39 comments/  189242 views/  180 favorites

Training the Neighbor

By: BoundariesBroken



(Authors note: This is the 2nd edition of this story, having fixed much of the embarrassing grammar and continuity issues from the first version. Thanks to the three persons that offered editing assistance and overall suggestions from lots of readers. The story is essentially the same if you have read it previously, but hopefully for new readers it will be less distracting than before. Of course every time I read the story again I find yet another obvious flaw to fix, but such is the world of amateur erotica... I simply cannot afford to spend more time on this one. Sincerely, I hope you enjoy and look forward to your comments and suggestions.)

...

It had been a cold run but not unusual for January in Utah, and my face was stinging from the temperature. My base layers were wet with sweat and starting to give in to the icy chill of 15 degrees. With the sun out, however, after a full day of snow a day earlier I felt obligated to get a few miles on the fresh new powder. Despite the cold, my legs had energy and the run had invigorated my entire body. I felt great as I finished off the eight miles, coming down the slight hill of my street. I could see my driveway as I approached, reminding me that my workout was far from over... I would need to shovel a half foot of snow before I went in to warm up.

At nearly the same time I was contemplating my driveway, I noticed Becky in the middle of hers, a small snow shovel in hand and about 50 feet of driveway to clear. It looked like she had cleared only a fraction of her drive and I didn't see her husband Jeff out there helping. I ran by her place, waving, and then returned a few minutes later with my shovel.

"You would think after so many winters that we would have bought a snow blower," I joked as I started shoveling at the end of her driveway.

"Thanks for your help, Nick," Becky said as she dug her shovel into the snow again. "I don't know how you go running in this weather, I think I would freeze to death!"

Laughing modestly I tried to play down the temperature. "The cold is not so bad, and once you get moving your body warms up and the chill melts away," I half-lied, knowing my toes and fingers were starting to feel numb.

"I've tried running so many times but those first few miles just hurt!" Becky exclaimed. "Does it ever get easier? I have to find a way to get back into shape, it has been so hard to find motivation since Ashley was born."

I have been running for nearly 15 years and have accomplished quite a bit in my running career, especially given the late start I had in picking up the sport. Because I have run well over 50 marathons, a number of ultra marathons and countless shorter races and relays, I often get questioned about how to start, how to fix injuries, how to stay motivated, what shoes to buy... the questions go on and on. Genuinely, I like to talk with others about running since I am passionate about the sport, but I also try to steer away from most conversations since I find it frustrating to watch people attempt, yet fail due to lack of motivation and determination. I had known Becky and her family for almost seven years and my instincts told me she would not have the time or commitment to make it work. Still, I felt obligated to answer her questions honestly.

"Yeah, it gets easier but it does not get easy quickly," I offered. "Running takes a lot of patience and pain before you reach a point of fitness and comfort that will allow you to really enjoy it."

I didn't offer anything else for a few seconds, but my words were hanging in the cold air and I felt like I had been a bit rude, so I continued, "Running is the perfect sport, however, for those that value some alone time. It's the most efficient way to burn fat and rewarding on many levels. You should try again," I encouraged.

"I bought Jeff a treadmill for Christmas a few years back," Becky said, glancing over at me while rolling her eyes, "maybe I should start on that since it's so cold out."

Becky's husband, Jeff, was a decent guy that I had become friends with over the years. He worked late hours and was extremely involved with his church and thus didn't seem the type to find a lot of time for things like treadmills. And it showed, Jeff likely weighed in at close to 250 lbs., if not more.

"Where is Jeff today?" I asked, but knowing the answer before Becky could reply.

"Sundays are long days for him," Becky said in an exhausted tone. "He will probably be up at the church for a few more hours so I figured I better get the driveway cleared now rather than wait until it's dark and even colder this evening."

Jeff and Becky were Mormons, as were 80% of my neighbors. Sundays for them included long worship services and for leaders like Jeff, hours of work before and after the worship services ended. I suppose they valued the church enough to give it as much time, energy, and money as they did, but I still pitied them on Sundays when I could head out on a long run and would pass them as they drove to the local chapel. I guess we all find our spirituality and meditation in different places and activities.

We continued working on the driveway with idle chat for another 20 minutes. By that time I had worked my way up to the middle of the driveway as Becky had worked her way down. Only a few more minutes and her driveway would be clear, mine still taunting me from across the street. Becky started a final push across the driveway and I followed right behind her picking up the last snow. I watched her lean into the shovel and the weight of the snow and really noticed Becky for the first time.

As I mentioned, Kim and I had lived across from Becky and Jeff for nearly seven years and had spent some time with them at neighborhood events and in other casual settings. Jeff was a larger guy who got your attention but Becky, little Becky, I hate to say I had really never noticed her before.

Noticed, as in 'checked her out'. Contrary to popular belief, men can interact with women without automatically placing them in the 'would/would not do that' shelves of our brains. Becky was just a sweet, adorable, mother of three who instilled trust immediately and offered the picture perfect ideal of a Mormon home. Becky was a petite woman, I would guess around 35, but not really noticeable given the super modest clothing she wore, baggy jeans and shirts. I was, however, noticing her now.

She may have been out of shape since giving birth to her last child 2 years ago, but she was tiny, still. Looking at her little frame pushing the snow away, I guessed her weight to be less than 130. Her butt looked really nice in the pants she wore to clear the walk, much higher and tighter than I would have ever guessed. Her body even looked like it might be a "runners" body, since her legs looked just a bit too long for her frame and her size overall was so small.

"You know," I started back in as we stood looking over the completed driveway, "I have helped a lot of people hit running goals over the years. I have been involved in a running club and pacing group and if you wanted I would be happy to help you out if you wanted to try, say, a 10k or half marathon this coming summer."

Becky looked up with a shy smile as she answered, "You know, I think having someone to motivate me would keep me on track better than just trying to talk myself to get up and run everyday. Would Kim mind?"

"I have helped dozens of people with individual running goals," I answered. "Kim would probably be thrilled and even willing to help if she was not nursing her own running injury right now."

We talked about the idea a bit more for a few minutes and agreed that tomorrow we would try a run together and I could offer her some tips to get started. I walked back to my own driveway and spent the next 30 minutes clearing snow and thinking about how best to start Becky off on a successful path towards lifetime running. Like I said, I really do like the sport.

Becky is a stay at home mom and I also work from home, so I have maximum flexibility in my schedule to work in runs and other errands. Kim works at a bank not far from our house as a loan officer and thus my days are free and clear. Becky met me in the street between our two houses at 10:30 the next morning, as planned, and immediately I had to hand out advice.

"You will not be comfortable running in those sweats," I told her without reservation. "They are cotton and you will sweat, the cotton will absorb all that water and in these temperatures they will make you colder, not warmer."

We talked about what she might have, alternatively, but her running attire was nonexistent, and so I ended up suggesting she try some of Kim's clothing. They were close enough in size that I thought Kim would have something that would be more appropriate and so Becky came back to the house with me.

