The Biker Ch. 02

[ This story series is from my personal experiences. It began in November 2013.

The Biker Ch. 02 - "Meet me at the same place."

(If you think you've read this story before, the first two chapters appeared briefly in a thread on the Fetish & Sexuality Central forum. New material begins in chapter 3.)

© SandraMustard 2014 ]

Because I had seen the masturbating biker often enough before the incident to nickname him, I expected to see him again eventually. How would he act? How would I? My husband was encouraging me to enjoy another man; he thought Captain America was an obvious choice. The image of his long cock erupting was burned into my memory. Honestly, the idea of it fucking me was exciting to contemplate.

More than two weeks passed before I saw the Captain again. I was riding single file behind my husband when I recognized his clothing coming toward us. His hand covered his crotch until he passed my husband and then it lifted. I had a clear, two-second glimpse of his cock hanging out his loose shorts. I looked back over my shoulder to see him doing the same. Did he recognize me? Before or after hanging his dick out for the flash? Too bad he was heading for the trail end where we started.

When I rode alongside my husband, he asked, "He flashed you, didn't he?" He recognized the technique he has used himself. He knew who it was, too. "I think you're going to get another chance with him someday."

We rode the remaining four miles to the conservatory, discussing the usual wide range of topics but not Captain America. We stopped at the service building to take a quick bathroom break. When I came out, there he was standing with his bike over at the map board. I'm a butt-woman and his round cheeks on his lean body was too sexy to ignore. Instantly, I decided I would test my husband by demonstrating in front of him, what he wanted me to do. I had to be careful with other people around the parking lot.

I strode swiftly over to the map board; my husband angled toward our bikes. I sidled over rather close to Captain America. While pointing to something on the map, I asked a question; but the young man looked down instead. He couldn't believe my other hand had five fingertips on his cock bulge. I tugged on his cock and repeated, "Will you meet me at the same place?"

His eyes glanced nervously over at my large husband. Some thought assured him. "Sure." He stepped away, mounted his bike, and entered a trail.

We rode our normal circle route, headed in a different direction. Because hubby asked what I planned, I gave him bold truths. "You told me to go for it. Well, you're gonna see just that. You can't change your mind now. We're gonna meet and you'll find out what the 'it' is the same time I do."

My husband had been my guardian, watching me expose myself, and had watched me fellate two friends early in our marriage. I thought him watching me with the Captain would be okay, even if for some reason I went all the way. We didn't stop as we normally do where our inner circle route turns off the perimeter trail, anxious to press on. As we neared the rendezvous and the brush thinned, I saw the colored jersey of Captain America waiting. We rode up to the trail crossing and dismounted. The lad was sitting reclined against the map board. His hips slouched forward; his legs angled open; on his slender hips, his shorts laid loosely over his significant bulge.

I took my water bottle and plopped on the bench next to him. My hand fell casually onto his leg and my fingers hung over onto his inner thigh, obviously close to the opening of his shorts. He looked at my husband 25 feet away.

"What's he gonna do?"

"Be a lookout. Probably watch. He asked me to do this." My hand inched higher up his leg and inside his shorts until I had two fingers around his glans. His inhale hissed through his teeth. His hips squirmed away from my hand. I sensed his anxiety. On the other hand, I felt bold and confident.

I pulled my shirt over my head and then removed my bra. He looked at my saggy breasts and I felt out of place with this trim athlete. I pulled his hand up to one breast then pulled his head down to the other. He didn't need further encouragement. While he sucked and tweaked my nipples, my fingers again went up the leg of his shorts. Almost immediately, I had him stretching out beyond the fabric. His cock was binding on his shorts. He didn't object when I knelt in front of him and pulled his shorts off.

I hate to use sensationalism with a big cock claim but he was at least two inches longer than my husband is. On his skinny frame, it looked like a monster. I put two hands around him and slapped his glans against my hanging boobs. I looked down at the squinty-eyed helmet before dropping my mouth and swallowing his head.

My husband was off my rear quarter but my body partially blocked his view. I heard the crunch of his footsteps when he moved to watch side-on. I tilted my head without missing a bob to see him watching me intently, his hand crammed in his shorts. He didn't look upset. When I looked again later, he had his cock out and was stroking it. Two cocks enjoying one blowjob. Does that count as a DP?

I put a lot of effort into exciting him, wishing I had learned more tricks. I could barely get half of him in my mouth so my hands had plenty to play with. My tongue played with the helmet ridge and the soft underside. I huffed hot air over him.

My pussy had reached a readiness for intercourse and I pondered straddling him or turning around to sit. Without a warning cry, I had a fountain gushing fluid in my mouth. I swallowed to make room for more. Second and third swallows cleared my mouth to lick the last dribbles of man-cream off his cone.

So much for finding a penis to satisfy me. I felt left out, even a bit used by a couple of real dicks. He seemed anxious to put his clothes on, so I did too. Lucky we did. My husband's voyeurism left his sentry duties woefully derelict, only now realizing three bikers were fast approaching. The riders passed uneventfully, oblivious to the nature of the scene. While I drank water to rinse the last of the tadpoles down my throat, he talked to me.

He was incredulous over the blowjob, claiming it was the first he ever received. He also claimed to be a virgin and wondered if he could fuck me. Oh, that approach is not going to work, kid. I was already glad I hadn't broken his bronco. I had deflowered my quota of men forty-some years ago. Later, I came to the belief that he wasn't being truthful with me. All I gained was a realization that I could want sex with another man and that my husband actually wanted me to.

I had other pressing problems, an achingly empty pussy and two limp dicks. I hurried my husband home. After a shower, we went to bed ... at 11:30 in the morning. He gave me several oral delights and even climbed into my saddle for a brief ride but there would be no ride into the sunset for the old cowboy and cowgirl.