Samantha From My Past Pt. 01: The Bike

She took off her helmet. She hung the helmet over my handlebars, dangling it by its chin strap. Her hair was pulled back in her signature ponytail, bangs across her forehead. She looked very cute.

"OK, this way," I nodded back toward the crest of the hill, towards town and my place.

She turned and started wheeling my bike along the side of the roadway, and I fell in step behind her, carrying hers. It was going to be an easy walk over a few rolling hills and around a few curves. About a mile. A couple of vehicles passed us as we walked, giving us plenty of room. Her bike was comfortable on my shoulder, but the seat was banging my helmet. I stopped for one moment. I leant her bike wheel against my leg so that I could remove my helmet and hang it from the bars of her bike as she had, before picking up the wheel and catching up with her. Her seat rested against my head but it made it easier to carry.

I could not help myself. My eyes went to her ass as she walked. The cycle shorts cupped her high butt cheeks into a perfect inverted heart. It was hard to believe this woman was in her sixties. Her whole body was trim and fit. She walked with the easy grace of someone who prized fitness and good posture. The sun was warm on us, and we both took on a slight sheen of sweat. Hers shone slightly at her neck. She unzipped her jersey further to let the neck flop open and let what little breeze there was to cool her down.

As she walked, she turned to speak to me over her shoulder. The bearings of my bike's rear wheel ticking over quietly.

"What was it that made you choose this place?"

I thought for a moment.

"For us it was definitely the lake. We both liked boating and swimming. We liked the small town feel. We liked the orchards and vineyards. Her parents grew up around here, and so coming up here felt a little bit like coming home." I stopped talking.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean..."

There was a brief pause as our riding shoes clip-clopped on the asphalt.

"It's OK. It's all good." I was quiet again for a moment.

"Really sorry." She stopped and turned toward me. The sun shone again through her cycling jersey, and I could see her sports bra again. I stopped. The small "v" where her jersey was open showed that her upper chest was shiny with a light film of sweat. It was warm, walking along the hot roadway, with barely any breeze. Her nipples were poking very slightly out; tiny peaks in her jersey.

"Don't need to be." I smiled at her. "But thanks for the consideration."

She turned back and kept walking. My eyes went again to her ass. To my surprise, I felt my cock thickening in my shorts. I didn't have a hand free to adjust it. Luckily she was facing the other way. I followed her. Concentrated on other things.

We spoke about the town and a little bit about my neighbourhood, where I had made many new friends.

We arrived at the stop sign, at the top of the quiet street to my house. We stood for a moment to look down at the lake. It was calm and smooth and was dotted with boats. Across the lake, about three miles away, we could just see the windows of the resort where she was staying, reflecting the sun back at us. I gestured toward the resort with the wheel of her bike.

"Do you have a lake view from your room?"

"Yes. Pretty spectacular. I get the sunsets, which is nice, but I know it's going to heat up the room in the afternoon."

I smiled. "Yes, I remember it getting very hot in those rooms. The adult pool is a nice place to cool off though. Have you tried it?"

"Oh yah," she giggled. "Last time we were up here -- which I think was for MY sixtieth. Been a few years now I guess. Anyway we had a boozy afternoon with the gals in that pool. Floating around. I don't think the other guests were that impressed by us old ladies, hootin and hollerin. Ha."

Standing in the hot sun at the corner I could smell a hint of musky sweat and realized that my morning's shower must have worn off with the short cycle journey, and the subsequent walk carrying the bike. As I adjusted Samantha's bike on my shoulder, the seat bounced slightly against my cheek. The scent was stronger. My stomach did a small flip. Again. Was I getting a scent of Samantha's sex on her bicycle seat? Was that possible? No. That was a pre-teen boy's fantasy.

Standing beside her, I glanced down and caught a brief view of her white sports bra in the opening at her neck. I could also see out of the corner of my eye that my flaccid cock was very clearly outlined in my cycling shorts, lying sideways. It was definitely showing interest in Samantha. My balls were tucked behind the shammy in the crotch of my shorts, which made them bulge out. I'm both a "show-er and a grow-er", as my wife used to say. With a cock that is six girthy inches when soft and large balls, there wasn't much left to the imagination in underwear or tight shorts. Normally I wouldn't stand around talking to people dressed like this. I tended to be a little less of an exhibitionist. And let's face it, no-one wants to see a more-than-middle-aged man parading around in lycra. But I hadn't planned on meeting up with anyone today, let alone Samantha.

