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Message-ID: <50772asstr$1111522202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Robin Curious" <robincurious@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Bagging a Peak (F-solo, M-solo)
Lines: 429
Date: Tue, 22 Mar 2005 15:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


wheeeee!  my muse is back!

did I do this right?  It's been quite a while.

Thanks!

Robin.

_________________________________________________________________
Express yourself instantly with MSN Messenger! Download today - it's FREE! 
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<1st attachment, "Bagging a Peak.doc" begin>

================================

I mentioned a recent writing contest involving a typewriter when
I was out with a friend (omitting the erotica part of it).  She
replied that a story about a typewriter wasn't much of a
challenge, in improv they throw out at least three unrelated
items to play off of.  After several margaritas we had a
typewriter, a bicycle and a windmill (oh my).  After briefly
toying with the idea of a Dutch boy putting his finger in a dyke
while riding a bike (the dyke riding on the handlebars of
course), which seemed better suited for a limerick, this is what
emerged from my tequila-inspired mind and a bit of sober editing.
 

Warning:  This story contains graphic description of sexual
activity involving consenting adults.  If you shouldn't be
reading this, don't.  If you are of age and reading this sort of
thing is legal wherever you happen to be, I hope you enjoy
reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

All of the characters depicted are fictional.  Any resemblance to
you or anyone you know is entirely coincidental.  

================================

Bagging a Peak
(F-solo, M-solo)
(c) 2005, by robincurious

Mark heard her before he saw her.  She sat at a picnic table in a
clearing, a muddy mountain bike leaned up against a nearby tree.
Her honey-colored hair hung over her face as she concentrated on
what she was doing.  He was just finishing his ride with a
cool-down loop through the park and slowed almost to a stop,
admiring her muscular shoulders gleaming in the sunlight.  He
passed by slowly, fascinated.  Her muscles flexed with her
movements and her breasts jiggled slightly under the thin cropped
white tank.  She was oblivious to his gaze, entirely engrossed in
her efforts, entirely unaware of her eroticism.

He pedaled slowly as the trail entered a patch of woods, very
much aware of his half-hard penis constrained by his biker
shorts.  Mark savored the images of her in his mind, enthralled
by the incongruity of what he had seen.  He'd never seen that in
a park!  He picked up his pace, weaving around the occasional
jogger as he looped around to the clearing once more.  Her hair
still kept him from seeing her face, but again he admired her
arms and shoulders, tanned chestnut brown.  Flexing, purposeful.

Unable to help himself, he stopped and stared at what she was
doing.  

-- Flex flex, DING!  Reach, jiggle, flex flex flex flex DING! 
Reach, jiggle --

He was mesmerized watching her type.  When she looked up there
was no way to disguise the fact that he was staring.  So he
smiled.

She brushed her hair behind one ear and smiled in reply, a grin
filling her narrow face and lighting up her big dark eyes.  Mark
heard her chuckle, an odd hiccupy laugh that made him laugh with
her.  He dismounted and wheeled his bike over to her table.

"Perv."  She chuckled again, throwing her hair back.

"I was just surprised to see you doing that here," Mark
responded.  "It stopped me in my tracks."

"And gave you a hard-on."  She looked from his crotch to his eyes
and laughed again.  "So did that happen the first time you went
by or after you came back?"

Mark felt himself flushing in embarrassment.  "Well I ...."

"It's OK, I like looking at a nice hard-on in biker shorts."  The
girl grinned.  "Perv."

He hesitated, feeling that this was definitely not going well. 
"Well I'll let you get back to ... um ... work," he said
resignedly, turning his bike back towards the path.

"Guys with cute butts can stay," she called to him.

He stopped and turned.  She was appraising him, head cocked to
one side.  "So do I qualify?"

"Ooh yeah," she said softly.  "Very much so."  She patted the
bench next to her.  "Come, sit."

