The Biker Ch. 04

[ This story series describes my personal experiences with a young bicyclist. It began in November 2013. My husband and I have an open marriage. He is aware of my sexual encounters with this young man and watched me fellate him. The cyclist was twenty-two when I first met him, and he is a beautiful specimen of the male gender. I am forty years older; an old woman with flab, wrinkles, and saggy boobs. These are real life encounters. I don't falsify my appearance or pretend sex outcomes are perfect.

The Biker Ch. 04 - Schooling the young stud begins.

© SandraMustard 2014 ]

Captain America entered my thoughts often. How could I forget his sturdy young cock fucking me? The pleasant memories always fostered desires to ride him again and I would imagine the circumstances required to make that happen. Sometimes I scolded myself, 'You have no business having sex with someone so young. He's young enough to be your grandson.' Yet, I always rationalized that he was an adult. If he wanted me and I had permission to enjoy him, why not?

My first email to him went unanswered for four days. I began to suspect he was shagging his young girlfriend and had no further use for my aged pussy. I couldn't fault him for that. Neither could I fault myself for teaching him how to make better use of nature's blessing. It wasn't until I sent a text that I discovered he doesn't check his email. I don't think I've used email for ten years yet; is such technology passé already?

During our first long conversation, I explained that I was willing to teach him what I know about fucking. I didn't say I knew a lot, but I knew more than he did. Premature ejaculation is something I knew nothing about but I figured I'd have fun trying to cure him. I made it clear that although we would engage in more than lustful fornication, I did not consider the arrangement as an affair. When we achieved the goals we intended, our encounters could cease.

I established our communication rules first thing. We would text only to prompt phone calls. I didn't want an explicit text to appear while my grandchildren played with my phone or have a slip of the finger send one to the wrong person. For similar reasons, emails would not have been a good idea after all.

Captain America lived at home with his mother. I figured that even if she allowed her adult son to entertain women in his bedroom, one older than her would likely cause problems. I could invite him to my bedroom but I did not want him overly distracted by my husband's presence in another room. Lessons about threesomes would happen much later in the curriculum schedule I planned so we would have to use a neutral site.

Getting a motel room turned out to be no problem for Lance, (not his real name but a clever alias that I will use for the cyclist.) He worked as the night operations manager at a restaurant that was part of an elaborate resort complex. He had sufficient income to afford a room, even after paying rent (good for you, Mom) and owning a car. Because of employee discounts, he would pay less than an economy motel rate for a high-rise room right on the beach. We compared our work schedules to find a mutually free night and made a date.

Our tryst would be very much like a date. We planned to eat at his restaurant, too. Our cover story would be that I am a visiting relative; he would introduce me as his grandaunt. In public, we wouldn't display any amorous actions and our conversations would be typical for distant relatives. Because I was 'family,' he could comp our entire meal.

I made sure he understood his responsibilities for safe sex. I suggested he buy a sufficient quantity that didn't limit how many lessons we covered. What wasn't used our first night would not be wasted. He hesitated to ask a pointed question until I convinced him to be completely candid. Should he masturbate just before we met to avoid premature ejaculation? I told him no; learning to control his first orgasm was a major objective.

When we discussed what libations we would enjoy in the room, we settled on his preference for simple beer for him and White Zinfandel for me. On his own, he had a cheese & cracker platter delivered ahead to the room and purchased a box of chocolate covered strawberries for us to snack on.

The last planning involved my husband. He was all for me fucking the biker again but didn't like the idea of sitting at home waiting for me because we knew I could pull an all-nighter. The problem solved itself when our new friends Dave, Cindy, and their niece Barbie invited him over to their place. I've been covering the developments of our games with them in another story series so I won't complicate this chapter with details about what their collective activities involved. Suffice it to say, they served his libido well that night too.

When I prepared for my date night with Lance, butterflies danced in my stomach as if I was eighteen again. Wanting to make our intimacy more refined than the chance, outdoor, sexual encounters we had previously, I prettied myself extensively. I trimmed my pubes, shaved my legs and armpits twice, and douched. Adding waves to my hair with a curling iron, I applied makeup and wore my Juicy perfume. I dressed in a conservative calf-length gown for our public encounter but put a lacey nightgown, crotch-less panties, and flavored warming-gel in an overnight bag.

Jack was preparing for his night out at the same time. When he was ready and waiting, he went outside to toke-up, but I chose not to partake. I had to drive while he only had to walk a short distance. Besides wanting a clear head, I worried I might succumb to my husband's playful caresses and stand up my young lover.

