250 lines
17 KiB
Plaintext
250 lines
17 KiB
Plaintext
Chapter One - Freewheeling Barbara Toys With Boys
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He had curly blond hair, he was about ninteen years old, and the
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look in his eyes told Barbara that the young man had other thoughts in
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his mind than the eggs Benedict he was eating. Look how his tongue
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curls around the bacon, the woman thought. Like it could curl around
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my...
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He stared at her. Then he smiled. A shy, young smile. What was
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she thinking of, anyway. How silly! Here she was a mature woman
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watching a teenaged young man eat his breakfast, getting damp between
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her legs as she did, not knowing why, narrowing her eyes in a lust-
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filled response to his lewd smile. She hoped Annette didn't notice.
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She directed her attention toward her partner, Annette. Her partner.
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How foolish that sounded. Oh well.
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No, Annette hadn't noticed. Good.
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Barbara leaned away from her cheese omelet and glared at the
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thick slices of French toast buried beneath a mountain of fresh
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strawberries and whipped cream on Annette's breakfast plate.
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"That's disgusting, Annette, how can you eat like that? she said.
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"Here, I'll help you." And she scooped up a bite, glancing back at
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the young man at the other table as she rather obviously rolled it
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around on her tongue, lips slightly parted.
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The two women had just finished an eleven-day, 638-mile bicycle
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tour down state. In past years they had peddled thousands of miles
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together, 150 miles in one stint, 500 in another. They were already
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planning a bike tour across Europe that might very well get them into
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the Guinness Book of Records. They had both often agreed that it was
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their mutual "visions of hotcakes" that made them dedicated cyclists.
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The two women never allowed themselves breakfast until they had
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gone 20 or 25 miles. They had long before agreed, "We'll have to be
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starving first, and then we will both agree that it was the best
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breakfast we ever ate." And every night they would have the best
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shower they ever had. But that seemed to be it. No great sex, just a
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great shower.
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The two women had been biking together for years. They had met
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four years before when a mutual friend, a real estate agent,
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introduced them, saying that, "Annette will be great for you! She will
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help you decorate your home." Annette had, and now the two houses
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looked exactly alike.
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Their first long ride together had taken them some twelve miles,
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to meet their husbands for dinner at the beach. As they approached
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the restaurant Annette had called out, "That's twelve. Thirteen is a
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luckier number!" So the two women circled a car wash, next to the
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restaurant, about fifteen times to make up the mile difference.
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The difference between them, Barbara had finally decided, was
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that Annette was a record-breaker idiot. There was something else
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about cycling that Barbara loved, screw the records, the distance and
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all that. She loved the wind in her hair, her face, the coolness of
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it. And her legs pumping, sometimes aching... and she associated that
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thought, strangely enough, with sex. The moment of exhaustion was not
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unlike the moment of orgasm.
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But then how would Barbara know? She was in her mid-thirties,
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and except for a little side-trip of sexual adventure, had never
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experienced true sexual fullfillment. And that had been a mind-
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bending experience.
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And of course it had been with the young man who had stared over
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his eggs Benedict at her during breakfast that morning at the little
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roadside motel. A soul-filled look in his eyes, that was what it had
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been that turned her on so. She had had a husband and many other men
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in her life - so why was this youth's look so different, so exciting?
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Perhaps it was a case of Monday Morning Quarterbacking - he had
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satisfied her. Oh, did he ever satisfy her!
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She had become sick to death of Annette's bribes of "Tell you
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what, Barbara, a big luscious hot fudge sundae if we push on for
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another three miles, what say?" Annette was obsessed. Annette was a
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nut.
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There had been the feedback from friends - "You two will kill
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yourselves." Actually, there had been few mishaps. The two women had
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prepared thoroughly for their long-distance runs, and both had worked
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themselves into demons for conditioning. Barbara, in her first burst
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of enthusiasm after meeting Annette, had taken a semester-long course
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on bicycling at a local Junior college, and the whole thrust of it had
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been safety. Safety was something Barbara was sick to death of. The
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young man's eyes -ahh, there was danger, a much spicier dish than
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safety.
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Annette had insisted they have their bikes checked out before
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each and every trip, and then they would train, leaving home before
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5:45 a.m., getting in 12 or 20 miles of vigorous cycling. Always,
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though, they were back before 7:45 in time for Annette to cook
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breakfast for her husband. Barbara had become jealous of that. She
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had no one except her son Jerry to even think about breakfast for.
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And her son Jerry, at this point in his life, anyway, needed a
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bicycling mother like he needed a hole in the head.
