1981: Ski Trip

Literotic asexstories – 1981: Ski Trip by JD1988,JD1988
All characters in this story are over 18.

Part 1: The Bus Ride

Back in 1981, when you were getting high on a coach bus you could slide the window open a few inches and exhale out into the wind. Of course, cigarette smoking was allowed on the bus back then which helped mask the smell of the weed.

I sat near the back on the driver’s side, looking out the window. I had a bag of chips, my one-hitter, my new, revolutionary Sony Walkman and a box of cassette tapes on the empty aisle seat next to me. It was a long ride to the Killington ski area and I couldn’t wait to hit the slopes. A late-February blizzard had recently covered the mountain, and in mid-March the crowds were sure to be sparse.

My friends Bill and Tim were supposed to be with me, but Tim miraculously made the varsity baseball team and had to stay home for practice over break, and Bill broke his ankle a few days before. The three of us had signed up for this trip with our town Ski Club even though it was mostly older married couples. We didn’t have cars so we didn’t have a lot of options.

I tried to convince some of my other buddies to come along, but with us being high-school seniors they were all working or heading to the Florida beaches for Spring Break. So, when Bill and Tim bailed I was on my own but I wouldn’t even consider cancelling. I was a skiing fanatic. Sitting alone in the back of the half-empty bus, happily stoned, watching the southbound traffic whiz by with music blasting in my ears, I was geared up for an epic week of skiing. I planned to hit the black diamonds from open to close every day.

I was looking out the window and rocking out to one of my tapes when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see one of the women from the Ski Club standing in the aisle, gesturing at me to take off my headphones.

“Yeah?” I responded, pulling my headphones off.

“Can I sit for a minute?” she asked, pointing to my stuff spread out on the seat. I felt a slight panic as I realized my one-hitter was right out in the open.

“Ummm, sure,” I responded uneasily as I quickly grabbed the pipe and slipped it under my jacket. I shoved the tapes aside, mumbling an apology for taking up the whole seat.

“It’s OK,” she said reassuringly as she slid into the seat. I looked at her nervously and noticed she was beautiful. Her blue eyes sparkled at me. She had shoulder-length brown hair framing a beautiful face, with high cheekbones and full lips painted in red lipstick. I figured she was in her early 30s. After taking in her lovely face my eyes dropped lower to her amazing boobs. She wore a tight Killington t-shit over a set of the most firm, perfectly shaped breasts I had ever seen. They were probably between a B and a C-cup, standing out from her chest as if gravity didn’t exist. I could see the faint outline of her nipples poking out from the soft fabric.

I tried to come up with something clever or just plain friendly to say, but no words came out of my mouth. At that age I had a crippling anxiety around girls. Even though I was in good shape and everyone told me I was good-looking, I was the only one of my friends who had never had a girlfriend. I was 18 and a hopeless virgin. Even my mother had encouraged me to go to Florida with my friends instead of skiing alone. But I wouldn’t listen, of course. Skiing was more important, or at least that’s what I told myself.

“Like my t-shirt?” she giggled, breaking me out of my trance.

“Oh!… umm… no!” I blurted, realizing I was caught staring at her chest. My face turned beet red. “I mean… yes! That’s a great shirt. I have a Killington shirt too,” I stammered, “it’s blue.”

She looked at me with amusement. I could tell she was trying hard not to laugh.

“Are you going to Killington too?” I added stupidly. To make matters worse, I couldn’t help looking down again, stealing another look at her gorgeous rack.

“Uh huh,” she said helpfully. She reached out with her fingers and lifted my chin, bringing my eyes to her face. “Unless the bus gets lost, that’s where we’re all going, right?”

“Umm, right,” I mumbled. The skin on my face felt red and hot. My head pounded with embarrassment. She looked at me, not saying anything, as if she was waiting for me to do or say something. My tongue was tied so I suffered under the awkward silence, a feeling I was very familiar with at that time in my life.

“Are you going to offer me a hit, or what?” she finally said, smiling at me.

“A hit?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“On your pipe,” she explained. “Can I have a hit? My husband has been talking about cars with the guy across the aisle for the past two hours and I’m bored as hell.”

“You get high?” I asked suspiciously.

“I’m not that old!” she laughed. “Just one hit, OK? I don’t have much time. He’s going to wonder what I’m doing back here.”