He walked his bike over to lean it against the tree next to hers,
slipped off his helmet and joined her at the picnic table,
getting his first clear look at her.  At first glance her
features were too large for her face.  Her mouth was broad with a
full lower lip offsetting a narrow upper lip and giving her a
pouty look in the rare moments when she wasn't smiling.  Her
crooked teeth gleamed white against her bronzed skin.  Her nose
could euphemistically be described as substantial.  But her eyes
dominated, large and expressive ... and perpetually amused, it
seemed.  She pushed her hair back behind her ears, revealing them
to be only slightly less disproportionate than her nose.  Yet
somehow she was beautiful in an elfin sort of way.

He straddled the picnic bench and she turned, swinging a long
lean leg over to straddle the bench facing him.  "OK, you'll want
to know everything eventually so I'll tell you up front.  I'm 23,
grad student in chem, not in a relationship, not looking for a
relationship, live alone."  She grinned.  "And I'm typing in the
park."  She stuck out her hand.  "I'm Parker."

Mark grinned in reply, taking her hand.  "Mark, 34, programmer,
no girlfriend, live alone, finishing up my Sunday ride."  He had
shaken her hand, but realized she wasn't letting go, and their
joined hands dropped to rest on her leg.  He glanced down, taking
in her taut belly and firm breasts under the thin white tank. 
"Parker's an unusual name ..."

Her laugh burbled out of her.  "Mom idolized Dorothy Parker but
didn't want to subject me to a lifetime of Wizard of Oz jokes." 


The smooth skin of her thigh was warm against his hand.  "You
said you're studying chemistry?" he asked.

"Lubricants."  She looked into his eyes.  "Our team is working on
organic lubricants that will stand up to high temperatures and
still maintain their properties.  Astroglide for wind
generators."

"Astroglide won't work then?" Mark smiled and received a laugh in
reply.

"Oh it works, but not for wind generators."  She smirked and
looked down.  "You have great thighs," she observed with another
laugh, running her free hand over his thigh, squeezing his
muscle.  "You must ride a lot."

"Every chance I get," Mark replied, smiling, his body responding
to her touch.  "I race sometimes."  They looked into each others'
eyes, her hand stroking his thigh.  "Do you ride?"

"Everywhere I go," she replied.  Mark felt his cock twitch.

"I'm part of an experiment," she announced abruptly.

"Pardon?"  

"That's why I'm typing."  Mark had forgotten about the typewriter
that had caught his attention in the first place.  "For three
months I can't use any energy that isn't generated through
alternative means, not even conventional batteries.  No computer.
 No air conditioning.  No lights.  No car.  I'm about a month
into it."

"So how do you cook?" he asked.

"They provide a gas stove that uses methane from their own
sheep-shit digester and they have solar cells and a wind farm to
generate enough electricity to run a small fridge in each room. 
Lights too, but we're supposed to limit that to emergencies." 
She squeezed his thigh again.  "Do you ride long distances?"

"Just 50k today."  He watched the muscles in her shoulder and arm
flexing as she tested his thigh muscle with long fingers.

"Legs tired?"  She cocked her head to one side, momentarily
serious, her pouty expression making him want to kiss her.

"Not at all," he said, leaning forward slightly, deciding to
chance a kiss.

"Cool!"  Parker laughed, popping up from the bench before his
lips could make contact.  "Come back to my place."

Mark leaned back, startled.  "Your place?" 

She was busy putting the typewriter back in its case along with
her papers.  She tossed the rock she had used as a paperweight
into the trees.  "Uh huh, you're perfect.  I need you to help
me."

The typewriter was back in its case and she carried it to her
bike, strapping it to a rack on the back with a web of bungee
cords.

"Help you do what?" Mark asked, confused.

"Get off," she said with another chuckle.

He looked at her as she bent over her bike, her back lean and
muscular, butt round and firm in her spandex shorts.

She turned to face him, her hair back around her face again. 
"Interested?"

He stood and took a step towards her.  "Definitely," he said
softly, slipping a hand around her waist and pulling her close. 
She pressed her lithe body into his and gave him a quick kiss on
the lips, then pirouetted away.

