The Fundraiser Part One
Note: This story does have sex…it just comes near the end. No one under 18 involved.
Every January for the past 15 years I have blocked out the fourth weekend of July to participate in a two hundred mile bike ride to raise money for medical research. Starting at one end of the state and ending at the other, thousands of spandex clad men and women of all ages, shapes and sizes come from all over the country to further the cause.
The event has been going on for almost thirty years and as the fund raising requirements have increased, so has the average age of the riders. Like me, there are lots of alums who make this a focus of their summer, perhaps even of their year. For some it is a calling and year after year you see many of the same faces and name tags. Oddly, these folks seem more familiar when wearing their form fitting uniforms and hair hiding bicycle helmets than when garbed in street clothes.
On this weekend pedaling, traffic and flat tires are everyone’s focus. The excitement of the event, the exhaustion of the ride and the essentially no privacy allowed accommodations make anything erotic impossible. Well, mostly.
I first met Julie 5 years ago. She had flown from Oregon to take part in her first major fundraising ride. She was an old and dear friend of Rachel, one of the women that I train with, and had come east both to see her friend and to be with the guy she was dating who was also riding.
The mid-summer gods were almost always smiling on this event and once again were promising to bless the weekend with the best weather one could hope for…clear, warm but not hot and low humidity. That afternoon the sun was lazy and had started its trek toward the tree-line and was bathing the area in that familiar warm light before the magic hour between sunset and twilight. As riders we were treated well the entire weekend…the sponsors had set a $3,500 fundraising minimum and they went out of their way to make sure that food and support were in plenty of supply. The night before the ride began the sponsors offered a welcome spread of food and drink for the 1,500 cyclists that would begin their trek the next morning at sunrise. Situated adjacent to a lake, the food venue consisted of rows of tables filled with pastas, breads, fruit, poultry, cookies, water and sports drinks. After taking anything you wanted, you could sit anywhere on the hotel grounds including the many tables set-up underneath a huge outdoor tent.
That year, myself and several compatriots grabbed a table at the edge of the tent so that we could look out at the lake. One might think that because this event required riding two hundred miles over two days that everyone would be in top notch shape. Not true. One of the amazing things one learns about medical fundraisers in general is that most, if not all, of the people who participate in them do so because they know someone who has been impacted by the specific disease that money is being raised for. It could be cancer (take your pick as to which kind), AIDS, MS, Diabetes, ALS, etc. The point is that there are an incredible number of out of shape, even obese, individuals who take part out of love or to honor a memory or because they are a survivor themselves. Those of us who train and train hard have the utmost respect for these individuals because these events are tough even when you are in good shape. But, truth be told, many of these people should never, ever, wear spandex.
A few minutes after we sat down Rachel and Julie strode over, slightly backlit by the weakening afternoon sun. Though totally different in physique, Julie and Rachel belonged in spandex or anything else that they might ever have chosen to wear.
That day Rachel looked much the same as she does today. She stood no more than five foot one with a muscular body that put most men to shame. A former competitive in-line skater, her powerful legs rippled with muscle when she walked. Her flat abdomen was the product of a daily regimen of hundreds of crunches and her arms were toned without being large. Her femininity was belied by her breasts which stood proud on her chest with nipples that, as always, seem taut and straining at the fabric that encased them. Her dark chestnut colored hair provided a sharp contrast to her brilliant white teeth and piercing blue eyes making her ever smile more attractive and alluring than it might otherwise have been. Sharp-witted and occasionally evil-tongued, Rachel has always been someone not to be trifled with. But, as she showed that day, she can sure fill out a pair of shorts.
Julie, to whom we had not yet been introduced, could not have been more different. Long-limbed and lithe, she looked to me to be about five foot seven. Her sandy blonde hair cascaded around her face and a few strands fell wistfully over her left eye immediately calling attention to what were two of the most incredible orbs I had ever seen. I instantly thought of Sting’s ‘Fields of Gold’ as I stared at Julie’s eyes. Like shimmering pots at the end of the rainbow, her eyes were deep amber flecked with copper points.
