When I was in my twenties, all I wanted to do was ride motorcycles.

My first was a 1994 FXR Harley Davidson I scored from a friend of my uncle who lived in San Diego. I took the train down from San Francisco, paid cash, got on the bike, and geared up for the long ride home. My plan was to stop off in Los Angeles and then take the coastal route back. Even though I let a few friends know I was coming, the L.A. pit stop was really about this chick, Lucy.

Lucy and I met during a long night of partying. Nothing happened (other than us doing copious amounts of drugs), but we’d been sexting and sending nudes to each other ever since. I’m a total ass man, and Lucy’s was like an onion — it made me cry. I mean, I wanted to bury my head between her cheeks like a cartoon ostrich head in sand.

After an afternoon of lane-splitting and heavy traffic, I pulled up to my buddy’s house in East L.A. A bunch of our friends were hanging out in the backyard barbecuing and drinking beer. I spotted Lucy immediately. She was sitting in a lawn chair, pulling on her cigarette, talking to her girlfriends. I chugged two quick beers before charging over to her. Something about seeing her in person again made me really nervous. Liquid courage, I guess.

A sly, wide grin crept across her face as I walked over. Her friends scattered. Woo hoo! There was no way I was leaving Los Angeles without taking my best shot at this girl.

The barbecue devolved into a full-blown rager… which turned into a few wasted stragglers sitting around the fire pit, passing a bottle of whiskey. Lucy was cozied up next to me, linking her arm with mine as she rested her head on my shoulder. It was on.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “We can’t. My neighbor’s pipes exploded and my apartment is a disaster. I’m couch surfing for a few weeks.”

Motherfucker.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said, and grabbed my hand and pulled me inside to a spare bedroom.

We started making out immediately. She coiled her leg around my waist and I hoisted her up, then collapsed on the bed near a pile of coats and other random shit. We were sucking face like teenagers.

Lucy mounted me as I lifted her shirt and dragged my tongue over her tits. She reached into my pants, pulled out my cock, and wiggled down to blow me. The whiskey buzz blended perfectly with the softness of her tongue.

Dying to fuck, I yanked her back up by the armpits. (I know, I know — not my best move, but it was effective.) She ripped her pants off, threw them across the room, and slowly lowered herself onto my dick. We worked up a good rhythm quickly and she started to buck me like a wild woman… rocking the headboard… thump thump thump thump thump thump.

Out of nowhere, muffled grunts. A man’s voice, like it was coming from inside the room. Lucy froze. The pile of shit on the bed beside us started to move. I reached over, grabbing around to see if someone was buried under the mess.

“What the fuck is that?” Lucy whispered.

All of a sudden, some wasted dude popped out from under the pile, fists flailing. He cold-cocked Lucy right in the nose and sent her tumbling off the bed, bending my dick violently in the wrong direction as she dismounted. The pain shot me into a fetal position while Lucy ragdolled into the dresser. My cock went from hot, searing pain to a terrifying numbness.

Lucy pulled herself up from the floor, cupping her hands to her face as blood poured onto her chest.  “My nose,” she snuffled. “It’s broken!”

I bolted out of the bed, put my T-shirt to her face, and tried to tug my pants back up. We spent the rest of the night in the emergency room. She had a broken nose, and I had a penile fracture.

Sure, we both laugh about it now, but have you ever ridden a Harley for six hours with a broken dick?

Illustration by Jason Johnson