I guess those few words don’t tell the story. I was out on the local bike trail, a pretty typical day for me. You see I love to exercise and while I might not run as often or put the miles on the way I did in my twenties and thirties, I still loved the feeling of pushing myself and it kept me a pretty good shape. As one of the girlfriends liked to say “For a woman my age!” Which is one reason she isn’t a girlfriend anymore.
So, on the trail, I had just completed cooling down after a very nice sprint and was chugging some water when a woman pulled off the trail coming from the other direction. I glanced at her and saw someone remarkably like myself. We were about the same age, and both of us were sweating profusely from some good exercise. She was in biking shorts and a tight top, a breathable jersey similar to my own. What struck me was she was even shaped like me, slender, small chested, and a bit more generous in the hips. The only apparent differences were height and hair. She was several inches shorter and had short black hair.
She glanced at me and caught me looking at her. Then she laughed, “Guilty, I was checking you out too!”
We shared a laugh and cooled off while talking. Her name was Gwen, only it turned out to be a nickname based on her four initials. It made a great story and I realize we spent over an hour just sitting there. Finally one of us suggested dinner, I’m not sure which one of us brought it up first, but it hung there for a second while we each considered.
I stood, “That sounds great, but I have to clean up first or they might not let us in.”
She laughed at that and we made our plans. We headed for my house since I was closer and right off the bike trail. She came in to wait while I get cleaned up, the plan was to take her bike back to her car, several miles down the trail, then let her get cleaned up and go to dinner.
The shower curtain opened abruptly, Gwen stood there still all sweaty, but beautifully naked.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to wait.”
She stepped in and, yes, we did get ourselves all cleaned up, but we also had a lovely exploration of each other’s bodies. We fit together surprisingly well and by the time the shower was over (in other words we ran it out of hot water) we were both more than a little turned on.
Drying each other off was more like a wrestling match. My longer hair took a while to dry, her hair seemed to only need a quickie toweling. But, as you might have guessed, we ended up in my bed, my antique high-boy bed that was about 300 years old, according to the grandmother who left it to me.
I will admit to giving that bed quite a few workouts, but I don’t think I had ever given it such a stress test as the two of us did that late afternoon. Luckily the bed was solid and we heard nary a squeak from the heavy wooden rails. Although at one point while she was holding onto the headboard and sitting on my face, I probably should have been concerned for the integrity of the headboard, and I might have been if I was thinking about the bed at that moment. But when you are face-to-pussy with a delicious lady, bed integrity is not one of your primary concerns. Getting every last drop certainly was, but not the bed or headboard integrity!
At some point, we exhausted ourselves more than the biking did and we sort of collapsed on each other. Who knows how many orgasms we shared and we simply only had the energy to look at each other. She grinned, I smiled, she chuckled, and I laughed and pretty soon we were sharing laughter that just seemed to fit the moment.
Then my new lover managed to climb to her feet and I pointed her to a dresser drawer. She tossed shorts and a tee at me, while she dressed in another set from the drawer. Like I said, other than height, we were built along similar lines, although I think she filled those shorts better than I ever did.
That was when I learned of one other critical difference. She reached into the small backpack she had been wearing on her bike and pulled out a wedding and engagement ring combo. My heart sank as I saw it. She saw me staring and looked at her ring as if she was seeing it for the first time.
“I’m not married now, it’s a leftover before my divorce. I wear it now to keep some of the guys away at work. It’s more of a habit than anything else. I can’t wear it while riding, I am always afraid it will slip off.”
“Oh thank goddess! I’ve tried relationships with married women before, in my younger days. But it never works well.”
She grinned, “Good for me. Now, Brooke, I don’t know about you, but I am starving for some strange reason!”
I grinned back. “Well, I know a place that can stand two bra-less women in shorts dining in without getting weirded out. Great pub food and very few of the guys who go there will bother us. Neither of us are the right gender unless they think we have penises.”
She looked down, “Nope, don’t think they will make that mistake in these shorts. Am I going to have to worry about a lady stealing you away?”
“Nope, we might pick-up one to share, but you aren’t getting rid of me that easy!”
She hugged me and I felt like all is right in the world.
That was Saturday and she didn’t spend the night because, over dinner, I did learn she is certainly divorced but she has three teens at home, two girls and a boy. Apparently she wasn’t all the way out of the closet with her kids, although she does have one daughter who might become a problem. You see, I work in a local school system and recognized her oldest daughter’s name from one of my IT classes. A very pretty senior who, now that I made the connection, does look a lot like her mother.
I don’t know what the future brings, but I know I will be seeing her again soon. I’m a hopeful romantic, but I’m not sure how this will go. I do have to let her read this story before posting. She might not want it posted just yet. I hope so because it was one terrific Saturday.
