Bagging a Peak Mark heard her before he saw her. She sat at a picnic table in a clearing, a muddy mountain bike leaned up against a nearby tree. Her honey-colored hair hung over her face as she concentrated on what she was doing. He was just finishing his ride with a cool-down loop through the park and slowed almost to a stop, admiring her muscular shoulders gleaming in the sunlight. He passed by slowly, fascinated. Her muscles flexed with her movements and her breasts jiggled slightly under the thin cropped white tank. She was oblivious to his gaze, entirely engrossed in her efforts, entirely unaware of her eroticism. He pedaled slowly as the trail entered a patch of woods, very much aware of his half-hard penis constrained by his biker shorts. Mark savored the images of her in his mind, enthralled by the incongruity of what he had seen. He'd never seen that in a park! He picked up his pace, weaving around the occasional jogger as he looped around to the clearing once more. Her hair still kept him from seeing her face, but again he admired her arms and shoulders, tanned chestnut brown. Flexing, purposeful. Unable to help himself, he stopped and stared at what she was doing. -- Flex flex, DING! Reach, jiggle, flex flex flex flex DING! Reach, jiggle -- He was mesmerized watching her type. When she looked up there was no way to disguise the fact that he was staring. So he smiled. She brushed her hair behind one ear and smiled in reply, a grin filling her narrow face and lighting up her big dark eyes. Mark heard her chuckle, an odd hiccupy laugh that made him laugh with her. He dismounted and wheeled his bike over to her table. "Perv." She chuckled again, throwing her hair back. "I was just surprised to see you doing that here," Mark responded. "It stopped me in my tracks." "And gave you a hard-on." She looked from his crotch to his eyes and laughed again. "So did that happen the first time you went by or after you came back?" Mark felt himself flushing in embarrassment. "Well I ...." "It's OK, I like looking at a nice hard-on in biker shorts." The girl grinned. "Perv." He hesitated, feeling that this was definitely not going well. "Well I'll let you get back to ... um ... work," he said resignedly, turning his bike back towards the path. "Guys with cute butts can stay," she called to him. He stopped and turned. She was appraising him, head cocked to one side. "So do I qualify?" "Ooh yeah," she said softly. "Very much so." She patted the bench next to her. "Come, sit." He walked his bike over to lean it against the tree next to hers, slipped off his helmet and joined her at the picnic table, getting his first clear look at her. At first glance her features were too large for her face. Her mouth was broad with a full lower lip offsetting a narrow upper lip and giving her a pouty look in the rare moments when she wasn't smiling. Her crooked teeth gleamed white against her bronzed skin. Her nose could euphemistically be described as substantial. But her eyes dominated, large and expressive ... and perpetually amused, it seemed. She pushed her hair back behind her ears, revealing them to be only slightly less disproportionate than her nose. Yet somehow she was beautiful in an elfin sort of way. He straddled the picnic bench and she turned, swinging a long lean leg over to straddle the bench facing him. "OK, you'll want to know everything eventually so I'll tell you up front. I'm 23, grad student in chem, not in a relationship, not looking for a relationship, live alone." She grinned. "And I'm typing in the park." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Parker." Mark grinned in reply, taking her hand. "Mark, 34, programmer, no girlfriend, live alone, finishing up my Sunday ride." He had shaken her hand, but realized she wasn't letting go, and their joined hands dropped to rest on her leg. He glanced down, taking in her taut belly and firm breasts under the thin white tank. "Parker's an unusual name ..." Her laugh burbled out of her. "Mom idolized Dorothy Parker but didn't want to subject me to a lifetime of Wizard of Oz jokes." The smooth skin of her thigh was warm against his hand. "You said you're studying chemistry?" he asked. "Lubricants." She looked into his eyes. "Our team is working on organic lubricants that will stand up to high temperatures and still maintain their properties. Astroglide for wind generators." "Astroglide won't work then?" Mark smiled and received a laugh in reply. "Oh it works, but not for wind generators." She smirked and looked down. "You have great thighs," she observed with another laugh, running her free hand over his thigh, squeezing his muscle. "You must ride a lot." "Every chance I get," Mark replied, smiling, his body responding to her touch. "I race sometimes." They looked into each others' eyes, her hand stroking his thigh. "Do you ride?" "Everywhere I go," she replied. Mark felt his cock twitch. "I'm part of an experiment," she announced abruptly. "Pardon?" "That's why I'm typing." Mark had forgotten about the typewriter that had caught his attention in the first place. "For three months I can't use any energy that isn't generated through alternative means, not even conventional batteries. No computer. No air conditioning. No lights. No car. I'm about