I gestured again with her bike wheel to distract myself. "My place is the blue one with the black roof." She looked down the hill toward the lake, at the roofs of the houses dotted amongst the trees.

"Nice!" She smiled. "Can't wait to see it." She looked again. "Wait... Do you have a POOL?" From this angle she could see a hint of the blue sparkling water behind the house.

"Yup." My mind briefly darted to a hidden place where I was in the pool with Samantha. Naked skin together. Holding her. Touching her slippery flesh. Tongue on her breast. Her hands gripping my hardness.

I took a few steps down the hill to lead the way. The half-imagined scent of her sex was intoxicating me.

"It's great for a swim in the morning."

We walked down the hill to my driveway, and then along the fifty yards to the back of the property. As we passed the house, she looked up at it, and made appreciative noises. More than once she looked back along the driveway at the lake. "What a view you have," she pondered.

At the back of the property, the separate garage was accessible via a pin pad, which I used to open the doors. Our old pickup truck sat in there. Beside it sat my car and an empty spot where my wife's old SUV used to sit.

Samantha leant my bike up against the outside wall of the garage and walked in.

"Wow, your garage is air conditioned? It's huge."

"And heated in the winter... ". I made my way gingerly between the truck and car, careful not to scratch the paint on the vehicles with Samantha's bike still over my shoulder. My workbench sat at the back of the garage with a small work area. I set the back wheel down on the floor, and carefully propped the bike on the workbench, upside down, resting on its seat and the handlebars. I extricated my helmet from the handlebars.

She stood staring. "Nice car." I didn't say anything in response. As she came to the back of the garage: "Is that what I think it is?" I looked at her and just gave a little smile. Usually the ladies who visited our house didn't seemed that interested in cars.

Beside the workbench along the back wall there was a countertop with a sink, and an old fridge beside it.

"You can wash your hands there, Sam. There's hot water. There's some good mechanics soap and some paper towel."

"Thanks, I think I will before I get more grease everywhere."

As she ran the water, she looked at herself in the old mirror above the sink.

"Oh God! Why didn't you tell me I had a giant black smear across my face!" She laughed, mock indignance across her face.

I opened my tool chest and took out my allen keys and socket set. I put my cycling gloves back on -- they were already dirty -- and started to take apart her crankset.

"Can you close the garage door for me?" I gestured to the control pad on the wall behind her head. "Keeps the air conditioning in."

"Oh sure." She tapped the button and the door slid slowly down, shutting out the midday heat. Back to the sink, she washed her face until the smear was gone. Dried and cleaned to her satisfaction, she leant against the workbench a few feet away and watched me work.

Sunlight streamed through the high windows giving me lots of light.

"Oh rats," she sighed quietly. "I left my water bottle by the side of the road."

"It's OK. We'll go get it once your bike is back together. No-one will have bothered with it." I nodded at the refrigerator. "That old fridge has a water dispenser inside it. There's some clean cups in the cupboard beside the sink."

"Thanks." She got a plastic cup from the cupboard. "Do you want some water?"

"I'm OK," I said. "Concentrating."

I had the crank off and was looking at the chainring.

She opened the fridge. "This old fridge doesn't really match the new shiny house and garage, does it?". Rhetorically.

The chainring looked clean. Almost brand-new. No wear on the teeth.

"Oh wow, that's a lot of booze!" She stood staring at the beer, wine and various liquor inside. "What. Like, do you come out here and party in the garage, or something?"

I worked at the bolts holding the chainring on. "No, just a good place to store stuff that gets left over after we have people over." I fell silent again. It had been a long time since there had been a party here.

The last bolt came away and the chainring fell into my hand.

"There we go." I put the chain ring down and looked at the chain itself.

She was picking lightly through the cans and bottles in the door of the fridge. "Wow, Tequila cooler. Is that a thing?"

"You can have one if you like," I said. "Bit early. but hey," I looked at her: "...you're on vacation, right?"

"I think I just might," she said turning and giving me a big grin. "Since my riding seems to be done for the day. You want one?"

"Uh... yeah I will join you... probably a beer. But give me a minute, I need to look at this chain."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her open the can of Tequila cooler and take a sip. Then, very sexily, she lifted her chin and held the cold can to her chest. "Oh, that feels good. I got a little hot on that walk, cannot lie."

