Facebook meme:
You know what’s really uncomfortable? A bra. But we still wear one in public. Not for me, for others.
That was posted by my hiking partner, a woman in her early sixties who is in excellent shape because of her hiking and her work as an occupational therapist. Whenever we go out into the woods, I’ve always been happy to let her take the lead so I could enjoy the view. Such a nice ass wiggle.
I commented back, You don’t need to wear one on my account.
We’ve spent a lot of time together the past couple of years, hiking, having lunch or dinner, hanging out in the park by the river, day trips to various destinations around here, even a couple of overnight camping trips where we each had our own tents. I’ve always watched for signs of interest from her and even dropped a few very subtle hints but was never given any reason to think she would go beyond being friends and sharing fun times.
Her reply was something about her not wanting her boobs stared at in the grocery store, which I let slide even though that showed she wore one for her, not for anyone else. Besides, she was moving out of town in a few days, and I didn’t want to start anything. Damn, I was going to miss her.
I’d agreed to help her move and the day of loading the truck I was under her sink, removing the water filter she had installed. I did something wrong, no idea what, but in an hour or so, my left side began hurting something awful. Bruised or cracked rib from lying on the edge under the counter? I knew I wasn’t in the greatest shape at sixty-five anymore, but shit, I should be able to do that still. Fortunately, she’d hired movers to load the truck and the filter removal was the last thing to do that day, so we went to bed, she in her bedroom, me on a camping mattress in the living room. I was surprised I got as much sleep as I did. Every time I moved, the pain woke me.
The next day she fixed a breakfast of eggs and fake bacon (she didn’t eat meat), did the dishes, stuck it all into the last box out, and off we went, she in her car and me driving the truck. Dang, getting up into it was painful. We arrived at her new place a couple of hours later and the next set of movers were waiting. They unloaded, which suited me fine since I was still sore. Then we took the truck to the rental company and returned to her new place. She began sorting some things out, the important, need it tomorrow stuff. I helped as best I could, but even if I’d been 100%, I didn’t know where it all went. We had a salad for lunch, then that evening she ordered a meatless pizza, which was quite good.
After eating I was sitting on the couch, not the most comfortable place to be with whatever was going on with my side. I repositioned myself and groaned a bit. She looked at me questioningly. “Whatever this is, it still hurts like mad,” I explained, pointing at my left side.
“What you’re saying is so foreign to me. I’ve had muscular-skeletal problems since I was nineteen. I never talk about it, just focus and push through.” What the fuck?? I’d learned early on she had some odd thought patterns, but this was the oddest and coldest thing she’d ever said. It pissed me off a bit.
“Seriously? I half-cripple myself helping you and all you can do is bitch because I groaned when moving?”
“I’m not bitching, but what do you expect from me?”
I have no idea where this came from, but I opened my mouth and out came, “I’d think at least a blowjob.” Holy shit! She stood there staring at me, not in surprise, though. I chalked that up to her oddness, too. She locked on my gaze and walked over to stand directly in front of me. I sat there waiting for something, probably being kicked out to sleep in her car.
“So, you don’t like me wearing a bra.” With that, she pulled her t-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor, then reached back and unhooked her bra, shrugged it off to join the t-shirt. Sweet Jesus in the morning! I’d gotten lots of downblouse and armhole glimpses of some of her breast flesh and had seen her in her sports bra once when she changed blouses at my place before leaving after a day of hiking, but now I was looking at them fully exposed. Her arms hung at her sides. I’d placed her at about a 34B already and that still looked about right. There was some sag, of course, but they still had a nice shape and the nipples stuck out, not down. Those were light brown like the areolas, and about the size of a large pencil eraser, the first grader’s type of eraser.
She knelt in front of me, gently pushing my knees apart so she could scoot in between them. She unbuckled my belt, unfastened and unzipped my jeans, and grabbed their waist. “Lift,” she said. I raised my hips off the couch (fuck, holy fuck, that hurt) as she tugged them down to my ankles. Then she pulled them from my feet and removed my socks. Shoes had already gone once our trekking in and out was over.
I was sitting there naked from the waist down; she was kneeling naked from the waist up. Seemed like a good match to me. She began stroking my thighs with her hands flat against me, each stroke moving closer to my crotch. Her crystal blue eyes watched mine for whatever she was looking for. I swear she had a slight upturn on the corners of her mouth, but I couldn’t tell for sure.
Her fingertips brushed my balls, then the base of my cock, retreated, then returned. Each stroke now went a little higher up my cock. Finally, it was enveloped between her two hands with the tips of her middle fingers teasing the glans. By then I was fully hard. Keeping her hands in a prayer position (or namaste position since she was Buddhist), she began masturbating me. It was weird, but it felt great. I’m not circumcised so the foreskin was moving up and down with her actions. I lay my head back, closed my eyes and let my focus go to the physical sensations. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered if I’d actually get a blowjob, or if this was it. Fuck, either way, I’d seen her tits.