We sorted through a few base layer items that Becky could wear under her sweats and found a top and a bottom that would work. As we tossed through the drawers, we stumbled onto Kim's workout panties, which embarrassed Becky into a string of red-faced apologies. After I assured Becky there was nothing to apologize for, I told her boldly that panties and running bras mattered a lot for female runners, again for obvious reasons. This made Becky pause as if she wanted to ask something but dared not speak it.

"What?" I asked her.

"Well, I'm Mormon..." her voice trailed off before continuing, "My underwear is probably not the best for running either."

Now it was my turn to blush, having forgotten that Mormons wear special underwear, garments as they call them, that are more like oddly shaped boxer shorts and tee shirt styled tops, for both men and women. I could not imagine that material wearing well on a long run.

"Right," I said in a moment of anxious embarrassment. "They are probably not the best choice but I doubt you want to borrow underwear from my wife. You will have to figure that one out on your own," I joked.

With awkward smiles I left her to change into the base layer items we had picked out, offering her no advice on how to deal with her garments. A few minutes later, pretending to not be embarrassed, we both finally set out on the road for a run.

Since it was her first run in a long time we went slow and did ¼ mile intervals. We would run slowly for a quarter mile, then walk an equal distance until we had covered 3 miles total that day. Becky seemed to be fine as we ran, cardio wise, able to talk conversationally and never gasping for air or coughing. That said, I could tell her legs where not ready for much more.

We talked for a few more minutes in front of her house, planning the next days run and with me offering her a few local running stores to check out for more appropriate running gear. As Becky finally closed the door after returning to her house, I set out for another six miles at a slightly faster pace. I love to run.

Tuesday found us again in the street at 10:30 and this time Becky in a much more appropriate outfit. We started out on ¼ mile intervals but this time I tried to push the runs just a bit faster, and let the walks go just a little slower. We paced down to 9:30/mi miles, which finally seemed to be fast enough to challenge Becky's cardio. We finished up in front of her house and this time I gave Becky a few pointers on stretching and suggested that tomorrow we meet a bit early so we could take some time to go through warm up exercises and stretches before we ran. We said our goodbyes and I headed out for a few more miles.

Wednesday we met in the street but this time Becky looked tired and immediately confessed that she was still sore from yesterdays run. I had expected her to be sore, and while I think a slow run is often the best for sore muscles, I decided today would be a lesson on stretching and recovery. I invited her into my house and we went downstairs to my home gym.

Inside, I had Becky sit and mimic some stretches I perform every time I run. We spent about 15 minutes going through my routine and then I offered to roll her calves and IT band with a foam roller that I swear by.

I had Becky lay on her side and I straddled her legs and rolled the heavy foam up and down the outside of her upper leg. Becky was sore, and the roller was painful in a good way as it stretched and extended her IT band. Her eyes were closed as she clenched through the mild pain and I took the opportunity to look over her body, closely. For the first time I felt a reaction as I moved my eyes over her legs, clad in running tights, her shoulders, pushed into the ground as I pressed into her legs. She was attractive, more attractive than she probably intended to be on the exterior and I was physically very close to her at this moment.

There was also a rhythmic, almost sensual motion involved in pushing the roller back and forth, with her legs scissored just slightly to provide maximum exposure to her IT band. My body would push forward with the travel of the roller, slowly, stopping just below her hip, and then retreat. To apply enough pressure I used my weight to press downward, and her body would accommodate, pushing back against my force. To watch our silhouettes would have been to think we were making slow, passionate love.

I had lost count of how many reps I had made with the roller on her left leg. Usually only 20 to 30 would have been sufficient but I was certain the count was much closer to 50 or 60 by the time I snapped out of my little daydream and asked her to roll over so I could do her right leg. Another 50, (I counted this time), reps applied as she mildly moaned and then settled into the massage like motion of the foam rolling up and down her leg.

"That should be good for today," I told her as I stood up, catching her eyes for a split second and seeing a look of confusion in them. Did she also experience mixed feelings as I had applied the roller?

Becky stood up and straightened her shirt that had bunched up during the stretches. "Thank you... that felt amazing," she said without moving or turning away from me.

Things felt awkward at that point and so I smiled and led her back upstairs.

"Think you will be ready to run again tomorrow morning?" I asked her.

"I think so," she replied, "my legs already feel better. 10:30?"

"Sounds great. See you then," I replied.

And I watched with too much intent as she crossed the street, heading back to her own house. I needed to run, and I did. Long, fast, and with strange emotions fueling me along the way.

As awkward as the previous day had been, none of it lingered in the coming days and weeks. Becky did have a proclivity for the sport and was able to extend herself to longer and faster runs at a pace most new runners can't handle. I attributed most of this to the fact that she was so slight, and if she had started our program around 130 pounds she was easily down to 120 now, only two months later.

Becky was anxious to go farther and I had to accelerate the program I used with other new runners to keep up with her ambitions. More importantly, Becky and I were becoming good friends. She was such an intelligent, well-spoken, well-read woman and I could fault only myself for stereotyping her as I had as the typical Mormon housewife. Moreover, it was becoming clear that her runs were her escape from the boredom of being home, all day, everyday, with young children. She liked adult conversation, being outdoors, and, increasingly, being able to confide in someone other than her husband.

Becky and I were becoming friends, but sadly I was becoming perhaps Becky's only true friend. She often complained about the superficial relationships she had with others in her church group, living far away from where she grew up and her friends from life prior to marriage and children. Becky had not made time for socializing with other women, had not found time for much else with young kids, and I felt very sorry for what would seem to be tragic isolation in a very urban neighborhood.

At three months in the temperatures were warming to the point we could meet earlier and run longer without risk of getting too cold or being caught by inclement weather. We were now starting at 9:00am and Becky had become a bit of a running fashion addict, constantly using the sport as an excuse to find new cute outfits and with warmer weather, the outfits were becoming a bit more revealing. If I hadn't known better I would have said Becky was using her daily runs as an excuse to ditch her normally conservative attire and show off a bit. Her body was toning out after only a few months of constant exercise, her calves were tight and high, accentuating her bone thin ankles. She had the body for the sport, and the mindset.

My wife, Kim, would often come outside and chat with us as we warmed up now that we were starting earlier in the morning. Kim's bank job never allowed her to run with us, and honestly Kim valued her exercise time alone, a sort of meditation time for her so she never resented the time I was spending with Becky. In fact, Kim was use to me coaching and spending time with new and recovering runners, so it was almost like a job, a duty. She did start teasing me a bit, however, as she noticed Becky's running tights turn to shorts and then running skirts. Becky blended into the background in her Mormon circles, but as a runner she was not to be ignored.

