In my mid-30s. I took up triathlons. I swam distance from age group to college and ran 10Ks and marathons. I rode a bike as a kid, so how hard could it be?
Well, my first race I'm out the water in the top three, hop on the bike and away I go. Within a mile, I learned it's harder than it looks. Guys were going past me like I was standing still. So I find a bike shop, get a better bike, join their group rides and try to improve.
Gave up running a while back, but kept up the cycling -- there's an organized ride from the shop every Saturday, I go solo on Sunday. There's three groups: under 16, 16-18, and 18-20. You hang with whatever group you can for as long as you can or cut it off early. The goal is to be back around two hours before traffic gets too dangerous.
The group rides are amiable, social competition; you can challenge yourself as much as you want or are able. And it's way more aerobic than golf.
In mid-May, Johnny, the neighbor at the head of the cul-de-sac, stopped by with a 20 something fellow in tow. He introduced Ian as Sharon's son, a grad student in DC and summer visitor/thesis researcher who was in town until mid-August---an innocent victim of lease issues. Ian tolerated the dig and rendered a firm handshake. Turns out Ian rides, Johnny mentioned me, and so after a quick briefing to confirm he would fit (experience, equipment, pace) an invitation was issued for an 0645 departure on Saturday.
**********
He was ready on time. A brief once over told me he was a serious rider: Pearl Izumi bibs with a pro style jersey (skin tight). As I got out he was putting his heart monitor on and lubricating the 'hot spots' a/k/a the nipples.
"You chafe?" I asked, coming around to get his bike.
"Yeah," he said. "The price of using the monitor."
"What do you use?" I asked. "I sweat with enthusiasm and mine get irritated from the salt. I use Chap-Stick."
"I made up my own solution," he said. "Lift your jersey; I've still got some on my fingers."
So in microseconds I run the gamut of 'stay away you creep' to 'oh gee no thanks' to 'call his bluff'.
"OK---here," I said, lifting the jersey.
He grasped my ribs with his thumbs against my nipples. He rubbed them up and down and then in circles three time before dropping his hands.
"I think this is where you tuck a dollar bill in my waistband," I chuckled.
"You're dating yourself Mr. Rone, costs a lot more these days."
"Wouldn't know," I said. "My last experience was the Philippines, a long, long time ago."
"Well, you do have decent breasts, so I'm sure you'd make more. Johnny said you were a serious swimmer."
Pulling my jersey down, "yeah, when I can; depends on travel."
My nipples started to heat up and tingle a bit.
"What is that stuff?' I asked.
"It's a Carmex and Campho-Phenique mixture mainly. Lubricates, numbs and has a little zing to let you know it's working. Got it from a pharmacist friend," he said.
"Well, it's working," I said as I secured his bike to the truck bed.
"Yeah, that's what LL Mothers say when you tell them it stings," he chuckled.
**********
The ride when well. We stayed with the 18-20mph folks. He pulled his fair share, although I sensed he probably had another gear or two he was not using. His being 20 something, 5-10 and maybe 2% body fat helped. He also shaved his legs.
Everyone was safely back----bagels and liquids courtesy of a monthly deposit to the shop.
On the drive home we chatted about the course, and the car that jumped the stop sign.
I thanked him for pulling, noting I found myself on his rear wheel more often than not. He allowed as how he spent some time behind me as well.
Moments later we were swinging around into the driveway to the garage at the rear of the house.
I got his equipment bag while he got the bike. Following him into the garage, he stowed the bike and then took the bag. Pausing a moment as he opened it, he looked directly at me and asked, "Want another dose?"
"Huh?" I said.
"Nipple cream," he said smiling. "You got pretty sweaty."
"It's getting to be that time of year," I said hesitating. "Uhhh, yeah sure."
"Lift up," he says, not giving me the chance to put some on my fingers.
He unzips his jersey all the away so it falls open. A quick swipe from the jar and he is doing his while I watch his fingers circling and circling. I ought to make a quip but words fail me as his fingers make slow circles.
"Now you," he says as he takes another swipe. He steps in closer than he did earlier, putting his fingers on my ribs and his thumbs on my nipples.
Looking directly at me, I notice how brownish green his eyes are. I stare longer than I should while he continues to rotate his thumbs. The pressure is light, the strokes are smooth due to the lubrication. And then the menthol starts to work.
I suck in a breath.
"Feeling it?" he smiles.
"Yeah," I say reaching for his upper arms.
"Couple more strokes: let's get it massaged in good.
Now I'm holding the back of his arms as he massages, our chests almost touching. I'm still looking at his eyes.
