied, kissing her as he popped open the fasteners the easy way.

He was kissing down her collarbone even as she discarded the top, his warm hands cupping her as he kissed her breasts slowly and softly.

She moved to kneel on the coach facing him, pulling off his top as if in trade, and she didn’t stop him as he unbuttoned her jeans and slipped a hand inside.

She lifted his face to kiss him again as his fingers slid over her wetness, and he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her.  Slickened by her own wetness, her whole body sagged as he slowly ran a finger over her clit for the first time, and time disappeared for both of them, her gasp as her tightness clamped down around his fingers bringing out a moan of pleasure from him.

Somehow he was naked as she pushed him back into the seat, straddling him as she steadily worked her had rhythmically up his length, before guiding his tip inside her.

He bit her lower lip as she eased down slowly, a cry escaping them both as she slowly inched over him.

She felt so tight he wondered briefly if this would work, but their slickness made sure there was anything but pain as she took his whole length inside her, nails clawing at his shoulders.

They kissed hard, both gasping as she drew herself up his length, eager to resume the kiss, but unable to ignore their ecstasy.

She rode him like that for a long time, changing pace and matching each other easily – both in tune with each other as if they’d done this a thousand times.

He swirled his tongue over her hard nipples, her whole body shaking now as she moved on him steadily.

“I’m gonna cum…” she breathed against his ear, and he came the moment her hands scrabbled at his back, both lost to each other as they gripped each other as if to stop from floating off.

She kept him inside her, and they both calmed their breathing, kissing more tenderly now.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to?”  She said, much to his amusement.

A thunderstorm had started outside, and only now did they notice as the roar shook the window panes.

The first hurdle was passed, and they held each other, both knowing they’d made the right choice with each other at last.

And now they could really begin…

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School Fights Part 3: Behind The Bike Sheds

School Fights Part 3: Behind The Bike Sheds

This was probably the biggest fight I ever had with anyone at school.

It was rather different to fighting Chompy The School Bully.

I think this one was a direct result of people knowing that I was fighting in tournaments and stuff, because the only reason he’s given to this day as to why he wanted to fight was: “I dunno, I just wanted a fight.”

Let’s call this one ‘Tompy’.  He was one of those ‘almost a friend’ type people – in the same class, we got on pretty well – but were never best friends or anything, nor had the will to be.  He was a known ruffian and fighter, and I guess considered one of The Hardest in the school.  He certainly was in his High School the year after we fought, anyway!

So I got the message sometime during the school day that “Tompy wants to fight you behind the bike sheds after school!”.

“Umm… why?”  I asked, thinking how I didn’t particularly want to have my brains bashed in.

“Dunno.”

“Err… OK then…”  Well, I could hardly find fault with his reasoning, could I?

People spent the rest of the day helpfully informing me how hard he was, and started to avoid the Dead Man Walking again.

After school I went to the bike sheds and he was there already, with an even bigger crowd than when I fought Chompy the year before.

“Are you ready?”  He asked me, as I put my bag down on the floor.

“Well… yeah…”  I told him, getting ready to get into all the “COME ON THEN!!” stuff again…

*WHACK*

What the fuck was that?

It was him, smacking me with a right hook before I’d even finished speaking!

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Ok then.  We got straight into it – both dancing about, much to the joy of the crowd.  I didn’t really want to be fighting still, but that first punch told me I either had to fight, let him kick the shit out of me, or cry like a baby and call it off and never live it down.

I was a hell of a lot better fighting by this stage, and was getting much nastier, having got into some more brutal styles of martial art.

Unfortunately, I was still shitting myself about fighting him, so I was holding back, and more fighting just to stay even and stop him killing me.  I don’t know why – guess it was just our good buddies Fear and Adrenaline Dump.  Street fighting is a whole new world away from organised competitions, and I was still pretty inexperienced about dealing with my own fear in a ‘real’ fight.

It was an impressive fight – we were using punches and kicks and everything else, and unlike Chompy, Tompy was hitting me hard and I was feeling it.

The fight is still a bit hazy to me, but I remember certain parts of it, either because I’d done something awesome, he’d hurt me, or something surreal was happening.

Now, in competitions, I was a kick specialist, and even to this day I’m an excellent kicker – even though, as back then, I prefer to use hand techniques.  He made the mistake of trying to take me on with kicks early on in the fight.  I remember after fielding a few of these (and this was probably the first time my sixth sense had kicked in during a fight), he tried a kick, but somehow I not only saw it coming, I actually jumped in the air over his leg and kicked down on top of his kick.  He never attempted another kick, and my confidence soared from that point.