Kim trusted me, even as she teased me. There had never been an indiscretion in our marriage that I knew of and Kim was a knockout lover and left nothing to be desired in our bedroom. Her deserved self-confidence added to her level of trust as I spent hours and hours with Becky. Kim even knew how to use this to her advantage... asking as we made love if I found Becky attractive and if she might ever try to seduce me. Yes, these were thoughts that I had entertained on my own, but thoughts that were more fun to entertain when introduced by my wife. But more on Kim's love of role-play later, for now it's sufficient for the reader to know that Kim was neither ignorant nor worried about Becky.

It was an unseasonably warm April morning when Becky and I were out front doing some light stretching in preparation for a 10 mile run when Kim came out of the house to chat. Holding a cup of coffee in one hand as she walked down the driveway, Becky and I both did a double take at what Kim was wearing. Kim works at a bank and while she always dresses nicely and in a way the compliments her stunning figure, she also tends to respect the conservative businesslike attire you expect at most banks. So, as she strutted down the drive in modest heels, black tights, and a white loose blouse there was little surprise... but the skirt that stopped about 5 inches above her knees did raise eyebrows.

I didn't ask, Kim didn't tell, but something had inspired her to take a bit more edgy approach to her wardrobe this morning and while I noticed, appreciatively, Becky simply gawked.

We chatted while Kim finished her coffee and then walked back in the house, Becky still staring. It was almost cute, and not because she was watching Kim in a lustful way, it was more that she was staring at Kim as if in disbelief that people actually dressed like that. In the context of what Becky normally wore, and in the broader context of what her church group prescribed as decent and modest attire, her surprise was justified.

As I said, Becky and I were becoming good friends and she must have felt more confident around me than I had realized.

"I could never pull that off," Becky said as Kim finally shut the front door.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Her skirt... it was so short!"

I smiled, but tried not to laugh as to not embarrass her.

"Oh, you could easily pull off that skirt and make it look good," I replied, "but your Mormon underwear might look a bit silly hanging out the bottom of the skirt," I teased.


Training the Neighbor Pt. 02



I walked out of Nicks home and into the heat of a Sunday afternoon and felt my entire body tingle, or perhaps it was more of a quiver, actually a bit sore in places. That had been rough, more than I imagined and of a variety of play I had not expected.

I should have worried about what the neighbors were thinking, but it didn't cross my mind. I should have felt a sense of guilt for the ridiculously intimate and raw moments I had just shared with Nick and Kim, but I didn't. My religion should have shamed me to at least lower my head on the short walk home, but I held it up high. Aside from the way my body pulsed in places I had never felt before, my thoughts were actually centered on the tank top that Kim had offered me for the walk home. It was luxurious, made from fine silk and obviously expensive. I wanted to keep it.

I didn't exactly sneak into my own house but I wanted to avoid any questions from the kids and so I let myself in quietly and immediately headed for the bedroom. I locked the bathroom door to change but I stopped at the sight of myself in the in the mirror. Who was this person looking back at me?

My hair was a mess, my capris slightly askew on my hips. The silk top was darling but out of place in contrast with the rest of my appearance. The slight eye shadow I wore was smudged, my cheeks flushed. I didn't look like anyone I recognized, but I liked what I saw.

I pulled my shoulders back, re-arranged my posture in front of the mirror and tried to put a finger on something fluttering around in my head. Why, exactly, did I look so different, look like a stranger? What was it about this person staring back at me that I found interesting, even appealing? I ran my hands through my hair, put the stray bits back behind my ears and straightened my clothing. My breasts seemed obtuse, maybe obscene, the silk hanging from them such that the material draped loosely, my nipples flirting from underneath. I smiled at myself.

The stranger smiled back at me and I realized at that moment what I was watching. That person in the mirror, me, my alter ego, was a confidant, bold, and expressive woman. She was not the person that had stood here a year before, shy and demure. That old me, that unassuming and passive person from the very near past was someone foreign in contrast to the person there today, unashamed and feeling spirited and adventurous, having denied herself the guilt she would have otherwise felt after taking such pleasure today, selfishly wanting even more.

I let my hands reach up to touch the nipples that creased the lavish silken top. They were sore, sensitive in a very positive way even just at the feel of the soft material rubbing against them. I grabbed at my breasts, grinding my hands into them and I re-imagined the way Kim had pawed at them, made them sing with feeling and pleasure. I pulled the top over my head and continued to feel them, realizing why they now felt so central to my sensuality whereas before there were merely more than nuisance objects to be tolerated, supported, and hidden.

I slipped the capri's down my legs next, letting the red of my panties contrast against my white skin, remembering that they were my ticket for today's events, Nick's game taken to it's logical conclusion with Kim being an unforeseen player until the last moment. I turned, looked at my rather flattering figure in the mirror, red thong disappearing into the cleft of my buttocks and I felt carnal wants all over again. Even six months ago I would have bashfully avoided such a flagrant, even if private, display of my body and underwear. I peeled the panties off next.

Naked, the summation of today's play and the months of exercise with Nick were on full display. I looked strong, sexy, and I felt strong and sexy. I looked used as well, my buttocks still slightly red from being smacked, my nipples swollen and my pussy felt raw. Had Nick really put his entire fist in me? I had never felt anything like that before in my life and just the though of it caused my body to shiver.

I let my hands run down my body again, naked this time, over my breasts and onto my hips. I watched myself in the mirror, aroused at the site of myself and knowing what had occurred only moments ago. I lightly traced the folds of my sex, the lips still red and engorged, wet, sticky. Even Kim's rabid tongue and mouth had failed to remove all the traces of Nick and what he had done to me, left in me. I fingered myself just to feel the artifacts of the day and my vagina was tingling with a mixture of soreness and renewed want.

How had he put his entire hand in me? Why did it feel so amazing? I'm not sure I would ever want to do that again, but the orgasm was so compulsive and involuntary, I nearly cried the feeling was so intense, almost like pain giving way to so much pleasure that it became painful again. Painful to the point that I wanted to cry out, begging for it to stop but hoping it never would.

Thinking about it, my fingers lingered and wandered and nudged. I felt my clit, hard again -- or still, and I teased it for a moment before the memory of fullness from his fist drew my fingers lower. I easily slid three fingers inside but could not replicate the sensation. I tried a fourth but the angle didn't accommodate much depth even as something insistent came over me, wanting to know that feeling again, and immediately. My body was responding as I felt myself slick in need. The vibrator that Nick had given me came to mind and was an amazing tool that I had fallen in love with, but it had never filled me like Nick's hand.

Feeling delirious simply through the memory of what Nick had done I started to search myself frantically with my fingers. I could feel an orgasm just starting to make itself known in my core but just as soon as it started the door from the garage opened. Jeff was home. Anxiously I dressed myself before Jeff could make his way to the locked door of our master bedroom bath.

.....

