Cycling to the Swimming Pool

The same year, the year I turned eighteen, as I remember. High school graduation was June 6th, college started in September. I lived at home with my parents and I expected to commute to Ohio State when classes began. It's not that I loafed, I had chores and I practiced piano two hours everyday, but I did have spare time.

Sometimes when my mother took the car, and I am remembering hot Ohio June afternoons when she would leave to sunbathe, I would ride my ten-speed over to the Grove City pool. It was a ten minute ride, not too far, and this was before anyone wore helmets or cycling pants, back before bicycles were referred to as 'road', 'mountain', or 'cross country'. My outfit consisted of a pair of short cutoffs over my little bikini (we called them string bikinis then), my tennis shoes, sunglasses, and a handbag with suntan lotion and an I.D. My thin body sat on that long bicycle seat, my boobs bounced as I pumped, and my blond hair blew in the wind. Taking longer routes, to get to the pool and to be seen in my little bikini, became fun. I found places to ride where I knew that I would get attention, men that I could flash, sometimes everyday.

Near the pool, on most afternoons, a single guy would sit on the porch of his house. I learned later that he worked the third shift at the GM plant on Georgesville Road, and that he didn't get up until 2:00 PM. I guessed that he was much older than I was, though he was handsome, had long brown hair, a moustache, broad shoulders, and was thin. He'd sit there drinking a beer and he'd watch me as I rode past his house. I would loosen my top, hoping to get his attention. My breasts are my best feature. After I realized that he was watching me, I'd pull my bike up to the pool bike rack, lock it, and strut and pose to for him. After a few days of that stuff, he spoke to me as I rode by.

"You can stop if you want", was the first thing he said to me. I ignored him and rode on by.

The next day it was "are you old enough to drink beer, blondie?"

"Of course I am, but not in a bar," I shouted back.

And so it went on. After a week or so, when I was leaving the pool – hell it must have been ninety degrees – the thought of that beer sounded pretty good. I loosened my top up – adjusted it – so that it was really loose. It was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, hot and humid. When I saw him on the porch, I slowed up.

"Can I take you up on that beer?" I asked.

"Be my guest. Park your bike and have a seat. I'll pull a cold Molson's for you."

As I moved to the porch, I noticed through the front door that the windows were open. A moment later, he reappeared with three Canadians, Golden Ales at the time. He opened one and handed it to me. I placed the bottle to my lips and sucked down an ounce or two as he watched me tongue the end of the bottle. I leaned one way to show a nipple, then I leaned the other.

"I'm Sheryl," I said.

"Mike" he replied.

"It's been so hot out," I said, "how do you stand it without air conditioning? Jeez, you must sweat to death..."

"Well, the beer helps cool me down. I don't own this place, so I'm not going to install whole house air. The truth is, I get my air conditioning in a baggie."

"A baggie?"

"Yeah...weed. Smoke some weed and you won't feel the heat. It'll dry you up. Makes me relax, and everything is more comfortable."

"Oh..."

"That's not something I do here on the porch. The neighbors are straight and they'll call the law on me. The Grove City cops are ass holes, but I figure that inside my house – I make more money that any cop here makes – I can do what I want. But not outside, and not this close to kids at a pool."

"Makes sense. Not around the kids."

"I also take my clothes off. There's nothing more relaxing than sitting around nude with my friends, smoking weed, listening to music, drinking beer...it's a comfortable life."

Right then I was at a crossroad. I didn't know where this was leading. If he asked me in, ok, but he hadn't asked me in. Hadn't made any type of sexual overture at all, and his conversation was more recital than flirtatious. Then I realized that he was stoned. Stoned on pot. He had his "Rainy Day Woman" and he could care less about a sexual adventure with a young girl on a bicycle. I finished my first beer, and Mike opened a second for me. That day, it was still pretty hot out.

"Are you married?" I asked.

"Not yet. I have a regular girlfriend, but it's tough when you work nights. She works days. Weekends, you'll find us together. Say...why don't you stop back on Saturday afternoon...she'll be here...we can party a little...we'll get you primed for your Saturday night date."

I wished I had a Saturday night date. More probably, I'd end up cruising the bars, listening to rock bands, and drinking beer with my friends. I thanked Mike for his hospitality, I got back on my bike, and I rode home, wondering what it would be like the next time I saw him.

On Saturday afternoon, I told my mother that I was riding to the pool, but of course that didn't happen. After leaning my bike against his porch, I rapped on Mike's door, and I waited. No one answered. I knocked one more time, and I turned to leave. Then the door opened.

