The Swinging Bikers
Geezer wanted my wife, I wanted his. So there was no problem, except our wives weren’t interested.
Wait, that came out wrong. Our wives were interested in sex, but not swapping.
They didn’t give any reasons when we asked why not.
We routinely got nude and had sex in front of each other. We even got married together. But whenever we suggested mixing things up a bit, the ladies acted like we’d hurt their feelings.
Geezer and I discussed the situation at Mother’s, a roadhouse.
“We either find some new old ladies,” I said. “Or sneak out with some looser ones.”
“Forget that. Lurleen once saw me glance at another woman, and I didn’t care for the look in her eye. Foolin’ around leads to lawyers, and lawyers lead to the loss of our hogs in the divorce battle. We have to convince the girls that swapping’s cool.”
“How?”
“Maybe I have the answer.”
“Far out. What is it?”
“DMT.”
“C’mon. That’s like vitamin D, for those two.”
“The Satan’s Scamps bro who sold it to me said it’s special stuff. He did mention there might possibly be side-effects.”
“We’ll worry about side-effects afterwards.”
***
Next evening, we rode up Crested Skull Hill. We entered the cave that made the left eye-socket and threw down our stuff.
A full moon shone on spent condoms, empty bottles and roaches from parties past.
“Big treat tonight,” Geezer said, as he smoothed out an old blanket on the cave floor.
“Whatcha talkin’ about, Geezer?” My wife Babette sounded suspicious.
“It’s uh, hard to explain.” he said.
Lurleen, Geezer’s wife, said, firmly, “No needles.”
“Calm down,” Geezer said. “This is a special occasion.”
“Oh yeah?” Babette sounded even more suspicious. “What special occasion is that?”
“The anniversary of when I realized Lurleen was the only one for me.”
“Is that true, honey?” Moonlight glinted off a tear in Lurleen’s eye.
“Naturally, my love.”
“Aw, ain’t that sweet,” Babette said, unconvincingly.
The pop of beer bottles seemd to reassure her. Clink, clank, clunk, we drunk to true love, and then the ladies took their pills.
Geezer and I must’ve stared.
“Hey! What’s going on?” Babette said. “How come you guys aren’t…”
The stuff kicked in fast. Babette licked her chops and lunged for Geezer. He giggled as my wife tore down his pants.
Lurleen fell to her knees. I felt like crying.
Life was different. The world had changed. Heaven was real.
Spent, I hugged Lurleen tight. “That was great,” I said.
“You aren’t done yet, clown.”
“Huh?”
“I need more.” Her voice was deep, hoarse. Purple searchlights shot from her eyes.
“Gimme a minute to recover. Let’s smoke a joint or something.”
Lurleen punched me in the face, hard, twice.
She shone her lavender eye-beams across the cave floor. “Hey Babs, has my hubby got anything left?”
Geezer had his mouth full. He was playing for time.
“Are you joking?” My wife pushed him away.
“In that case, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Let’s go.”
“But girls,” Geezer sounded meek. “Just a…”
Babette smacked him. His head spun. He fell down and lay still.
“Get the keys to their bikes,” Babette said.
“You can’t handle that heavy old hog. Please…”
The world went black. Life was painful. The ladies riffled through our leathers, then a pair of motorcycles rode off into the night.
***
Geezer helped me up after what seemed like a long, long time. He was shaking, bad. “Can you believe it?”
“I was there, wasn’t I?”
“Well, we got what we wanted, didn’t we?”
“Right. Now how’re we gonna get home?”
”Walk, I guess.”
***
Two Death Jesters gave us a lift on the main road. Riding behind some greasy slob gave me a new perspective on Babette’s existence. I resolved to be a better man, and buy her her own bike.
The guy shouted over the wind. “You guys headed to the gang bang?”
“What gang bang?”
“At Mother’s. Couple chicks gone completely crazy.”
“Oh. Far out.”
There were many bikes parked out in front of Mother’s, and more headed in from all directions. Whoops and hollers split the air. My ‘48 Knucklehead was crashed into a garbage dumpster. Geezer’s Indian was ploughed into a car parked out front.
We pushed our way inside. Bikers swarmed like a cloud of leather flies around our wives, who were having the time of their lives. There was nothing to do but wait in line and watch.
“Uh, look man, that’s my old lady there,” I said to the dude ahead. “Mind if I cut in front of you?”
“No way, bro.”
Geezer tapped my shoulder. “That stuff has to wear off sometime.”
As soon as it was our turn, it did.
“Help! Rape! Somebody call the cops!”
The guy behind us said, “Oh yeah, I’m a cop.”
The guy standing next to him said, “Me too.”
Everyone else scattered. The cops clobbered us with their billy clubs, and snapped on the cuffs. A paddy wagon came. Tires squealed, sirens wailed.
Did our wives press charges? You bet your ass they did, bro.
Horror Sleaze Trash 