Jeff. Jeff didn't know a thing about Nick outside of our daily runs, and for the life of me I didn't know how he missed all the signs. In fact, I was almost offended that he didn't even seem to suspect or wonder about what might be going on. I was with Nick nearly every day, I was wearing running clothing that even veteran runners might find a bit too revealing and my body was transformed from the softness of a stay at home mom to that of a very respectably fit woman who could easily pass for someone ten years younger. Jeff seemed oblivious. And part of Jeff's apathy about the whole thing had become fuel for my efforts, both in running and as they pertained to Nick in a more intimate sense.

Where Jeff was an easygoing guy, satisfied with the average and committed to the conservative side of normal, I was increasingly feeling the want for more and the desire to experience life. If anything, our sex life had tapered off even more in the months since I started training with Nick whereas personally I had a fire inside that I had not felt since the days of attending college. I frequently dwelled on thoughts about how much we had both changed since college, and I thought about it now as I walked from the bedroom.

I found Jeff in the kitchen picking through plastic containers of left over food. He was always hungry when he finally made his way home from a long Sunday of church service and administrative duties, and today rather than having something prepared for my husband I had been off fucking the neighbor and letting his wife lick me clean.

Fucking. That was a word I didn't even allow into my thoughts, let alone my vocabulary six months ago and now to think it in my head while I watched Jeff eat potato salad right from the container made me feel naughty, dirty, even horny. I thought of Kim sucking my pussy, pussy being another previously verboten term, and this made parts of me feel steamy again. Deep down inside I wondered if I even secretly wanted Jeff to discover my infidelity, just so he could know how desperate I had become for attention, to be lusted and desired and consumed.

I made small talk with Jeff as he ate but I barely carried the conversation with my mind wandering elsewhere. It was so taboo and so against everything I should have held sacred and private. I could remember the gentle but persistent pressure of Nick's thumb as it teased at my asshole and then finally pressed in, causing me to lose my breath at yet another new pain point turned pleasurable; as another orgasm dominated me without consent, being welcome nonetheless. Nick had made me lick his ass, and Kim returned the favor on his behalf. It was all too much and my head felt dizzy as my crotch seeped uncontrollably. What was happening to me?

Jeff took another bite of salad and I felt more contempt. I was buzzing only a few feet away from him and he scarcely acknowledged my presence in the room. What had happened to the days when we had made out for hours on end, respecting our Mormon values against having pre-marital sex but at the same time pressing ourselves together, constrained and protected by the denim of our jeans, with youthful urgency. Remembering those days of our college romance I wanted to let Jeff know I had not forgotten. And I wanted him to see me as I could be, like it or not.

Simply and slowly I walked next to him and took his hand, pulling him slowly from the counter as he looked at me with curiosity, reluctantly leaving his potato salad on the counter as I led him from the kitchen. Down the hall I pulled him along, around the corner of our bedroom door until he was standing next to our bed. His look had changed from curious to concerned.

"What's wrong," Jeff asked.

I only left his side long enough to shut and lock the bedroom door. He stared at me like he had never seen me before as I knelt before him and undid the belt on his slacks, dropping his church pants and garments to his ankles. I looked only at his eyes as I found his dick with my hands and massaged it from its passive posture, finally bringing it to my mouth as it started to show signs of life. Jeff, for his part, was in a state of shock or so I assumed. His mouth gaped open as I started to coax his cock to hardness with my tongue.

I only looked back up at him one more time to see him watching me work, then I closed my eyes and swallowed him the best I could. Jeff was not a small guy, and while Nick's dick had been a shocking thick surprise Jeff easily bested him inch-for-inch and yet it was easier for me to suck on him being a bit narrower. In fact I felt somewhat practiced as I took Jeff into my throat, letting his head hit at the back of my tissues and did my best to mute my gag reflex.

Jeff had never let me do this before, at least not to completion. The only other time I had put him in my mouth he had a panic attack of morals and pushed me away before I could figure out my way down there. I knew he liked it, he had been hard in my mouth that one time, long ago, and he felt hard and insistent this time too.

When I pulled him out of my mouth just long enough to suck on his balls I heard him moan for perhaps the first time ever. Even when he climaxed during sex his response was muffled and reserved. I pulled his balls, one at a time, into my mouth and swirled my tongue around them and Jeff let desire escape his conservative armor. This made me want him even more.

Sucking him in again I lingered with my tongue around his cock head for a few seconds and then bobbed up and down on his shaft, urging him to hump may face and do the work for me. Instead I felt him tense and try to push me away, his hand on my shoulder. Was he getting cold feet again? Not this time!

I raised my right hand and pulled his hand off my shoulder, and reached around to his backside to hold him close. It was all he needed and he gave into instinct, pumping slightly into my face. I felt him thrust over and over, frequency increasing and I tried to do nothing but welcome him into my mouth. Finally he thrust deeply and before I could gag I felt him come against my throat and tasted him on my tongue.

Semen. I really find the stuff repulsive, mainly due to the thick consistency of it and except for in the heat of the moment I want nothing to do with it. The first time I sucked on Nick I knew I'd have to make a choice and to his credit when he approached climax as I sucked on him while he was driving his car, he offered me a chance to back off before he spurted. Instead, something inside me took over, a want to consume him like that, a desire to be that girl, the woman that could make this fantasy happen.

Jeff emptied himself into my mouth and his cum was bitter, slightly more so than Nicks saltier semen but it ignited something in me to feel his release and know what I had done for him. He shook slightly as his orgasm subsided and I swallowed him, party to get the taste from my mouth but mostly to let him know I wanted him, lusted for his affections, and craved him.

I stood up and kissed him, the suddenness of my move catching him off guard before he could protest the potential of semen in his mouth. I tongued him fiercely, but briefly, and then pulled away as he fumbled at his pants, some sick need for modesty causing him to automatically want to be covered up.

"What was that all about?"

His question was searching, thick with sincerity.

"Don't ignore me, Jeff. I'm still here."

With those words still echoing in the bedroom I unlocked the door and walked into the kitchen. Time to be the good mother and housewife, time to prepare a meal for my family. At least the next day I got a nice bouquet of flowers from him for my efforts. For Jeff, it was start.

.....

Bright and early I saw Jeff off to work and made sure the kids were fed before I started prepping myself for the days run with Nick. I opened the drawer where I kept my workout clothing and rummaged through the collection I had amassed. I still felt a little bit of excitement each morning when my time away from the children and away my frumpy mommy clothing was near. There was always something new and exciting about what might happen each day, and it was not always about the sexual tension either. I was in love with running and lingered over my sore muscles and building mileage as personal badges of achievement. I liked that with my new body I could turn heads again at the grocery store, the attention that reminded me of those days in college when life seemed less routine.

I picked up a running skirt and a razor back top and set them next to my shoes and socks. I tossed a sports bra on the pile next and then started looking through the panties. Pretty, sexy, silly little panties, the physical manifestation of ideas; the intimate item that had become the object of my obsession. I owned dozens of them now, not able to pass by Victoria's Secret without giving into the temptation of buying more, simply for the sake of what they meant and rarely for their utility. I had more than I could wear in a month, still I added to my collection frequently. Nick's game with Kim had changed my view of this small piece of clothing forever.

