Can you picture a 178 pound female bodybuilder on the back of a Harley? Well that's me. I'm Danger and I'm a biker babe. I was always impressed by the agressive behavior of bikers. I wanted to become one of them. You should see me riding my harley. I look so dangerous. Danger is what I live for. That's why I'm called Danger. I'm big, strong, and tough. I'm not afraid of anyone or anything. I'm 6 feet tall and I have an incredible body.
     My biceps measure 16 inches round and they are very hard. When I ride my Harley in hot weather I always wear my black leather tank top shirt. I cut the sleeves off of my shirt with a pocket knife to give it that rough and rugged look. I love to grip the handle bars on my Harley real hard when I'm riding. This way my biceps and triceps would be constantly flexed and pumped. I would wear my black leather shorts, with fishnet stockings, and a pair of boots with silver stirrups, and ride off in sunset. My quads would be spread open, when I ride my Harley, and you should see the amount of attention I get. I have muscular 25 inch quads.
     My quads are so cut up. While I'm sitting on my Harley, my quads get so pumped. I could feel the heat from my bike warming them.They get this burning hot sensation. It reminds me of going to the gym and leg pressing 625 pounds. My calves also get pumped when I'm riding my Harley. My calves are so hard and huge. They are the most cut up part of my body. I've intimidated people just by the sight of my cut up calves. My leather shirt also has a cut out v shape that allows my thick back to show. My pecs and back measure 44 inches. I have extremely wide delts. My delts are very striated.They're so rounded and hard. My pecs are so high and hard. I have a deep, sharp, cut in the middle of my pecs. I always flex my pecs for the rest of the bikers whenever we decide to compare muscle. I always compete with the guys. I love to wrestle the male bikers.
     I have this real cool biker husband. His name is "Razor". He is so cool. We fight each other all the time. We love to pick fights with each other over the slightest thing. We once wrestled each other over who would ride on the back of the Harley and who ride the bike. So, Razor got on top of the bike and got ready to ride. I got behind Razor. I slipped my peaked up bicep around his neck.I had Razor in a neck lock.I squeezed his neck. I told Razor to get the hell off the bike because I wanted to ride. I continued squeezing and squeezing and kept my bicep pressed hard on his windpipe. Whenever we fought each other, we fought hard.Razor kept struggling to escape my grip, and he could hardly breathe.He refused to get off the bike. So I screamed at him, "Are you gonna get the hell off man?".
     Razor refused to obey me, so I took my free hand and gripped the hand that was around his neck. This time I crushed his windpipe over and over.He fought to get away from my grip so hard that he jumped off the bike. I still wanted to show Razor who was boss. I kept my arms tightened around his neck.I jumped on his back. He was losing his breath, and I knew he could easily choke. Razor twisted his huge body from side to side as roughly as he could and threw me off his back. I stood up and flexed my biceps at the other bikers and they all cheered for me. Razor was choking and coughing and he was beet red.