A few times, we had to stop fighting because a Teacher was walking past on their way home, and we’d all wander off slowly then leg it back when they’d gone, and it was straight back to the fight.

I managed to grab his hair, intending to pull his head back and drop a hammer fist on his face (my current favourite Nasty Move), but couldn’t quite get his head back so the move failed.

He got me in a head lock, and was smacking me right in my mush with his other hand – fuck knows how he didn’t have my teeth out or break my nose!

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Then he tried to throw me on the floor, and I got a hold and took him down with me, but landed hard on my shoulder.  We both jumped up and carried on the bashings.

Then, I remember clearly that I was stepping back for a bit of a breather, and threw out two super-fast left jabs.  Both connected with his nose, which spread out all over his face and gushed blood.  A few punches that I thought were gentle taps and all that damage from them!

He was still fighting, and seeing the damage to him, I’d gained total confidence in myself.  This was MY fight.  I was in control.  The fear had gone.

I asked him if he wanted to stop, to which he quickly said (just like Chompy had) “He wanted to stop – you all heard that!”

Fine by me – but I really was going to go for it after that!

For some fucked up reason, most people said he’d won that fight, and it wasn’t until a few years later when I spoke to those same people that they admitted I absolutely battered him!  I guess they were his mates, or wanted to stay on his good side as they went to his High School, and I went to mine.

All I know is that I was the one cleaning his blood off me that night, and I’d found out this time that I really could fight – and I was good!  Although that fall totally fucked up my shoulder, so it was probably good that the fight ended there, rather than not long after when I found I couldn’t raise my arm!!!

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School Fights Part 1

School Fights Part 1

Believe it or not, even though I first started Martial Arts when I was 8 years old, I’ve only had two ‘real’ fights at school.

You may think this is because they all knew I was winning competitions and kicking ass, so they were all too scared to give me any hassle – but in actual fact I kept it all pretty quiet. Sure, I could have been bragging about it to everyone, but if you do that eventually someone will come along and say “I’m harder than you” and proceed to tear off limbs and other appendages and beat you to death with them.

It’s always better to let the Hard Guys get on with it – deep down they know that if they get beaten by a snotty nobody then their reputation is in tatters – and if they win it’s only to be expected.

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I was always very skinny, and just above average height. I was good at sports, had a bit of a brain, liked a laugh, and so generally avoided the attention of Bullies.

Until the third year of Middle School (or Year 7 for you young whipper-snappers).

The biggest, fattest kid in the school – let’s call him Chompy, because he can’t have had time for many other activities – must have been bored with his current crop of cattle, so turned his attentions onto me.

He started pushing me around, and making threats, and generally trying to make my life as miserable as he could. It worked quite well, because behind my happy-go-lucky front, I was just another scared, insecure kid.

I told a few people he was bullying me, and had the usual advice of  ‘stand up to him’!

OK, I had the skills (probably), but this guy was about three times my size, and I was used to being the biggest in my weight category for competitions, so wasn’t too happy at the prospect of Chompy sitting on me. Plus the fact that Chompy had been taking Boxing lessons, and thought himself tastier than a lard sandwich.

I put up with it for a week or two – which seemed like an eternity at that age, before it finally came to a head in the middle of a classroom.

The teacher was out of the room, but the class was full, and Chompy said something to me to try and get the other scared kids to laugh at me, and I turned and walked away, across the middle of the classroom.

Suddenly I felt one of this big fuckers hooves whacking me in the back of the leg!

My expected thought of “Ow! Fetch Mummy!!!” didn’t come.

Rage did.

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I’d had enough of that shit, so I turned back to face his huge moon-like sneering face, and as I did, brought my fist around in a right hook.

It connected hard with his temple.  I’d hit a lot of heads by this time, but NONE like his.  I swear my fist bounced back off his protective blubber as if I’d just hit a stack of tyres with a rubber mallet!

Time stood still, as all the air was sucked from the room by everyone watching.

I thought “Uh-oh!”.

He went a bit cross-eyed and sat on a desk behind him, going bright red like some kind of big bullying angry tomato. His whole body seemed to throb like a cartoon thumb that’s been hit with a hammer.

After what seemed like time to take at least three much-needed bowel movements, he spake thus:

“You’re dead you are, Cater!”

Thunder boomed and lightning lit the side of his face in a fun-house show of Doom (well, ok – I may have made that part up, but it may as well have).

The air came back into the room, to be replaced by lots of “Oooh”s and “Ahhh”s.

And so word spread, and everyone spent the rest of the day in eager anticipation of the David & Goliath Fight which was to happen after school…

To be continued in Part 2…