I called Lance when I was on my way and he was waiting when I walked into the restaurant. He greeted me with a light-contact hug and I kissed him on his cheek, detecting a light manly fragrance during the exchange, one that didn't compete with my perfume. The hostess led us to our table immediately and I sensed the resentful stares of the people still waiting to be seated. I learned that the meal would cost him nothing so I indulged in the Surf and Turf. Despite ordering petite portions, I savored the delicacies sparingly so I wouldn't be uncomfortable in bed. Lance ate like an athlete mindful of his carbs and caloric intake, ordering chicken and vegetables but not potatoes or pasta.

We had a secluded booth in the corner but we did not attempt any risqué behavior and minded our voice levels while talking. Exchanging some light patter, we learned about our families and backgrounds. Lance had worked as a waiter and assistant manager at the restaurant while getting his degree in business management. They promoted him to his current position when he graduated two years ago. He loved the restaurant business and hoped to open his own place in the future.

Lance did not act impatient to go to our room. He ordered me a second glass of wine to sip while we talked but switched his beer to ice water. When we left the restaurant, there was no check presented to him but he left a thirty-dollar tip for the server. We stopped at my car to get my overnight bag that he carried for me, and then we went straight to the elevators without checking in.

I was a little tipsy from the wine, which made me fall against him when the elevator lurched to begin its ascent. His arm went around my waist to steady me. Briefly gazing into my eyes, his head leaned close and he kissed me with heavy tongue action. I broke off the kiss and mentioned that his energetic tongue was more appropriate for heated passion than setting a romantic mood. When we arrived at the twentieth floor, we resumed our separation while walking the corridor.

Seeing the king size bed in the elegantly furnished room caused excitement to shiver through me just as his arm went around my waist again. He turned me in front of him and put both arms behind me to hold me gently against his chest. I could feel his early readiness but I didn't sense any intent on his part to rush.

"Your perfume is lovely, Sandy. I kept getting hints of it at the table and now I'm enjoying the full essence of it. What's it called?"

"Juicy," I said as I tilted my head to allow his closer.

"Mmmmm," he hummed while nuzzling my neck. His lips brushed along my skin to my earlobe. "It makes my mouth water," he said as we straightened and engaged me in a long, tender kiss. I had worried that I would have to tame a wild young buck ready to rut but found instead a student eager to learn amour.

When he released me, I told him I wanted to check out the balcony. Sliding open the glass door, we stepped out together. The sun had set while we dined, leaving only a slight afterglow on the horizon to our right. Blackness hid the ocean except for the ghostly foam of the breakers far below. The angled wings of the hotel towers funneled the gentle sound of surf up to us; a warm breeze, scented by the salty sea, caressed my nose and tickled my skin. I enjoyed the romantic setting for long minutes while he stood behind me, his arms encircling me.

Was he enjoying the atmosphere as well? Was I savoring these tender moments too much? I had permission to have sex with other men to satisfy physical urges with my body. By enjoying romantic influences with my mind, was I being emotionally unfaithful to my husband?

I pulled away and told him I wanted to get undressed, using the bathroom to change into my nightgown. When I came out, he was sitting on the side of the bed still clothed but with his shirt unbuttoned and his feet bare. A smile turned the corners of his mouth up when he saw me approach. The bedside lamp spotlighted a half-dozen condom packets on the nightstand. Either he was very optimistic or simply demonstrating that he took my no-limit advice to heart.

I urged him to stand up. While engaging his mouth with a kiss, my hands pushed his shirt off his shoulders. His arms remained at his sides as my hands began caressing his hairless torso, and then my mouth moved down to kiss his pecs. As I sucked on his tiny nipples, my hand opened his trousers. When they fell to the floor, I held them down with a foot so he could step out of them. My hand slid into his boxers to fondle his cock, finding him momentarily flaccid despite the prolonged stiffness he exhibited before. His cock responded so quickly to my touch that I decided to limit our foreplay before our first coitus.

When I let go of him and straightened, he took over. Pulling my body tightly to his, he kissed me with a moderate intensity that stirred my desire. Turning his upper body slightly, one hand slid up to cup my breast while the other on my ass pressed my mons against his stiff member.

My plan was to let him show me his skills and do all the work. By acting mildly responsive, I hoped to avoid feeding his excitement unnecessarily with vocal reactions and body movements. I couldn't prevent my stiff nipples and wet pussy from showing arousal but those were important clues to my readiness anyway. He lifted off my nightgown and slid off my crotch-less panties without noticing their design. Instead of embarrassment about my floppy breasts and flabby tummy, I appreciated that they presented a less alluring body. His fingers explored my vulva long enough to start my juices flowing before guiding me backward onto the bed.

Lance stepped to the nightstand two feet from my head. My gaze fell to his seriously tented boxers and then watched him shed his underwear with a gentle push of his hands. The sight of his rigid manhood angled upward made me gasp. He was an exhibitionist at heart; he smiled and turned his body so that his love-cannon pointed at my face. I watched it bob eagerly while he unwrapped and rolled on a condom.

