The Bike Trip

I've loved riding my bike ever since I was a little girl. There's something so freeing about peddling along with the wind in your face and only your thoughts as companions. Riding helps me stay fit, I can do it whenever I choose and often I get my best ideas when riding. It's a perfect activity for an introvert like me. So when my friend Kathy asked me to join a group of about 10 other twenty-somethings for a week-long ride I was hesitant. But ultimately, I figured it would be good to get outside of my comfort zone for a change. Besides Kathy said all I needed was a bike and a sleeping bag because I could share her tent, and she promised to keep an eye out for me.

It took a few days for me to feel comfortable, but everyone was really nice and I gradually started to relax. Our routine consisted of eating meals, riding, bullshitting around the campfire and settling into our tents for the night. There was even a pretty cute guy that seemed to be paying attention to me. The only downside was a complete lack of privacy. I had not anticipated this problem, but after four or five days the sexual energy was building up in my body and I had no opportunity to relieve it. I typically take care of such matters almost every day and I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone an entire week without an orgasm. I consoled myself by thinking about the mind-blowing one I intended to treat myself to as soon as I got back to my apartment. It would be a wonderful welcome home present to myself!

This rationalization was working reasonably well until day five. By that time, it was clear to me that I needed my own tent and I started asking around for recommendations. The cute guy told me he loved his one-person job because it was light and easy to put up. He said the only downside was that it was so small there wasn't much room for his stuff, so he had to keep it outside while he slept. He offered to let me look inside to see for myself. We were getting ready to break camp after breakfast when I decided to take him up on his offer.

That's when my little problem took a turn for the worse. It was already warm and the sun was beating down on our tents. He was standing over my shoulder when I unzipped the door and stuck my head inside. I was immediately inundated by a pungent, musty odor that was strangely familiar. Oh my God it was semen! The warmth of the sun was making the odor really intense. And then I noticed that the bike jersey next to his sleeping bag was covered with wet spots. He had obviously either ejaculated directly onto it or used it to wipe himself off. Judging from the number of stains on his jersey, he'd had one hell of an orgasm.

I had to think fast. How was I going to play this? Did he just forget that he had masturbated? Did he WANT me to see it? Was he trying to send me a message or even some kind of invitation? If he had forgotten, he was about to die of embarrassment because the evidence was so undeniably obvious. Should I try to make a joke out of it? Should I acknowledge it and tell him not to be embarrassed? Should I ask him if he intended for me to see it? Should I pretend that I didn't notice? Would he buy that?

Ultimately, I decided to take the chicken's way out and pretend not to have noticed -- even though I knew he would know that I could not have missed it. I made some comment about how it looked really cozy in there, thanked him for letting me check it out and wandered off.

But that's when I realized I had another problem. The vision of this cute guy lying on his sleeping bag in the morning warmth, stroking is hard cock and squirting all over the place was unbelievably erotic for me. I love thinking about masturbation, and often use it as a powerful fantasy during my own sessions. The fact that I KNEW this cute guy had just done it was an incredible turn-on. I realized I was now totally wet and my already palpable sexual energy was off the charts. How on Earth would I get through almost two full days with zero chance of having enough privacy to relieve it? Not only that, but how could I pretend nothing happened when I'm around the cute guy knowing the secret we shared? I decided to just take it one minute at a time, and focus on the glorious welcome home present I was planning to give myself.

The cute guy avoided me like the plague for the remainder of the trip -- with the exception of a few glances I could see him stealing at me from time to time. He SO knew that I knew! I thought about talking to him about it, but I couldn't figure out how to bring it up. I felt sorry for him, but there was nothing I could do. Somehow, I made it through the rest of the trip. Riding my bike helped, but suffice it to say, I had never looked forward to being alone so much in my entire life.

The upside of all that pent up energy was that I had used it to come up with a plan. I had thought about little else other than self-indulgence since my tent encounter. And I was proud that I had the self-discipline not to squander it with some desperate jerk-off session in some campground bathroom. I now finally had the luxury to take my time and experience something truly memorable.

I poured myself a glass of white wine and popped an edible. I knew the latter would make my experience even more intense. A shower was next on the agenda. It had been a week since I had one and I wanted to be fresh and clean. I thought about taking a hot bath instead, but I often use that environment for self-love and I thought it might provide too great a temptation for immediate relief so I decided on a shower instead. This was going to be perfect!

