The Ski Bunny Ch. 03

Every time I turned around I thought I saw Sherry. I thought I saw her in that sleeveless fleece and sheer base layer. I thought I saw her curvy yet toned ass complimented by a tight pair of metallic blue pants. I thought I saw her large, round blue eyes and her thin ski-jump nose. A number of skiers made me do a double-take. But it was never her.

I took an early lunch break to avoid the crowds. The Mountaintop Hut was small, but mostly empty. I bent down to loosen my boot buckles and I felt a sharp pain on my left butt cheek.

"What the fu--" I whipped around. It was Sherry! She had pinched my butt and was now giggling.

"Hey cutie," she said.

"Hey you!" We embraced and kissed for a brief moment.

"I saw you walk in, and I just had to follow you." Our kissing resumed, and my hands soon found a sweet spot on the underside of her ass. I gave a gentle squeeze, but she gently pushed me away.

"Not now. The DiMarcos are right outside," she said, turning to the picture window that framed the wooden deck. Five men, each looking to be in their mid-40s and each with three days of growth on their beards, were waiting for their burgers to be served up by a dread-locked line cook.

"So what? Let's have a little fun before you re-join them," I said as I pulled her back toward me. I kissed her again, and she didn't resist. I was feeling bolder than usual, given all the semi-public action I had gotten from Sherry.

But she pushed back again. "Will, I'm sorry, I really want to but I can't right now. They're a bunch of Italian playboys with a lot of money. It's all about flirting. If I land this account it will be because I made myself look available."

"That's how Hooters waitresses get such big tips," I said.

"Yes, but it's just an act. I'm not actually going to do anything with them."

"You're such a tease!"

"Shhh!" Sherry said with a finger on her lips as she backed away from me and out the door.

I watched her sit down at an aluminum picnic table with the five men. She produced a trail map from her pocket, unfolded it, and laid it on the table. The group pointed at various parts of the map as they talked. Sherry spoke playfully as the men flirted with her. She was being the consummate tour guide.

I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a little jealous. Even though I had only known Sherry for 24 hours, I was really hoping that she was right about it just being an act. I decided not to stay at the Mountaintop Hut for lunch. I bought a couple protein bars that I could eat on a lift ride, then went back out to my skis. I glanced at Sherry, and she saw me, giving a quick wink. It was reassurance enough, for now.

Now it was time to carry out my plan. I headed straight for the Pioneer Express lift. I had to share a chair with two teenage snowboarder boys, but I didn't mind. Of all the people on the mountain, they would most appreciate what I was about to do.

Every ski resort has a Panty Tree. Festooned with bras, panties and beaded necklaces, the arboreal Mardi Gras is a time-honored tradition. In theory, to throw something onto the panty tree was to boast about the previous night's conquests. I had never actually seen anyone do it, but I figured that I had a lot of boasting to do!

Earlier that morning when Sherry was in the bathroom, I went into her top dresser drawer. I was a bit nervous since I wasn't sure how Sherry would react if she caught me. Would she notice a missing bra later? Was I being a creeper? No. Just a bit naughty, I decided.

I selected a light green bra.What would she wear this with?I wondered. The straps had frilly edges. The cups were made of a thin, semi-transparent nylon. They seemed made to wear with a low-cut top, like they would just barely cover each nipple's areola and allow Sherry to proudly display the top of her breasts, plus plenty of cleavage. The underwire must have given great support. I looked a the small tag: C-cup. I was right.

I started to imagine Sherry wearing only the bra. Just the thought of her large round boobs bulging out the top of those bra cups had gotten me excited. My dick began to grow. I envisioned her unclasping the bra, and myself bringing the straps gently over the edges of her shoulders. The bra falls to the ground. Sherry reaches up, arches her back, and runs her fingers through her crown of silk tresses. Her breasts thrust forward, twin peaks of feminine sensuality, and I can't help myself: I reach out and take hold of them. Now my hands are the cups, gently kneading her smooth, bountiful flesh. My thumbs massage her nipples in small, circular movements. Sherry gasps and moans with pleasure. She pulls our bodies together, and my raging hard-on presses into her tummy. Our lips meet. They pour over each other, grasping, sucking, caressing every tiny ripple. Our tongues press into each other, then dance around each other in a warm, slick ritual of lust.

