The Biker Under the Helment

by Greaser Dannyboy

One cool afternoon, I decided to go for a ride to the Eagle, a bar located some 20 miles away frequented by bikers. I had a boring day, nothing else to do, so the drive was pleasant. I arrived at the bar, not to many people there. Sitting there at the bar, sipping on my 3rd drink, I heard a pack of motorcycles gathering up out in the parking lot. There must have been over 40 bikers walked in the joint. On the back of their leather jackets was stitched, "The Blue Angels." Some of the bikers sit next to me at the bar, they seemed to be pretty friendly guys. But one biker came over to me and introduced himself as Tommy Reid. I didn't recognize him for a minute, but soon realized who Tommy was. He wore black leather chaps over his jeans, engineer boots, a Harley Davidson T-shirt, and like the rest of the guys, the logo black leather biker jacket, with black leather cycle gloves. His face was clean shaven, only for a small goatee. Tommy pulled his gloves off and popped them on the bar, as I smelled the hot leather from his hand, I became aroused, and deeply concentrated on Tommy.

You see, Tommy and I were best friends in our senior year of High School 15 years ago. Tommy sat in front of me in chemistry. I would look at the back of his head, instead of concentrating on the teacher's lecture. Tommy had thick, dark, black hair, sometimes on occasions used Vitalis that I adored looking at. I got up the nerve one day to ask him what did he use in his hair. He told me he used, most of the time, Vitalis, Vaseline, and Brylcreem to hold down his thick wavy hair. That seemed the only way to control his hair. I ask him one evening in class if I could touch the back of his hair, and he laughed and allowed me to touch it. He tilted his head back so I could feel it. The scent on my fingers smelled of Vaseline Hair Tonic. Needless to say, I smelled my fingers the entire hour of the class, with wild, erotic fantasies stirring in my head. My first time to touch another guys slicked down hair.

A few days later I happened to sit in Tommy desk, and he sat in mine. It was winter, and quiet chilly. I had worn my windbreaker that day. Tommy bent over and lightly spoke..." I like the back of your head buddy." You need some oil in your hair... I said back...Really, you think so? A few minutes later I felt Tommy's hand move my windbreaker and slowly, so no one else would see -- our desks were against the wall. He moved his hand to my chest area and touched my nipple through my shirt -- then suddenly pinching very hard. My God! I had never felt the sensation like that ever! I melted right in my desk all the way to the floor!!!

Talking to Tommy in the bar, my mind went back to that day in school. I wondered, since he was a biker now, if under the helmet he still had the thick greasy hair like he did in school. We talked awhile, discussing my life and his now, he heard me mention that I had never ridden a Harley. He ask me if I wanted to go for a spin on his Harley, and without a doubt, I hurriedly walked behind him, listening as his legs rubbed the black leather. In the parking lot we walked up to his Harley as he turned to me and ask if I wanted to ride with him to the Blue Angels club and cycle garage. I agreed with a shakey voice as he pulled a helmet off his cycle for me to wear. We drove closer to the club, and I leaned over to tell him, "I've always admired bikers, for their uniqueness and style." He told me, "I am flattered to hear you say that. I'll see what I can do at the club for you."

We arrived at their club with my heart pounding a rhythm of pure sexual urges. He stopped in the back at the garage door and kicked the stand down as we got off the cycle. I pulled my helmet off, and I looked up as he pulled his off, dying to see what his hair looked like. I stood in an errected attention, piercing my eyes right through his hair. He still had the very thick, somewhat wavy hair, but greased to the max with a shiny glissen that popped out from the suns rays. Slicked straight back with perfection the helmet had formed his hair. He pulled out a comb from inside his Jacket, and pulled his greasy hair back to the back of his neck. I was about to drop right there in my tracks, with the overwhelming desire to walk over to him and grab his head and wrap my arms around it, and pull it to my chest to feel and smell, and probably lick his gorgeous hair. But more was to come and I wanted to compose myself.

He took me on a tour of the building, talked a bit about the Harley parts. He walked me over to an old gas station bench, covered in cheap leather, and we began to talk about high school. He brought up the days of our hair discussions, and why he pinched my nipple. I sat there like a kid about to be given a hard piece of peppermint candy. Suddenly, he said, "com-on with me back here, I want to show you my room here at the club." We walked in as he turned the light on. On the walls were pictures of him laying, sitting, and erotically showing himself off. A mattress lay on the floor covered with his Harley throw, to the right of the room on a clothes rack was his motorcycle riding gear, and to the back of the room was a make shift vanity with two filing cabinets supporting the top.

Looking down at his pants under the chaps, was a huge bulge, and I knew something was about to explode right then and there. He walked up to me with a drink and gave me one. He told me that he knew what my sexual fetish was, and he wanted to share his with me. He told me, "Your fetish is greased hair, as mine is too, but I have another fetish, its black leather. I said, super! He ask me if I wanted to share his fetish. I agreed.