I took off my shoes and socks and went into the bathroom to start the shower and check myself out in the mirror. I looked pretty good for someone who had been on a week-long bike trip. My complexion was clear and my short blond hair gave me the perky but professional look that I liked. I pulled the bike jersey over my head which made an image of the cute guy's semen-soaked counterpart appear in my brain. My excitement mounted as I started to moisten.

My sport bra was next. My A-cup breasts enable me to go braless if I choose, but I always wear one when I'm biking. I had hoped for larger breasts as an adolescent, but as I got older, I began to appreciate having a lean athletic-type body; and my small breasts perfectly complement my flat abs and long legs. They're small enough to be firm, but large enough to move provocatively with my body. My nipples are surrounded by perfectly smooth, slightly raised areola and are wonderfully sensitive. They become erect with the gentlest of caresses. Erotic thoughts alone can be enough to bring on their hardness (as was happening now). I am grateful for feeling good about my breasts, and I took a few moments to appreciate them. I allowed myself the luxury of touching my nipples softly with my fingertips, and savored the feeling of their increasing hardness. Careful, I thought.

The panties came next. They were moist, and emanated my unique arousal scent. That made me think of the musty odor of the cute guy's semen, and I wondered if he also had a unique scent. My pubic hair was neatly trimmed and I resisted the temptation to touch myself down there as I had done with my nipples. Once again, I reminded myself that I had all the time in the world.

My shower was quick and efficient as I had planned. So far, my activities were strictly to prepare for the action part of my plan. I had spent so much time preparing for what I would think about at this moment! At first, I thought I would simply use the image of the cute guy stroking himself and ejaculating forcefully over and over again onto his stomach or his jersey. I have always loved masturbation-based fantasies -- Especially after young people have been confronted with damming evidence and are forced to openly discuss their masturbating with an authority figure. My plan was to play the role of the authority figure, confront him with the evidence in his tent, and force him to admit to what he'd done. Then I would console him by saying that it's normal for boys his age to masturbate, and that he didn't need to feel guilty or ashamed about such a natural, beautiful part of life. Having such a conversation would be a real turn-on for me.

But then I got a better idea. Instead, of thinking about him masturbating, I began wondering what kind of lover he would be. That's when I got the insight that I hoped would serve me well. I would make him into my idea of a perfect lover and have him perform his skills on me! The idea made me tingle all over. And now the wait was finally over!

I moved to my bed, propped up the pillows and relaxed into them. He was there, naked beside me. I tried to remember exactly what he looked like. Like me, had a lean, athletic, biker's body and short blond hair. I conjured up an image of his entire body, before allowing myself to focus only on his genitals. His penis was nicely proportioned to the rest of his body. Not too big, but also not too small. It was surrounded by sparse blond pubic hair. He was circumcised and his glans was nicely defined from the lightly veined shaft. His scrotum was relaxed I could see the outline of his testicles though the thin skin. It was, of course, my idea of the perfect male anatomy. I couldn't wait to "see" it erect.

I imagined him looking at me and smiling. His initial gaze was into my eyes, but it soon shifted to my breasts. His eyes lingered there for a long time. The intensity of his gaze, and the fact that his penis began to grow, made me feel proud.

"I love your breasts," I heard him say. "They're my idea of the perfect size and shape. And your nipples are incredible."

He then began kissing me tenderly. His lips barely touched mine at first, but then he licked them with his tongue and gently began probing between them. He took his time, as our bodies moved closer together and our kissing intensified. He broke off our kiss and gently probed both of my ears with his tongue. The feeling was electric.

The image of him was so intense that I almost forgot that I was alone. It was time to move on. My hands moved slowly to my own breasts as our imaginary kissing resumed. "I love kissing you, but I can no longer resist touching your incredible breasts."

I took my time caressing myself -- gently at first and then more firmly. My nipples were now as hard as I can remember, and I began rolling them between my fingers. I pretended it was him touching me and using the tip of his tongue to lick around each nipple the way I love. Finally, I had him gently suck my left nipple while expertly caressing my other breast. After a few minutes, I pretended he switched sides.