"Hello."

A long legged blonde was standing in the doorway wearing a short bathrobe. She was barefoot, about 5'7, a pretty face, thin. I was in my bikini top with my shortest pair of cutoffs, and suddenly speechless.

"Hi...I'm a ...well...is Mike here? He asked me to come by, and...."

"Sure. Come on in. Mike told me that someone – you must be Sheryl – might stop by to relax with us. We were down in his basement room, could barely hear your knock. Oh, sorry, I'm Sandy."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"Follow me."

Without further exchange of words, Sandy led me down the basement stairs, toward a room that was closed. She tapped a code tap on the door, opened it, and led me in. My first glance caught two leather loveseat couches, facing each other and spaced by a coffee table. My second glance found a TV with a VCR, huge plants that I now know were marijuana, grow bulbs, electrical cords, and Mike, sitting away at the far end of the room, talking on a cordless phone. When I turned around, Sandy had taken her bathrobe off, and she was laying it across the loveseat. She was completely nude. Sandy had the figure that I always wanted to have, she was so attractive and so nude that, at first, she made me uncomfortable. I tried not to stare.

"Sit down, Sheryl. Relax. I'll get you a beer. Get down with us."

I could hear Mike's telephone conversation from across the room.

"She's here," he said. "She just showed up. Yeah, the young blond I was telling you about. I invited her over to party with us, and she's accepted my invitation. Ok. See you later."

Mike clicked off the phone and walked my way. For the first time, I saw that he was also nude. It had only been three months since I lost my virginity, and as he approached me, with his penis hanging there for me to see, I squirmed a bit. What had I gotten myself into...

Sandy came back through the door with a half dozen fresh Molsens. I drank one as quickly as I could, hoping that it would calm me down. Then I opened another and I drank it too. Sandy and Mike sat on one love seat, facing me, while I sat on the other. Her boobs, she had the most attractive pair that I had ever seen, firm, round, matched. Mike had a bag of marijuana out on the table, and a pipe. He lit the pipe, took a few puffs, and then he handed it across the table to me. As he stood to hand it to me, I looked at his penis, and Sandy sort of....caught me looking. But she didn't seem to care. They were nude, and a good looking pair of show offs. We passed a bowl full or two around, then we passed the pipe around some more. I was getting high on the mix of pot and beer, and whatever tension and anxiety I had I was able to release. It was quite relaxing. Maybe people really do party naked...

I was drifting off when I heard some commotion. Someone was at the upstairs door and the voices startled me. Next thing, another guy came into the room, apparently a friend of Mike's. Sandy moved across, next to me, and whispered 'it's ok' in my ear. This guy, Mike's friend Bob, they sat together on the other loveseat and they puffed on that pipe, filling the room with marijuana smoke. Half conscious, I drifted off again...

When I came back around, Sandy was holding my arms behind my back. My bikini top was gone, my cutoffs were gone, and Mike and his friend Bob were laughing and pulling my bottoms off while Sandy held me from behind there on the loveseat. They were all naked, and they were getting me naked too.

"Mike gets to fuck you first, Sheryl," Sandy said to me. "He's the one that invited you over to party with us and, when you showed up, I think that he deserves the first pop, don't you?"

Bob held one of my legs as Mike got between them. Sandy's grip was tight, I couldn't move, and she watched as her boyfriend pushed his erect penis in me. It was the second cock I'd taken in my life. Mike couldn't ejaculate though, and after about five minutes he tired out. Then Bob became number three. He turned me over and did me doggie style while Sandy and Mike watched him fuck me. I wasn't much of a lay then, but I let him have his way with me.

"Hey, Mike," Bob said, "this young blond is really tight. You and Sandy are lucky to have found a young girl... like this one...I'm going to pull out...she may not even be on the pill...let's get her turned round and I'll get off in her mouth."

They did just that. Spun me around and told me to suck. Bob had a load and he held my head so that I had no choice but to swallow every drop. When he was through with me, I didn't get up and leave, and oddly, I wasn't angry at all. I had no place to go, the guys had each already fucked me, why leave. Instead I spent the next few hours with them, nude, partying, smoking more pot, drinking more beer, and having more sex with both Mike and Bob. It was fun. Sandy recognized that I was inexperienced, and she showed me new ways to tease a man. It was like I passed an audition, but they didn't even know my name, and I never rode that way again.