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I love to ski. Most of my friends say that I was born to live in the mountains, however I was raised in a flat, Midwestern suburb, and that is where I settled down a few years after college. So my skiing experience was limited to week-long vacations. I could usually get away for one week a year, or two if I was lucky and planned my time well.
My job gives me the flexibility to take a ski trip during off-peak times. But this sometimes means that I can’t get any of my friends or relatives to go with me, particularly those with kids in school. I loved skiing so much that I didn’t mind going alone for a few days. Besides, nobody I knew could keep up with me on the slopes. Occasionally, I’ll find a ski companion for the day. Indeed, I had done just that earlier today.
But this one was different.
As I threaded my belt through the loops of my best jeans, I tried to piece together the incredible events of that day. Did it all really happen?
I tucked in my button-down shirt into my jeans and buckled up. Looking at myself in the hotel room mirror, I was once again glad that I kept in shape. I’m no body builder or UFC fighter, but I look halfway decent in a tight-fitting shirt. And I always make sure my legs and butt are ready to go before a ski trip. Still, I wondered: Am I dreaming? Did I really make a blonde ski bunny suddenly fall in lust over me by falling on top of her?
Did we really just fuck each other stupid in a freaking gondola? Holy shit, this kind of thing just doesn’t happen to me. I had never had wild, semi-outdoor, almost public sex with someone I had known for only six hours! I felt like a hippie on a high; it was really blowing my mind.
I had showered and shined myself up for my date with Sherry. I was excited, not just because of the instant sexual chemistry between us, but also because of everything that had led up to that. Despite the embarrassment of how we met, it was a perfect day of skiing with her, flirting, getting to know each other, sharing our love for the slopes. We seemed to have a connection.
At the same time, however, I felt like I hardly knew her. Did she have a boyfriend? A husband? There was something mysterious about her. Every time our conversation veered toward our lives outside of ski vacations, she steered it back toward the trivial. No personal histories. No heavy information.
I suppose that should have made me happy. A quick, hot fling with a no strings: Isn’t that every guy’s dream come true?
It also could have made me worried. Was she this loose with everyone she met, and I just picked up a dozen diseases? Did I just get her pregnant? Was I about to meet her angry pimp and pay him $200? No, she was way too classy for that. I just hoped she wasn’t one of those obsessive stalker types.
“Will, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
That was the last thing she said to me before we parted ways earlier that afternoon. I replied simply, “Don’t worry,” kissing her on her forehead. I could tell she was conflicted.
I didn’t know how the night ahead was going to end, but I was looking forward to spending time with Sherry, finding out who she really is, what she does for a living, and what kind of things she is into (other than gondola sex). I was hoping that she was as witty, classy and down-to-earth as she had seemed when we skied together all day. With any luck, we would end up naked in each other’s arms again.
Packing a pair of cowboy boots and a leather jacket was the best decision I had made for this trip. I was ready for a night out with Sherry in this charming, Western mountain town. One quick spray of cologne, a deep breath to kill the nerves, and I was gone.
I knocked on the door of Sherry’s condo. She had given me the address earlier that afternoon. It was on the outskirts of town, but still not far from my slope-side hotel. I wondered if she owned it as a vacation home, or if she was just renting for the week. Either way, by its looks I figured it to be rather expensive, especially for a ski resort town.
The door opened, and there she was. Smiling. Simply beautiful.
Sherry was not the kind of doll-faced TV model beauty. She was the girl-next-door beautiful, the kind of girl you could take to meet mom and dad, then whisk her away to kiss and run your hands through her silky hair. She was real and down to earth, but with a bit of secrecy to her, and that made her all the more attractive. And if all that wasn’t enough, then her big eyes and cute ski-jump nose did it for me. I would have done just about anything for her right then.
“Hello lover,” she said. She immediately grabbed me and kissed me deeply, her tongue pressing into mine. I wondered if Sherry’s bright red lipstick was coming off on my lips, but I didn’t worry about it too much. I figured she would tell me before we went out if I looked like a clown.
We broke off just long enough to check each other out. She wore a long, dark, and thin coat with faux fur lining. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep canlı bahis şirketleri her warm in the cold, high-altitude night. A pair of thin, dangly earrings completed the ensemble. They complimented her straight, dirty blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and ended just above the swell of her breasts.