His penis was now fully erect -- poking proudly out of his blond pubes. It was perfect! Just the right length and girth. It was almost exactly the same size and shape as Fred, my favorite dildo. I imagined touching it gently as he continued to suck and caress my breasts -- encircling it with my fingers and rubbing up and down just under the head the way I know boys love. I felt the responsiveness of my own nipples and took a moment to feel gratitude for their ability to give me so much pleasure.

My vagina was literally leaking onto the sheets, and I knew it was time to move on. I lay back further, spread my legs and began touching the insides of my thighs with my fingertips. Naturally, I imagined it was the cute boy touching me, and working HIS fingertips closer and closer to my opening. I was eager to expose myself to him.

"You have a beautiful vagina," I had him say to me. "I love the way it glistens in the light."

My fingers were no longer my own, but belonged to him. It's as if it was him caressing my body and not myself. I decided to yield completely to this fantasy as if I wasn't even there. I had the perfect lover at my disposal!

"His" fingers finally finished their sojourn and I felt one of them move very, very lightly up and down my slit.

"Do you like to be touched between your inner and outer lips," he asked?

"Yes," I mentally responded.

I smiled at myself as "his" fingers gently probed the area between my lips; working their way up both sides until they reached the top of my opening. "He" was careful not to make direct contact with my clitoris. Instead he continued to explore the area between my lips moving up and down until I was ready to move on.

"You can touch me inside," I whispered as "he" slowly, slowly used his middle finger to enter my canal. My vagina squeezed around it as he continued to explore my depths.

My plan was working! I knew this would me a masturbation session like no other."

My finger withdrew and moved to my nose. I imagined it was him, smelling my juices and getting even more turned on.

"Your scent is amazing", I imagined him saying. "It's like the pure essence of completely irresistible female magnetism!"

My finger went back inside when I had him ask, "Show me how you like your clitoris to be caressed. Do you like direct or indirect stimulation?"

"Watch me" I moaned as the fingers of my right hand began caressing the sides of my clitoris. They continued their up-and-down motion for a few minutes as my pleasure increased. I imagined demonstrating how I like to touch my clit while he watched. It was time for direct stimulation, so I spread my legs as far as they would go and retracted my hood with both hands -- pretending to show him my most private part. I continued to pull back on my hood with one hand while repeatedly touching my little button gently with the other. The dope was really having an effect now and I felt a totally uninhibited sense of basic sexual expression that's difficult to describe.

"Lick it!" I commanded. I pretended that he was sucking my clit while my hands continued their stimulation. I knew I was building to perhaps the best orgasm of my life. I've had multiple lovers, but none as good as this cute boy!

But I wasn't ready for the fireworks yet. I reached for Fred and began probing the entrance to my vagina -- pretending he was the cute boy's dick. "He" began to move the tip of his erection up and down the length of my slit until it began to make contact with my clit. I almost forgot it was really Fred and not an actual penis. At this point, it made little difference. The feeling was electric.

I was on the edge but I needed "him" inside, so I began pumping Fred in and out while imagining he was the cute boy's pulsating erection.

"I love you!" "he" screamed as the pumping continued. I used Fred on my g-spot as my heart raced and my body was covered in sweat. I squeezed his "penis" with all my might as I probed that magical spot. I was in another world as Fred explored the recesses of my canal until finally I imaged the cute boy's cock exploding inside of me, ticking my cervix with squirt after squirt of forcefully ejaculated semen. But I wasn't quite ready to cum. I abandoned Fred and began using the fingertips of my right hand to rub up and down directly over my clitoris using the semen I imagined leaking out of my vagina as a lubricant. I was in another world as I balanced on the threshold of pure ecstasy. I felt my vagina contract as I ejaculated for the first time in my life! Clear liquid squirted forcefully out of my body as the orgasm hit.

Wave after wave of indescribable pleasure commandeered my body. I have no concept of how long it lasted but it seemed like forever. The profound nature of such an explosive climax was almost spiritual. I lay back exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and actually began to cry. I had no idea masturbation could result in such a mind-blowing experience.

I thanked my imaginary cute boyfriend and drifted off into a deep sleep.

When I woke the next morning, I had an e-mail from that same cute boy with a catalog link to his one-person tent. There was also a simple note, "Can we talk about it?"

I smiled to myself and thought, "Yes we can!"