Biker week part one biker rally orgy

 Several years ago, before I had my drinking “problem,” I had the

perfect life.  I was educated, employed, financially secure - and best

of all - married to a wonderful woman.  We had a pretty little house in

the suburbs, and we both taught at a very prestigious private school.

Amanda taught elementary school Reading, and I taught Math in the junior

high grades.

     Amanda and I met in college and married soon after we graduated and

we were both virgins on our wedding night.  She was smart and pretty and

demurely affectionate.  If there was anything less than perfect about

her, it was the fact that she kept a very tight rein on her emotions.

Serious, insecure, and uptight, Amanda even dressed very conservatively,

and it was only for those too-brief moments when her hair was out of the

bun and she was naked, that I could appreciate the true beauty that she

was.  Her insecurities even affected her professional life because other

teachers were promoted around her as she remained docile and submissive

to the administration.

     One weekend, I found out that Amanda’s bottled-up emotions took a

toll on her, and when the dam finally broke, it had shocking results.

     Teaching junior high, I was familiar with teens going through their

rebellious stage.  It was a fact of life for me, and I did everything I

could to make the teenager’s angst as painless as possible, while still

teaching my subject.  Also, teaching at a good, and very expensive,

private school, meant cooperating with the parents as much as possible.

One troubled teen was a beautiful girl named Elizabeth.

     Elizabeth was 15 and in the midst of a powerful revolt against her

very wealthy parents.  Big contributors to the school, her parents asked

for and received cooperation from everyone on the staff.  Looking back

on that Spring, I realized that I made a mistake by getting too involved

with Elizabeth and her family.

     Part of the phase Elizabeth was going through was in selecting

“wild” boyfriends.  Her latest was a biker, years older than her, and

someone we all assumed (correctly) was heavily into drugs and a lot of

other unsavory things.

     Just before final exams in the Spring, Elizabeth ran away from

home. For whatever reason, she showed up at our door several days later,

hungry and broke, and spent several nights with Amanda and me.  We

helped her get through exams and finally talked her into returning home.

     About a week after Elizabeth left, I got a call from her boyfriend.

He made it clear that if he ever heard of me touching her again that he

would kill me.  He further threatened to get even somehow for what I had

done with his “old lady.”  In a near panic, I tried to assure him that

nothing had happened between Elizabeth and me and that my wife had been

with us the entire time.  I don’t think he listened to me at all.

     Several weeks passed.  School let out for the Summer and Amanda and

I prepared for our vacation.  We planned a long weekend away over the

Fourth of July and couldn’t wait to leave as soon as Amanda’s summer

school class dismissed at noon on Friday.  I had the car packed and

ready to go when she pulled into the driveway.  We had a light lunch and

piled into the car to hit the road.

     I had driven perhaps a mile when I suddenly felt the cold steel of

a gun barrel being pressed against my neck.  A guy who looked very much

like a large, nasty biker was in the back seat of the car and was very

serious about what he would do to us if I didn’t do exactly as he

ordered.

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