I slowly went in for a gentler, slower kiss. My lips met hers softly, almost as if we were kissing a cloud. I slowly lapped my lips on hers, lightly adding my tongue after a few seconds. My right hand reached up under her hair and I grazed the back of her neck with my fingertips. I could feel her goose bumps form instantly. Our lips took turn enveloping each other, very gradually pressing harder into each other until I decided that we had hit a peak. I trailed off so slowly that neither of us could tell exactly when our lips were no longer in contact. It was one of the most sensual kisses I had ever given.
“Woah,” Sherry said, looking at me. Her round, blue eyes peered deeply into mine, like she was trying to read my soul while allowing me to read hers. She was intoxicating.
We stood there and kissed some more: just quick smacks, but combined they were no less sexy than some of our earlier kisses. My cock started to push against the thick denim of my jeans. I wanted to keep kissing her all night long in this one spot. But I also wanted to leave us both wanting more for later tonight.
“Shall we go eat?” I suggested.
“We shall.” She put on a small hat that matched her coat, covered her ears, and made her look even cuter. Then she took hold of the arm I offered her, and we were off.
We walked a few blocks to the Prime Steakhouse where I had made reservations. A light snow started to fall, and the air stayed just under freezing. We didn’t mind the temperature. That’s one of the effects of a mountain resort: People tolerate—and even sometimes ignore—colder temperatures than they are used to. Nonetheless, we were relieved when we reached the warm entrance of the restaurant. I immediately smelled the gentle burning pine of an active fireplace. I told the maitre’ d my name, then helped Sherry off with her coat.
This was like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, for underneath the long coat was the hottest cocktail dress I had ever seen. It was loose and flirty around the thighs and just long enough to cover her butt. Her shoes matched the pure red color of the dress, finger nail polish, and lipstick. The heels were high enough to accentuate the curves of her well-toned calves and butt. A pair of sheer stockings darkened her skin a half-shade and made me wonder how far up they went past the hem of her dress.
Hugging her hips, the sheer fabric followed her curves inward to her waist, then back out again for her chest. The neckline was more like a breast-line. The low cut put the top of her breasts on proud display. I remember tying to pick out exactly how far beneath the edge of the fabric lay her nipples. Not far, I decided.
The thin spaghetti straps wrapped elegantly around the back of Sherry’s neck, which was complimented by a similarly thin gold chain. A single pearl mounted in an elegant gold ellipse dangled from the center of the chain, leading my eyes back down to Sherry’s breasts. I tried not to stare at that one spot, taking glances all over her body, but it was hard to look away. Her breasts were perfectly rounded in that dress, and although I had gotten to play with them earlier in the day, I now had to suppress my drooling instinct.
I understood very well the effect of a woman leaving something to the imagination, while simultaneously letting everyone in the room know what lay beneath. And indeed, everyone in the room seemed to notice Sherry. Heads turned, both male and female. She was not bikini-model thin, nor did she have porn-star unrealistic proportions. She had good muscle tone from her shoulders to her legs. She was real. She was perfect.
“Wh–…Wow,” I stammered. “Wh-ha…” gulping, and finally, “You look gorgeous.”
Sherry smiled at me. “Thank you! You’re not so bad yourself.” She surreptitiously smacked my butt. She noticed me drinking her in, but didn’t notice anyone else. She didn’t have to. She knew exactly what she was doing.
I lifted her hand in the air to spin her around. Sherry obliged, the flirty bottom of her skirt rising briefly to a tantalizing height. I immediately wondered what she was wearing underneath, if anything. The dress was nearly backless, revealing skin down to where many women have a lower-back tattoo. But she did not have one. Nothing scarred the beauty of her skin.
“Do you always pack outfits like this for a ski trip?” I asked, assuming she was indeed on a vacation like me and not a local. I was secretly hoping that she would tell me whether she was on vacation or lived here.
“You never know who you’re going to meet,” she said coyly. ‘Nuf said.
A waiter offered to show us to our table. Sherry walked ahead of me into the dining area of the restaurant. I was a little self-conscious at first, having such a canlı kaçak iddaa gorgeous babe with me. I have rarely been seen in such company.
