Bob Casey is an expert skier. He wished that he had the talent to make the United States Olympic ski team. He was in awe of the skiers that did, both men and women. Three winters ago, he was at the bottom of the nine turns that start the "Nose Dive" at Stowe, Vermont, with Billy Woods. Billy hollered to him above the shrieking of the wind, "There she is, whoa!" A woman in full tuck, clad in the red, white, and blue of the American ski team flashed by, down the fifty-eight percent grade, at a speed well over sixty.
There was no doubt as to who she is. Everyone on the mountain knew who she is. There is only one. That's right. There is only one Andrea Street. Bob listened to the whoosh, the slap of her skies, as the figure disappeared in a plum of snow as she slashed into the last turn before the straightaway fall of the mountain.
Bob just stood shaking as he said, "She always ripping and rocking like that?"
"Man, she isn't even wide open. Want to see a bullet? Watch her run the "National." It is a mile. When she turns it on, she is by the finish in less then a minute. I figure she is near eighty when she passes under the lift line."
"Know her at all?"
"Sure, we speak. I can introduce you. Don't be getting any ideas. You won't get into her pants. When she is training, she eats, sleeps, thinks, and lives speed, Man."
"Is she as good looking as she appears in her pictures?"
"Better. Quick as a snake. Great sense of humor. I saw her at the "Rusty Nail" swimming pool. She is built for comfort."
"Every woman can be made."
Woods just threw back his head and laughed. Then the two good friends jumped forward to swish down the mountain that they loved.
That night, bellied up to the bar at the "Rusty Nail," Billy elbowed Bob. He then took him by the arm as he whispered, "Your on, Asshole."
Ahead, chatting with two girls was none other then Andrea Street. Andrea gave Billy a warm smile as she greeted him, "Oh, Billy, I have changed to a wax made in Austria by the Beljenny company. At twenty-eight degrees, the yellow is perfect. At below eighteen, the blue is unbeatable." Bob was introduced. Andrea surprised him by asking him several questions about where he was from, what he did, and whom he worked for.
After they parted, Billy stepped back, giving Bob the once over, as he said, "She was interested in you Buddy. Her mind is like a bear trap, not a mousetrap. When it snaps on something, it is no game."
"What to hell do you mean by that?"
"Well, shit, she changed the subject to you, instead of speed. During training?"
Bob took a job in Burlington, to be near the mountains and Lake Champlain. April skiing is seldom good, but it is nice to be on the mountain. Andrea joined bob on the "National" trail. One thing led to another. She agreed to go to Burlington with him for dinner and a movie. Billy had mentioned that Andrea never drank during training. Training was over, so she ordered a "Long Island Ice Tea."
After her second drink, Bob noticed that Andrea seemed to be a different person. She leaned towards him. Her eyes never left his. She reached across the table to rest her hand on his. She asked if he was going with anyone. Bob's antenna was working overtime. When they danced, she pressed her body to his while pressing her breasts to his chest.
Bob's brain was screaming inside his skull, you could fuck Andrea Street! By her fourth drink, she was hanging all over him. He took her to his apartment. He walked her into his bedroom. He could see her face clearly in the light cast from the hallway light. Andrea had a lustful smile. There was no pretence. There was no, I'm a good girl who does not do this on a first date games. She was intense, panting, excited. She was Andrea Street.
Bob undress her, and then took off his clothes. Andrea went to her knees. With one swift motion, she took half of his cock in her mouth. As her head went to and from his body, she twisted her head in a circle so that his cock was yanked and twisted. He stopped her. He had to enjoy her pussy.
As she settled on her back, his mouth found the thick mat of her cunt hair, totally untrimmed. He had forgotten just how much of a woman her cunt hair covers. Andrea let out a soothing sigh as his fingers split her lips. She knew that his tongue would give her the pleasure that only a tongue can. She undulated her ass as she gripped the back of his head to so that his tongue would run the entire length of her slit.
