Archive-name: Family/barbara1.txt
Archive-author: A. Green
Archive-title: Freewheeling Barbara - 1
Also-title: Freewheeling Barbara Toys With Boys - Chapter One

Keywords: also 3plus, First


  He  had  curly blond hair, he was about nineteen years old,  and  the
look in his eyes told Barbara that the young man had other thoughts  in
his  minds than the eggs Benedict he was eating.  Look how  his  tongue
curls  around the bacon, the woman thought.  Like it could curl  around
my ...
  He stared at her.  Then he smiled.  A shy, young smile.  What was she
thinking of, anyway.  How silly!  Here she was a mature woman  watching
a  teen-age young man eat his breakfast, getting damp between her  legs
as  she  did,  not knowing why, narrowing her  eyes  in  a  lust-filled
response  to  his lewd smile.  She hoped Annette  didn't  notice.   She
directed her attention toward her partner, Annette.  Her partner.   How
foolish that sounded.  Oh well.
  No, Annette hadn't noticed.  Good.
  Barbara  leaned away from her cheese omelet and glared at  the  thick
slices of French toast buried beneath a mountain of fresh  strawberries
and whipped cream on Annette's breakfast plate.
  "That's  disgusting,  Annette, how can you eat like that?  she  said.
"Here, I'll help you."  And she scooped up a bite, glancing back at the
young  man at the other table as she rather obviously rolled it  around
on her tongue, lips slightly parted.
  The two women had just finished an eleven-day, 638-mile bicycle  tour
down  state.   In  past  years they  had  peddled  thousands  of  miles
together,  150 miles in one stint, 500 in another.  They  were  already
planning  a bike tour across Europe that might very well get them  into
the  Guinness Book of Records.  They had both often agreed that it  was
their mutual "visions of hotcakes" that made them dedicated cyclists.
  The two women never allowed themselves breakfast until they had  gone
20  or  25  miles.   They had long before agreed,  "We'll  have  to  be
starving  first,  and  then we will both agree that  it  was  the  best
breakfast  we  ever  ate."  And every night they would  have  the  best
shower they ever had.  But that seemed to be it.  No great sex, just  a
great shower.
  The two women had been biking together for years.  They had met  four
years  before  when a mutual friend, a real  estate  agent,  introduced
them,  saying that, "Annette will be great for you! She will  help  you
decorate  your  home."   Annette had, and now  the  two  houses  looked
exactly alike.
  Their  first long ride together had taken them some twelve miles,  to
meet  their husbands for dinner at the beach.  As they  approached  the
restaurant  Annette  had  called out, "That's  twelve.  Thirteen  is  a
luckier  number!"   So the two women circled a car wash,  next  to  the
restaurant, about fifteen times to make up the mile difference.
  The  difference between them, Barbara had finally decided,  was  that
Annette  was  a record-breaker idiot.  There was something  else  about
cycling  that  Barbara loved, screw the records, the distance  and  all
that.   She loved the wind in her hair, her face, the coolness  of  it.
And  her  legs pumping, sometimes aching ... and  she  associated  that
thought, strangely enough, with sex.  The moment of exhaustion was  not
unlike the moment of orgasm.
  But  then how would Barbara know?  She was in her  mid-thirties,  and
except   for  a  little  side-trip  of  sexual  adventure,  had   never
experienced true sexual fulfillment.  And that had been a  mind-bending
experience.
  And of course it had been with the young man who had stared over  his
eggs  Benedict  at  her during breakfast that  morning  at  the  little
roadside  motel.  A soul-filled look in his eyes, that was what it  had
been  that turned her on so.  She had had a husband and many other  men
in  her life - so why was this youth's look so different, so  exciting?
Perhaps  it  was  a  case of Monday Morning  Quarterbacking  -  he  had
satisfied her.  Oh, did he ever satisfy her!
  She  had become sick to death of Annette's bribes of "Tell you  what,
Barbara,  a  big luscious hot fudge sundae if we push  on  for  another
three miles, what say?"  Annette was obsessed.  Annette was a nut.
  There  had  been  the  feedback from friends -  "You  two  will  kill
yourselves."  Actually, there had been few mishaps.  The two women  had
prepared  thoroughly for their long-distance runs, and both had  worked
themselves into demons for conditioning. Barbara, in her first burst of
enthusiasm  after meeting Annette, had taken a semester-long course  on
bicycling  at  a local Junior college, and the whole thrust of  it  had
been  safety.  Safety was something Barbara was sick to death of.   The
young  man's  eyes  -ahh, there was danger, a much  spicier  dish  than
safety.
  Annette  had insisted they have their bikes checked out  before  each
and  every  trip, and then they would train, leaving home  before  5:45
a.m.,  getting in 12 or 20 miles of vigorous cycling.  Always,  though,
they  were back before 7:45 in time for Annette to cook  breakfast  for
her  husband.   Barbara  had become jealous of that.  She  had  no  one
except  her son Jerry to even think about breakfast for.  And  her  son
Jerry,  at  this point in his life, anyway, needed a  bicycling  mother
like he needed a hole in the head.
