Some years back I joined a motorcycle club, which included a few members who had left a real motorcycle gang (most of the other members were hard-core wannabes).

The club did lots of group rides, and one year we went on a huge charity ride that ended at a fairground, where we were going to camp overnight. Unfortunately, it had been raining all day, and the field where we were supposed to park was one giant mud puddle. At least 1,000 other bikes had arrived before us, and the field was well churned when we got there. Some of the Harley guys refused to go anywhere near the parking field, but the rest of us pulled right in, having a little fun goosing the throttle and spraying the guy behind us. We always carried blocks of wood to put our side stands on, so we were O.K. to park, but decided to check the bikes periodically through the night to make sure they didn't fall over in the mud.

I pulled the 2am slot with Mike, which was O.K., because we both expected to still be up drinking and partying then. It was a warm summer night, the bands were good, and the beer and tequila were flowing freely. After the 1am check, Danno and Hump reported that some of the wood blocks were starting to settle, and that they had lifted a few of the bikes up and moved the blocks. Both of them had mud all over their chaps and vests.

A little after 2, Mike and I headed over to check the bikes again. The last band of the night was still playing, but things were starting to wind down, and at least half the crowd was already passed out or on the verge of it. A few of the tents were rather obviously the scene of some action, and we heard one particularly vocal biker slut telling everyone how much she loved getting fucked.

The mud was about ankle-deep almost everywhere, and just walking in it got it all up the insides of your legs, halfway to your knees. I was wearing a tight pair of leather pants and my fringed Bon Jovi leather jacket, and Mike was in chaps and jeans, a leather vest over his bare torso. Mud has always been a turn-on for me, and by the time we got to the bikes, I was pretty hard.

The second bike we checked needed to be re-set, so I lifted it and Mike squatted down in the mud and dug the block out, and then moved it a foot to a new location. I was straddling the bike, which meant that the crotch of my pants was stretched tight. As Mike was finishing and I was setting the bike down, he looked up and couldn't help but see my hard-on. He didn't say anything, but gave me a funny look.

The next bike also needed to be moved, but this time Mike told me to dig the block out of the mud. That was fine with me, because I was a little embarrassed at my obvious arousal - I'd never let these guys suspect that I was bi. Since I kinda liked the idea of getting a little muddy, I got down on my knees beside the bike and dug the block out, but this time Mike just stood beside the bike, so his crotch was right in front of my face. I tried hard