She took another sip. "That tastes goooo-ood. Probably better than it should at this time of day."

I turned back to the bike. With the chain ring off, I picked up the loop of chain and inspected it. No damage. I folded the chain out of the way, and carefully reassembled the chainring. It took a few minutes.

Samantha leant on the bench and watched me, occasionally sipping from her can until it was finished. The air conditioning started to take effect. Distractingly, her nipples hardened in the cool air. I averted my gaze.

Finally, I had the crank assembly put back together, and before I mounted the crank to the frame, I carefully wound the chain around the smallest front ring. After tightening the crank set, I reinstalled the rear wheel and tightened the spindle. I used the pedal to spin the back wheel and made sure everything was tight and true. I re-ran the chain around both smallest chain rings, setting it to the lowest gear. Using the handlebar-mounted controls, I ran it through its three front rings and seven rear ones. Everything shifted smoothly up and down. I left it in the lowest gear and let go of the pedals then stood back while the wheel spun itself lazily to a stop. Then I reset her rear brake caliper and moved the rear brake lever a few times to make sure it would stop the rear wheel.

"Wow!" she said. "You made that look easy. Again."

"Don't jinx me. Let's give it a go before we declare victory." I picked up the bike off the bench. "Open that garage door again and we'll take it outside."

The garage door opened, and I carried her bike back out to the driveway into the sunshine. I set it down on its wheels and then held it out to her. "Give it a spin."

She mounted the bike and rode it around in a few large loops on the pad in front of the garage. She looked up and grinned at me. "Let me try the gears."

She rode the bike down the driveway to the road and back a couple of times, changing gears up and down. The gear shifts sounded good. I stood outside the garage and watched her. Her butt looked VERY good. I glanced up at the sky for a moment. Concentrating on not staring.

She came to stop in front of me with a big smile.

"Awesome, thank you! Bike repairman extraordinaire!" She got off the bike. "You're amazing. Now, how about that beer?"

"You might want to get someone to put a new chain on for you when you're back in Seattle." I looked down at the bike. "I can't see anything wrong, but that doesn't mean it's not damaged from getting torqued like that."

"Uh huh. OK, better safe than sorry," she said.

"Easy riding on that thing until then." I smiled. "Let me wash up." She leant her bike beside mine on the outside wall and came back into the garage with me.

I went to the sink and used the soap to wash the grease and grime that had made its way through my cycling gloves. Those were going to need a serious wash.

I heard the garage door close. Samantha went to the fridge and opened it. "Any preferences?" she said, eyeing the selection of beer.

"Whatever comes to hand, thanks". I scrubbed at the chain grease in the creases of my fingers. I heard a can open.

She closed the fridge and came over to the sink, setting an open can of beer beside me on the counter.

And then I was startled as I felt two small hands gently caress my butt through my shorts.

"Well, look what came to hand." A quiet little chuckle.

"Uhh..." was all I could say. I didn't move.

"Yeah, these are nice." She slid her hands over my ass cheeks, rubbing gently. My face flushed again. I looked at her pretty face in the mirror, partially hidden behind my shoulder. She looked back, eyes wide and sparkling.

"And what's this you're hiding here?" she raised her eyebrows in mock surprise as a hand slid slowly around me in front of my shorts and fluttered its way over my cock, tickling me.

I was speechless. The flush spread to my neck. My hands were covered in soap. The water still flowing warm.

She pressed through my cycle shorts firmly into my cock meat, squeezing my shaft. I could only stare at her in the mirror. Blood rushed to my crotch.

"I've always loved a man in cycling shorts. Especially one who rescues a damsel in distress." She leant forward and kissed my shoulder. "Especially a man who's been teasing me like you have."

I turned off the water. Her hand still on my cock, the other hand sliding over my butt, slinkily.

I wiped my hands with paper towel. "Samantha. Sam. What are you doing?" I closed my eyes and opened them again.

She looked at me in the mirror. "Do you mind? I mean... "

In the mirror, she gazed right in my eyes. Questioning. Smiling. Then, whispering: "I don't know, I'm just really turned on right now." She stood on tip toe. I felt her breath on the base of my neck. "Is that OK?" I nodded silently. Mouth open in shock.