a month into it." "So how do you cook?" he asked. "They provide a gas stove that uses methane from their own sheep-shit digester and they have solar cells and a wind farm to generate enough electricity to run a small fridge in each room. Lights too, but we're supposed to limit that to emergencies." She squeezed his thigh again. "Do you ride long distances?" "Just 50k today." He watched the muscles in her shoulder and arm flexing as she tested his thigh muscle with long fingers. "Legs tired?" She cocked her head to one side, momentarily serious, her pouty expression making him want to kiss her. "Not at all," he said, leaning forward slightly, deciding to chance a kiss. "Cool!" Parker laughed, popping up from the bench before his lips could make contact. "Come back to my place." Mark leaned back, startled. "Your place?" She was busy putting the typewriter back in its case along with her papers. She tossed the rock she had used as a paperweight into the trees. "Uh huh, you're perfect. I need you to help me." The typewriter was back in its case and she carried it to her bike, strapping it to a rack on the back with a web of bungee cords. "Help you do what?" Mark asked, confused. "Get off," she said with another chuckle. He looked at her as she bent over her bike, her back lean and muscular, butt round and firm in her spandex shorts. She turned to face him, her hair back around her face again. "Interested?" He stood and took a step towards her. "Definitely," he said softly, slipping a hand around her waist and pulling her close. She pressed her lithe body into his and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, then pirouetted away. "Follow me." She fastened her helmet and straddled her bike, waiting while he did the same. Then she was off, pedaling quickly and easily down the path. He followed, regretting the square bulk of the typewriter case that blocked his view of her butt until she stood on her pedals to pump her way up a hill. Then his eyes never left the perfect hemispheres of her bottom, flexing rhythmically with her efforts. He was close behind her as they reached the crest, but he zoomed past when she turned sharply onto a dirt side path. He braked and turned, threading his way onto the path and catching a glimpse of her far ahead through the trees. He pedaled hard to catch up with her, but she knew the path and had an advantage in off-road riding with her mountain bike. His narrower tires skidded dangerously on the dirt and more than once he felt the sting of a tree branch whipping him. He started wondering what he was doing following this strange girl. As the trail started downhill the trail became rocky and it took all his concentration to keep from wrecking until the trail burst from the woods and he skidded to a halt, breathless and bathed in sweat. "Shortcut," she said, grinning. He looked at her in disbelief. "You're nuts!" She laughed and he found himself laughing with her. Her tank top was plastered to her, molded to her contours, perspiration glistening on her face and chest. He remembered why he had been following her. "It's right over there." He looked and saw a small two-story white frame building they had approached from the rear. To one side the sun glinted off a myriad of silvery blades, a small sea of windmills turning languidly. She followed his look. "The wind farm," she said simply. "Solar panels on the roof." The building was in the midst of farmland, fields dotted with the cottony forms of the methane producers. The building itself looked like it contained four units and there was an empty parking lot in front. "They built it just for the project," she explained as they wheeled their bikes up to the building. She leaned hers up against the wall, pulled off her helmet and began unfastening the typewriter. He leaned his bike next to hers and removed his helmet as well. "Carry this," she said, handing him the case. He was surprised at its weight. As they walked to the door she casually peeled off her sweaty tank top. "I'm on the second floor," she commented over her shoulder. She had no tan lines on her back and when she pulled the door open he saw she had none in front either. "Tops aren't a big deal out here," she explained with a grin. He admired her body as he followed her up the stairs. Then he followed her through the door of her apartment and she closed it behind him, locking it with a click. The stifling heat of the apartment closed around them as they moved through a tiny kitchen into the apartment's other sparsely furnished room. To one side stood a small table and a sofa, to the other an exercise bike next to a mattress positioned in front of a sliding door leading onto a balcony. The door was open and a faint breeze attempted to stir the heat of the room. "Ready?" she asked. He turned to see her sliding off her shorts. He pulled off his jersey and started to pull down his shorts as well. "No, keep your shorts on, we're not going to fuck." Mark stopped, shorts halfway to his knees, erection bobbing in the half light. She laughed her infectious laugh. "I'm first, then you can get off while I watch." She flopped down on the mattress, spreading her legs wide to reveal a neatly trimmed pussy, glistening with perspiration and arousal. "If you want me to