“Uh, OK, sure!” I said, pulling the pipe from under my coat and a film cannister of Panama Red from my pocket. I packed the bowl and scoped out the bus, making sure the coast was clear.

I pushed the window open. “Blow the smoke out here, OK? I don’t want us to get busted.”

“Me neither,” she chuckled.

“Ready?” I asked, holding the pipe and lighter for her. Instead of taking the pipe from my hand, she placed her lips to the end, right against my fingers. They were moist and warm, making me tingle.

I flicked the lighter and she inhaled, taking a big hit then leaning back in her seat. She held the smoke in her lungs with her eyes closed, then leaned across me to exhale. I sat with my back pressed against my seat, trying to give her room, but she pushed her luscious tits into my chest and placed her right hand on my left thigh, just above my knee, holding herself up with her face in the open window as she blew smoke out into the night.

My dick got instantly hard, just inches below her angled body. She remained there, breathing in the fresh air, her spectacular breasts solidly pressed against me. I lost track of time until she slowly leaned back, dragging her nipples across my chest before she slumped back into her seat.

I was speechless. Pathetically, that amounted to the most exciting sexual experience of my life up until then and I think she knew it. She looked down at the obvious hardon in my lap but instead of laughing, as I expected, she just raised her eyebrows as if she was impressed.

Her eyes lifted from my lap to my face and she bit her lip devilishly, making me shudder. For a second I thought I was going to come in my pants and prayed I wouldn’t leave a wet spot for her to see. “Thanks for the hit,” she said sweetly. “My name’s Claire.”

She paused, looking at me expectantly. I sat stunned and silent.

“What’s your name?” she finally asked, enunciating each word as if talking to a young child.

“Oh!” I said, coming to my senses. “I’m Tommy.”

“Nice to meet you Tommy,” she said, “maybe we’ll take a few runs this week, OK?”

I nodded, my tongue miserably tied. She leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek – not just a peck but her soft lips lingering – then stood up and walked up the aisle to her seat.

Part 2: The Lodge

Our ski lodge was rustic, like an old barn that had been turned into a hotel. It had private rooms on one side and a bunkhouse on the other. There was common space in between for eating and hanging out, with a big stone fireplace and a little bar. Bill and Tim and I booked space in the bunkhouse because it was cheap, while the older folks on the trip had rooms. Lucky for me, because it was late season and midweek, and because Bill and Tim didn’t make the trip, I had the bunkhouse all to myself. I took a lower bunk and set up my gear, then went to get some dinner and hang out by the fireplace.

Since I was the only teenager I pretty much kept to myself. I sat by the fireplace with my Walkman, reading my book, while the older guys played cards and drank whiskey. The wives hung out together, chatting and doing a puzzle. I really didn’t pay them much attention except to steal a glance at Claire every now and then when I thought she wasn’t looking. Eventually I went back to the bunkhouse to take another hit on my pipe and get ready for sleep.

The bunkhouse was down the hall and around a corner from the common area, kind of secluded. I was sitting on my bunk, sorting through my tapes when I heard a soft knock on the door.

“Is someone there?” I called, not sure if I was hearing things.

The door opened a crack and I heard a woman’s voice, almost in a whisper. “Are you in there, Tommy?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said nervously.

“Can I come in?”

“Um, sure.” The door opened and Claire walked in, shutting the door behind her. My forehead began to sweat and my mouth went dry. Being alone with a woman, let alone an older, beautiful one scared the hell out of me.

“Can I sit down?” she asked, pointing a spot on the bed next to me.

I nodded dumbly. I scooted over to give her room, but she sat down almost on top of me, on my right, our thighs touching.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” she said. “I’m just… Claire. OK?”

I nodded. She smiled at me reassuringly. “Could I possibly have one more hit? Maybe we could both do one? Help us sleep maybe?”

I nodded again.

“Wow, I really do make you nervous, don’t I?” she said, shaking her head. “If this isn’t cool just let me know. I don’t want to bum you out or anything.”

I tried to speak but no words came out, even though I was thrilled to share my weed with her. I had brought enough for Bill and Tim and me, so Claire and I could smoke up a storm without using it up. I tried to smile but it actually made my face hurt.

“Oh, I’m sorry Tommy,” Claire said, seeing my distress. “I shouldn’t be intruding and grubbing your weed like this. I’ll just take off, OK?”

She began to rise up off the bed when I blurted out, “NO!”

She froze in place, not sure if she should stay or go.

