A. Green
Freewheeling Barbara Toys With Boys
Chapter One
He had curly blond hair, he was about ninteen years old, and the look in his eyes told Barbara that the young man had other thoughts in his mind than the eggs Benedict he was eating. Look how his tongue curls around the bacon, the woman thought. Like it could curl around my…
He stared at her. Then he smiled. A shy, young smile. What was she thinking of, anyway. How silly! Here she was a mature woman watching a teenaged young man eat his breakfast, getting damp between her legs as she did, not knowing why, narrowing her eyes in a lust filled response to his lewd smile. She hoped Annette didn't notice.
She directed her attention toward her partner, Annette. Her partner.
How foolish that sounded. Oh well.
No, Annette hadn't noticed. Good.
Barbara leaned away from her cheese omelet and glared at the thick slices of French toast buried beneath a mountain of fresh strawberries and whipped cream on Annette's breakfast plate.
"That's disgusting, Annette, how can you eat like that? she said.
"Here, I'll help you." And she scooped up a bite, glancing back at the young man at the other table as she rather obviously rolled it around on her tongue, lips slightly parted.
The two women had just finished an eleven-day, 638-mile bicycle tour down state. In past years they had peddled thousands of miles together, 150 miles in one stint, 500 in another. They were already planning a bike tour across Europe that might very well get them into the Guinness Book of Records. They had both often agreed that it was their mutual "visions of hotcakes" that made them dedicated cyclists.
The two women never allowed themselves breakfast until they had gone 20 or 25 miles. They had long before agreed, "We'll have to be starving first, and then we will both agree that it was the best breakfast we ever ate." And every night they would have the best shower they ever had. But that seemed to be it. No great sex, just a great shower.