Just as I was wondering what to do with my full-mast erection, Sherry had started to come out of the bathroom. I quickly ran out of the room and down the hall, then stuffed the bra in the pocket of my leather jacket.

And now, as I rode the chair lift, I was ready to pull it out of my ski jacket pocket. The teenage boys next to me were having a mostly unintelligible conversation, grunting back and forth with each other until I proudly revealed Sherry's bra.

"Whoa, dude!" one of the boys called out. "Where'd you get that?"

"Where do you think?" I replied.

"Dude, that's hot! Did you get that off a girl?"

"Well he didn't get it off a dude, you moron," the second one chimed in. "You didn't buy that at the store just to throw it on the tree, did you?"

"You kidding?" I replied. "You can't cheat like that."

"Yeah, that's gotta be against some kinda bro code, or something," declared the first boy. "So you got some action last night? Is she hot?"

"Smokin!" I nodded confidently.

"Man, that's pretty big. What size is that?"

"C-cup. That's C for cougar," I said, toying with them. Sherry didn't fit that mold at all.

"Yes!" both boys exclaimed. "MILF!" They were future frat boys if I ever met one.

The panty tree came back into view as we glided over the top of a low ridge. The boys gave me non-stop instructions on how they thought was best to throw the bra, so that it spread out and secured a spot on one of the top branches. The closer we got to the tree, the faster and louder they spoke. I gave the bra a good chuck, and it landed on the third branch from the top. The boys shouted and high-fived each other in celebration.

"Dude, that was awesome! You hit that shit just right."

"You tha master playa, bro! Get some!"

What douche-bags,I thought. But I was glad to entertain them and become their alpha-male for a few minutes. I wondered if Sherry would notice her bra on that tree.

At the boys' invitation I skied the rest of the day with them. They were no replacement for Sherry, but at least I had someone to hang with for a while. I didn't mind getting some bro-time in. We hit some mogul runs, which is pretty rare for snowboarders. I praised their technical abilities, which they appreciated.

By four o'clock the boys headed to the base area while I caught the last chair on the Excelerator lift. I took one more run down the entire length of the mountain, nonstop, just as Sherry and I had agreed to do yesterday--right before we decided to have sex instead. I fantasized about our wild encounter in the gondola. It was the first time I had ever skied with a hard-on. Just like that morning, I didn't even care if anyone noticed.

When I reached the bottom, I clicked out of my skis, reluctantly returned them to the rental shop. I changed into street clothes at the hotel where I had arranged for a late check-out. I packed up, drove three hours to the airport, returned the rental car, and caught the red eye back home.

* * * * * * * * * *

The ski trip was over. Adrenaline was in recovery mode. Now in the post-vacation lull, I wondered if I had seen Sherry for the last time. It's one thing to have a passionate, lust-filled tryst while on vacation. When real life is the setting, things could easily become awkward.

We're still the same two people, but the more familiar surroundings of home and work give a sense of accountability that stands in stark contrast to the carefree freedom of a good vacation. Nobody knows this better than Las Vegas. Hence the tagline, "What happens in Vegas..." I was jut hoping that what happened in the mountains didn't end in the mountains.

I slogged through a full day of work. It was Saturday and the office was nearly empty, but I had a lot of catching up to do. This proved difficult as most of my thoughts were consumed with Sherry. I replayed our day of skiing together, our date at the Prime Steakhouse, and the quick breakfast we shared. She was beautiful and full of cheer in my mental videotape.

But also damned sexy. I visualized the blow jobs, the hand jobs, and all the pure, exquisite sex. I could see her mouth, and then her pussy, wrapped around my cock. I remembered the sensation of our pelvises hitting each other as I thrust inside of her, and I could feel myself taking hold of her bulbous butt as our orgasms took hold of us. God, I could just feel that orgasm ripping through me, causing me to squirt out stream after stream of cum into her slick, warm pussy!

It was a good thing nobody else was at the office. I would have had to spend a lot of time pulled close to my desk to hide the massive erection I was sporting.

I was eager to call Sherry, but I made sure to wait until next week. I even waited until Thursday night. It was so amateurish of me. She made me aware of that when she answered with: "Hi Willie baby! Wow, finally. What's up with that?"

"With what?"

"You took so long to call! I was beginning to think I had done something wrong, like sleep with a real asshole."

"Well, you might have," I joked.

"I'm so glad you called." Music to my ears.

