Curves For Her Biker

By Leslie Hunter

Genre: Big Beautiful Women Erotica / Hitchhiker Sex 

Breaking down on the side of the road usually spells disaster... but this time, it could mean something a little more pleasurable.

After her car fails her smack-dab in the middle of the Arizona desert, Heather's only hope is a compassionate biker, whose offer to give her a special ride isn’t something she can refuse. With no strength in her curvy body to keep walking and zero cash in her wallet, what else is she going to do? 

But once she's strapped in against his well-defined body, she learns the first rule of hitchhiking—nobody rides for free. 

This 12,700+ word BBW biker erotica contains detailed explicit descriptions of sex between a well-endowed motorcycle rider and innocent, curvy hitchhiker. 

It's intended for the enjoyment of adult readers only (especially those who love erotica stories with bikers and outdoor action.) 

Author Note: This is a stand alone biker erotica with no cliffhanger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leslie Hunter
• Release date: Dec 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781524274887

Book preview

CURVES FOR HER BIKER

by Leslie Hunter

CURVES FOR HER BIKER

Leslie Hunter

WriterLeslieHunter.com

All Rights Reserved ©2016 Leslie Hunter. First Printing: 2016.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Author’s Note: All characters in this story are 19 years of age and older.

If you notice any errors, I’d appreciate a heads up please.

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CURVES FOR HER BIKER

The lone truck stop was deserted, unless you counted spots of brown brush and sunbaked-desert dirt. Still, it was the best chance I saw for miles ever since my car broke down.

Walking along a two-lane highway in the middle of a hot desert was bad enough for anybody. Add soft pounds – most in my ass and tits – and it was downright torturous.

I stared at the single semi-truck and a black chrome motorcycle. Both were underneath the large red lettered ‘Truck Stop’ sign. Either was a chance to get back to my car.

Off in the scorching distance, I saw the wavy air distortion over sunbaked asphalt. I didn’t expect Arizona to be this scorching or cared. If my transportation – or phone – still worked, it wouldn’t have mattered.

I held my hand up to my eyes and hoped I’d find a mechanic or anyone that could fix my car.

I half thought somebody would have given me a ride as I trudged along the highway. Only three cars passed. I didn’t know if it was an aversion to picking up hitchhikers or if I wasn’t their type.

If I was one of those thin cheerleader types from my college instead of Heavy Heather, at least one car would have stopped.

Probably with a screeching halt.

Yeah, well it didn’t happen, so no use dwelling on it.

I walked toward the mirror door to the café and saw the toil two hours in the blistering desert took. My hair clung to the side of my face in a thin sheen of sweat. My top and skirt wrinkled and clung to my wet body.

I already had big boobs. Thanks to the damp blouse glued to my skin, they looked bigger than before.

I shook my head and wondered how people hitchhiked across America.

There was a certain romanticism about the whole adventure. Just hold out your thumb and see America for free. If I was a guy, maybe I’d do it. That’s not my so called aversion to adventure talking.

A woman going cross-country wasn’t something that I planned to ever do.

And yet, here I am.

I hurried out of the heat and opened the mirrored window door. The desert sun flashed from the reflection and into my eyes. My shoulders slumped as the overhead air-conditioned breeze ran over my back. Goosebumps ran down my arms, and I smiled wide. I knew it was hot outside. I had hours of reminders. Now, that I was in a proper air-conditioned place, I realized how severe it was.

Another hour, and I might’ve died.

Maybe… I didn’t know if I was being dramatic, but the desert wasn’t the place for anyone.

I stared ahead at the diner, and I wondered if this was what Cindy had in mind when she convinced me to go on a cross-country trip.

It wasn’t something I believed, but she