Motorhomes of Passion: 6 Spicy Short Stories

By Adora Berry

6 spicy short stories. Adventures with ladies and their friends, with betrayals, candies, daring bets and a freezing tempest. Careful, explicit content.

Riding Home
How can Jessica drive back home when her car battery died at the autodrome? Her friends have already left and in the parking lot there is only a motohome left... and a guy. A hot short story, tasty and titillating, with three guys enthusiastic to help a damsel in distress.

Elise's Payback
Elise's boyfriend had ruined the workshop where three of his friends work. Now he has to pay for the damage... but his friends might accept a... different kind of payment. Spicy short story between a woman and three men, if betrayal and transgression are your thing.

Warm Me Up, I'm Cold!
Mathilde went too far away from the camp and a blizzard is mounting up. She is in trouble, but two guys will save her from hypothermia. A very spicy short story for those that like to feel at the mercy of the situation.

Directions
Marianne is nice and cool, but she has a surprisingly poor sense od directions. Something that is bound to be exploited by her two friends, and she doesn't mind it. An erotic short story with a woman a two partners. For those that love spicy stories.

The Sexy Bet
Martha thinks she knows all about koalas and makes a very risky bet to humiliate her friends. Will it pay off? A naughty short story about Martha, Lawrence, Matt and Maurice. Careful, it contains explicit content. Light bondage. Use of toys.

The Candy Thief
Johanna stole a big stuffed panda and many candies. But now they are after her. To escape, she hides in a motorhome with some new friends... Careful, very spicy content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adora Berry
• Release date: Feb 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005699901

Book preview

Motorhomes of Passion

Adora Berry

Published by Adora Berry at Smashwords

Copyright 2022 Adora Berry

Motorhomes of Passion – a short story by Adora Berry – February 2022

Do not copy or distribute this work without the author's permission.

Happy reading,

Adora Berry

Contents

Copyright

Riding Home

Elise’s Payback

Directions

The Sexy Bet

Warm me up, I’m cold!

The Candy Thief

Other Books from the Author

Riding Home

I crush the tickets for the race in my fist and throw them onto the backseat. I throw my bag on the passenger seat. The mirror and the pink lipstick fall in the footwell.

Damn! I bend down and the cap’s visor hits the car’s roof, my hair loosens and flows out of the strap. My Indy cap falls on the grass. I reach for it and clean with the back of the hand the water droplets it collected from the dump grass.

I sit inside, redo the ponytail and put the cap back on so it shields me from the sunrays that come through the windshield straight at my eyes. What a day! Fun, but now I’m late. I pic up mirror and lipstick and I put them back in the bag. Something crackles. There must be some lollipops left in the bag. I push aside the wallet and the sunglasses case. I have an old pack of mint chewing gum but I need something sweet.

I seize a lollipop from its white plastic stick. Tell me you are a cherry lollipop, a cherry flavour lollipop. Oh yes! Let’s see if I can get you out of this devilish transparent plastic without ruining my finger nails. I mean, I already ruined them this morning having fun on those motorbikes.

I throw the plastic onto the back seats e I swirl the lollipop in my mouth. It’s good to have something sweet before driving so many miles.

I turn the car keys. The starter meows and churns. Motor doesn’t start though. I let go of the keys. This is a joke, right?

I turn the keys again. It meows and meows. C’mon nice, little, dear, old heap of a car… nothing. C’mon, I have to go home, tomorrow I’ve got to be at work.

I turn the keys hard. Like it would make a difference… It meows and squeaks and grinds. I press the gas pedal. C’mon, we are at freaking Indy, temple of speed and so on, you cannot do this to me, not here. At 300 miles from home. Dammit!

I let go of the keys. No way.

I bite the lollipop out of frustration and it glues to my teeth. I suck the sugary fake-cherry juice. I try again. Nothing and nothing. It’s dead.

I pull the lever that opens the hood. It’s probably the battery. I get out, hang the hood on its support… I don’t even know what to look for. I slide aside not to block the sunlight from reaching the insides of the car. I take away a spider web from above the engine block. It must be the batteries, but I need somebody to help here.

The parking has emptied. A Ford accelerates away carrying a couple with a kid and a dog. The parking lot goes quiet and deserted, a part from a motorhome. A guy is putting away three chairs and a folding table. He looks my way.

I wave at him. I point at my car.

He looks around. He places the table against the side of the motorhome and comes towards me.

Hullo, he goes. Do you need help?

I think it’s the battery. It won’t start.

All right, I’ll take a look. He folds his sleeves and leans under the hood. He wears a leather bracelet with a Dodge design on it and he has a flower tattoo on his forearm.

What a mess in here…

Uh?

I mean. I can jump start it for you with my motorhome, but I don’t have the cables with me. Do you have the cables?

I think I do, actually.

I go open the trunk. The cables should be there somewhere.

The guy follows me. You alone?

I—

No, sorry. First the most important question: what team are you? He points at my Indy hat.

I hold back a giggle. Which one is better to get my car going?

I’m not that soulless…

I bend into the trunk. I fumble through a potato chips pack, a half-empty coke bottle, shoe box, Target bag, the teddy bear holding a baby bottle for my nephew, my purple t-shirt… that’s where it was!