“Hey, close your mouth”. I heard Rachel’s voice but didn’t realize that she was talking to me…until I got an elbow from Ken who was sitting next to me.
“Huh” I stammered, trying to look innocent.
“Close your mouth” she repeated. She shot me a knowing look but spared me further embarrassment by adding “I don’t want to see what you’re eating. Oh, and guys, this is Julie. She came in from the west coast for the ride”.
The six guys at the table each introduced ourselves with me going last.
“Hi, I’m Jake” I said, managing to look straight into Julie’s eyes.
“Hi Jake, I’m Julie” and she gave me a smile that radiated warmth.
She and Rachel sat down and began eating. Naturally the guys just couldn’t help focusing our attention on the newbie and quickly got to the tricky and invasive questions that were on everyone’s mind.
‘So, Julie, what kind of bike do you ride? Compact or regular cranks? Wheelset? Shimano or Campy components? How many centuries have you ridden this year’? The questions flew at her in rapid succession.
“Man, you guys sure know how to charm a lady” piped in Rachel. “At least make it interesting” she whined. “Mario, how’s that new pump of yours, hmm? How many strokes does it take before you fill up what you’re pumping? And Jason, I hear you’re using a new lube these days…care to tell us what parts you’ve been making slick? Oh, and Ken, your WIFE told me you were using a new chamois cream…would you like to give us a review?”
“Hey Rachel, you know, I could use some help applying it tomorrow” Ken responded, “Can you swing by the room in the morning”
“Eeww”, said Rachel, scrunching her nose and grimacing. “There is absolutely no way I’m going to grease that fat ass for you, pal. I don’t even like to touch my own butt”.
I had been carefully watching Julie throughout this exchange, still mesmerized by her eyes yet beginning to appreciate how beautiful and well, hot, she was. She sat attentively listening, welcoming the opportunity to refrain from answering questions and to eat her dinner. In her early thirties, never married and with no children, Julie enjoyed the smooth skin of a teenager. She had thin lips that stretched over small, perfect teeth when she smiled. Her face was angular with high, wide cheekbones giving her an almost Native American look. Thin, when she stood she held her head high, with an almost regal air that made her seem taller than she was. She was not well-endowed and her breasts seemed to hide behind the loose pale lime shirt she was wearing that night. She had a small waist that arced into narrow hips. Her legs were strong and athletic, highly toned without being muscular. They stretched into a rear end formed of two round half-moons that begged to be squeezed. I felt myself press my legs together to crush the nascent erection I was getting from just looking at her.
“JAKE”, Rachel said in a sing-song tone, waving a hand towards me as she raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes as if to add ‘Wake up, you asshole’. “What group are you leaving with tomorrow”?
“Umm, I’ll go out with the fast group. What about you and Julie”? I responded.
“I’ll be going with you guys” Rachel answered. “Julie will be going slower and riding with her BOYFRIEND. Oh, and by the way, is your wife volunteering again this year”?
I could feel the heat rush into my cheeks as I sensed rather than saw Julie look at me curiously as I said “No, she’s staying at home with the kids”.
Three years ago Julie came to town to visit Rachel for the Fourth of July weekend. She had continued her regimen of participating in the fundraising ride and was gearing up for her third one. A bunch of us got together to do a training century (a century is a ride of 100 miles) out to Mount Nashitow. The Nashitow ride is both beautiful and difficult. Beautiful because it goes through farmland, woodlands and by some gorgeous reservoirs and ponds and difficult because over the course of 100 or so miles there is about 8,000 feet of climbing, some of it on some fairly steep grades.
Cycling as we practice it is a social sport. While you have to do all the work yourself (unless you are riding on a tandem) going out in groups makes the effort much more manageable. And even though we ride in a line most of the time, making constant conversation problematic, there is enough time, between our rest stops and time spent riding abreast, to learn a lot about the people you are with. Assuming of course that they are both social and able to talk and pant at the same time.