watch, that is. So pull 'em back up, bud," she ordered with another laugh. Confused, he pulled them back over his painfully hard erection while he watched her run her hands over her thighs, then up over her pussy. She nodded towards the exercise bike. "I need you to pedal." She was concentrating now, the muscles in her arms and shoulders flexing as she worked. Mark walked slowly to the bike as if in a trance, his eyes never leaving her body, admiring her breasts and flat tummy. Her thighs spread further apart as she worked her fingers into her sex. Definitely crazy, he thought. Committable. But with a body like that ... As he mounted the bike, she reached for something cylindrical alongside the mattress. "Pedal," she coaxed. Mark started pedaling slowly, feeling heavy resistance on the bike as she placed the smooth cylinder of the vibrator between her legs, alongside of her clit. "Faster," she ordered, her voice serious now. He pedaled faster, noting the wire that trailed from one end of the vibrator towards an odd box near the bike. He heard a faint hum coming from the vibrator. "Yessss, harder Mark, pedal harder!" Mark began pumping at the pedals, moving his legs faster, powering the generator. The hum turned into a buzz. "That's it, keep going." Mark watched, pedaling hard, while Parker ran the tip of the vibrator around her clit, then down into her folds. She shifted on the mattress to face the bike, offering him an unobstructed view. He bit his lip as he watched the tip of the vibrator enter her. Parker's body undulated on the mattress as she worked the vibrator deeper inside herself. "Feels so good," she gasped. She looked up at him, into his eyes, then over his muscled torso gleaming with sweat. She slipped the vibe out and ran it over her clit, her eyes never leaving Mark, then guided it back to her opening and pushed it deep inside. Her thumb found her clit and he watched as she massaged it, rubbing in little circles while her hips squirmed. He leaned forward on the bike, bringing the base of his erection against the bike seat while he pedaled, watching her work the toy in and out. Her other hand cupped her breast, squeezing, her fingers finding a nipple and pulling at it. All the while she gasped and moaned, her body writhing and gleaming from her exertions. Her eyes never left him and the scent of her arousal gradually filled the room. Mark pedaled as if in a race, pumping hard to achieve a glorious finish. Finally she pressed the vibe hard against her clit and arched her back, eyes rolling back in her head. Parker came loud and long, her thighs closing to trap the vibe against her clit as she let out a wail. Then with her eyes clenched tightly shut she opened them again and plunged it inside herself, her hips bucking. Rolling onto her side, she buried her face in the pillow, body shaking silently. Finally she lay still, gasping for breath and bathed in sweat. Mark kept pedaling mechanically, unable to stop. After a few moments, she rolled onto her back and slipped the vibrator from her pussy, a laugh bubbling out of her. "That was wicked good," she said breathlessly. "The last guy couldn't keep it up long enough to get me off." She laughed again. "The biking, that is." Mark slowed his pace, pondering the absurdity of a cool down in the stifling apartment and finally slid off the bike seat onto wobbly legs. He felt a rush of victory sweeter than any he'd gotten from winning a race. He dropped to his knees alongside the mattress, his eyes never leaving Parker's glistening body. She rolled to face him, grabbing his shorts with both hands and pulling them to his knees. "Your turn," she whispered, a serious look on her face. He knelt, looking down at her upturned face, his cock throbbing inches from her lips. Imagining her lips engulfing his cock, he circled his fingers around his erection, squeezing and slowly stroking, a drop of precum forming at the tip. "Cocks are so cool," she whispered. "Suck me," he whispered in reply, but she just giggled. "No, wank it!" He began stroking faster and she got onto her knees facing him, eyes never leaving his cock. He squeezed harder, increasing the friction while his eyes roamed over her smooth skin, her erect nipples, the gentle curve of her breasts. She reached between his legs and ran her fingers lightly over his scrotum, eliciting a moan from him as his balls tightened. She grinned at his reaction. He moved his hand with greater urgency. "Yeah, do it," she cooed, running her fingers from his balls and over his stroking fingers, encouraging him. "Shoot for me." While he stroked his shaft she stroked the underside of his glans with her finger tips. Mark felt his tension mounting, felt the cum gathering inside and then exploding in a powerful orgasm, cock pulsing as his hand pumped. Parker caught his cum in her palm with a contented giggle. When he had finished pulsing, she caught the last drop hanging from the tip of his cock on her finger and looked at the puddle in her hand. "Once we get to know each other better, I'll suck you off," she said softly. "And if we click I'll let you fuck me if you still want to." She looked up into his eyes. "Until then, maybe you can do your biking at my place. You go biking a lot, right?" "Every chance I get."