I put the paper towel down and slowly turned around to face her. She leaned up, put her hands behind my neck and pulled me into a kiss. Her lips opened and her tongue darted around my mouth. My cock was twitching and stretching in my shorts. She brought her body close, rubbing her lower stomach on my bulge and crushing her breasts against me. My heart pounded. I hadn't been kissed by a woman in so long. Touched by a woman. My brain was foggy with lust. Her skin was hot to the touch. Taste of lip gloss, lime and tequila in her mouth. In mine now.

"Jesus, I need you," she hissed as she pulled away from our kiss. Without breaking eye contact with me, her hands darted to my crotch. One kneading my balls through the padded crotch of my shorts, the other sliding across my lengthening prick. "My goodness what do you have in here?" She looked down.

Slowly she slid down to her knees. Her face level with my cycle shorts. She brought her face to my bulge and looked up at me. My heart thudded in my chest. Slowly she rubbed her pretty nose along the length of my penis as it surged sideways toward my hip. She brought her hands around to my butt and pulled me to her face. I gripped the workbench behind me and let out a long deep sigh. "Sam. I.... Oh my god".

Her hands were pulling at the waistband of my shorts peeling them down.

"I want to see your cock." She looked up again. "Is that OK."

I gave a helpless nod.

I could barely comprehend that this woman who I hadn't seen in years, who I'd just found at the side of the road, was suddenly coming onto me so strongly. My heart pounded with confusion, craving and desire. This kind of thing did NOT happen to me.

She pulled on my shorts, and as she did so, my shaft came into view. She pulled and pulled. Down peeled my shorts to the floor and out flopped my thick penis. With my shorts at my ankles, I kicked one cycling shoe out of the leg. My big fat cock swung lazily in front of her as it started to fill with blood. She gaped at it.

"Wow. Fuck." She smiled to herself and brought one cool hand up around the base to lift it up, fingertips not touching. She inspected it, with awe. Then slowly: "That is one... heavy... cock you have there." She let out a sigh.

Another glance up at me. "I don't suppose you mind if I give this a little taste?" Coyly.

I was dizzy. I couldn't believe this was happening to me.

Her tongue darted out to my tip. I jumped at the surprise. Other than my wife, she was the first woman to put her mouth on my cock in 33 years. I was in total shock.

Without breaking eye contact, she gently took the tip of my cock into her mouth and started running her tongue around it, holding it by the base with one hand. She brought her other hand up to behind my thick ball sack and gently caressed the silky flesh. She moaned as her lips danced over my cock head. My bulky testicles rolled and bulged in her tiny hand as she massaged them.

I could do nothing but stare down at her, my mouth gaping in shock.

As she moved her head from side to side nuzzling my penis, I could see the top of her sports bra down the neck of her gaping cycling jersey. Behind her, her perfect round ass was squatted down on the heels of her cycling shoes, the speckled gray lycra spread tight around her cheeks. Her breasts were perfectly presented. Her small nipples looked rock hard, poking through both her sports bra and her white jersey. My cock was filling up and stretching out in front of me. She was adjusting her position as I hardened.

"Holy shit. This is a cock!" she exclaimed, pulling gently on my sack and stretching out my shaft.

"Oh God," I whispered. "That's fantastic..."

"Ooh," she crooned, as a big dollop of precum drizzled from my cock head and hung from the tip in a lengthening silver thread. "Someone likes this."

"Oh yeah. Oh man." I could barely put a sentence together.

She brought her lips to my cock head and started sucking in earnest, trying to get the whole tip in her mouth, strands of precum spread down her chin. My wife had a generous mouth and was able to take up to a few inches of my shaft. But Samantha was so petite, even her mouth was small and she couldn't get close to sucking my glans into her mouth. She had to be content with slathering her saliva and my cum all over the head, while her hand pulled at the shaft, without her fingers being able to reach around.

I was obscenely erect now, my full nine inches of length bulging with blood, wrapped in veins, and shining in the light coming through the garage windows.

While she started pumping in earnest, and sucking needily at the tip of my cock, Samantha's other hand moved from my ball sack, which was drawing up to my body in anticipation of an upcoming explosion, and moved down over front of her crotch. She pressed her fingers into her shorts and although I couldn't see exactly what they were doing, I could tell she was rubbing herself. It was so unbelievably sexy. More than I'd ever imagined. More than a fantasy. Right here in my garage.