We rendezvoused at our regular weekday starting place which is the Dunkin’ Donuts on the outskirts of Walton. I got there at about 6:00 in the morning, a half-hour early so that I could get a cup of coffee prior to beginning the ride. We leave early in the morning for several reasons including safety, avoidance of mid-day heat and a desire to at least try and have some part of a day left when we finish. Like golf, cycling can eat up a lot of time and requires one to have very understanding families or significant others or a deep pocketbook in order to bribe your loved ones into submission.
Rachel and Julie got to the donut shop at 6:10 and leaned their bikes against the building. Rachel made a beeline into the shop muttering something like ‘Bathroom, now’. It had been almost a year since Julie and I had last seen each other and she skipped over, radiant as always and we gave each other huge hugs and kisses. As we separated ourselves, Julie slid her face across mine and I felt her lips trace across my cheek and brush my lips.
I stood back from her with my hand still on her back and stared into her eyes to see if there was some message she was trying to send me.
“Hey Jules” I said “You look great. How have you been?”
She squeezed my hand hard and replied “I am wonderful Jake, how about you”?
Before I could answer, Brian swooped in on his bike and shouted “Julie! How the hell are you”?
Julie twirled and ran over to him and gave him a hug and kiss as least as friendly as what she had given me and they stood with arms around each other chatting. It wasn’t the first time I had mistakenly interpreted a friendly hello from someone as an overt statement of attraction and interest.
“Morning Jake” said Rachel who had emerged from the store with a glazed donut and a small coffee. “I hate her” she continued gazing over at her friend.
“Why?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
“Come on” she said giving me a ‘you can’t be that stupid’ look. “She’s gorgeous and all of you married men drool over her whenever you see her. I mean, look at you. Your shorts aren’t normally that tight. I can see your dick right now and generally speaking, it’s too small to notice.”
I didn’t put a hand down to cover myself but I thought about it.
“Why are you looking there anyway Rach?” I stated, not rising to the bait regarding my manhood. “Aren’t things with Billy okay?” I figured pointing out that she was married too and not above looking at other men’s crotches might level the playing field just a little bit.
”Touché, I guess” she responded, “Though en garde might be more appropriate. You better cool down quick” she said with another glance my way. “Anyway, she’s a nut case. She’s here chasing some guy again. I don’t know why she can’t find someone on the west coast.”
I climbed onto my bike to hide my rapidly shrinking tumescence and waited there until 6:30 when we took off on our ride and promised myself that I would manoeuver throughout the day to ride behind Julie so that I could observe her body as she pedaled and her butt when she stood in the saddle to conquer a particularly rigorous climb.
She wore an outfit that accentuated her figure. A tank top riding shirt hugged her chest like a sports bra flattening her breasts but allowing her small nipples to clearly poke through the material. Her stomach was flat and her riding shorts looked painted on stretching from just above her hips to mid-thigh.
The outfit was her favorite pale-green color, like a lawn faded from the sun but not yet bleached out. The padding in the shorts was ample yet form fitting and hid the valley between her legs. But the shorts were well worn and in the back were close to sheer in spots, especially right above her apple bottom. As she rode and leaned forward on her handlebars the material stretched and part of the cleft between her globes was visible over the padding.
As the day wore on we all took turns leading at the front of the line. Whenever I wasn’t in the front I was behind Julie, observing as her legs circled rhythmically on her pedals, muscles tensing with each revolution. The sweat of her exertion trickled down her back and began to stain the back of her shorts increasing the contrast of the space between her cheeks. Throughout the day I visualized my hands coming off my handlebars and grabbing her hips, grinding myself into her. In many ways it was the hardest ride of my life.
Last year’s fund raiser was unique. Over time, the event has grown so large that there are multiple starting and ending points to allow for more participants and therefore enabling the sponsors to raise more money. After riding from the alternative start for a couple of years I returned to the old original jumping off place for the ride.
As before, a slew of us met under the tent for dinner the night before the first day of the ride. Over the prior two years I had barely seen or spoken to Julie because if where I started the ride and because after finishing the first day every year there are so many people to catch up with that we never sat down for a real heart-to-heart conversation.
I had heard from Rachel that Julie was, for once, there without a guy. Actually, she was without a job too. Rachel, who herself had some recent experience with being out of work was, as always, somewhat unkind.
