Hank's ears perked up.
'However,' she continued, 'it may not be exactly what you had in mind. But, honey, I can assure you, you won't regret it.'
'What are you talking about?' Hank asked, suspicious of some kind of sickie sex act looming on the horizon.
She sensed his suspicion and was quick to lay his suspicious mind to rest. 'Why, darling, it's nothing bad. It's the Easy Rider, that's all. I'd be willing to give you the Easy Rider if you wanted me to.'
'What the hell is the Easy Rider?' Hank asked, thinking to get angry again. He wanted to get fucked and she wanted to play cowboy games!
Without further explanation, Cathy showed him what the Easy Rider was. It turned out to be the most fantastic blow job Hank had ever had. He didn't even know things like that existed. When it was all over, and he lay there boneless in the car seat, he finally managed to ask a question.
'WWWhat did you say that was?'
While he regained his strength, the beautiful sloe-eyed wench with the wicked mouth and tongue, told him the history of the Easy Rider.
In Texas' early gold and oil rush days, every lusty brawling town had its dance halls, saloons, and just plain brothels, catering to the wild lone men who left all behind them to forge into new territories and grab what was theirs, or someone else's, and make it theirs.
Of the girls that populated these pleasure shacks, for often that's what they were, just plain shacks, one slip of a girl outshone all the others. It wasn't too long before her name became a legend in the West.
She was only eighteen. Some said it was a trick, but most everyone close to her, especially the other girls, swore it was just some kind of talent she was born with.
She could give a blow job to end all blow jobs. The oil wildcatters were the ones to name it. They called it the Easy Rider. The name stuck. Men came halfway across the country just to have an Easy Rider. Some say old men would drag themselves half-dead to her doorway just so they could cross to the Pearly Gates on an Easy Rider. And she was most accommodating.
Well, needless to say, the girl grew rich. But as soon as the land in Texas was staked, the pioneer women moved in, in short order. The shacks turned into houses over night, and the houses formed towns. Now when this happened, the girl of the Easy Rider fell on hard times. There wasn't a woman alive who felt safe or sure of her husband with this wicked hussy anywhere within a hundred miles of them. They drove her from town to town, until she realized that that was the way it would always be from then on.
Did she give up? Hell, no. Instead, she located about 500 acres of land in a deserted patch outside of what is now known as Abilene. She staked out the territory, laid claim to it, built a magnificent house and stocked it with beautiful women of every race, color, creed, and type she could find. One of each.
Then she did the unbelievable. She taught them to do the Easy Rider.
Well, as soon as word got out as to where she was and what she was doing, the men beat a pathway to her door from the four corners of the nation. In fact, they really did beat paths, and it used to be a joke that her house was situated on a crossroads, a joke that was true.
Anyway, the men came and went. Then some of them stayed and built houses nearby. Some fell in love with the girls and went off to settle down with them, but always near the main house. Before long, the girl's brothel was the center of a thriving community.
The women of the community didn't mind that her house was at its center. After all, they all knew how to give the Easy Rider, because they were all ex-girls from the house, and no outside women were allowed to settle in the 500 acres the young girl had staked out.
As a result, they say the town produced the happiest men and most sought after women in the entire state of Texas. Now as time went by, the town grew. But it became ashamed of its beginnings, so it changed its name from Easy Rider to something more usual.
Although some of the old ways are long forgotten, and even the town's name is changed, there is one thing that remains the same. Every woman and female child over a certain age, learns every move of the Easy Rider. And that's true to this very day.
When Cathy finished her remarkable tale, of which Hank had proof, he asked her when she had learned about it.
'When I was thirteen,' she answered. 'In fact our group of girls used to have run-offs using cucumbers, of course, to see who had the best technique. In our group,' she said a bit modestly, 'I was the best.'
After the blow job Hank had just experienced, he was willing to give her a certificate to attest to it… a marriage certificate. And many years later, a divorce certificate to match.
Hank looked up and down the beach. The sun was dipping low, causing long shadows to form around the thinning group of bathers.
Somewhere, out there, there has to be a girl who thinks I'm great, he told himself. Somewhere among those broads there has got to be just one beauty who needs a good lay; who recognizes a good prick when she sees it.
Someone who will give me a sign, a word, anything to let me know that she thinks I'm a man… a real MAN!
He lay back and closed his eyes with a sigh. And if it's not asking too much, Christ…! If only she knew how to give the Easy Rider!
He began thinking about how it felt, and his prick jumped to life, pressing its full-blown outline against his tight, white swim trunks. Hank wasn't aware of it, nor would he have cared. Let them all see what a hunk of goodies he had; what the hell did he care, would be his attitude.
Just at that point his reveries were interrupted by something poking into his belly button and a sultry voice saying, 'Hey, don't I know you?'
Hank started and looked down to the area of his navel. He saw a bright-red toenail disappearing into his belly button.
'What the hell…?' He followed the toenail to its toe, up the slender foot to which the toe was attached, along the shapely calf, up the soft, tanned thigh to a lovely, scantily covered crotch.
His gaze stopped there.
'Honey, ah said, don't I know you?' the sultry voice insisted.
Hank dragged his eyes away from the lovely box and moved up over the flat stomach, over the two jutting mounds which he immediately recognized as a pair of enormous knockers, up to a vision of loveliness for a face, framed in wavy platinum hair. It created a striking contrast to the deep tan of the sun-ripened skin. Hank blinked and tried to home in on the vision. Was he dreaming again? He pinched himself just to make sure. He wasn't dreaming. He was wide awake.
'Cat got your tongue, sugar?' the vision asked.
'Uhhh, no,' mumbled Hank, squinting up at her.
'Listen, sugar, are you or were you, married to a sweet little Texas girl by the name of Cathy?'
'Yes.'
'Well, sugar, I thought so. You see, I went to high school with dear little Cathy. Now I heard you all were divorced, so I wouldn't be causing any trouble if I were to tell you that I'd just hate to see that great old thing go to waste!'
With that, she did a mind-blowing thing. She traced the outline of Hank's bloated dick with her big toe.
Hank almost jumped out of his trunks. He sat bolt upright and made all the appropriate answers. This was it! It was happening! She'd give him the reassurance he needed. It would be all he would need to get himself straight on the road to success again. Now he could get it all together and make it work, the way he had in the old days! It was his new lease on life, his second chance, he comeback. Deep inside him something said, this is it! Then what the girl had said some minutes before began to sink in. The same town… Easy Rider?
'Uhhh, you say you're from the same town as Cathy?' Hank asked, almost holding his breath for the answer.
'Sure am.'
'And you were born and raised in that town?'
'Sure was,' the vision of loveliness answered, as he guided her across the sands, gear in tow. Well, Hank