Where you at the race by yourself? He asks.

With friends. But they live in Louisville.

I’m Matthew, from Columbus.

We shake hands. Jessica.

I throw the t-shirt onto the back seats and I move aside the carton box full of used books to donate. A squashed coke bottle pops out and I throw it in the front as well. I reach in the dark to the back of the seats. I find the thing to change the tires, another bottle of something…

Are you sure you have the cables? He asks.

I’m getting anxiety here. I suck the sweetness out of the remaining lollipop in my mouth. I turn around. There’s nobody left and everything is closed now. Damn my fixation for autographs!

I look at him. You really don’t have the cables?

No. He smiles.

What a strange smile. He is nice, good bones and broad shoulders, but he’s got a strange smile.

You are not telling me the truth. You go around in a motorhome and you don’t have the cables with you?

He shrugs. It’s a newish motorhome. Won’t brake down.

Well… I close the trunk. I’m calling my friends to come back and get me.

They are probably close to Dayton or something. I go take the phone in my bag, but Matthew gets in the way.

Wait. I do have the cables.

You’ve got them or not?

He nods and lowers his head. I have the cables. But I also have an offer or… ehm, a suggestion.

I rise an eyebrow as high as I can. I want to make sure he gets that I don’t like to play games.

What offer?

He gives me a smile half shy half sly. I like you. How about we have fun?

I go around the car. I’m calling my friends.

Matthew leans on the car’s roof. They’ll have to come all the way back.

I open the door. What a dick.

I’m not a dick. It’s a serious proposal. I want to fuck you. I’ll give you a lift anywhere afterwards.

I take the phone, and if he gets any closer I’ll kick him in the balls so hard…

C’mon, don’t call them. I’ll jump start your car.

Yeah… sure, I start calling July and place the phone on my ear.

He looks at me. I’m sorry. I just wanted to have some fun.

I ignore him.

Ok, look, I get it. Sorry. I’ll jump start it and that’s it.

What do you mean? I say.

He walks towards his motorhome. Stay there, let me get closer. I’ll get it going.

I stop the call, but I send July a chat. Alone in parking lot with guy that wants to fuck me and car doesn’t start. If you don’t hear me his licence plate is…

Matthew closes the motorhome’s door and gets in the driver seat.

The motorhome moves through the grass as I type the licence plate. I put the cellphone in the pocket of my pants.

Matthew turns the motorhome front bumper to front bumper with my car. He gets out and opens the cargo door. He has a spear tire inside, a big yellow bag and a toolbox. He fishes out the black and red cables and shows them to me with an apologetic smile.

That’s ok. I take the two extremities and plug them to my battery.

He looks at me surprised. You know how to do it.

Sure I do, you think this wreck never left me on the side of the road before? I munch on the lollipop.

Right, right. He looks respectful. He doesn’t look like a bad guy, but I better keep an eye on him. First thing once I’m home I go look for those damn cables.

Matthew plugs his side of the cables and gets into the driver seat. I go sit in may car.

He starts his engine and signals to get my car going as well.

I turn the key.

Squeaks and squeaks, meows and meows. Nothing. What?

I try, again. And it squeaks and meows, again. Whatthefuck!

Matthew looks at me with a question mark on his forehead.

I get out of the car and he lets go of the loud pedal.

I check the cables. Matthew checks them as well.

They are good.

I go check the cables on the motorhome’s side, just to be sure. They are ok.

What in the fucking hell.

Matthew gets back up in the motorhome. Let’s try again.

I get my ass back in the car and I turn the keys again.

Nothing.

Nothing and then more of nothing. I hit the steering wheel.

I go back looking under the hood. I cannot see a thing in here anymore.

Would you turn on the headlights? I tell him.

Yup.

I unplug the cables, I don’t want to get electrocuted here. If it’s not the battery, what is it? This block here is the engine, but looks ok. At least, it doesn’t smell, there is no oil dripping around…

Matthew leans in to look. Do you understand?

Hell no. You?

He shakes his head.

You are here at a car race with a motorhome and you like Dodge and you don’t know a thing about engines?

Ehi, girl. Don’t shoot me.

I just like the racing, and I collect autographs…

He raises an eyebrow. Autographs?

Never mind. I take my cellphone.

Matthew closes the hood of the motorhome. I’m sorry.

I can call July, or Jean. July didn’t see the stalker message from before. Who knows where they are now, maybe Spingfield.

Matthew puts the cables back in the storage compartment.

Once they are here what will we do? If they give me a lift to freaking St. Louis they’ll get home at dawn tomorrow. And if I spend the night at their place in Columbus I won’t get to work tomorrow morning… Fuck!

Matthew shoves away a fly. Do you want to call the tow truck?

And what do I do?

I suck the remains of the lollipop from the plastic. Damn it! And damn it again! I really have to change this car.

Matthew smiles.

I sigh. Damn. Damn. I need a ride.

I look at Matthew. Would you give me a ride to St. Louis?

St. Louis?

I nod.

I live in Louisville. He points the fingers to opposite directions. Louisville!

I nibble on my lips. I cannot stay here. Damn. I look at Matthew. He is kind of nice, he has been nice.

If you give me a ride, I give you a ride.