“I don’t know what the fuck she does with herself out there every day. Every time I talk to her she is just out and about. I don’t know where she has the money to not work” sniped Rachel as we piled food onto our dinner plates.
“You’re just jealous” I said, watching Julie’s backside as she went down the line at the serving table next to ours. I let out a sigh.
“What”? asked Rachel. Then, noticing what I was looking at she offered “You are pathetic”. I leeringly nodded my agreement and we went to sit down.
The first day of the ride is more than a century. Two thousand riders huddle together in the parking lot of an office park and wait as we are urged to warm up and stretch and then listen to the national anthem before heading out on the journey from the starting point to the edge of the ocean where we spend the first night. It is exhilarating though, all that much pent-up energy. Everyone has been riding for months to get prepared for this day and the veteran riders know that regardless of road and weather conditions this will be glorious with throngs of cheering people thanking you as you whiz by.
While it is supposed to be a ride and not a race, many of our group try and finish as fast as possible. We are never the first ones to arrive at the seaside college campus where we spend the night but we are always among the first 50 to 100 or so. It feels good to ride hard, grab your gear, shower and get some food knowing that the rest of the almost 4,000 riders from both starts are still out on the road working to get to the same place. The campus does get a little crowded by the end of the day.
Julie never rides with us because she just can’t keep up. But this particular year the work she had been putting in clearly paid off as she finished way earlier than she ever had. She was beaming as she strode through the campus and signed up for her complimentary massage.
“Hey Jake” she cried out to me as I exited the hall where I had just received what could only be described as a pretty lame rubdown from an overweight masseuse-in-training.
“Jules” I said coming over and giving her a quick hug. “Pretty good time this year kiddo.”
“You bet” she agreed as she grabbed my hand and placed it on her thigh. “I have been training very hard and it shows, don’t you think”? She had said essentially the same thing last night but without letting anyone stroke her leg.
“You look and feel very strong this year Julie” I agreed. I began kneading her thigh and asked “What time is your massage?”
“In an hour” she replied.
“Mine was pretty bogus” I said. “I’m thinking of going for a swim a little later. Interested”?
She thought for a second and said “Sure. I’ll wear my bathing suit to the massage and we can go right after I’m done”.
“Sounds great” I said. “I’ll meet you right here in an hour and fifteen minutes”.
I spent most of the next 75 minutes taking care of things in my tent. We were given a few different options for sleeping arrangements…the school dormitories, our own tents, tents provided by the sponsors, off-site hotels, etc. After a year or two in the dorms I opted for either my own tent or one supplied by the event. I just found them cooler and offering somewhat more privacy. Though, to be fair, pitching your tent next to someone else doesn’t really offer much in the way of privacy.
I flopped down on my air mattress and began setting out clothes for the next day. I would be waking at 3:30 in the morning to get ready; breaking down the tent, getting breakfast, packing my gear into the trucks waiting to take it to the finish, etc. It was always a short night because the next day was so long.
At the appointed time, I went to get Julie and said hello to many people as I worked my way over to the massage hall. Julie walked out in a bikini top and a little sun skirt that she had worn over her bathing suit and that barely reached her mid-thigh.
“So, how was it?” I said trying not to stare.
“Better than nothing-barely” she replied. “And I’m beginning to feel the ride.”
“Come on” I said, “The water will help take the ache out of your legs”.
We strode to the ocean and stepped tenuously out into the water, toeing our way over the rocks and pebbles that constituted the beach.
“It’s pretty fucking cold” said Julie, surprising me with a rare outburst of profanity.
“Come on you chicken” I laughed and reached a hand out to her. She grabbed my arm and we continued picking our way out to where the rocks became more manageable.
We were about thigh high in the water when all of a sudden Julie clenched her fist around my bicep and cried out “Ahhh, fuck. I’m cramping. My calf. Fuck”. She leaned on me hard and said “I have got to go back”.
“Sure thing” I responded. “Come on, I’ve got you”. I put an arm around her waist and helped her walk slowly back over the rocks to the shore. She was clearly in agony by the time we got to the beach.