Truly, I hadn't meant to dive into this mess. That first day in Nick's house and looking at Kim's underwear, accidently, as he tried to find me appropriate running clothing was like a mini revelation. I had considered the thong to be a piece of lingerie at best, and at worst the uniform of a slut. Yet my neighborhood friend was apparently wearing them all the time, why else would she have a drawer with dozens of pairs of them, spanning every color of the rainbow? Truth be told, after that first day and that first run I almost abandoned the whole thing, telling Nick thanks but no thanks, everything about him felt foreign and different. Their entire lifestyle seemed too strange to comprehend. Yet, after that first run I went home and felt the thrill of something new for the first time in years.

I don't know if it was running itself, or having another adult to talk with, or perhaps just the fact that a slight bit of risk was always present, even from the very start. Maybe I was already manifesting my frustration with Jeff and his dispirited approach to our marriage, but the day after that first run I felt personally challenged to see if I could make this work. Running, that is. And besides, it was so fun to go shopping that day and spend some money on fun clothing for a change.

I had not really shopped for shorts or tank tops since my college years, and even then there were modesty rules at the religious school I attended. Once the idea set in that I could run in whatever I wanted, I sort of became an addict and the clothes were so cute. I bought my first running skirt and it almost felt scandalous when I tried it on. My first thought in the store that day was that Jeff was going to go crazy with desire when he saw me in it. I could not have been more wrong.

Walking out of the bedroom that morning with the short pleated running skirt on I had sincerely hoped Jeff would throw down his breakfast and throw me down on the unmade bed. Instead he barely noticed at all before grabbing another bagel for the road. It was such a contrast to the really big deal Nick made of the skirt when I showed up for our run an hour later. His compliments were needed and appreciated. And it was then, that very day when he told me how cute it looked, inferring similar compliments of me, that I felt that very first zing deep in my chest. It felt so good to be noticed.

Even getting dressed today I could feel that buzz as I put on my white thong panties. I had picked them deliberately from the mass of color options because I didn't think my senses could handle anything more after the play from yesterday. Still, slipping them over my buttocks and feeling the thin cloth nestle between my ass cheeks was thrilling. Just as the feeling of having Nick's eyes scan me was exhilarating, knowing he would try to detect the color of my underwear throughout our run, and even though the white would signal a no-play-day, my heart jumped a bit just thinking about the game of it all.

We completed a normal run at a good pace and with my body feeling strong. Nick was perhaps still recovering from the prior day's fun as well as his demeanor was very polite and friendly with hardly a hint of flirtation. I still asked him to roll my IT band and let him have clear view of whatever he wanted. His fingers roamed to places that perhaps they should not have, but I was starting to suspect part of this was habit at this point. And my body reacted as well, I felt warm and pleasant as he touched me, despite the lack of intent on either of our parts. Maybe that was my own developed habit with Nick when he rolled my legs or massaged my soreness away.

Oh, that first time he had rolled my legs had been blissful, and not for those reasons. My legs were sore, the roller felt like heaven and to simply close my eyes and let someone else work away that pain was a luxury I had not experienced before. Still, I was in my own state of innocence.

Reader, please understand this, my intentions with Nick were nothing but innocent from the very start. I may have thrown on clothing that was revealing and playful, but I did this for myself, not Nick. I may have been naïve, thinking Nick would not naturally have certain thoughts cross his mind as we spent so much time together, but I was very selfish in many ways. I wanted to run. I wanted company. I wanted to get my cute pre-pregnancy body back. I even wanted more attention, but believe it or not I really intended to get that attention from Jeff, not Nick. Nick just sort of happened.

The very first thought of what might be going on in Nick's head occurred to me when I walked back home from that first day of yoga with Nick. I had never before done yoga, and he had given me some ideas of what to wear but I didn't have appropriate attire. Loose clothing so that I could move around seemed to call for shorter shorts, but not necessarily running shorts. I had thought nothing of my attire until I came back home after that day and stood in front of the mirror and tried to replicate downward dog, just to see if my form was as Nick had instructed. And when I looked back in the mirror I saw my butt, or much of it, peaking out of those shorts, cleavage and even my panties were visible. I was mortified.




Training the Neighbor Pt. 02



Nick had been a gentleman about it. He had never been caught staring directly at me or making any inappropriate remarks or touches; Nick was a man, however, and not my husband and I had been parading around him in clothing that showed off way too much. I should have called off everything after yoga that day, apologized, and moved into a neutral zone with Nick. Instead, I felt other emotions. I felt flirty, silly, and I wondered about Nick for the first time as something other than a neighbor, friend, or runner.

Nick was attractive. He had a natural tan from so much time outside and his skin was clear and defined. His eyes were a dark, dark blue, so much so that they almost appeared black. He was tall, over six feet, and slender. The remarkable thing about Nick's body was that despite his constant training and workouts and yoga, he didn't lean out the way many runners do. He was not overly muscled nor was he soft. His body was attractive, fit, but not intimidating and that was maybe the best way to describe Nick in general -- very approachable. He smiled a lot, and paid close attention to what you were saying, never breaking eye contact. He felt genuine and friendly and easy to be around.

Nick was attractive, but until that day when I realized my yoga shorts were way too short I had not thought of Nick in that way, at all. And after the horror of it diluted to a tolerable level, I started wondering about Nick. Was he repulsed by what he saw? Did he find me attractive? Did he think I had worn those shorts with intention of flirting with him? How could I be so naïve? But, again, what had Nick thought? I had not put on clothing with the motive of attracting the attention of the opposite sex since I was in college, not since I had been dating Jeff prior to getting married. I suddenly remembered the fun of putting on a shirt that was just a bit too tight, or jeans that I thought made my butt look playful and sexy. Even in my youth, however, the boldest attempt that I had made at looking sexy involved a skirt that landed just above the knee, showing off a few more inches when sitting. I had tried to use that skirt to get the attention of a boy in my chemistry class, but if that particular boy noticed he didn't let it be known. Instead it was Jeff that found new interest in me that day in class and the rest, as they say, is history.

.....

With another run completed, I peeled off my running clothes, white thong included, and jumped into the shower. There was something so satisfying about the way my body felt with just a suggestion of fatigue after a good run. I loved the smell of my sweat washing away in the shower and the hunger that immediately followed burning so many calories. I felt alive.

The rest of the week with Nick was uneventful. He had been busy with work and so our runs were consistent and intense, but once completed he was anxious to get back into the house and on a call or a videoconference. A few months ago I would have panicked that he was losing interest in me or feeling some level of guilt on his part, but those were the thoughts of a less confidant me, and truth be told I was in charge now.

