The Bie Ride

"We could keep meeting like this."

"That would be nice."

No, that was wishful thinking, wasn't it? I was working too hard, that's what it was, wasn't it?

===

I should explain. I was out on my mountain bike attempting to get fit. About a mile from home is a Country Park, not big, you could walk around the perimeter in not much over an hour. If you could manage the hills that is.

By rights it should have been developed for housing but the area had a series of historical lakes that, back in the 18th and 19th Century powered a mill that did something. No idea what. The lakes are surrounded by hills, short, sharp hills and probably too close and too steep sided to justify the expense of building houses when flood plains were close by and much cheaper to build on.

So it's a Country Park with some decent wildlife and not as widely used as it should be. There's no cafe and people prefer to park in a car park, stroll to the cafe and drink tea or coffee and have a piece of cake then drive home where they tell their friends that they've been to the park for a walk.

It all suits me very well and I can often spend a couple of hours cycling up the steep hills, rolling down the softer side and up another steep hill without seeing more than half a dozen people. When I'm totally knackered I roll down to the valley floor and head home.

===

On the day in question, yer honour, I was proceeding across the bridge in an orderly manner, girding my loins for the first test of the day. A sharp right then straight up a very steep, gravel/dirt track that rose at a terrible angle and kept going for about 200 yards with little respite. I generally took it in second lowest gear then grabbed lowest about 50 yards in where, for just about the length of a bike, it eased a little before getting even steeper.

I spotted her just as I approached that section. She was working her way carefully down the track, placing her feet carefully on the loose surface, close by was a really lovely boxer dog off the lead.

When you're grinding slowly up a steep hill the last thing you want is a loose dog running across your path. She called it to heel and, to my relief, it returned obediently to her side. She, the woman looked gorgeous, great legs topped off with tight running shorts that showed off way more than they should have. I'm talking a clearly defined camel-toe that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not a trace of pantie line to be seen! A tight fitting blouse with the buttons straining under the load of a truly magnificent pair of knockers all topped off with a very pretty face framed by cascading light brown hair. On her feet were stout walking boots. It's funny I even noticed those.

If I could have gone any slower to lengthen the time before we passed I would have BUT if I'd gone any slower I'd have fallen off and looked a right pratt.

"Good morning," panted through gritted teeth.

"Good morning," all bright and cheerful, "keep going! You've only got more than twice as far again to the top."

"Thanks, Pal!" I tried to laugh.

You may be interested to know that I reached that summit, survived the short, sharp drop to the bottom of a dip and then up again, a little less vertical but a much longer grind until the next downhill.

Forty minutes later after a roller coaster ride around and about I was working my way up yet another steep climb. At the top was a T junction and a beautiful woman wearing walking boots, had fantastic legs, indecently short, tight shorts, a blouse with the top over flowing and hardly trying to disguise a fantastic pair of knockers and ... a well behaved boxer dog.

===

"We could keep meeting like this."

"That would be nice."

No, that was wishful thinking, wasn't it? I was working too hard, that's what it was, wasn't it?

She carried on the way she was going, I turned right to more relaxing downhills and frantic surges of energy up seemingly steeper and steeper up hills. Half an hour later I needed a break and set off for the steepest hill in the park, to the highest summit and a bench with a fantastic view over the surrounding countryside. It was one of those hills where instinct said to get out of the saddle and heave on the handle bars as you push down hard on the pedals. The reality was somewhat different, take your bum off the saddle and there's no weight on the back. The back wheel doesn't grip on the loose gravel so you fall off and look like a right pratt.

Solution? Sit tight, pull on the bars without lifting the front wheel and just grit your teeth and grind you way up. In the alternative you could take a different route. You could also stay at home, sit on the sofa with a few beers and watch TV.

But then you wouldn't have seen the beauty with a boxer dog. And I didn't see her again... until I was within feet of the top.

"Well done! That was a fantastic effort."

"Thank you," I smiled happily, "if I'd known you were waiting at the top I'd have managed it twice as fast."

"So, two miles per hour then?" she teased, "you are very fit."

Her laugh was like a breath of cool, refreshing air. I looked at her appraisingly.

"You're pretty fit yourself," I said cheekily, "aren't you supposed to say 'for your age' after that?" I laughed.