“Come on” I said, “My tent is right around the building. I’ve got plenty of electrolyte tablets and we can take a look”.
Cramping after long exercise is often due to the fact that athletes don’t hydrate or eat properly and get an electrolyte imbalance as a result. Not much you can do except hydrate, take some pills and rub out the cramp.
We crawled into the tent and I immediately gave her a couple of tablets and something to drink. I told her to lie down on her stomach on the air mattress and stretched my unzipped sleeping bag over her to give her some additional warmth though the tent itself was pretty toasty.
“Here” I said, “Let me work on your calf for a few minutes. Just relax”.
“Okay” she responded through gritted teeth.
I could see the muscle in her calf twitching. I put both my hands around the muscle and pressed my thumbs right where the action was taking place. Working my thumbs in opposite directions I slid my hands up and down her calf trying to warm the muscle and calm the involuntary movement. I increased the speed of my ministrations and began to vigorously rub her calf to generate warmth and lengthened my reach to include her foot and her lower thigh.
After a couple of minutes she had clearly relaxed and the muscle had stopped twitching. She had thrown off the sleeping bag complaining that it was too warm and now lay face down on the air mattress breathing softly.
“Thank you” she said. “That feels so much better”.
“Do you want me to continue”? I asked “I don’t have any oil but here’s your chance to get a second massage”.
“Sure” she said. “That would be great. But honestly, I have got to pee.”
“Ok” I said. “There’s a Ritz quality port-o-potty around the corner”. She grabbed her towel and other things and ran off.
When she came back she was wearing her sun skirt. I had moved the air mattress to one side of the tent and told her to lie down on the towels I had spread out. She zipped close the door to the tent and quickly lay down as I had suggested using her rolled up towel as a headrest.
I began to slowly work on her legs. Beginning with each heel I rubbed my hands against her flesh to generate heat and then worked her skin and muscle together. One at a time I moved my hands up to her calves moving her sun dress up a little at a time. I alternated between deep rubs and light touch trying to both relax and stimulate her.
I rose on my knees and placed one leg on either side of her left leg. I slowly ran my fingers up behind her knee and along the middle of her thigh. She tensed as I could tell she was being tickled but made no protest. I moved and repeated the motion on her other leg. Then I took both hands and reached under the hem of the sun dress to encircle her thigh so that I could knead it as I had down to her calves. She parted her legs slightly to help me with access.
I molded her flesh between my fingers working out the knots and began to move higher knowing I would soon reach her bikini bottoms. I slowed the massage and worked my fingers gently on either side of her thigh and felt the heat emanating from between her legs. Not yet touching the fabric of her bathing suit I gently moved my hands up a bit further right to where her right cheek met her thigh.
As I slid my fingers up past the crease at the bottom of her buttocks I recognized that she was no longer wearing a bathing suit. I stopped and thought about what that meant and what I thought was being offered to me. My cock had already been straining against my own bathing suit and it seemed to swell further as if to encourage me; almost pulling my hips forward like a dog tugging against a short leash.
I decided to be cautious and told Julie that I was going to work on her back and shoulders now and asked if it would be okay to untie the straps of her bikini top.
“Sure” she said. “That would be good. My shoulders are aching”.
“You probably weren’t bending your arms enough on the ride. When you don’t all the shock of any bumps get transferred to your shoulders and back. Tomorrow, try a loose grip on the handle bars.”
“Okay” she responded. “Will you show me how later?” I assured her I would.
I stared at her back as I prepared to put my hands on her and caress away as much of the soreness as I could. To be most effective I would need to be somewhat forceful and perhaps even painful with my technique. I was conflicted because I didn’t want to ruin what was obviously becoming a charged environment.
After some thought I put both hands on her lower back and begin working my palms into her flesh. I moved my hands together, once again repeating the clockwise/counterclockwise motion from her spine outwards. At the beginning of each circle, I dug my thumbs into her vertebrae, loosening up the area and resetting the disks.