As Nick had first explained the panty game to me all those months ago, I could barely process what I was hearing. The way they had sex, the frequency, the inventiveness was overwhelming. I had not felt "sexual" in years, but hearing of how Nick and Kim kept things spicy was a reawakening of things I had forgotten how to feel. It was another moment of angst for me, deciding if what I now knew of Nick was now too much, if he had crossed a line. Should I run away and keep things safe? Why did I feel playful and alive around him, however?

The only panties I had purchased, prior to Nick telling me about the panty game, were black and white and of a practical bikini cut style. I knew Nick had caught sight of them from time to time but honestly I had put out of my mind that Nick could have any thoughts of me other than as a trainee, someone he was helping learn a new sport. The day I put on the infamous green panties was the day before my first race and they had been a total fluke!

I had owned those silly green panties for years and had forgotten they were in buried in my drawer. My other running gear mostly soiled from runs, yet to be laundered except for that which I would wear the next day at the race, I was left digging for options before heading to Nick's place for stretching and last minute instructions. Nothing at all crossed my mind as I wore those panties until we were stretching and Nick broke out of his normal routine.

He lifted my legs too high. He pressed into places that he had never pressed into before. At first I thought it was all just a mistake, or perhaps Nick being ambitious in trying to get me loosened up for the race. When his hands were on my hips, however, and a finger lingered just a little too deep into my butt cheek, and when another grazed the waistband of my panties, it seemed like something more than therapy was at play. And it felt so good.

At one point his fingers moved towards the front of my hips and it felt very much like his touch had purposes aside from a massage. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine it away, but what I felt inside was electricity and between my legs an ache I had ignored for so long. His hands moved against me and endorphins washed over me like a warm shower. I knew very well he could see my panties as he held my legs like that, worked his fingers into my hip, and when I remembered I had on green panties I suddenly exploded in embarrassment! Did he think I was playing the panty game?

And something else was happening, something much more damning. In the combined moment of pleasurable touch, embarrassed disgrace, and paralyzing fear of what he might be thinking, I could feel myself responding between my legs. I could feel the slickness of my excitement, an arousal I didn't even realize I was having. Please, I prayed, let that go unnoticed by Nick. Please let him not see my arousal soaking through my panties. Nothing else happened that day between us but something had changed, at least in me.

The next day at the race I had so much adrenaline post race that I felt high, literally in another state of being. Hugging Nick post race was yet one more stimulus that caused strange new feelings for me. His sweaty body smelled so masculine and was so welcome against mine. It was a brief embrace, but it felt treacherously intimate and he was not put off at all by the saturation of my own running clothing and body, in fact it felt as if his hands were caressing me as we celebrated. Only the slimmest of my sensibilities kept me from trying to kiss him.

Driving home from that race we decided that this was just the start, not the end of our training together. Realizing I was going to spend much more time with Nick set my mind into motion. I had no idea what Nick thought of us beyond running buddies, but after the massage yesterday and the reaction of my body next to his today, I was determined to throw a bit of caution to the wind and play a potentially very dangerous game.

I was so sore the Sunday following the race but just seeing Nick on my walk to and from church made me feel irrational, and irrational behavior followed. After hinting for an invitation to stretch and be rolled, Nick invited me over. Jeff was still at church and I had washed my green panties the day before. I put them back on without clear motive other than the thrill of knowing they were on. A few hours later Nick would have his hand inside them, not touching me, but knowing of my awkward eagerness to play along, having felt my reaction to his touch.

.....

The week with Nick following our Sunday of red panty, three-way fisting sex was a bit of a let down, I would be the first to confess. Nick was so busy with work yet that I was still keenly wanting of more. I had masturbated twice that week and Jeff had even thrown in a surprise early morning romp that was entirely unlike him. Normally an early riser he would be up showering, and getting ready for work before most of our family was fighting with the snooze button. Thursday morning, however, Jeff rolled over and spooned me while I was still sleeping and pressed his morning boner into my backside. It was a very welcome development, even if the resulting sex was little more than him entering me from behind and giving me a scant few minutes of lusty penetration before grunting his way through climax and then rolling off the bed to go shower.

I guess it was better than nothing, but Jeff left me yet again feeling used and entirely unsatisfied. While he showered I used my fingers and his cum to please myself until an orgasm blasted through my body, fueled by a few new wicked ideas that I used to fantasize my way to climax. I brought my sticky hands to my mouth and sucked Jeff off of them, remembering how his taste contrasted Nicks flavor. I needed some new panties, I thought, because it was my turn to define some terms in this game with Nick.

As mentioned, I had become a panty connoisseur since meeting Nick but I'd always played by his rules. Nick, God bless him, thought he was in control of this game and in fact I liked that he was confidant and seemed to savor the role of teacher. I had really been the one in control from almost the beginning, in retrospect, and I think Nick was realizing this and it was time to work some of my own rules into the game.

I took a long time shopping the site and panicked as I hit the "complete sale" button for the single pair of panties I had selected. They were purple, or rather deep violet, and made from lace and satin and looked purely lavish. And at Agent Provocateur they had better make me come simply by putting them on as I paid $130, not including overnight shipping and tax, for a single pair of the Tanya Thong. Jeff would kill me if he only knew what I had just purchased, let alone for what purpose.

I next opened a browser window and typed in words that felt taboo and I wondered if Jeff ever checked my browser history. Convinced that Jeff would never suspect that such thoughts would ever cross my mind, I hit the enter key, sending my search term to Google. "Anal Sex", that was the term I sent into the ether of the Internet and the results were predictable.

Earlier that morning while showering I had fingered my asshole for the first time and remembered Nick doing the same. I had become frustrated at trying to replicate the fullness of his fist in my pussy, so I moved on to this other sensation that had been new and forbidden not so long ago. With my index finger barely inside me I knew this would be the logical next step with Nick and the perfect way to assert my terms into the game we were playing. Purple panties were not defined, as far as I knew, in Nick and Kim's rulebook and that was going to change.

Anal sex felt foreign enough, however, that I was going to do some prep work before I ventured down this path too far. I sampled the anal sex videos that Google had so promptly offered up and I was appalled. I'm not a porn aficionado so perhaps my expectations were too high going in, but why where these nasty ugly men jamming their dicks into girls without any preparation or warning? Where was the lubrication, I wondered, as even an anal virgin like myself knew that was essential. How were these silly, plastic surgery bimbo's screaming in pleasure when it was more than apparent that this was little more than male centric visual overload with little consideration for the woman. I was getting sick.

I was getting so disgusted, in fact, that I was about to abandon the idea of anal play with Nick and move onto one of the other wicked ideas I was toying with when I clicked on a final video and found gold. This one started with a lovely woman jutting her ass in the air and an attractive normal looking guy licking her slowly and passionately. He sent his tongue into her backside, he caressed her clit and he portrayed true want and eagerness, romantic lust even. I was immediately wet.