"Flatter me will get you everywhere," she grinned, "as to referring to you age, I wouldn't dare. I sometimes bring my bike over here and I don't get up that slope any faster than you and I, not being rude, am nearly half your age."

"Flatter me like that and you'll not be going anywhere, young lady," I chuckled.

"Promises, promises," she giggled delightfully, "shall we sit and enjoy the view or are you off for your next mountain to climb?"

"Nope, I'm here for the view, as long as it lasts," I totally failed to drag my eyes entirely away from the stupendous view that currently blocked my view of the scenery. Fortunately she smiled with no sign of offence.

She headed for the bench seat and patted the position beside her.

"Sit with me?"

"My pleasure."

I parked my bike against the fence, removed my helmet, peeled of my small back-sac and removed my bright yellow cycling jacket. Putting bag and jacket beside the bench I removed my gloves.

"Would you object if I changed my shirt?"

"Not at all but I'm afraid I haven't got a spare, so I can't change mine, sorry," she teased enticingly.

I pulled my sticky shirt off over my head and tucked it in the under-pocket of my bag and fished a clean one out of the top.

"I don't mind going topless, if you'd like to borrow mine," I suggested cheekily.

"Is this a 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' process?" she replied naughtily reaching up to the top button of her blouse.

"And what would your husband say to that?" I asked having spotted the enormous cluster of geology together with a thick, gold wedding band on her finger.

"My husband's a wanker!"

"Beg pardon?" I questioned politely.

"Did I say wanker? Sorry meant banker."

"Did you?"

"No," she laughed, "he's a wanker and a banker and queer. If he wanks anything it's his boyfriends cocks."

"Ouch! That sounds heartfelt. How long, if it's not too rude?"

"It's not, about 5 inches... oh, you mean the marriage? I'm used to it -- 6 years and counting."

"Fuck! Sorry, my apologies, shouldn't have said that. But how... why... when.. what..." I took a long, deep breath, "you haven't got a strong length of rope about your person I could use to help me out of this hole I seem to be digging deeper by the second, do you?" I spluttered.

"Silly bugger. Is there any water in your bottle?"

"Yes, fresh today. Untouched by human mouth... only the dog has licked it," I chuckled, reaching over and pulling the bottle from its cage.

"You've got a dog?"

"Yes, a Goldie, she's beautiful. Man's best friend, a dog."

"So, I change the subject to cover your embarrassment then you do the same to cover mine. Know what? We're a good team. But there's no need to change the subject, may I have a swig of your water? I don't mind talking about it and when I've finished you can give me a friendly cuddle and peck my cheek for consolation, if you like."

I passed over the water bottle.

"I could give you a friendly cuddle and a peck on the cheek now, if it will help?"

"OK."

I didn't hesitate. She was so slim my arm almost went right around her waist. She offered her cheek and I kissed it maybe a little less softly than I should have. She turned into my arm. Her lips met mine and the kiss on the cheek turned into a proper, long, tongues an' all, snog.

"WOW!" we both exclaimed when we came up for air.

"That was some peck on the cheek, old man. I'm all hot and not bothered now," she giggled happily as she started to undo her blouse buttons.

I watched delightedly.

"Would you like a hand?" I offered.

"What? After your peck on the cheek? I should coco. I'd be naked before you knew it. Let me tell you the story then we can think of things to do after, if there's nobody about. OK?"

She removed her blouse exposing an incredible pair of boobs as had ever been my pleasure to see.

"Undo me then you can put my bra in your bag and I'll drape my blouse over my shoulders, just in case."

I did, slowly then put it in my bag, quickly.

"My wife always used to like having her breasts massaged after wearing a bra for a while," I murmured in hope.

"So you've got some experience? Not just after a grope then?" she chuckled.

"Been a while. Might be a bit rusty but I'm happy to give it a go."

She seemed to think about for a moment or two.

"Okay, worth a try. No funny business though," she warned teasingly.

Turning so she could lean against me she manoeuvred my arms around herself and placed my hands on her breasts. Instinct took over as I gently stroked my hands along the full sides, under the glorious swelling and up into the valley. Gentle touches, tender presses with my finger tips as I explored and enjoyed with the utmost care. There was not a single gram of silicon anywhere. All absolutely as nature intended. She moaned contentedly.