I reached her bra line and held each palm flat against her spine and spread my fingers down towards her sides at a ninety degree angle. I pressed outwards trying to surreptitiously sneak a finger against a breast that lay flattened against the towels beneath her near naked body.
When Julie wriggled as if to admonish me, I quickly brought my fingers back to her spine and then up to her neck where I circled her throat and worked the bones. Then, I took my fingertips and ran them all the way down her back and then up again to her neck as I bent down and blew air along her spine.
She shuddered and squirmed at the tickling and then seemed to involuntarily lift her right leg which was brought between my legs. She let out a soft breath as she grazed my balls and then, as if totally unaware of what she had done, lowered her foot back to the ground.
Furtively, I glanced at the screens on the tent to see whether there were any neighbors around and, if so, whether they could get a good look inside.
“Time to roll over” I told her, knowing that this might be the moment where she decided she felt fine and that it was an opportune time to leave.
“Man, do I have to? This is so nice just like this”. Arms over her head she lay flat, relaxed, contented and seemingly exhausted.
“Come on” I encouraged. “I promise this will be even better. I’ll even let you choose...should I start from your neck and work my way down or from your feet and work my way up”?
Without looking at me or opening her eyes she whispered “Neck down, please”.
“Right” I said. “Let’s roll you over”.
I reached to grab a shoulder and a thigh and gripping loosely tugged her towards me to induce her to start moving herself. She wormed a little bit as she moved towards my pressure and by the time she was on her back her bikini top lay askew across her chest and her skirt had risen up to the point that I had a plain view of her entire crotch.
I looked at Julie but she had put her ‘pillow’ over her eyes almost so she could ignore what had happened to her clothes if she hid them from her own view.
I straddled her waist and began squeezing and rubbing her neck and shoulders. As I did I looked down at her chest. Her left breast lay exposed. She had never had children and so age and gravity were the only forces that she had ever had to contend with. She was fortunate that her breasts still seemed to have the perkiness of youth as the one I was staring at virtually stared right back at me. It didn’t fall to a side and look away. No, it stood firm on her chest, a small but full sentry adorned with a perfectly round and deliciously pink aureole from which a soft nipple waited for its invitation to emerge.
I brushed my fingers along her clavicle and then stroked her triceps with my fingertips. Down to her elbows and then back to her shoulders. I lifted her arms above her head and moved my digits from her wrists to just before her armpits. She writhed a little with the sensation and I went on and massaged her arms more vigorously to avoid tickling her.
I grabbed her wrists and moved her arms down by her sides and told her to fold her hands together. She had to move her arms in between where I was straddling her to do this and in doing she ran her hands over my thighs to get to her own body. I lifted myself a little to give her better access, moving so that my face would rest just beneath her neckline if I chose to lay it down on her.
I pursed my lips together and started blowing air along her neck and down her throat across the fabric of her bikini top to the exposed breast. As I passed over her little apple I opened my mouth and let out a soft breath. I watched as her nipple stiffened from the breeze and push out from its resting space in her aureole. She strained up a little from the ground and twisted as if her nipple were pulling itself to my mouth for relief.
Still bent over her, I ran my fingers along her arms as I moved down past her breasts to her navel. At that point I moved my knees down and positioned myself below her waist. I stared at her hands which were pressing into her own thighs, squeezing them in an effort of self-control and refrain. Her legs were slightly parted and she when she put her arms down she had maneuvered her dress up a little higher so that her entire nether region was fully exposed and visible.
Her little pussy was completely smooth and bare, devoid of even a single wisp or hint of downy covering. Her mons was full, engorged even, no doubt from the massage and the fact that she was herself waiting and growing increasingly impatient for more. Peeking out shyly from where her folds met was her clit, a lone guard at the top of the valley that was waiting the inevitable onslaught of passion.
I leaned my face closer and let out a soft breath followed immediately by a stronger, cooler one that escaped from my pursed lips. Up and down either side of her womanhood I blew. She dug her hands into her thighs even deeper and forced them apart ever so slightly. I saw as her outer lips parted slowly as if being tugged apart by the pulling of a rope on a drawbridge when the surrender has come. Her lips glistened and a string of her fluid stretched across the small moat of air that lay between her slightly parted labia. I inhaled her scent, mixed as it was with soap and baby powder from her recent shower.