"Follow me."  She fastened her helmet and straddled her bike,
waiting while he did the same.  Then she was off, pedaling
quickly and easily down the path.  He followed, regretting the
square bulk of the typewriter case that blocked his view of her
butt until she stood on her pedals to pump her way up a hill. 
Then his eyes never left the perfect hemispheres of her bottom,
flexing rhythmically with her efforts.  He was close behind her
as they reached the crest, but he zoomed past when she turned
sharply onto a dirt side path.  He braked and turned, threading
his way onto the path and catching a glimpse of her far ahead
through the trees.  He pedaled hard to catch up with her, but she
knew the path and had an advantage in off-road riding with her
mountain bike.  His narrower tires skidded dangerously on the
dirt and more than once he felt the sting of a tree branch
whipping him.  He started wondering what he was doing following
this strange girl.  As the trail started downhill the trail
became rocky and it took all his concentration to keep from
wrecking until the trail burst from the woods and he skidded to a
halt, breathless and bathed in sweat.

"Shortcut," she said, grinning.  He looked at her in disbelief.

"You're nuts!"

She laughed and he found himself laughing with her.  Her tank top
was plastered to her, molded to her contours, perspiration
glistening on her face and chest.  He remembered why he had been
following her.

"It's right over there."  He looked and saw a small two-story
white frame building they had approached from the rear.  To one
side the sun glinted off a myriad of silvery blades, a small sea
of windmills turning languidly.  She followed his look.  "The
wind farm," she said simply.  "Solar panels on the roof."  The
building was in the midst of farmland, fields dotted with the
cottony forms of the methane producers.  The building itself
looked like it contained four units and there was an empty
parking lot in front.  "They built it just for the project," she
explained as they wheeled their bikes up to the building.  She
leaned hers up against the wall, pulled off her helmet and began
unfastening the typewriter.  He leaned his bike next to hers and
removed his helmet as well.

"Carry this," she said, handing him the case.  He was surprised
at its weight.  As they walked to the door she casually peeled
off her sweaty tank top.  "I'm on the second floor," she
commented over her shoulder.  She had no tan lines on her back
and when she pulled the door open he saw she had none in front
either.  "Tops aren't a big deal out here," she explained with a
grin.  He admired her body as he followed her up the stairs. 
Then he followed her through the door of her apartment and she
closed it behind him, locking it with a click.

The stifling heat of the apartment closed around them as they
moved through a tiny kitchen into the apartment's other sparsely
furnished room.  To one side stood a small table and a sofa, to
the other an exercise bike next to a mattress positioned in front
of a sliding door leading onto a balcony.  The door was open and
a faint breeze attempted to stir the heat of the room.  

"Ready?" she asked.  He turned to see her sliding off her shorts.
 He pulled off his jersey and started to pull down his shorts as
well.

"No, keep your shorts on, we're not going to fuck."  

Mark stopped, shorts halfway to his knees, erection bobbing in
the half light.  She laughed her infectious laugh.  

"I'm first, then you can get off while I watch."  

She flopped down on the mattress, spreading her legs wide to
reveal a neatly trimmed pussy, glistening with perspiration and
arousal. 

"If you want me to watch, that is.  So pull 'em back up, bud,"
she ordered with another laugh.  

Confused, he pulled them back over his painfully hard erection
while he watched her run her hands over her thighs, then up over
her pussy.  She nodded towards the exercise bike.  

"I need you to pedal."  

She was concentrating now, the muscles in her arms and shoulders
flexing as she worked.  Mark walked slowly to the bike as if in a
trance, his eyes never leaving her body, admiring her breasts and
flat tummy.  Her thighs spread further apart as she worked her
fingers into her sex.  Definitely crazy, he thought. 
Committable.  But with a body like that ... As he mounted the
bike, she reached for something cylindrical alongside the
mattress.  

"Pedal," she coaxed.  

Mark started pedaling slowly, feeling heavy resistance on the
bike as she placed the smooth cylinder of the vibrator between
her legs, alongside of her clit.  

"Faster," she ordered, her voice serious now.  He pedaled faster,
noting the wire that trailed from one end of the vibrator towards
an odd box near the bike.  He heard a faint hum coming from the
vibrator.  "Yessss, harder Mark, pedal harder!"  