  But  the  conditioning had paid off.  She was slim,  tight  of  body,
didn't  pant, even when cycling up a continuous twenty-five mile  hill.
Maybe it had all put her in condition for the very young man who was to
be her first satisfying lover.
  In  his arms, she was to forget the challenges of roads that  had  no
shoulders, logging trucks and sawdust trucks whizzing by, hills to pump
up.
  But,  in young Jim's arms, Barbara, a bit late in life, realized  the
wonderful  exhilaration  of another kind of uphill  pumping,  her  mind
screaming to itself, "Look what your body is doing now!"
  "Hi!" he had said to her as she sat outside her motel room door.  She
and  Annette  always  had their own room, no  matter  where  they  were
cycling to or from.  It had been Annette's husband's idea.  "If you  do
break  any  mileage records, people will get to talking, and  the  next
thing you know you'll have reputations as being lesbians.  I don't mind
the  bike  rides  off into nowhere, but I don't think I  can  hack  the
lesbian talk bit," he had declared.  Both women agreed immediately, for
that was not their game.
  Barbara  now lifted her sun glasses and looked into the  young  man's
handsome face.  She said nothing, but did manage a smile.
  "You and your girlfriend are bike freaks too, eh?" he said.
  "Freaks?   I  don't like to think of it exactly  that  way,"  Barbara
replied, crossing her legs, a subconscious protective measure - against
her own compulsions, not against the young man who had approached her.
  "Sorry.   No offense.  I call myself a bike freak.  I biked  up  here
all  the way from State College.  There are bike freaks and  there  are
bike freaks, see?"  He pulled up a deck chair next to  her.   His  body
was tight, compact, tanned.  "I live on  a  particular street  down  at
college.  "It's off campus, actually, and  I have a basement apartment.
Anyway,  this street is  known  for  bachelor  parties,  and out on the
street and on the balconies, anywhere.  Sort of like New Orleans.   And
the girls that live there in the  dorms  ...  freshmen, mostly ... they
ride their bikes by this street every morning, see.  It's like a beauty
parade.  They know that only studs that are seniors and have some bread
can afford apartments on the street.  Not that  the  apartments  are so
great - mine was flooded knee deep last year  during the  rains  -  but
then I got a basement  two-roomer,  the  rent's  cool.   Anyway,  these
freshies ride by, and whoever doesn't have  a  hangover   from  a  bash
the night before watches.   Good  watching,  too.   They purposely wear
these little bikinis and no bras under their  T-shirts,  so their boobs
bounce and all."
  Barbara  smiled, and reddened a bit.  He's so young, she thought,  so
fresh, so ready to attack life.  I wish I was like that.  I was once.
  He grinned, and his teeth were very young and white and square.
  "So  there they go, pedaling along, dozens of them, up and  down  the
street.   Their  boobs  bounce, and sometimes when I look  up  from  my
basement  window I can almost see the balconies above bouncing  in  the
same  cadence.  Lots of horny dudes, see.  Anyway, like I  was  saying,
there's  bikers and then there's bikers.  Those girls are  not  bikers.
You  and  your  friend, you're bikers.  I  could  tell.   Bikes  oiled,
everything  in balance."  He looked down at her breasts.  "And  nothing
bouncing."
  He  wore nothing but blue satin bathing trunks, and her eyes fell  on
the thick bulge, the almost invisible throb at the skimpy center.
  She looked back up into his eyes.  And she knew.  They both knew ...

   Later,  in  her motel room that night, while  Annette  obtained  her
necessary  "health sleep, eight hours, no less!", the young  man  named
Jim stared again into Barbara's eyes.
  Running  his  middle finger over the crispy curling  strands  of  her
pubic  hair,  he hissed down at her his teeth bared in  an  animalistic
mask of lust.  "Don't worry," he told her.  "I'm going to give you  the
fucking of your life!"
  "Oooooooooh!" moaned Barbara.  "Yeeeeeees!"
  His  obscene  words  triggered still more excitement  in  her  wildly
impassioned  body, and she groaned louder, "Do it to me ... fuck me  as
hard  as you can!"  Her small ringed hand tightened about the shaft  of
his pulsing penis as she spoke, and her naked white ass-cheeks began to
rotate  in  wanton  little  circles on the mattress  as  she  felt  his
prodding finger swirling around and around the sensitive little bud  of
her clitoris.  "Aaaaaaah," she cried.
  Her new lover's penis lurched violently and he new he could not  wait
any  longer.   Suddenly  inspired  by her  lewd  gyrations  and  wanton
pleadings, he decided what his plan of attack would be with the  woman.
He wanted to shove his bursting cock up inside her tight little  belly,
and he wanted the salacious view of her jouncing breasts and her  lust-
contorted face as he did so.  There was only one way to do it.
  "Get on top of me!" he commanded, and before Barbara had a chance  to
protest  or  to  consent, she felt herself being  pulled  up  over  his
passion-fevered loins.