Still breathing softly on her entire pubic area, I finally took two fingers and as lightly as a feather stroked her labia on either side of the nub that was now standing free of its shield.
“Please” she gasped softly. “I can’t stand this”.
And with that, I moved back, took her hands off of her legs, spread her ankles and lay back down on my stomach so that my face was positioned just beneath her waiting pussy. I snaked out my tongue and stroked her clit with the moistened tip of my tongue.
“Ahhhh” Julie murmured and wriggled to try and get more pressure against her bud. But I moved away and instead ran my tongue around the outside of her folds, starting deep at the bottom and running up to the top to just next to her engorged pearl. Continuing this action on either side had her clit emerge from its hood and remain exposed like a cuckoo that has gotten stuck outside of its clock.
I moved back to satisfy the demanding little nub and inserted a single finger into Julie’s wet pussy. As I lapped between the lips I had opened I reached up to graze a nipple and realized that she was already stroking one of her breasts with a free hand. She strummed the rigid pink gem on her right tit while I gently flicked the bud on her left one. I placed my tongue hard against her little taut womanhood and moved side to side increasing pressure each time I shook my head.
Julie was in lost in the sensations. Her eyes were closed, her head back and her mouth was slightly parted. She pursed her lips and began inhaling shorter, deeper breaths as if she was in the middle of a workout. She placed her hands at either side of my head and tugged to get me to rise up to her.
“Do it” she gasped. And I realized she wanted me to enter her. “Do it now”.
“Shhh”, I mumbled, my mouth still affixed to her clam. I gently increased the pressure of my tongue. Julie’s hands came off my head and went back to her breasts. Her legs tautened and straightened slightly and her hips came up and pushed her engorged cunt even further against my face. My finger went back in to her tunnel and I wriggled it around her walls as her pussy began to clamp down in anticipation of release. Her clit, which had withstood the assault from my mouth, began to slip back into its hood and this caused her to raise her hips even further.
I looked up and saw Julie put her fist into her mouth as if to ensure that she wouldn’t scream because we were so exposed to passersby in the tent. . Her face was pink from exertion and the sweat ran down her cheeks as she tensely waited her climax. Her head was raised as her abdomen tightened with concentration. Her lips were spread in a grimace and her breath was ragged.
Suddenly I felt her pussy clamp down on my finger and then rapidly open and close again and again and again. Each contraction was accompanied by a silent shudder that forced her torso up like she was doing crunches in the gym. Her mouth gaped as she expelled air silently and then took a deep inhale and a quick exhale. Her hands grabbed her breasts to pinch her nipples in an effort to extend the sensations that had racked her body.
She collapsed and lay silent, chest heaving.
“Feel better?” I asked as I kissed my way back up her body.
“Why didn’t you fuck me?” she asked when she could finally speak “I wanted you to. Actually, I’ve wanted you to for some time. It doesn’t matter. Right now I’m thirsty and I want to drink you”.
In a flash and before I could respond, she slid down my body and literally ripped off my bathing suit. She stopped and stared at my cock, no longer at attention but not exactly at rest either. She took the shaft in one hand and placed the other beneath my balls.
“You shave” she said, surprised.
“Well, my balls and my butt” I replied. “I find it reduces chafing during the season”.
She wasn’t really paying attention to what I was saying. Rather, she was licking my scrotum starting at the very back and running her tongue around each testicle. I felt the wrinkled skin grow taut as my erection returned. Julie grasped my pole and lightly began to masturbate it while she ran her tongue up and down the vein that throbbed on its underside. She moved to the head of my prick and with collected saliva anointed the rim that ran around base of the head. She then closed her mouth around the head and I felt the warmth of her spit dribble out of her mouth to lubricate my cock for her fingers.
She placed the head of my stick against her cheek and with her hand moved it back and forth and the friction seemed to make me swell even more. She opened wide and pushed her mouth down managing to get about half my shaft into her throat before she had to stop. She worked her head up and down slowly while she took the fingers of one hand and lightly rubbed my dick as she gently squeezed my balls with her other hand. I moved to get on my knees and placed my hand on her incredibly slick pussy. She brought her leg up so that I had easy access to her oily clit and gaping hole.