"If this is rusty I'd love to feel it after a squirt of WD40. Most guys just want to maul them, for preference with their dick thrust between them."

"I can understand that but I believe that it is a decision for the lady to make, not the numpty who is lucky enough to spend time with her."

"So the guy with a girl with big tits is a numpty? That make you a numpty?" she giggled.

"No, not unless I laid you down on your back, took my cock out, put it between your tits and wanked myself off... without asking first." I chuckled.

"So, you'd ask first then? Any idea when that might be?"

"Your pussy out of bounds?"

"Not at all."

"Your choice. Pussy full or a facial. After you've told me your story."

"Pussy full. I can multi task, tell you my story while I ride your cock-horse to Banbury Cross."

She sat up, swung her legs to one side and stood. Her hands went to her hips and she snaked her tight shorts down wards. No pantie lines to be seen because there were none to make them. She was totally smooth and wet. My cock had been excited since first seeing her but it was very quickly ready, willing and able.

"C'mon, get those tight shorts down and off. You've seen mine now I want to see yours. Find out how much of that bulge is hankie."

She was naked without a care in the world. I was only moments behind.

"Fuck! No hankie? What's that like when it's ready for action? I've gotta have some of that!"

"Not 'till I've had a taste of that pretty little pussy of yours. Sit on my face."

Straddling the bench seat she lowered her swollen, open pussy onto my mouth then rocked back and forth spreading her juices from my chin to my forehead.

"Shit! You've no idea how fucking good that feels, it's been a long time since I last had a head between my legs."

She ground her cunt hard against my face paying particular attention to my nose and chin. I didn't complain. I only laughed delightedly when she came hard and cut off my air supply for a week or two. She came hard again a couple of minutes later and squirted her lust all over my face.

"Oops, sorry. Hope you didn't mind but you do have such an exciting cock for pussy munching. I'm going down on your cock now, give you a break. Cum in my mouth if you feel the need but I'm warning you, do that and it'll stay in my mouth until you're fit to fuck, unnerstan'" she laughed.

She was good, fucking good. Her husband of six years and counting was gay so she'd been practising on some lucky bastard for a long time. He also had a decent sized cock because she took most of mine without trouble.

"You gonna cum?"

"Not yet. First load is reserved for your pussy, after that we can negotiate, if you want?"

"Negotiate? OK, this is my starting point, you can put that bad boy anywhere you fucking choose, 'scuse my French, and you can empty those balls anywhere you wish, got a better offer?" she laughed and lowered her greedy cunt onto my throbbing cock without further ado.

"This rusty too?" she giggled, "Oh, don't worry I seem to be full of WD40 or is it sillycunt spray?"

She eased herself down a good distance then stopped abruptly.

"OMG! I'm gonna have to practice with this one for quite a while. You busy for the next few years?" she asked sweetly.

"I could possibly reshuffle my diary, try and squeeze you in somewhere," I suggested kindly.

"Hey I'm the one doing the squeezing here. Just find spaces and put my name in every one."

"Name?"

"GS or GC, whichever you prefer?"

"I thought you could multi task, Greedy Cunt?"

"Well I am. I'm trying to take the fucking length and the fucking width all in one go! What more can a girl do? Gimme your hands."

I held up my hands and took her weight by supporting her glorious tits while she eased herself up and down my cock. She started her story.

"My husband slept with the Best Man on my wedding night. Don't worry, I had the Bridal suite in a very posh hotel, they had the suite next door, with inter-connecting doors. Can't have that hotel accommodating Gay couples can we? That was before it became fashionable to 'come out', unless you were in the entertainment industry. After a big breakfast, all three of us, he took lover-boy back to his London pad and I caught the train home and a taxi to my new house.

I was eye candy when he was entertaining prospective clients and arm candy when he needed to be with 'a wife'. Otherwise he took a lover-boy, whichever one fitted his need at the time. My house was part of the deal along with the wheels, his villa in the South of France all expenses and a regular 'house keeping allowance'."

She shuddered with a heartfelt orgasm, gathered her thoughts and ploughed on, that is rode my cock to another climax before continuing.