It dawned on Bob that she knew exactly what she was doing. He was contemplating how many other men had been between her legs, when her beautiful, very strong legs scissor gripped his head. Her ass jerked spasmodically, as a long sigh announced her first orgasm.
What Bob did next we can debate as to if he was a good or bad boy, but he did it, none the less. As she lie there, he reasoned that she probably did not take birth control pills during training, which was one explanation for her not being available for dates in mid-winter. Next, he was sure that the drinks had unleashed a part of Andrea that she normally suppressed. Lastly, her other men probably slipped on a condom when they entered her. He would not. She was too drunk to notice.
She did not. His cock eased half way into her pussy with the first push. She was tight from lack of recent fucking. His next push got some more of his cock into her. She grimaced; as she opened her legs while lifting her ass to let him comfortably bury his thick shaft in her womb. His ass shot forward. Bob Casey's cock was now deeply buried in Andrea's baby making vagina. Bob's intent was to make this woman his.
With a slow rocking motion, he ran his cock in and out of her. Her scent was so erotic. This was the moment of a lifetime. The velvet walls of her pussy spasmodically gripped his cock providing him with sensations unlike he had experienced before. With perfect coordination, she was rocking with him. She was not just a good fuck. She was a great fuck.
His balls began to tighten. His cock hardened. His breath became ragged. She knew it. He knew it. He was about to cum. Andrea buried her heels in the bed so that she could thrust her ass up at his descending cock. Once, twice, three times, her cunt pounded his cock and balls. He stiffened. His toes extended, as shot after shot of his sperm shot directly onto the mouth of her uterus. There was no need for additional fucking. Andrea would become pregnant from that first shot. But Bob did not know that. She was in his bed. He would keep her there all night, putting her and the bed to good use. After the fifth prolonged fuck, she fell asleep. He sat there with a limp dick, wondering what fate had in store for them.
They dated and fucked several times in the next six weeks. His phone rang at work. It was Andrea. She never called him at work. "Bob," she softly intoned, "Could you meet me at noon for lunch? I have a problem."
After the waiter had departed with their order, Andrea whispered, "I am pregnant!" She carefully studied his reaction. Had he said the wrong thing, she would have been out of there, so this was not a time for joking, or a dumb question like, gee, who do you think is the father.
As his hand found hers, Bob proposed, "Will you marry me?"
She sat back, looking at him intently. Then she leaned forward to whisper to him, "I can be a first class pain-in-the-ass. I am a very forceful, aggressive person that will move heaven and earth to get something that I want. I won a gold medal in the last Olympics. Only my death will prevent me from defending my title. During the year before the 2002 games, I will eat, sleep, talk, and live, skiing. After that, and only after that, will you have a full time wife. I do not believe in divorce, or abortion. And one other thing, when I drink, I will let men fuck me, if you get my drift."
"Men, not man?"
Bob's mind was racing. One only lives once. The world is full of dizzy women. There is only one Andrea Street. He could live with whatever she was, is, or will be.
"Andrea, I want to marry you. I agree to support whatever you do to the best of my ability. I have only one condition. No secrets. I ask again, Will you marry me?"
Bob knew that she was his when she said, "I'll have to teach you how to ski faster, so that you can keep up to me."
Bob smiled ruefully. It dawned on him that he might not catch up to Andrea Street in a lot of ways, ever.
She kicked him under the table. "That is for getting me pregnant."
They both laughed. She added, "You were the first guy that I have dated that brought the word marriage to my mind. Even before I knew that I was... Did you do that on? Don't answer that."
She doesn't miss a trick, Bob thought. I must remember that I can't bullshit her.
They were married on August twenty-ninth. Andrea kept her maiden name. Andrea took some getting used to. By seven AM she had done more then most people do all day. She ran five miles up steep mountains every day. She did two hundred sit-ups, lifted weights, and did wind sprints. All this was before seven. She was employed by "All Greats" sports wear as a sales agent. She cut back her schedule as the birth of Bob Jr. drew near. Once he was born, she was a wild woman molding her body back into the condition that she knew she must obtain to compete on the world stage.
.... There is more of this story ...