I began to relax after a few minutes. Ironically, it was the reaction of everyone around us that made me more comfortable. Actually, it was making me more confident. I caught a number of guys catching some not-so-subtle glimpses of Sherry. Even some women were eyeing us, perhaps figuring that there must be a reason why this beautiful blonde was with me. Were they thinking I was a billionaire? Were they thinking I had a massive cock? Would they believe me if I told them I had face planted into her breasts earlier today, and that ultimately led to wild sex on the gondola?
The waitress showed us to a booth next to a tall window at the back of the restaurant. I ordered a Guinness and she ordered a strawberry-lime margarita. Time to find out what this ski bunny was all about.
We had talked during each ski lift ride today, but only to compare notes about different ski resorts we had been to, our favorite parts of this resort, and various experiences we had with falling. To play it safe I continued with that subject matter. It had proven successful before, so I figured it was a safe way to start the dinner conversation. Soon I found myself telling her about mangling my wrist a few years ago, and how I got up and continued to ski. I didn’t even know it was broken until an x-ray proved it the next day.
Sherry described her brush with death falling near some rocks when she was in college.
“And you still don’t wear a helmet?” I asked, although it was the lack of a helmet that was key to her getting my attention earlier that day.
“I know, I know,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. “I really need to get one. There aren’t many holdouts like me anymore.”
This reminded me that I didn’t know how old she was. Her youthful good looks couldn’t hide a few years of experience that both her body and face showed in the right light. She was not the petite, skinny teenager that she probably once was, and thankfully so. She was sexy enough in her current condition to start an erection at the mere thought of her nude body. And although I could stare at her face all day, if I looked for it I could see the minutely subtle effects of stress. None of that made her any less attractive to me or anyone else in the restaurant.
When I first met her I guessed her age to be between 27 and 33 years old. I wanted to ask, but treaded lightly. She mentioned that her brush with death was during her college years, so I cautiously asked how long she had been holding out on getting a helmet.
“Long enough,” she said modestly. “I know what you tried to do right there.”
“Whaaaat?” I said, faux-innocently. She was so confident, calling me out like that. But she didn’t say anything further. She just smiled at me mischievously and stared into my soul. Her eyes were captivating, and she knew it. Even her blinks were beautiful. I stared back at her, simultaneously enjoying the view and trying to read her. But that was too much for me to take in, and she was too good at this game.
I finally broke the silence. “OK, me first. I broke my wrist when I was 26, in 2008.”
Sherry instantly did the math without breaking her stare. “So you’re 30,” she declared.
“Yup. And trying to prove that I’ve still got it.”
“I would say you do.” I didn’t know if she was talking about skiing or sex, and I didn’t care. Still staring at me, she wrapped her lips around the straw in her drink and began sipping.
“So I hope I’m not suddenly too old for you,” I said.
Sherry laughed and almost spit up some of her drink. “You don’t have to worry about that,” she said. “I’m kinda trying to make sure I’ve still got it, too.”
“I would definitely say you do,” I replied in kind.
She paused, leaned back in her seat, and after a moment started up again. “I have a confession to make.” Finally, one of her secrets coming out! “I’m a bit older than you.”
I was intrigued. “How much?” I asked.
Sherry paused. She nervously looked up at the corner of the room where the ceiling met the wall. Then finally: “I’m 34.”
“You are not!” I said while chuckling.
“OK, then. I’m not.”
I figured no woman who so recently shared such a hot fuck with me would ever lie about being four years older than me. I once again found myself flabbergasted.
“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but you look younger.”
“Thank you.” She blushed. Her head was cocked down, and her eyelashes flipped up as she looked up at me. “Say it again.”
“You could pass for 27. I’m serious.”
She giggled contentedly. “You are going to get sooo lucky tonight.”
Just then I felt something high on my inner thigh. It was her foot. She had left her shoe on the floor and was now groping up my leg with her toes. She stared at me with a sly grin, and I could feel my cock stirring. It was just a tease, though. Just as her foot came within inches of my groin, it slowly withdrew. But it was enough to awaken my canlı kaçak bahis cock and start it reaching out to try to meet her foot. I started thinking of the possibilities of what would happen later that night.
“I have another confession to make,” Sherry said.