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But the conditioning had paid off. She was slim, tight of body,
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didn't pant, even when cycling up a continuous twenty-five mile hill.
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Maybe it had all put her in condition for the very young man who was
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to be her first satisfying lover.
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In his arms, she was to forget the challenges of roads that had
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no shoulders, logging trucks and sawdust trucks whizzing by, hills to
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pump up.
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But, in young Jim's arms, Barbara, a bit late in life, realized
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the wonderful exhileration of another kind of uphill pumping, her mind
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screaming to itself, "Look what your body is doing now!"
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"Hi!" he had said to her as she sat outside her motel room door.
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She and Annette always had their own room, no matter where they were
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cycling to or from. It had been Annette's husband's idea. "If you do
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break any mileage records, people will get to talking, and the next
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thing you know you'll have reputations as being lesbians. I don't
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mind the bike rides off into nowhere, but I don't think I can hack the
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lesbian talk bit," he had declared. Both women agreed immediately,
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for that was not their game.
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Barbara now lifted her sun glasses and looked into the young
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man's handsome face. She said nothing, but did manage a smile.
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"You and your girlfriend are bike freaks too, eh?" he said.
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"Freaks? I don't like to think of it exactly that way," Barbara
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replied, crossing her legs, a subconscious protective measure -
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against her own compulsions, not against the young man who had
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approached her.
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"Sorry. No offense. I call myself a bike freak. I biked up
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here all the way from State College. There are bike freaks and there
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are bike freaks, see?" He pulled up a deck chair next to her. His
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body was tight, compact, tanned. "I live on a particular street down
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at college. "It's off campus, actually, and I have a basement
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apartment. Anyway, this street is known for bachelor parties, and out
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on the street and on the balconies, anywhere. Sort of like New
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Orleans. And the girls that live there in the dorms, freshmen,
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mostly, they ride their bikes by this street every morning, see. It's
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like a beauty parade. They know that only studs that are seniors and
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have some bread can afford apartments on the street. Not that the
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apartments are so great - mine was flooded knee deep last year during
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the rains - but then I got a basement two-roomer, the rent's cool.
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Anyway, these freshies ride by, and whoever doesn't have a hangover
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from a bash the night before watches. Good watching, too. They
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purposely wear these little bikinis and no bras under their T-shirts,
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so their boobs bounce and all."
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Barbara smiled, and reddened a bit. He's so young, she thought,
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so fresh, so ready to attack life. I wish I was like that. I was
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once.
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He grinned, and his teeth were very young and white and square.
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"So there they go, pedaling along, dozens of them, up and down
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the street. Their boobs bounce, and sometimes when I look up from my
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basement window I can almost see the balconies above bouncing in the
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same cadence. Lots of horny dudes, see. Anyway, like I was saying,
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there's bikers and then there's bikers. Those girls are not bikers.
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You and your friend, you're bikers. I could tell. Bikes oiled,
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everything in balance." He looked down at her breasts. "And nothing
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bouncing."
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He wore nothing but blue satin bathing trunks, and her eyes fell
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on the thick bulge, the almost invisible throb at the skimpy center.
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She looked back up into his eyes. And she knew. They both
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knew...
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Later, in her motel room that night, while Annette obtained her
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necessary "health sleep, eight hours, no less!", the young man named
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Jim stared again into Barbara's eyes.
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Running his middle finger over the crispy curling strands of her
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pubic hair, he hissed down at her, his teeth bared in an animalistic
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mask of lust. "Don't worry," he told her. "I'm going to give you the
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fucking of your life!"
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"Oooooooooh!" moaned Barbara. "Yeeeeeees!"
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His obscene words triggered still more excitement in her wildly
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impassioned body, and she groaned louder, "Do it to me... fuck me as
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hard as you can!" Her small ringed hand tightened about the shaft of
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his pulsing penis as she spoke, and her naked white ass-cheeks began
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to rotate in wanton little circles on the mattress as she felt his
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prodding finger swirling around and around the sensitive little bud of
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her clitoris. "Aaaaaaah," she cried.
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Her new lover's penis lurched violently and he new he could not
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wait any longer. Suddenly inspired by her lewd gyrations and wanton
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pleadings, he decided what his plan of attack would be with the woman.
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He wanted to shove his bursting cock up inside her tight little belly,
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and he wanted the salacious view of her jouncing breasts and her lust-
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contorted face as he did so. There was only one way to do it.
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"Get on top of me!" he commanded, and before Barbara had a chance
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to protest or to consent, she felt herself being pulled up over his
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passion-fevered loins.