  Her  husband  had never made love to her this way, and  she  was  not
quite  sure of what to do.  She stared down with wide  wondering  eyes,
afraid  he was going to do something else that would only  satisfy  his
own  needs  instead of giving her the fucking she needed.   Her  breath
came in quick labored gasps, and she only wished he would put his penis
inside  her  aching pussy quick!  It felt as though her  cunt  were  on
fire,  and  the spirit of licentious liberation  from  all  inhibitions
drove her to heights of wanton desire which she had never before known.
  "Like  this, baby," explained the youth whose fingers  were  clasping
the  satin-smooth cheeks of her resilient buttocks and positioning  her
temptingly small cuntal mouth directly above his throbbing hardness.  A
lewd little smile lighted his face as he noted the half-fearful,  half-
lustful  gleam in her eyes as she stared greedily down at the  size  of
his penis.
  "Is  it big enough?" he asked lecherously, his eyes  gleaming.  "This
what your hot cunt is needing?"
  Barbara  could hardly answer.  The sight of his rigid  pulsing  flesh
rising  straight up from his hairy loins to her unprotected pussy  made
the lustful woman almost faint with desire.
  But  it's  so  big, she thought in terror.  It will  surely  tear  me
apart.  Suddenly her lust was forgotten in a flood of terror. "No!" she
gasped.  "Stop!  Let go of me!"
  Forgotten  now,  in the moment of truth, were all the  other  massive
penises  that  she  had  thought too big for her.   But  there  was  no
stopping now.  The panting youth was quite sure that she'd like his big
thick  cock  well  enough  once it  was  firmly  ensconced  within  her
trembling cunt.
  "Take  it  in  your hand and put it in your cunt,"  he  ordered,  too
impatient to pay attention to the cock-teasing woman's objections.
  "No!" she wailed.  "I can't!  I'm afraid!  I won't!"
  Oh  God in heaven! thought Barbara, he is surely going to tear me  to
pieces.  But she was helpless against his every wish.  Her body  ceased
to  struggle  and strain, and much to her astonishment the  needles  of
desire  and  thrills  of excitement began  again,  prurient  flames  of
eroticism flooding through her loins.
  "Now you put my cock in your pussy and hurry up about it,"  commanded
the boy who lay below her, still leering.
  Oh  God.   How  did  I ever get in a position  like  this?   But  she
obediently reached out her hand and guided his lust-distended  hardness
toward  the  small  quivering mouth of her  vagina.   As  she  somewhat
gingerly parted her soaked vaginal lips to guide the blunt-nosed  shaft
up into the depths of her belly, her earlier passion began to return.
  Unable  to wait another second, the lusting youth with the big  penis
flicked  his muscular hips upward and plunged his aching hardness  deep
into her open cunt without thinking whether he was hurting her or not.
  Sharp  needles  of sensual agony shot through her impaled  body.  The
boy's  massive thickness was thrust inside her.  His  mammoth  hardness
throbbed within the suffering walls of her stretched cunt.
  And  then  before  she  realized what she was  doing,  she  began  to
undulate her own firm-fleshed ass-cheeks around the obscenely  impaling
rod  of  hardened male flesh, all traces of pain easing until  she  was
floating in between hurt and happiness, between pain and pleasure,  far
away  from reality.  Something was so erotic, so forbidden about  being
fucked  half  to death by a stranger, far away from her son,  far  away
from  home.   A  powerful wave of pleasure rippled  through  her  over-
stimulated body.
  "Oh, yes," she breathed.  "Yes, fuck me like that."
  Eager  to  oblige the lust-ridden woman the youth began to  fuck  his
pulsating thickness hard up into her heated vagina with smooth straight
strokes that sank all the way to her spongy cervix.  At the same  time,
he  teased  his  thumb wildly at the sensitive  bud  of  her  throbbing
clitoris.
  Incoherent gurgles of joy spurted from Barbara's lushly parted  lips,
and  her  ripe body squirmed in orgiastic ecstasy.  She felt  his  hand
attack her vulnerable anus with savage insistence, as the  outstretched
finger  wormed its way up into her clenching rectum, to move  back  and
forth  in  time to the wild fucking strokes of the youth  beneath  her.
She felt herself floating higher and higher, far removed from space and
time.
  Then,  suddenly, the long desired climax hit her like  a  jackhammer.
Unexpectedly  it  came  over her aroused flesh and she  howled  like  a
wounded animal, as great swirls of incredible pleasure stormed  through
her  overloaded nervous system.  And at precisely the same moment,  the
plunging  penis that brought her to such heights, came also,  expanding
to spurt its hot load of semen deep into her convulsing body.
  Maddened  by  the  pungent aroma of sexual  release,  Barbara  fucked
harder  and  wilder  down upon his stiff  exploding  penis.   Orgiastic
liquid poured from her own convulsing body and overflowed upon the  bed
below  them.  She swallowed in the delights of orgasm and the  slippery
warm cum.

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