"So how did things go with the DiMarco playboys?" I asked. "Did they give you the contract?"

"The jury is still out. But it's looking pretty good."

"Well let me know if they say yes. We'll have to celebrate together."

"And if they say no?"

"We'll have to get together so I can console you. Y'know: Massage you. Kiss you all over. Make it all better."

Sherry laughed. "Hey, that reminds me. Y'know that tree under the Pioneer lift? The one with all the underwear?"

SHIT! She saw it!I winced. A broken "Uh...I..." was all I could muster.

"I was on that lift with the DiMarcos. I wanted to show them the tree because I knew they would like it. I even thought about telling them that one of the bras was mine, but then I thought that was making myself seem a little too, umm...loosey-goosey, shall we say?"

"Uh-huh." Nothing more from me.

"Well, when we approached it I was a little surprised to see that if I had told them this, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN TRUE!" Sherry virtually yelled into her phone.

Fuck! I'm dead!"Uh...well, he he he. Really?" I forced a nervous laugh.

"Oh don't play dumb with me! I checked all the clothes I brought with me on the trip, and a bra was missing."

"Missing?" I muttered.

"Yeah, I think you know which one. I only have one green one. It was a low-cut push-up bra."

I had completely underestimated Sherry. I had forgotten how smart she is, and it doesn't take a PhD. to notice that a missing bra is hanging in a tree. How did I think I was going to get away with this?

And yet, somehow I didn't feel threatened. Her tone of voice carried just a hint of youthful playfulness. Sometimes, with the right person, I can hear a faint smile through the phone.

"You threw it in the tree, didn't you?!"

"Uh...no I didn't," I stated, my voice lowering to a playfully innocent tone, as if I was a relative of Kermit the Frog.

"Fuck you! Yes you did!" Sherry exclaimed with half of a laugh that belied her anger.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I sang.

"Liar! Ugh, you're such an asshole. I can't believe that my bra is on display for everyone on that mountain to see."

"Think of it as a compliment: I was bragging on you. I needed some subtle way to tell the world about the goddess I had spent the night with."

"Oh yeah, very subtle. EVERYONE CAN SEE IT!"

"I'm sorry, babe," I finally relented. "How can I make it up to you?"

Sherry sighed, then very matter-of-factly: "You're gonna have to be punished."

"Well, uh...OK. What do you have in mind?"

"My place. Tonight," she said sternly.

I was stunned and elated simultaneously. A small shock of adrenaline shot through me -- the kind that anticipates something good happening. Somehow I kept my cool.

"Well, I dunno," I said hesitantly. "I've got a pretty busy night. I'll have to check my schedule and get back to—OK, I'll be there!"

Sherry laughed, but quickly cut herself off, remembering that she was supposed to be mad. "I'm gonna text you my address. Mapquest it."

"Want me to bring anything?"

"Hmmm....Oh, the possibilities!" My chapped lips started hurting from the size of my smile. "Just you, William," Sherry finally concluded, then kissed the phone. "Just you."

I felt like I had dodged a bullet. She might be genuinely upset, but ordered me to come to her house. It was quite a bold move, even for a relationship that had progressed immediately to sex as ours had. I was just hoping that she wasn't going to involve any S&M stuff. I don't get turned on by whips and dog collars.

My act of reconciliation was to buy her another bra--not just a replacement: A better one. So when I decided that I was not going to get any more work done that day, I drove straight to Christie's, a local alternative to Vicotoria's Secret. Their selection is just as sexy, but the prices are a bit more reasonable. To get more guys to come into the store without making them feeling like perverts, the store clerks are more flirty in both their outfits and in their dealings with male customers.

The entire store was full of hot panties, bras, flirty skirts, and lingerie all proudly on display. The walls, where not covered by racks of unmentionables, displayed murals of unrealistically sexy underwear models. They wore bras and struck poses that emphasized their perfect curves. I tried not to stare at the pictures or the store clerks, who all wore slightly less than the average young woman would dare to wear outside that store.

There only other customers in the store were a rather touchy-feely couple who didn't seem to notice me. I made my way to what I considered the sexiest bras in the store. All were low-cut, and some were partially see-through, not unlike the one I had thrown in the tree. With all the implied sexiness surrounding me, I had to fight back the beginnings of an erection. I was successful.