A noise distracts me----their patio door opening.
"Ian?" Sharon calls. "You in the garage."
He smiles and shrugs. I let go of his arms and pull the jersey down, my nipples tingling from the heat.
"Yes ma'am. Mr. Rone was just dropping me off," he replies.
I step out, wave and exchange the customary and usual morning pleasantries.
Ian walks by me, and with a slight wink, "Next week? Same time?"
"Weather permitting," I say, waving to Sharon as I climb in the cab.
My nipples were quite warm. The smell of the lotion was fragrant. And I had to adjust my cock as it started to swell.
**********
Charlotte was at her Dad's. So as I stepped in to the shower, I remembered the old adage, 'It's my soap and my shower and I'll use it as long as I want.' I was still tingling a bit from the encounter. I could still feel his hands and see those fascinating eyes.
What no one knew was that I had an encounter with another man years ago. It was in Hawaii. I was a Loadmaster on C-141s. We got three days off in Hawaii after several days of flying typhoon relief supplies to Guam. While the pilots chased skirts and the others drank, I was interested in getting out to Makapu'u. I swam in high school and got down to Santa Cruz when I had the time. So here was the chance to try the big time.
I tried chatting with the waitress but she would have none of it, so I went over and spoke to the bartender. One thing led to another, and I met him the next morning. He had fins, sunscreen and a jug of Tequila Sunrise.
It was worth the trip. The rides were crisp and clean, but the breaks were hard and there was a bit of a rip, the last one holding me under for about 45 seconds. So I realized the Fates were looking me over as well as I heard the sounds of the sunshine beating on me. As he was local, he agreed to call it as well.
We went up to the public showers to rinse off. No surprise, they were partially open air. He spread out a towel and got naked. He poured out a glass and tossed it down. He poured another, gave me the jug and the bottle of sun screen. As he lay prone, he said he needed me to do his back.
The guy drove me out and brought juice. But he's naked. Anyone could walk in. But the beach is deserted. I'm burnt toast if I get a public lewdness charge. But there's no one around. I could tell him to piss off. But it's a long, long walk back.
Sensing my hesitation, he tells me not to worry. As long as you're not naked in public, no one cares. This is not a tourist spot.
So I tossed down the juice and then had another. Fortified, sort of, I do as he asks, and kneaded his low back to loosen it up. I retreated to the shadows and had a third glass. Drifting, I found myself looking at him -- toned, tanned, glistening.
About 10 minutes later he rolled over, asked for a refill and tossed me the lotion. He told me to come do his chest and legs. After a moment's hesitation, he told me he did not want to get his hands oily and for me to just come on and do it. So I did.
He wanted me to start with his quads, so I did. Long smooth strokes like he requested, pushing strong up to the waist and then coming back down slowly. It did not take long before he started to stir and after three more he was fully erect. On the next upward stroke he grabbed my hands and put them on his cock and told me to get him off. He held my hands guiding them up and down. Stunned and in a corner, I complied. In short order, he spasmed five times, shooting ropes up his chest, as he grunted and moaned.
He sat up and scraped some of his cum off his chest and held out to me. He told me to come take a taste. I froze. He started to take a step towards me, when we heard a car on the gravel followed by several voices. The spell was broken. I got under a shower as did he while the new arrivals came in and changed.
The ride back was quiet. As he let me out at the hotel, he told me to meet him at the poolside bar at seven.
My head was swirling from the surf, sun, drinks and jerking a guy off. Three shots of Tequila later, I make it to the room and fall dead asleep.
Later, yelling at myself the entire time to go somewhere else, I ended up at the pool bar close to seven. Someone else was tending, so I sat at a table, rehearsing my 'thanks for taking me out there, but I'm not that kind of guy' speech, the world's most sharp tongued waitress took my order. When she came back, I asked about the bartender. She laughed and said if I was looking to hook-up, it would be awhile since he got caught that afternoon trying to sell a pound of marijuana out of his trunk to some undercover cops.
I proceeded to get seriously shit-faced, thinking about the bullets I dodged - - that last rip, public indecency and distributing. The world's coldest and least friendly waitress cut me off after a while and got me up to my room. Her name was, and still is, Charlotte.
**********
In less time than it took for me to recount that, I came---harder than I have in a good, long while. Charlotte is indeed a MILF, but you know: age, work, travel. Be that as it may, why was I getting aroused by that fellow? Worse, why did I let him get close enough to do that?
And worse still, why on my Sunday ride did I find myself thinking about those eyes and how the nipple stimulation ran all the way down my spine to my balls. I had to adjust myself three times.