Before his dick even appeared on screen, he spent nearly 10 minutes orally pleasing her and preparing her, only his finger dipping into her backside once the bottle of lube was brought into the mix. He gently greased her hole for several minutes before finally stripping off his shorts to reveal a wonderfully clean looking dick that made my mouth water. He pressed against her ass slowly and let her press back against him until the head popped inside her and she gasped.

I watched with an open mouth as he slowly found his way into her, deeply and with care until the comfort level for her was made clear, and only then did it became more urgent. I was enthralled watching him press into her so far, and so fast, while she fingered herself. He pulled out at one point and her asshole gaped open, obscenely, which I found perversely arousing as well. They reversed positions as he lay down and she got on top, facing away from him, and bounced on his dick in her ass. It was almost violent but with her hand flittering across her sex I was convinced that she was truly enjoying it. I was ready to orgasm myself when she rose entirely off his sex and her fingers frantically played across her crotch while she climaxed, fluid blasting from her pussy and drenching his cock below which was suddenly back in her ass as her climax subsided. Had the girl peed? Kim had a blast of fluid when she came in our threesome, what was that I wondered, something to investigate later.

The male actor now took charge and rammed himself up into her bum until with a loud grunt and an intense final thrust he shot his seed into her as he steadied her hips above him with his strong hands. As he pulled out of her, his semen leaked from her back door and splattered on his dick and balls and lower abdomen, so much that it looked unreal. I was ashamed to feel a strong desire to taste it, to lick it from him even knowing where it had just dropped.

I had intended to wait until Sunday, suggest yoga again to introduce my purple undies to Nick, and in the meantime save myself to build up the anticipation, but I was hot and wet and feeling animal need following that video. I turned off the computer and rushed into the bedroom from the office.

I stripped naked while retrieving the vibrator and my bottle of lube. I wondered, as I always did, how Jeff had not found my stash of sex toys. I brought the soft latex covered toy to my mouth and I wet it with my tongue, my spit, before placing it against my sex and teasing myself, the vibrator not yet turned on. I was so horny, so wet, that I could barely resist the urge to jam it deep inside myself. I wouldn't come from penetration, but the sensation of being filled thrilled me just the same.

Thoughts of the video still streamed through my imagination as I turned to my side so that I could tease my ass with the vibrator. I was truly a virgin in that entrance and I had no intention of jamming my toy up there today but I liked the way it felt, the pressure of it against the resistance of my anus. It felt dangerous and hinted at pain, yet the pain was almost what I desired and eagerly expected... within reason. I pressed it harder, seeing if my ass would yield at all, but it didn't. I pressed the button for low vibrations and moaned at the feeling of such oscillations again my ass.

Brining the toy back around front I let it linger over my clit and I felt the climax looming. Still, I didn't want to rush into it and so I thrust the length of the toy inside my pussy and rotated my hips against it. Pure pleasure, the feeling of being full. I pulled it in and out several times and even let a finger slip inside myself at the same time.

My climax was close, even with the toy inside of me, so I pulled it out and slapped it against the length of my sex, letting the vibrations course over my lips and clit until I could hold it back no further. I pressed the toy so hard against my clit that I wondered if I could cause it to stop vibrating, but as soon as the climax started my pussy became overly sensitive and I had to pull away. I let the toy tease at my asshole again for a few minutes while the afterglow of my climax faded away. I was still so horny.

.....

Saturday's long run was truly a long one. We were so tired by the time we got home that we sat on the driveway for several minutes just catching our breath before saying anything. Sweat was puddled on the cement below us and the sun refused to offer us any relief.

"How about yoga tomorrow," I offered. "I'm pretty beat up today and yoga sounds nice."

"Sure, that does sound nice."

"Will Kim be around tomorrow?" This was the first time I was addressing the issue of Kim, directly, in the context of our somewhat awkward relationship. And while I felt like Kim would be accepting of whatever I offered up, I really didn't want to add my own twist to the game with Kim around. I wanted this move to be my invention and with Nick only.

"No, Kim left this morning to visit some friends."

I already knew this, but wanted confirmation. Nick had mentioned earlier that she would be gone most of the weekend.

"Just you and I then," I said this giving him a look that I doubt he has seen from me before, but one that I hoped would convey my intentions if they were not already assumed.

"Just you and I," Nick repeated.

And with that we said our farewells and I went home to shower and recover.

Sunday morning and I was getting ready for church with a whole new sense of anticipation in my mind. Jeff was already at the church and so I scrambled to get the kids ready while I prepared myself. Out of the shower I picked out a skirt and top and then opened the drawer to get out my garments when a rousing idea hit me. I closed the drawer and instead found a pair of panties that I had never worn before. As I mentioned, I was a bit addicted to the idea of buying this fun, frilly underwear and I had many pair that I had purchased but never worn. I held in my fingers a super low cut thong made of beautiful, sheer lace. I ripped the tag of the panties and slipped them on, the top of the waistband almost insufficient to cover the top of my pussy, but with my entire sex plainly visible through the see-thru lace regardless. I felt myself getting wet almost immediately and thought this would be the perfect way to spend hours at church before attempting to let Nick fuck my ass for the first time.

Squirming, distracted, and anxious I made my way through the Mormon three-hour block of meetings before finally packing the kids back up and heading home. I barely sat them down at the table for a pre-dinner snack before I was taking a quick shower to freshen up and then changing into yoga clothing, including the far-too expensive Agent Provocateur panties that had arrived as promised via expensive next-day shipping.

My yoga clothing today was a very loose top, t-backed and yoga specific in its purpose. I choose a pair of yoga specific shorts as well, but these were low banded and open at the leg openings instead of tight. I needed Nick to see what I was wearing, and most of my other yoga bottoms where tight. I could always strip out of them but it felt like it would ruin some of the game to be so bold.

Nick, however, was not being so coy. After a busy week of work and no time for flirtatious play he was coming on with much less gamesmanship than he normally offered. I didn't want him thinking he was in control, at all, so when his hand moved all the way to my crotch while assisting with a pose, I was ok with it since he could easily see the color of my panties from that vantage point. However, when his finger tried to sneak under the scant cloth and into my percolating sex I had to playfully brush him away. This was not expected and he looked at me with doubt. The ever-confident Nick now on his heels a bit.




Training the Neighbor Pt. 02



We continued with the yoga for a few more minutes and Nick took every opportunity he could to glance up my shorts, and I made every opportunity I could to make that possible. I could see in his eyes that the color was finally tweaking his mind just slightly, that the dark shade of purple finally dawned on him as something new.

When the yoga video ended he wasted no time in pressing the matter.

"Purple." That was all he said.

I only smiled at him while drinking from my water bottle.

"I really don't know what that means, but something tells me that I'll know, soon, very well what it means."

I only continued to smile as I moved next to him and kissed him. I loved the way his mouth felt, that he seemed to know exactly when to be aggressive and when to otherwise simply savor a kiss. I loved when his tongue would trace my lips or the slight tug he would give me with his hand against my back when his urgency took over and his tongue would invade my mouth. He tasted like a man, musky and woody and sexy. I could kiss him all day long, but today there were other tasks at hand.