"Those are pretty hot," a female voice said to my right. When I looked at her I could have sworn she had jumped right out of one of the murals. But there she was in real life: Golden blonde hair curled slightly and falling down to her shoulder blades. It framed a perfectly rounded face with long eyelashes complimenting deep green eyes, and a smile bounded by shiny red lips. She couldn't have been older than 20. I imagined she worked at Christie's as a way to pay for college.

She stood tall, just a couple inches shorter than myself. A white, spaghetti-strap camisole was practically painted onto her torso. It was low-cut and two sizes too small as it hugged her perfect tits. She had broad shoulders that elegantly supported the spaghetti-straps of the cami. These were paralleled by blue bra straps which disappeared beneath the cami's low chest line.

Her bra was either a push-up that came from the selection I was checking out, or her breasts were just naturally large and tantalizingly perky compared to her otherwise slim figure. Either way, the top third of each white globe was exposed to my vision. The canyon between them plunged down into the depths of that shirt.

Much of her midriff was bare, as the cami ended a few inches short of her skirt. Her tummy was flat, belly button pierced, and waist as thin as only someone in her late teens or early twenties could be. She wore a green flirty skirt that matched her eyes and just barely held onto the widest part of her hips. It only came halfway down her thighs.

From there, her legs took over. They were long and slender—just a bit longer than proportionally perfect. She wore a pair of low heels, so the muscle tone in her calves was slightly emphasized.

I gulped as I finished unabashedly checking her out. I had to fight harder to repress an impending hard-on. This girl exuded sexiness. She spent a moment sizing me up as well, then said, "She's a really lucky gal."

"Who?" I said, awakening from my trance.

"Whoever you're buying for. Can she wear something like this?" The clerk picked up a black bra from the table nearby.

"Oh yes," I confirmed. "But I'm not exactly sure what to get her."

"You're leaning toward a brassiere?" she asked.

"Yes."

"One that you might end up seeing on her?" she asked, cocking her head down at an angle and grinning mischievously. Her smooth, girlie voice was the epitome of youthful femininity.

"Uh-huh," I said, proudly.

"Do you know her size?"

"C-cup. I'm guessing 34."

The clerk locked eyes with me. A smile formed on her beautifully youthful face. "Let me gather a few items from around the store that you might like. I'll be right back." She spun around and the edges of her skirt flew up briefly. She looked back and said, "I'm Anna, by the way. Let me know if you have any questions." As she walked away, the mini skirt bounced with every step off her butt cheeks.

As I exhaled deeply, I began to wonder if I should be ogling this young goddess.What if she was underage?I gulped at this thought, but concluded that Christie's probably wouldn't employ anyone under eighteen.Still, is she too young for me to be staring at her?I absentmindedly fingered some of the bras on the table in front of me while I took occasional glances at Anna making a lap around the store, picking up small articles as she went. I decided that it wasn't wrong to look at her, but I couldn't touch her. If she flirted a bit, I would flirt back. But nothing too heavy. It's just her job.

"I was thinking maybe this," Anna said when she returned. She showed me a few bras, holding them up on herself one at a time and describing the fit and support. It gave me an excuse to pay more attention to her chest. I certainly didn't pay attention to her words.

"I'm a C-cup too, and I'm wearing that second one I showed you--the blue one. See?" Anna pulled down the top of her already low-riding camisole shirt to reveal the top corners of her bra cups, and more of the tops of her wide breasts. She must have been mere millimeters away from exposing her areola. My dirty mind was aching to see her nipples and the rest of those globes. I started imagining what they might look like, based on the large portion that I was currently starting at. They would likely be perky but not too pointy, and not fake. I wondered how big and how dark the nipples were.

"See, it's not a push-up, but it still gives great support."

"Uh-huh. I see," I said, trying to be nonchalant but detecting a quiver in my own voice. My dick had begun to harden, and I was losing control of it.

Anna replaced the top edge of her shirt and reached for the bottom. She brought it up to expose her torso, which was tight and strong, but mostly flat and not rippled with muscles. I surmised that she must be an athlete of some kind. She brought her shirt up far enough for me to see the lower half of her bra cups.

"It does have an underwire. See?" Anna traced a line around the bottom edge of her bra with her index finger. I had lost the battle to avoid an erection. My cock was pressing hard against my underwear, begging to be released. I couldn't hide the bulge in my pants, so I surmised that Anna must have seen it. I couldn't believe this young hottie was baring herself like this to me, but I was loving it.