As she firmly stroked my cock I began to rub her pussy lips and nub. I brushed back her hair with my free hand and gently pushed her head back off of my cock. She opened her eyes and looked at me and I slid down next to her and, finally, kissed her for the first time that afternoon. She rolled onto her back and I got on my knees and put the head of my cock against her open twat.
I slid in easily and we both closed our eyes and sighed. I put my weight on my elbows and pressed my pubic bone against hers. My cock seemed to get lost in her cavern which was still slick from the combination of my saliva and her own emissions. I moved my hips slowly to grind against her, bending my head to nibble first at her neck and then at a nipple. We kissed deeply and she put her hands on my ass in an effort to push me further inside of her.
I lifted myself onto my elbows and toes and slowly removed my shaft so that just the head of my prick still lay between her folds. Gently I moved the head almost completely out and then back in to the rim. I quickened the pace slightly and the without warning pushed my entire cock back into her.
She gasped with delight but then chopped my arms so that my weight collapsed on her body and immediately wrapped her legs around mine and once again grabbed my cheeks to keep me deep within her. She smiled with her eyes open and moved her hips beneath me thrusting her body up and pulling me down at the same time.
Our tongues met and swirled in each other’s mouth. I licked the inside of her ear and she stifled a squeal and then she nibbled my neck and elicited the same response from me that my ear lick had drawn from her.
Our rhythm continued and I felt her begin to tighten around me. She started to lose herself in the sensations and my cock began to get heavy as I felt the end near for me too. I slowed and tried to just rub out pubic bones together. Julie’s legs began to straighten and I felt her muscles tighten. All of a sudden it seemed like her already sopping box became awash in more moisture as she tightened around my cock. The grip became so fierce I could hardly move and it even seemed like her womb was contracting so hard it was beginning to force my cock out of her. Time slowed as I felt myself get closer and closer to the edge, the burning moving along my cock as I held myself there waiting for her.
Julie hung on me tight moving just enough to edge herself to the end and suddenly she gasped into my shoulder and I felt her pussy release me and then grab me again and then release. She shuddered against me and I strained to withhold myself until she was finished.
Finally, she rested and looked at me. “Did you come?” she asked.
“Not yet” I replied with strain in my voice.
“What do you want me to do?” she queried.
I got on my knees and looked down at my cock which was still in her. I pulled it out and gently began to rub against her pussy lips. Looking at me, she reached around and under her legs and began to massage my testicles while she stroked to top of my cock with two wet fingers.
I moved my shaft up and down between her lips and they wrapped around my cock like a little blanket. I felt the heat rise in my balls and the exquisite pain begin to move forward. I tried to hold back as much as possible as Julie teased and pulled at my balls. All of a sudden, she moved and put me into her mouth again and finally there was no stopping and with a muffled grunt I felt my cock swell in her mouth and then burst as a long hot jet of sperm flew out of me and against her cheek and down her throat. She moved her hand quickly to encourage more and more of my liquid and finally she reached and squeezed out the last thick drop and swallowed deeply.
My head lolled and my arms hung limp; sweat dripped from every pore. I was totally spent. Julie continued to kiss my shrinking penis, licking my balls and sending shudders of post-orgasmic contractions throughout my body.
We collapsed onto the ground and looked at each other, kissing lightly.
“Wow” I finally managed to say. “That was both unbelievable and totally unexpected.”
Julie just smiled and then sidled even closer. Her breath was warm and sweet when she said to me “I’ve been looking forward to this for almost five years. I know it sounds contrived, but the truth is that every year I have seen you, despite the relationships I’ve been in and that fact that you have a family, I’ve thought about this. Every year. And I want to do it every year from here on out too.”
I began to stiffen again as I realized that for as long as we both did this event I’d be raising more than just money. THE END----Part I
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/the-fundraiser-part-1.aspx">The Fundraiser Part 1</a>