He walked to the clothes rack and pulled off, a pair of his black leather pants, leather studded harness, black sun shades, his Harley Davidson buckled black studded belt, and finally reached under the rack and picked up a pair of his blacked leather scuffed engineer boots. I knew what to do, so I pulled my clothes off and threw them on the mattress. I started the leather pants up my legs, but the size was one size to small. He told to pull the pants down, he would fix that. He walked over to the vanity, and scooped up fingers full of petroleum jelly and smeared a medium amount from the waist to the knees, then told me to try that. The black leather pant slid right up my legs and sucked my but to the pants like a perfectly tailer glove. The pants shined over my butt like polished ebony. He pulled his leather T-shirt off his dark chest and ask me to help him put on his other harness. After he rubbed a small amount of baby oil over his back and chest. He then put baby oil on my back and chest and said that would bring out our features. I slid the black engineer boots on, and he told me to come sit in front of his vanity on an old worn out bar stool.

He told me as I sit there looking at myself in the broken mirror on the wall he wanted to share my fetish with me. He left the room and came back with a silver can that read, motorcycle grease. He said to me, "This is what I use, since the days of Vitalis in school, not to think it was weird to use, it did a super job." He walked over to a pan, and dipped a mechanic rag in water, and wiped my dry hair wet with the rag, as the tips dripped with water. He then dipped his fingers in the grease, smearing it over his palms and then messaged the slightly odored grease over my hair. The thickness from the grease pulled my hair up from my scalp. The order was stimulating as I knew he was greasing my hair up just like he did his. Taking his comb from the vanity, he slowly slid my hair straight back, while noticing the grease that curled up on the back of his comb. The thickness of his gently slicking, pulled my head back with each stroke of my heavily greased strands of gooey hair. He then dipped again in the grease picking up a small amount, rubbing it in his hands, he lightly rubbed the grease over my hair saying this will give your hair extra highlights and shine. Dipping back in his grease, he told me to tilt my head back as he stood behind me. I felt the back of my greased hair touched his harness on his bare chest, hearing the slurping suction from the grease. He rubbed the grease in my stache and goatee, saying it would make it darker and shine. He finished my transformation with a primping pat over my hair and touching more highlights with extra grease.

Asking me how I liked my new look, I quickly said, I want to do you now. As he sat on the stool, while I numb from the rush, I dipped my fingers in the can that he had just dipped out of, and applied the grease over his slicked back hair he had already combed. I became somewhat forceful, pressing hard on this hair to hear the squish from the grease between his hair and my hands. His eyes were closed as to enjoy what I wanted to do in high school, and now finally getting my wish -- my hands covered with cycle grease and actually greasing his hair at last. I took a finger of grease and tilted his head back on my harnessed chest and felt this cold greased hair slurped on my skin. While laying the grease over his 1/2 inch little goatee under the middle of his lower lip, he told me, " there you go man, you have the touch."

We left the Blue Angel club and garage for a ride on his Harley. I sat behind him, smelling his hair under the heated helmet, as the leather pants on me begin to slid up my crotch from the melted petroleum jelly he had applied. Riding down the freeway, I could see the warm grease under his helmet slowly ooze down the back of his neck on his bare back, as I felt mine down the back of my bare neck.

I was riding with my best friend from high school after 15 years of dreaming of that day in class when I only touched his oiled hair. He turned to me on the Harley and told me he wanted to stop by the gas station he saw and do one more thing for me before I had to leave. He went in the station as I stood leaning on the bike thinking of the erotic wet warmness that had fallen to my crotch inside the leather pants. He came out with a small bag, and gave it to me, telling me this was for me. Opening the bag and looking in, was a bottle of Vitalis, Vaseline, his comb, and a large tube of Brylcreem that he once used in high school 15 years ago.

We ended the ride to a secluded area some 40 minutes away. We sat side by side on a huge bolter, silently wanting the full fantasy from high school nipple pinching to be finally fulfilled. My inpatient desires were becoming uncontrolled as a small tear feel from the corner of my eye. He took his hand, and wiped the tear, as we embraced for the ending of our high school fantasy 15 years ago.

After two hours, at the secluded area, We had the most incredible day of our entire lives as we headed for my truck waiting back at the Eagle bar where we had met. We hugged and we said our good byes -- feeling the sides of our greased hair touch. He told me he wanted me to leave with a part of his fetish -- his leather gear he had taken from his clothes rack back at the Blue Angels club, and garage, that I was wearing, with the bag of Vitalis, Vaseline and large tube of Brylcreem he gave me, laying on the seat against my black leathered leg.

Author's Note: Tommy Reid was my best friend in our senior year, and he and I did do what was said in the story in class, but the leather part is a fantasy I share with my readers. Look here on the Brylkeen Collection for my next story about cowboys greased on a rainy day -- or something like that --a true story about my friend Jackie (male) and me rounding up some of his fathers cattle.

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