I saw him erect before, both times while sitting. This was different. He was the whole package. I'll date myself by describing his face as looking like Frankie Avalon and his young, perfectly fit body was truly eye candy. Seeing that impressive cock sticking out from his taut abdomen makes me want to coin a new phrase, 'pussy candy.' Mesmerized, I could only think about it sliding inside me and I nearly forgot my game plan.

The spell was broken when he started to climb onto the bed. I spoke to him in a detached tone, hoping that my coaching would be a distraction. Instructing him to go slow and easy, I told him to stop at the first hint of orgasmic tingles. Suggesting that he tune out sensory input from his penis as best he could, and that he should concentrate on the mechanical pelvic motions, I didn't mention that my advice came from discussions that I had with my husband.

Lying flat on the bed, my slight paunch disappeared, giving me a clear view of his primed sperm-launcher moving up between my open legs. He kneeled in position and held up his body on one arm at my side. His free hand aimed his cock at a point below my mons and then his hips pushed forward. I felt the pressure of his manhood expanding my vaginal walls in slow motion until he hit the end of my love-cavity. I knew he had more penis to give but he eased back, half-way out. Another slithering drive filled my pussy, tickling the passion nerves inside me. The more I tried to be passive, the more acutely I felt his cock movements, and the faster excitement rose within me.

My eyes were open, watching the magnificent male specimen above me push his porn-star cock into my sex. I should have worn a blindfold to avoid the visual images doubling the exquisite genital stimulation. Within the opening minute, I lost control. My first attempt at schooling a young man failed when the student fucked his teacher into oblivion. I closed my eyes and surrendered.

I felt the heat of my passion begin boiling in my gut, and spread to every finger and toe. My body started to quiver as his cock bore deep into me and his balls slapped my labia. He stopped suddenly and held his fully buried manhood at a level that urged me to lift my hips to match him. My orgasm peaked, convulsing my body under him. I heard him chuckle as he must have sensed my bliss.

He didn't give me a chance to regain control. Before my orgasm could fully fade, he started another slow fuck that stretched my vagina until he was cramming his full eight-and-a-half inches inside. His thrusts began to slam into me with great force, sending ripples through my flesh to my head. I couldn't hold back at all. Within a very short time, my second orgasm thundered through my body. Despite my resolve to avoid showing my excitement, moans and cries of pleasure flowed out of my mouth.

He pounded me through my second orgasm and then my third. I was delirious at this point, holding onto his fucking-machine body with all my might. In such a rapturous state, I missed the clues to his building orgasm until he groaned loudly and strained to push his member into my hot flesh. I had enough momentum to have a fourth orgasm from the sensation of his throbbing cock inside me. He collapsed in a gasping heap on top of me. His body shuddered while the vaginal clenching of my ebbing climax milked the last of his semen through his tool.

He made a move to get off me, but I held him tight and explained that women like to savor the afterglow. I felt his breathing slow as he relaxed with his head in the crook of my neck. His penis relaxed too, but continued to fill me. I mentally reviewed how our passion had erupted and decided that I failed my mission. When we finally uncoupled, we began discussing our sex as if evaluating a research project.

I offered Lance an apology for my lack of self-control and failure to help him avoid premature ejaculation. He didn't understand how I could describe either of us as having failed. I tried to explain my point of view based on experiences and how I intended to respond to him. He wasn't afraid to ask questions or speak candidly about his thoughts. He had his plan for our sex, too. We both came away with new knowledge about how the opposite gender approaches sexual gratification.

He was aware of my orgasms because he could feel them. Pacing himself based on my climax indications, he sought his pleasure only after assuring mine, thus considered his performance successful. I countered by describing myself as a sexual jackrabbit, capable of quick orgasms in rapid succession, so my satisfaction was too easy to achieve. He actually came after only four minutes of intercourse; I judged that such a lack of endurance would leave many women wanting.

His counterpoints surprised me. He accepted that sex should be mutually satisfying but didn't believe it could be quantified by time alone. Pleasure can't be measured in numbers, he insisted. Just how many orgasms should a woman have before he had his? If I was quick to orgasm, then as my partner, it was okay for him to proceed in a similar manner. He felt he could have lasted longer if I needed more time.

Lance was not happy that I wanted to hide my arousal. He wanted our sex to be natural and spontaneous. Learning self-control was his responsibility and he hoped to achieve it through mental focus. I told him that spontaneity had a place in future encounters. Fearing my intense arousal would create too much stimulation for him to control, I believed it was better to win easy victories to build his confidence. He acknowledged that my purpose had merit.

[ Due to the length of our encounter, the discussions we had and additional sex will be published in Chapter 5. ]