"I guess so. You're a big boy now, after all," Barbara looked at her son, and they both flushed and looked away as they remembered what a big boy he was.
No, not a boy. He was almost a man now. Why did this thought hurt? Her own age? Life slipping away from her. Was this why she peddled that damned bicycle mile after tortuous mile? To somehow, some way, hold on to her youth?
She looked at her legs. They were tanned and muscular. "Bike freak," she said to herself, using the same intonation that young Jim had that day at the motel. But what could the damned bike do when her chin began to sag, or the crow's feet began to spider around her eyes? When would that be, five years, six years? What would she end up, a little old grey-haired lady with a trim, tight body that didn't match her false teeth?
She had read an advertisement in today's newspaper. A plastic surgeon saying he understood, the dilemma of the "aging woman." Eyelid-lifts, chin lifts, brow-creases eliminated. No. She wasn't to that yet. But how long would a lousy two-hundred dollar bicycle keep her young? Not long. Not long.
Chapter Four
Barbara sat in the dark bar with Jason Greenway, trying to smile and nod at the appropriate places in the conversation, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She was remembering her young lover of the afternoon, dwelling on his powerful physique and boyish face, recalling how expertly he had brought her smoldering passions into flame. She shivered slightly as she pictured her uninhibited enjoyment of the boy's advances, and a drop of moisture welled in her vagina. She pressed her legs together.
"Isn't that so, Barbara?" asked Jason.
"Oh. Yes, of course. You're absolutely right," Barbara murmured. Her cunt was itching and burning with repressed desire now, and she felt that she couldn't stand sitting here listening to him much longer. I don't want to be here, she thought boldly. I want to enjoy myself, dance, I want to fuck somebody, anybody. Her thoughts strayed to the exciting picture of her young son jerking off, and she moaned faintly as she tried to banish the wicked thought.
"I say, are you all right?" Jason peered at his companion's face worriedly. She had seemed strange all evening, abstracted. He remembered that her son had come home unexpectedly and wondered if that was disturbing her. "Are you worried about Jerry? He'll be fine. He's a grown man now, and you said his friend would be here tomorrow morning."
"Yes, I mean, no, I'm not worried," Barbara said, laughing wildly. If he only knew how worried I am! she thought to herself. "I'm fine."
"Well, if you don't mind my saying so, you look a trifle under the weather," Jason continued. "If you'd prefer to go home…"
"No, no, I want to dance!" Barbara said suddenly, standing up. "Come on, Jason, dance with me." Actually, she wanted to ride a bike!
"Certainly, my dear," Jason replied ponderously, sliding back his chair and joining her. He led her to the floor and put his arms about her correctly, leading her in a slow step.
Barbara felt the music enter her, and she swayed to the rhythm gracefully. She pressed close to her partner. Jason held himself stiffly as the woman pressed into him. He couldn't imagine what had gotten into her. She was practically embracing him in the middle of the dance floor! He drew back slightly. This would never do, mauling each other like a pair of horny teenagers! "Barbara," He pushed her away from him firmly and took charge again, leading her in correct steps. He sighed faintly with relief. He wanted her, certainly, but he preferred to court her slowly, in keeping with his age and station. And a proper courtship certainly didn't include getting an erection on the dance floor!
Barbara sighed in disappointment. No use, she thought. He's an old stick-in-the-mud. I wonder if he'll ever do anything at all with me, or just wait until we both die of old age! Out loud she said, "Jason, perhaps you're right. I'm not feeling very well at all. I guess we'd better go home."
"Certainly, my dear," Jason replied, relieved. Maybe he had imagined the wanton way she had pushed herself at him, after all, she was ill. He felt a slight twinge of regret as he led her to the car. Maybe he should speed things up a bit. She had had plenty of time to get over her unfortunate divorce. He resolved to go a bit farther than the customary kiss tonight. After all, he was a man, and getting tired of buying sex from the whores downtown! Perhaps he and Barbara could become engaged soon. He smiled at her benignly and opened the door. Barbara got in and sat morosely at the far side, next to the door. She didn't know what was wrong with her. First she'd fucked a boy young enough to be her son, then she watched her own son jack off and been terribly aroused by it, and now she practically attacked her staid boyfriend. All because of that tormenting itch between her legs. Angrily she chastised herself. Jason wasn't rejecting her, he was just trying to show how much he respected her. But I don't want to be respected, she thought. I want to be fucked! If only he'd satisfy me, get rid of these horrible, sinful yearnings. She looked appealingly at the man sitting next to her.
Jason reached over and slid an arm around Barbara's shoulders, then lowered his head and kissed her firmly on the lips. She stiffened, then relaxed against him, murmuring, kissing him back, using her teeth and tongue, sticking her soft wet tongue into his mouth and running it over his lips. His arms tightened around her, and he slid one hand down to cup her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. Instantly, the nipple hardened and pressed against his palm.
She isn't wearing a bra, he thought in confusion. Nice women didn't act like this, according to his experience. His ex-wife certainly hadn't. She had been cold and stiff from the day he married her to the day she died. He had resigned himself to the fact, and had bought his sexual pleasures from willing young women. When Barbara had divorced her husband and he had begun to see her her as his future wife, he had treated her as befitted a nice woman, and she had never shown any signs of wanting anything else. Until now. Unbelieving, he massaged the warm breast in his hand, hearing the quickened breathing of the woman in his arms. She was squirming against him now, her dress hiked up over her thighs, inviting his hand to travel lower. In a daze, he dropped his hand, reaching under the hem of her dress and probing gently at the mound of her groin, covered with damp nylon. As his finger carefully snaked itself under the edge of her panties and crept into the damp warmth between her thighs, Barbara trembled convulsively and squirmed even nearer to him, her free hand fumbling with the zipper of his pants.
"Oh, Jason. Touch me, please…" she moaned, unzipping his pants and capturing his penis. He jumped at the shock of her touch. He couldn't believe any of this. He hadn't felt up a girl in the car since high school! His thick penis was hardening slowly in her hand and he pushed his finger into her damp crotch, amazed at the wetness.
"Barbara, maybe we should wait," he muttered. "Take you to my house."
"No! Here! Fuck me here!" Barbara hissed, pulling him against her. Her pulse was pounding. She had no other thought than to get his prick inside her twitching cunt. She jerked her skirt up around her waist, exposing her belly and nylon covered twat to his gaze. "Take off my panties and stick it in," she cried lewdly bumping her hips so that his finger slipped all the way in. "It feels so good, darling." He pulled her panties down her long legs and finger-fucked her methodically. His mind was awhirl with lust now. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. He didn't care who she was or where they were, he hadn't been so excited in years. Grunting, he pulled his pecker free from her hand and hunched over her in the seat, not even bothering to pull down his trousers.
"All right, if that's what you want," he muttered, positioning himself at the opening of her womb.