“I got plenty!” I said. “Don’t go!”

A big smile spread across her face. “You sure?”

I nodded vigorously, reaching into my bag for the pipe.

Claire sat back down as I packed a hit for her. As before, she let me hold the pipe and pressed her lips to my fingers, and she also held my wrist in her hand as she took a hit. Her fingers were soft and warm, making my skin tingle.

When Claire exhaled she fell back on the bed, her luscious mounds rising and falling in her tight shirt with every breath. As if reading my mind, she closed her eyes and threw her arm over her face, allowing me to stare freely as I took a my hit. With her lying back on the bed I not only had a perfect view of her tits but also her flat belly, narrow waist and the sensuous curve of her hips, all of it encased in the skin-tight t-shirt. I had never been alone with such a sexy creature. I stared lustfully in the haze of the bunkhouse.

After a while Claire sat up and turned toward me, pressing her chest against my right shoulder as we sat on the bed. She put her left arm around me and whispered in my ear. “This is good weed. Thanks Tommy.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded lamely. My dick had been hard since the moment she sat down, just as it was earlier on the bus. I could feel my forehead and palms sweating.

Claire put her right hand on my thigh. She was draped over me now like a blanket, left arm around my shoulders, right hand on my leg, chest pressed against me. I shook with a mixture of fear and excitement. “Can I tell you something?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” I croaked.

“I think you’re cute.”

I couldn’t speak. I could barely nod, and I when I felt her right hand begin to slide up my thigh I thought I was going to have a heart attack. My forehead was dripping full beads of sweat.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked. Her right hand was half way up my thigh, gently squeezing, as if she was giving me a massage.

“God,” I wheezed. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Aww, you’re sweet,” she said, her right hand still squeezing.

She rested her head on my shoulder and we sat silently for a few moments. Claire slowly moved her right hand further up to the very top of my thigh. I was more excited than I had ever been but absolutely terrified at the same time.

“Can I touch it?” she whispered in my ear. I tried to speak but no words came out. I gulped. Taking my silence for a yes, Claire eased her hand onto my aching hardon and gave it a squeeze.

“Do you like that?” she whispered.

I nodded, panting. My mouth felt like the Sahara Desert.

Claire stroked me through my sweatpants, wrapping her fingers around my length and reaching down between my legs to cup my balls.

“Your cock is so hard,” she purred. “Have you ever had a blowjob before?”

I almost choked. My brain felt like it was on fire. Somehow I managed to shake my head no.

“Want one?” she said and nibbled my earlobe. Her lips pulled at my sensitive flesh and her tongue flicked against it while her hand explored my lap.

“God, yes!” I said.

Claire wasted no time in pushing my sweats and briefs down to my knees, allowing my throbbing erection to spring free.

“Whoa, Tommy!” she exclaimed as she took my rod in her fist. “You have an amazing cock!” I didn’t know it then, but as I got older I learned that my rock-hard 7 inches never fails to impress. (You have to remember that back in 1981 there was no online porn making is seem like a 10″ cock is an everyday thing).

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, “I wish my husband had a dick like you!” Clair dropped her head down and took about half my length between her sweet lips. She applied suction and pulled back, then plunged back down.

I groaned like a wounded animal. The pleasure was way beyond the daily fantasies I had been having for years. I could feel her tongue against me as she sucked. Claire took my balls in her right hand, gently massaging them with her soft fingers. She pulled back and pushed down again, her lips wrapped tightly around my rod, and when she pumped her fingers on the base of my shaft I groaned again and unleashed a torrent of cum into her mouth, years of frustration pouring out like dam had burst. I had lasted less than a minute.

I was mortified by my sudden release. I thought Claire would be disgusted by my spewing into her mouth and I tried to squirm free, but she held my spurting shaft tight in her grip, her mouth locked on the head, tongue swirling, purring happily and caressing my balls as she drank my load.

When I was finally done Claire pulled off and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, beaming at me as if I had just given her a present.

“Holy shit Tommy!” she gushed, licking her lips. “That was a lot of cum!”

“I’m sorry,” I whined, shocked by my sudden ejaculation.

“Oh, don’t apologize!” she sang as she dropped down and swiped her tongue over the head again, catching another drop that seeped out. “It was wonderful! I loved sucking you off.”

My head was spinning. It was by far the best moment of my life so far.