Mark began pumping at the pedals, moving his legs faster,
powering the generator.  The hum turned into a buzz.  

"That's it, keep going."  

Mark watched, pedaling hard, while Parker ran the tip of the
vibrator around her clit, then down into her folds.  She shifted
on the mattress to face the bike, offering him an unobstructed
view.  He bit his lip as he watched the tip of the vibrator enter
her.  Parker's body undulated on the mattress as she worked the
vibrator deeper inside herself.  

"Feels so good," she gasped.  

She looked up at him, into his eyes, then over his muscled torso
gleaming with sweat.  She slipped the vibe out and ran it over
her clit, her eyes never leaving Mark, then guided it back to her
opening and pushed it deep inside.  Her thumb found her clit and
he watched as she massaged it, rubbing in little circles while
her hips squirmed.  He leaned forward on the bike, bringing the
base of his erection against the bike seat while he pedaled,
watching her work the toy in and out.  Her other hand cupped her
breast, squeezing, her fingers finding a nipple and pulling at
it.  All the while she gasped and moaned, her body writhing and
gleaming from her exertions.  Her eyes never left him and the
scent of her arousal gradually filled the room.  Mark pedaled as
if in a race, pumping hard to achieve a glorious finish.  Finally
she pressed the vibe hard against her clit and arched her back,
eyes rolling back in her head.

Parker came loud and long, her thighs closing to trap the vibe
against her clit as she let out a wail.  Then with her eyes
clenched tightly shut she opened them again and plunged it inside
herself, her hips bucking.  Rolling onto her side, she buried her
face in the pillow, body shaking silently.  Finally she lay
still, gasping for breath and bathed in sweat.  Mark kept
pedaling mechanically, unable to stop.  After a few moments, she
rolled onto her back and slipped the vibrator from her pussy, a
laugh bubbling out of her.  

"That was wicked good," she said breathlessly.  "The last guy
couldn't keep it up long enough to get me off."  She laughed
again.  "The biking, that is."

Mark slowed his pace, pondering the absurdity of a cool down in
the stifling apartment and finally slid off the bike seat onto
wobbly legs.  He felt a rush of victory sweeter than any he'd
gotten from winning a race.  He dropped to his knees alongside
the mattress, his eyes never leaving Parker's glistening body. 
She rolled to face him, grabbing his shorts with both hands and
pulling them to his knees.  

"Your turn," she whispered, a serious look on her face.  

He knelt, looking down at her upturned face, his cock throbbing
inches from her lips.  Imagining her lips engulfing his cock, he
circled his fingers around his erection, squeezing and slowly
stroking, a drop of precum forming at the tip.

"Cocks are so cool," she whispered.  

"Suck me," he whispered in reply, but she just giggled.

"No, wank it!"  

He began stroking faster and she got onto her knees facing him,
eyes never leaving his cock.  He squeezed harder, increasing the
friction while his eyes roamed over her smooth skin, her erect
nipples, the gentle curve of her breasts.  She reached between
his legs and ran her fingers lightly over his scrotum, eliciting
a moan from him as his balls tightened.  She grinned at his
reaction.  He moved his hand with greater urgency.  

"Yeah, do it," she cooed, running her fingers from his balls and
over his stroking fingers, encouraging him.  "Shoot for me."  

While he stroked his shaft she stroked the underside of his glans
with her finger tips.  Mark felt his tension mounting, felt the
cum gathering inside and then exploding in a powerful orgasm,
cock pulsing as his hand pumped.  Parker caught his cum in her
palm with a contented giggle.

When he had finished pulsing, she caught the last drop hanging
from the tip of his cock on her finger and looked at the puddle
in her hand.  "Once we get to know each other better, I'll suck
you off," she said softly.  "And if we click I'll let you fuck me
if you still want to." She looked up into his eyes.  "Until then,
maybe you can do your biking at my place.  You go biking a lot,
right?"

"Every chance I get."

================================

Feedback is welcome, send comments to [despammed] robincurious at
hotmail dot com.

You can read my other stories at 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Robin_Curious



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