"He spends the week in London and most of the weekends. If he's entertaining then we go out for posh nosh in, hard to get tables in, restaurants. I spend the night in town, in an hotel. Same if we need to go to a show, the Opera or anything that will entertain prospective clients. Horse racing, motor racing, tennis. You name it, I'll be there with the right clothes, expensive and tailored and sufficient background knowledge to make interesting conversation. I have to keep myself fit, use make-up sparingly and never perfume.

In return I'm pretty much left to entertain myself, provided I'm discrete."

"And sitting, naked, on a strangers cock on a park bench in broad daylight is discrete?" I sniggered.

"How many people did you see on your laps?"

"One, you."

"Same here and what's more my loving husband doesn't care what I do so I don't have to worry about Private Spies with long lenses on their cameras either.

I haven't heard a dog bark nor any other bike brakes squealing. Have you checked yours for oil contamination? That's often the cause of squeaky disc brakes. Anyway Boxster will let me know if anyone's about. He told me you were coming from a long way off. You gonna cum in my cunt yet?"

"I wasn't planning to, it looks so good with you riding high and proud like that I didn't want to rush. You seemed to be very content."

"I am, very. I've cum close to a dozen times, mostly small but I'm sure you noticed a couple of really good ones. Now I need a cunt full of spunk. Up to it?"

"Sure, you mind being taken? Fucked? Or you prefer soft and loving?"

"Taken, well and truly fucked. We can do soft and loving later."

She climbed off and stood, stretching her beautiful body. I joined her, pulling her close and squashing her glorious tits to my chest. I took a quick look around.

"You alright leaning against that fallen tree?"

She leaned forward and spread her legs. I stepped between and checked her cunt for height.

"In a bit."

Perfect.

"Hard? Deep?"

"Yes, both. I want to feel your balls hitting my clitty."

I had my doubts, sitting on me she still had a good couple of inches and from this angle it was going to go a lot deeper. Checking her cunt for wetness I placed my cock just inside the entrance. She tensed in expectation. I smacked her bum tenderly.

"Relax."

She did and I pushed in deep and steady and kept going until she showed signs of real discomfort. She let out a tight hiss of breath.

"Enough?"

Her head came up slow and easy.

"Fuck that's some cock. Your wife managed to take it all? Sorry, none of my business. Sorry."

"No problem. She did, every hole but she had to practice a lot to start with."

"I'd be happy to practise a lot if you'd like me to?" she offered in a husky voice, "I really want to be able to take it all, anywhere you like, please. Now, fill me with spunk and don't fuck about. A good hard shagging."

I stopped holding out on her and focused of filling her with my spunk not bringing her to orgasms. It didn't take long. A firm grip on her slender hips, and a long, steady stroke all the way up to the tide mark, stop and return. The full view of her perfect arse and the occasional glimpse of her full tits as they swayed back and forth, side to side as her body rocked and rolled with my steady, nearly full depth, fucking action all added to my pleasure and pulled me rapidly towards full ejaculation. She even started to squeeze. Boxster was beginning to stir as I let loose and she grunted quietly in satisfaction.

"Better get decent, just in case. May I borrow your shirt?"

My cycling shorts took longer to get sorted than her skimpy running shorts but we were decent and sat on the bench admiring the view when an elderly couple stepped into the little clearing. Boxster took a shine to their dog.

"Know what I'd really like now? A nice cup of coffee, a shower and a lie down, pity there's no cafe, we could at least share that for a while."

"How picky are you about the coffee, I know a place where we can get a decent mug of instant, a shower and a lie down. We could even watch porn on my flat screen mirrors, if you like? Five minutes, by car, from the car park."

===

She was waiting, chatting to my neighbour, when I arrived. She was visiting her Uncle for a few days.

Fortunately she kept a change of clothes, or as she put it, she changed into clothes that might attract the right kind of attention from the right kind of man, before taking Boxster into the park. So I must have been the right kind of man, horny and not having had any for far too long. Also old enough to have the nerve, I suppose.

We'd walked back to the car park. Chatting in general and particularly about my squeaky brakes and how she's followed my progress around the forest by listening to them. She'd actually anticipated me climbing that last hill and waited for me! And there's me thinking it was my suave, sophisticated, man-about-town approach that had pulled her.

She even showed me what I needed to do to prevent squeaks. I set her sat nav while she stripped off and put something respectable on. She didn't rush, at my request.