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Her husband had never made love to her this way, and she was not
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quite sure of what to do. She stared down with wide wondering eyes,
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afraid he was going to do something else that would only satisfy his
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own needs instead of giving her the fucking she needed. Her breath
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came in quick labored gasps, and she only wished he would put his
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penis inside her aching pussy quick! It felt as though her cunt were
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on fire, and the spirit of licentious liberation from all inhibitions
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drove her to heights of wanton desire which she had never before
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known.
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"Like this, baby," explained the youth whose fingers were
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clasping the satin-smooth cheeks of her resilient buttocks and
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positioning her temptingly small cuntal mouth directly above his
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throbbing hardness. A lewd little smile lighted his face as he noted
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the half-fearful, half-lustful gleam in her eyes as she stared
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greedily down at the size of his penis.
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"Is it big enough?" he asked lecherously, his eyes gleaming.
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"This what your hot cunt is needing?"
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Barbara could hardly answer. The sight of his rigid pulsing
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flesh rising straight up from his hairy loins to her unprotected pussy
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made the lustful woman almost faint with desire.
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But it's so big, she thought in terror. It will surely tear me
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apart. Suddenly her lust was forgotten in a flood of terror. "No!"
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she gasped. "Stop! Let go of me!"
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Forgotten now, in the moment of truth, were all the other massive
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penises that she had thought too big for her. But there was no
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stopping now. The panting youth was quite sure that she'd like his
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big thick cock well enough once it was firmly ensconced within her
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trembling cunt.
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"Take it in your hand and put it in your cunt," he ordered, too
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impatient to pay attention to the cock-teasing woman's objections.
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"No!" she wailed. "I can't! I'm afraid! I won't!"
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Oh God in heaven! thought Barbara, he is surely going to tear me
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to pieces. But she was helpless against his every wish. Her body
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ceased to struggle and strain, and much to her astonishment the
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needles of desire and thrills of excitement began again, prurient
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flames of eroticism flooding through her loins.
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"Now you put my cock in your pussy and hurry up about it,"
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commanded the boy who lay below her, still leering.
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Oh God. How did I ever get in a position like this? But she
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obediently reached out her hand and guided his lust-distended hardness
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toward the small quivering mouth of her vagina. As she somewhat
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gingerly parted her soaked vaginal lips to guide the blunt-nosed shaft
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up into the depths of her belly, her earlier passion began to return.
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Unable to wait another second, the lusting youth with the big
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penis flicked his muscular hips upward and plunged his aching hardness
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deep into her open cunt without thinking whether he was hurting her or
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not.
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Sharp needles of sensual agony shot through her impaled body. The
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boy's massive thickness was thrust inside her. His mammoth hardness
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throbbed within the suffering walls of her stretched cunt.
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And then before she realized what she was doing, she began to
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undulate her own firm-fleshed ass-cheeks around the obscenely impaling
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rod of hardened male flesh, all traces of pain easing until she was
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floating in between hurt and happiness, between pain and pleasure, far
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away from reality. Something was so erotic, so forbidden about being
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fucked half to death by a stranger, far away from her son, far away
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from home. A powerful wave of pleasure rippled through her over-
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stimulated body.
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"Oh, yes," she breathed. "Yes, fuck me like that."
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Eager to oblige the lust-ridden woman the youth began to fuck his
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pulsating thickness hard up into her heated vagina with smooth
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straight strokes that sank all the way to her spongy cervix. At the
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same time, he teased his thumb wildly at the sensitive bud of her
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throbbing clitoris.
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Incoherent gurgles of joy spurted from Barbara's lushly parted
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lips, and her ripe body squirmed in orgiastic ecstasy. She felt his
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hand attack her vulnerable anus with savage insistence, as the
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outstretched finger wormed its way up into her clenching rectum, to
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move back and forth in time to the wild fucking strokes of the youth
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beneath her. She felt herself floating higher and higher, far removed
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from space and time.
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Then, suddenly, the long desired climax hit her like a
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jackhammer. Unexpectedly it came over her aroused flesh and she
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howled like a wounded animal, as great swirls of incredible pleasure
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stormed through her overloaded nervous system. And at precisely the
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same moment, the plunging penis that brought her to such heights, came
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also, expanding to spurt its hot load of semen deep into her
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convulsing body.
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Maddened by the pungent aroma of sexual release, Barbara fucked
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harder and wilder down upon his stiff exploding penis. Orgiastic
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liquid poured from her own convulsing body and overflowed upon the bed
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below them. She swallowed in the delights of orgasm and the slippery
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warm cum.
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