Claire stood up and smiled down at me, her eyes shining. “Thanks for the smoke,” she purred as she opened the door. “Maybe we can take a ride on the gondola together tomorrow?”

Part 3: The Gondola

I woke early and grabbed two donuts and a Coke for breakfast. My mind was in a fog as I gathered my gear, still reeling getting my first-ever blowjob, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I actually shot my load into woman’s willing mouth instead of a wad of tissues.

I put on my heavy socks, long johns and ski pants and threw my goggles, gloves and hat in my bag. I stopped in the equipment room and gathered my skis, boots and poles and went out to board the 8:15am shuttle to the mountain. I wanted to make sure I was first in line when the chairlift opened at 9:00am.

There wasn’t another soul stirring when I boarded the shuttle a few minutes before 8:15. The driver had the engine running and was sipping his coffee when I took a seat in the first row. We had the usual banter about snow conditions and which trails were open, then at 8:15 he looked from his watch to the front door of the lodge.

“Anyone else coming, you think?” he asked.

“I didn’t see anyone,” I responded.

“OK,” he said, putting the van in gear. “I guess you’re the only one who’s going to get those first tracks!”

Just as he started pulling out we heard a woman’s voice, “Wait! Wait!” I looked back and saw one of the ladies in a bright red ski suit running behind us. She wore a white hat and goggles and was struggling to drag her equipment to the van before we drove away.

“Looks like you got company!” the driver said as he stopped and jumped out to help with her gear. She was huffing and puffing when she fell into the seat next to me.

“Hi Tommy!” she said as she pulled off her hat and goggles. It was Claire. “I wanted to get hit the slopes early! Looks like you’re an early riser, too.”

“Ummm, yeah,” I agreed, my face instantly turning red.

“My husband is sound asleep,” she told me and the driver. “Those assholes drank and played cards until 2:00am. I’ll be surprised if they make it to the mountain by lunch.”

“Too bad!” the driver said. “You can’t let good snow go to waste!”

“You got that right,” Claire agreed. “Anyway, I bet Tommy had more fun last night than those guys playing cards, didn’t you Tommy?” she teased, squeezing my thigh through my heavy ski pants.

“Ummm, yeah,” I said again, awkwardly. The driver gave me a funny look in the rearview mirror.

We got dropped off at the main lift and I walked with Claire to the ticket window.

“Tommy,” she said, “I know I make you nervous, but I haven’t skied in a while so if you could take the first run with me I’d really appreciate it. Would that be OK?”

Claire looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. I had planned to hit the black diamonds right off the bat and I really didn’t want to baby-sit a beginner, but there was no way I was going to say no to Claire. Especially after last night.

“Ummm, yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

“Oh, thank you Tommy!” she said, throwing her arms around me and giving me a hug. “Can we start with that long blue-square trail from the top of the mountain? I think it’s called the 4-Mile Trail? That would be a good way to get warmed up, don’t you think?”

“Umm, sure,” I said.

“Wow!” Claire laughed. “I hope you’re a better at skiing than talking to girls.”

My face got even redder. I shrugged.

“Don’t worry!” Claire laughed. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I think you’re cute no matter what. Let’s go!”

We rode the old double chair to the top of Killington Peak. Claire asked me about all the times I’d skied there before and what my favorite trails were, and before I knew it I was speaking like a normal person, telling her about Superstar and Big Dipper and some of the great wipeouts I had.

“See?” Claire said. “When you stop thinking about my tits you can actually talk. You should try it with other girls.”

She was right, but her calling me out made me self-conscious. My face turned red.

Claire leaned into me and whispered, “to tell you the truth, I like you looking at my tits. A lot of girls do. But you need to be cool about it, OK?”

I nodded.

“Good,” she said. “Now try asking me a question about skiing or something. That’s the way you have a conversation, OK?”

I nodded, realizing Claire was serious about bringing me out of my shell. “Umm, yeah,” I said. “When did you start skiing?”

“Good question!” she cheered. Claire told me all about learning to ski at some little mountain in New York, then I asked more questions and she asked me about school and we just kept going. It was easy, like talking to one of my buddies.

When our chair reached the top Claire cruised down the ramp and onto the trail. I could tell right away she knew what she was doing – she was no beginner. She carved smooth turns down the hill as I followed behind, awestruck by the sight of her hips swinging back and forth in her tight red ski suit. Her hair spilled out from under her hat, swirling around her shoulders as she danced down the mountain.