Those old familiar twinges began as her stimulations had their effect. Lifting my head, I saw she was staring at my cock now. Her thumbs were pressing on the underside of the shaft on the upstrokes. A few more strokes and suddenly a bead of precum popped out just before the foreskin closed over the glans. She stopped, wiped it off with her index fingertip, and put it to her tongue. Working it around in her mouth, she returned to stroking me in the namaste style. Her eyes never left my cock. Every time a drop would emerge, she would repeat the tasting. After several of these tastings, as I was beginning to quiver and my breath was getting ragged, which was all a tad painful, she eased the thumb pressure. Damn, I was enjoying seeing her eating my precum.
After a few minutes, at the bottom of a stroke, she resumed the thumb pressure and slowly lifted her hands. As she did so, a huge dollop of precum oozed out the glans to be trapped in the rising foreskin, finally looking like a lake in the crater of a volcano. Her crystal blue eyes met mine and there was a definite smile on her lips just before she leaned forward and placed them around the head of my dick. She sucked on the head as her tongue swirled around into the foreskin, pushing it out of the way as she cleaned off all the precum. Then as she slid her hands back down, her lips followed, sliding down my shaft, tongue swishing all around the underside. Her hands moved down, off my dick and her nose nestled into my pubic hair. I could feel the back of her throat against the head.
As she lifted her head, her hands didn’t follow, but stayed at the base to anchor the skin and keep the head exposed. Her cheeks hollowed with suction. At the top, she lightly dragged her teeth across the head while digging at the glans with her tongue. Then back down. I began to pump my hips to fuck her mouth, but she pressed her hands down to stop me. That was okay because the movement sent fire through my side. She slid her hands under my t-shirt to find and pinch my nipples. That sent electric waves straight to my groin and the pressure built.
“I’m going to cum soon,” I warned. She nodded. “Damn, your mouth feels good.” I think she giggled. Her bobbing increased and my trembling followed. I placed my hands lightly on either side of her head, not enough grip that she couldn’t pull back, but enough to (I hoped) encourage her to not. “Oh, fuck, Jean, I’m going to cum. Keep sucking. Don’t stop.”
My thighs and belly jerked as my first blast let go into her mouth. I moved my hands to her shoulders. She stopped her bobbing with the head in her mouth. One hand gripped the shaft and pumped it in time with my shooting. Four, five, I lost count of how much I squirted onto her tongue, but eventually it subsided. She squeezed the base of my cock in a circle formed by her thumb and index finger and slid it up the shaft, milking out the last dregs. When her hand reached the head, she slid her lips up, holding them tight until they slipped off the tip. A thin strand of semen strung out between the glans and her lips. Damn, that was hot. She swallowed effortlessly, worked her tongue around in her mouth, and swallowed again. Then she sat back on her heels and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
“Ahh, that was nice. How do you feel?” There was genuine concern in her voice and on her face.
“Better. Much better,” I replied.
She leaned over and kissed my now deflated cock. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch before. You’re right, you were injured helping me and all I could see was a complaining person. My clients complain and don’t do anything to help themselves. I think you triggered some resentment in me, misdirected as it was.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jean. You’ve got a tough job. It’s rewarding because you’re helping people recover from, or live with, damaged bodies and often psyches, but sometimes they take their shit out on you at the same time.”
“Like I just did with you,” she replied, staring thoughtfully into nothingness for a moment. “Well, what you said about me giving you a blowjob, actually, the way you said it, sounded like you were upset. I have really enjoyed your company these past years and I hope moving here doesn’t end our friendship. I’d like for us to keep hiking, camping, going places together. If you’d like that.”
“I’d like that, too,” I replied. “I’d also like to return this favor. That’s something I’ve thought about often on our hikes, watching you going ahead of me.”
“I knew that’s why you followed! I knew it,” she laughed. “I’d often thought if I could turn around fast enough, I’d catch you staring at my ass.”
“If you turned around fast enough, you’d catch me staring at your crotch, which would be okay, too.” We cracked up over that for about one laugh before the red-hot poker went into my side.
“You’re sleeping in my bed tonight, no argument. You need a decent surface for support. If I knew where my medicine cabinet stuff is, I’d put an Ace bandage on you. I’ll run out and get you one if you still hurt in the morning. I’ll sleep with you in case you need something, I will get it for you.”
She helped me into her bedroom and got me situated comfortably on the bed. I pulled off my t-shirt and she said since I was naked it was only right for her to be, too. As she stepped out of her jeans, I got my first view of her bush, neatly trimmed with the slit plainly visible through the hair. Damn, I was going to enjoy that. Someday.