My cycling buddy Nick and I decided to take a break from work and home life, and we signed up for a week-long group cycling tour in New England. Nick's wife didn't seem unhappy to have him leave for a week, and my girlfriend was even more indifferent, so in mid-October we crated our road bikes and flew East.
This wasn't our first tour, and this one was organized about the same as the others. We rendezvoused with the others at a motel in southern New Hampshire, just outside Manchester. There were fourteen of us -- 10 men and four women, ranging in age from the late twenties to the late forties, with a couple of the guys appearing to be close to sixty. Nick and I and the tour guide were in our early thirties, which was about the median age.
The tour plan was to cycle the back roads up to Burlington, Vermont, then return on a different route.
....
Nick & Megan, Janet and me
....
The room mellowed out. When Janet returned from her trip to the bathroom, she had clicked on the desk lamp and clicked off the harsher lamp on the nightstand between the beds. The television volume was low enough to be almost background noise, showing some late night talk show. We'd gone through almost two six-packs of beer.
Janet and I were sitting mostly upright, our backs propped up with pillows against the headboard. Nick and Megan looked to be horizontal. I gave a quick look to my right and saw them lying face to face, Nick with his back to me. Janet took a longer look at them, then shot a quick glance at me, then returned her gaze to the television.
It was then that her hand found mine under the bedspread that was pulled up waist-high. A tentative touch became deliberate, and soon we were stroking each other's hand and playing footsie, all the while staring forward at the television. The back of her hand brushed against my leg, and mine against hers.
I took the hint. My hand slowly traversed to the top of Janet's thigh. Not only was there no resistance, Janet's fingertips caressed the back of my hand, and her thigh moved closer to me.
Why the hell not, I thought.
My caresses moved to between her thighs, then upward as Janet's thighs opened yet wider apart. When my fingertips were finally brushing lightly against the crotch of her sweatpants, I gave a sideways glance at Janet -- and she glanced at me and smiled -- then we both resumed our pretend attention to the talk show interview.
Why the hell not, redux.
Janet's fingertips were still stroking the back of my hand as I moved yet further upward to her waistband, then -- after a momentary hesitation -- slipped downward again, though this time inside her pants. And, yes, inside her panties. Janet inhaled a quick breath, then resumed her normal slow breaths, giving no outward sign that my hand was descending across her pubic hair and homing in on her pussy.
Janet's sweatpants didn't give my fingers much freedom to maneuver. Thankfully, with a minimum of apparent movement above the bedspread, Janet inched her sweatpants down past her ass, then down to her knees, then slowly, casually pulled one leg up and out. Now her thighs were sprawled apart, and I had complete access to her arousal. Her vulva was a playground of ridges and valleys. Her clit was a sizeable bump, her inner labia were fun-flaps, and her juices were flowing.
None of this appeared to affect Nick and Megan, who were by now apparently making out and completely occupied with each other.
My wandering fingers were slow and deliberate. Janet's vulva blossomed open in the most delightful way, with fattened, slick labia smiling wide, and her prominent clitoris jutting high and hard. With another sideways glance I saw Janet's eyes closed and a placid expression on her face.
I did my best to honor the liberties that Janet was allowing me. My fingers celebrated every nook and cranny, every silky ridge and smooth valley. Her lubrication encouraged my explorations. I stroked, I swirled, I squeezed and dipped and danced. Janet's breathing quickened, but she seemed to keep under control. Or at least she kept her arousal more hidden than what was going on in the next bed. Megan was squeaking little pleasure noises.
Janet's hand pressed against the back of my hand, freezing me in place. She leaned to whisper in my ear, "Let's move to the floor." I withdrew my hand. Janet slipped off the bed, clutching two pillows, and I joined her with two more. She was on her back with a pillow under her head.
We kissed for the first time. Janet's lips were soft, and her tongue greeted mine. We cuddled. My left arm gently wrapped around her and my hand was on her shoulderblade, and her right hand held the back of my head. The mood seemed right, so I shifted my hand to her right breast. Janet moaned in my mouth. Her nipple was hard beneath her tshirt and bra. My hand moved lower, down the side of her torso to her hip, teasing fingertips just inside the waistband of her sweatpants. She quietly moaned again.
It was then I heard Megan's moan from across the room. She wasn't nearly as quiet as Janet.
I was distracted only a brief moment. My hand slipped deeper inside her pants to the edge of her panties, then across to her lower tummy and once more down across her silky pubic hair to cup her vulva. Janet squirmed, breaking her mouth from mine, and panted in my ear. Her labia were swollen and pouting, her juices flowing. Her clit just seemed to be calling for my touch.
I nuzzled her neck, then whispered in her ear, "I want to taste you. Please."
Janet hesitated a few seconds while my lips continued exploring her neck, then replied "Okay." I could hear her breathing.
I disentangled my arm and began my journey south. I maneuvered my body between her legs and gave Janet's waistband an encouraging tug, and she answered with an affirmative lift of her hips. Her sweatpants and panties came off the remaining leg and were soon on the floor next to us. I moved a spare pillow to beneath her hips.
The light was dim, but it was enough to see her dark pubic hair and prominent labia. My tongue grazed lightly from bottom to top, and Janet grunted and her hands found the back of my head. Now it was time to learn how she liked to be licked.
Janet's body guided my education. She spread her legs wide and continued to hold my head with both hands, and she communicated to me through her fingertips pressing against my skull, her hips that wiggled and rocked, and her occasional guttural groans and barely audible high-pitched whimpers and squeaks. It became clear to me that Janet preferred more pressure and speed of my tongue against her clit, rather than less, and with fingers inside her vagina instead of my tongue. She seemed to never want my tongue to leave her clit.
Janet's breaths became quicker and deeper, and her hips soon rocked steadily -- and increasingly firmly - against my mouth. Suddenly she began to pant, her clit grew fractionally larger and popped out even more from between her fattened labia. Her hips raised up against my busy mouth, and my tongue and my two curled fingers intensified their efforts. Janet's orgasm was almost silent, signaled only by two quick, deep breaths, then she stopped breathing and her body arched and stiffened, and a series of subtle, rhythmic clenches nibbled around my intruding fingers.
When she started breathing again, her breaths were shallow and panting. I withdrew my fingers, and my tongue retreated from her clit, though continued to gently alternately lick the creases between her outer labia and inner labia. Her musky juices coated my face from chin to nose. I inhaled her scent. My cock was hard as a proverbial steel pole.
Janet tugged me upward. I hovered my body above hers, supporting myself on my knees and outstretched arms, giving her room to catch her breath. I leaned forward to give her a kiss. "How was that?" I whispered.
She briefly closed her eyes, then reopened them. "Oh my god," she murmured. "It's been awhile since... that."