“You came here in a DeLorean and you have to go back to the year 2185?”
“No,” she laughed heartily.
“You’re Lindsey Vonn’s evil step-sister who didn’t get into the Olympics, and now you want revenge?”
“No!” she laughed again.
“Ran away from the Fundamentalist LDS cult?”
“Will you stop being a retard and let me talk?!”
“OK, go ahead,” I relented.
She leaned forward and motioned for me to do the same. I thought she just wanted to kiss me, but she turned her lips toward my ear. “Well,” she whispered, and paused. “I really want to hump your brains out. Right. Now.”
The words felt like an avalanche, filling my ear with her hot breath and sexual desire. I had never had anyone say that to me before. This was certainly something I was not used to.
I backed up a few inches from her face and mouthed the word Now?
She nodded slowly. I guess what they say about women’s sexual desire peaking in their 30s is true. This one wanted action! Who was I to deny her?
Sitting back in her seat again, Sherry said out loud, “Will you excuse me please, Will? I need to powder my nose.”
I was still too shocked to reply. She slid out of her side of the booth and disappeared toward the back of the restaurant. I watched her hips sway from side to side. The bottom of her dress swished in response and flirted with revealing her well-toned butt, and yet it was obvious that there was no risk of it ever rising quite that high on its own. God, I just wanted to lift up that thin piece of fabric and bury my face in those big globes.
I waited at our booth for a moment so nobody would make the connection between her going to the restroom at the same time as myself. I finally got up and headed for the men’s room. I didn’t know exactly what she had in mind, or how she intended to implement her plan. Where would we do this? How would we not get caught? Would the maitre’ d call the police? I only started thinking about these practicalities as I reached the back of the restaurant.
Just then, the door to the ladies’ room opened a crack, and I could see a sliver of Sherry’s smiling face. She quickly opened the door just wide enough to grab me and pull me inside. She locked the door behind me and before I knew it we were locked in a hand-groping, body melding, lip-wrestling embrace that did nothing to hide the lust we had for each other. For a couple minutes I couldn’t notice my surroundings, and all those fearful questions from just a few seconds ago went out the window. All that remained was lust. Sheer, unbridled lust.
My hand quickly found the bottom of her dress and went inside of it. I grabbed her ass, feeling nothing but skin. No panties! That answered the question of how far up her stockings went. As my lips kneaded her lips, my hands kneaded her butt cheek. She moaned in response. She had already unbuttoned three buttons on my shirt, and I was trying to squirm out of it. Meanwhile, my cock was trying to squirm out of my underwear as it quickly became rigid.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about this afternoon. It’s made me so horny!” she said, her tone of voice escalating as my hand found her breast. I must have been a little too excited, because I didn’t just cup it gently: I grabbed it forcefully. Sherry squealed so loudly that it startled both of us. We stopped moving instantly, and the small room became quiet.
It was then that we first realized how loud our groping was: Fabric rubbing upon fabric, skin on skin, feet shifting on the floor, and all the heavy breathing that goes along with a high-powered make-out session. Both of us whispered a giggle.
I quickly looked around. One toilet, one sink, one trash can. It was meant for just one person, hence the lock on the door. It was large for a singleton, however. This was a nice restaurant, so as far as public restrooms go, this one was very nicely decorated, and exceptionally clean. Not a bad place to get some clandestine action, I thought, if you’re going to do it in a public place. We both knew, however, that someone could walk by the door at any time and hear us.
So we continued our groping more quietly. She caressed my chest with both hands. My lips departed from hers and left a trail of kisses across her cheek and down her neck. I grabbed her hips under her dress and turned her around. My mouth found the tie that kept the spaghetti straps of her dress fastened around the back of her neck. Using only my teeth, I managed to pull one end, slowly, and untie it. The top half of her dress immediately fell to her waist and her glorious breasts fell free.
My hands reached her chest so quickly that there wasn’t any time for her to feel naked. My hands are a decent size, but her tits were more than I could take in with just one hand on each. They were elegantly soft, but firm enough for me to knead them forcefully. Sherry almost squealed again, but just barely stifled by biting her lower lip. The flesh of her smooth white tits spilled out to the side of my hands and bulged between my fingers as I squeezed.
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