Our bodies were smashing against each other when I finally helped slip the shorts and shirt off his body, peeling his boxers to the ground as well. I didn't touch his dick, letting it probe gently against my stomach as we rolled around, still entirely dressed for my part.

When I finally turned him to his back, I straddled him and made a show of taking off my shirt before standing up above him, my legs on either side of his torso, and tugging down my shorts while he watched. I was now standing over him wearing only a pair of $130 panties, which he noticed.

"Those look very sexy, and very expensive," Nick didn't lack for good taste and could tell quality when he saw it.

"You have no idea," I responded. "Now, I want you to pay close attention, don't forget the details here because I want purple to be the color I define in this game. My color."

"Oh, I see," Nick was playfully looking at my face as his hands caressed my calves. "Kim can't play with the color purple," he asked.

"Well, that's up to her," I offered. "Maybe this won't be her cup of tea."

"Interesting."

Having the effect I hoped for, I removed the very expensive prop for today's game but stayed standing above Nick as he now starred up at my shaven sex, the wetness of which was almost embarrassing. This man!

I finally lowered myself back onto his body and then kissed him briefly before crawling up his body. I hovered above his waiting mouth for a few seconds before lowering my sex as his tongue snaked out to greet it. I ground myself against his magical mouth, almost forgetting the game of the day, relishing the way he evoked such pleasure at my core.

Regaining my senses before I rushed over the precipice of a climax, I moved myself just an inch or so further up and Nick didn't hesitate at all. The same ministrations he was giving my cunt only a second before were now being applied against my super sensitive asshole and I gasped loudly when his tongue tried to push inside. I sat back to allow more pressure and Nick offered all he could until, out of frustration, he flipped me over and onto my stomach, then scrambling to get behind me, between my legs.

He lifted my hips into the air while pressing my upper back down against the floor. With my backside raised above all else, I felt his mouth crash into my crack and he kissed, licked, and sucked me with fervor. I knew I was clean down there, but he didn't seem to care either way. His hands pulled at my cheeks to give him more access and his fingers would occasionally dip into my cunt, adding to the sensation. I could feel the combined juices of my pussy and his mouth leaking down my inner thighs and into the arched hollow of my back. I was feeling frantic need and knew the moment had arrived.

I squirmed my way out from under his eager mouth and pushed him onto his back, kissing him hard as I straddled him, letting his dick just play against the wet lips of my vagina. He kissed me with more forcefully now, I could taste my pussy on his lips, and I could smell the musky scent of my sex, and perhaps my ass. I was beyond need and these smells only served as pheromones to fuel my lust. I didn't want to love him at this moment, I simply needed to feel him, have him; I wanted to fuck him.

I sat on his stomach and looked down at him, his glowing eyes pleading me not to stop.

"I think I like purple," he said.

"I hope so," I responded, "but let's see how you feel about it in few more minutes. Close your eyes, please."

Nick smiled but he did as he was told and with his eyes closed I reached to the side and found my purse, retrieved the small bottle of silicon lube and applied it liberally to my ass and cheeks. I let some dribble onto his cock as well.

"Keep them closed," I reminded him, and then reached behind me to grab his cock as I sat back onto his manhood. I let him slide directly into my pussy and felt his cock head smash into the limits of my insides while his girth moved with little friction against my tight but well lubricated sides. He felt delightful inside me and I could have stayed there for a long time had other items not been on the agenda.

I rose up and let him slip out of me, then guided him back into my pussy, sitting on him all the way. I repeated this a half dozen times, teasing him while working up the courage for the main event. Finally I rose up and let him fall out and then took a deep breath before grabbing his heavy cock and putting it back between my legs. This time, however, it was against my asshole and I panicked feeling the heat, the size, and the pressure of it against both the hole and the sides of my ass cheeks. If Nick could tell what was about to happen, he gave no indication.

Letting my body give into gravity, the pressure of his dick increased exponentially and I felt my body react, naturally, in a defensive mode. I was not yielding, despite my most earnest desires, and I panicked even more.

With a final deep breath I tried to relax and even employed some yoga techniques for calming as I sat further down on his cock. A sharp pain blasted through my core at the same time I felt my tight ring give up the fight, the head of Nick's cock now inside my ass.

Breathing rapidly I didn't move and just let my body accommodate the feeling and I looked at Nick who was no longer in the dark. His eyes were wide open and he fully realized what was happening.

"Becky," he hissed, "Oh my God." I felt his body clench slightly, some instinctual reaction to push into me. I liked that reaction from him, but he continued, "Kim doesn't even let me take her ass," again his voice trailing off into an eager hiss.

The revelation that Kim was not into this particular act was all the motivation I needed at that point. As Nick tried to maintain some control of his body under mine, I sucked in more air and let myself slide down his member ever so slightly.

Nick tensed in glorious agony as he felt his cock slip inside, and for my part I tensed in glorious pain. It was incredibly painful, this invasion, but it was not without an element of blissful pleasure. I felt so much pressure, so much so that it felt impossible to continue yet my entire crotch was buzzing with hunger and fervor. I slid down another inch and the pain didn't get worse. This was good, I relaxed thinking the worst was over.

And it was. I slid slowly down another inch before pulling back up to give the lubrication a chance to spread inside me, around him. The next attempt at sitting on him was much more relaxed and the feeling of pain was now no longer outweighing the overwhelming feeling of erotic pleasure I was getting from his dick, and from the look on his face. I sank onto his cock completely, slowly but resolutely.

As my buttocks rested gently against Nick's thighs I could see him struggling to maintain control. I could tell he was only a few seconds away from busting his balls and I was not ready for that. I left him deep inside me, I stayed calm as he became accustomed to the feeling and as I relaxed further to accommodate. I wanted much more than a couple slow thrusts before he spent himself in this endeavor, my mind thinking back to the video of that girl, taking it hard and fast with her ass gaping open, begging for more.

After giving sufficient time for Nicks mind to deal with this new reality, I slid up him and then back down, doing this a dozen times at an excruciating slow pace. I wanted no surprises, but moreover I could not get over the intensity of his cock coursing through my ass. My pussy was drenching, and felt full from the pressure applied on the other side of those thin tissues, yet it felt wanting. I rubbed myself slowly as I continued to leisurely enjoy this new experience.

Nick was also no longer passive and fighting for control, instead he was meeting me with gentle thrusts, enjoying the feeling probably as much or more than I was. Our pace quickened and his thrusting became more defined and needy. My fingers were sliding over my pussy and I even felt the urge to slap myself gently as I played and coaxed my orgasm forward. With him deep inside me I refused to rise back up as my climax started and I could only grind my hand against my clit, clenching at it even as the fluids oozed from my center, making friction impossible. This climax came from a new place and radiated through me so completely that I cried out near the apex of the pleasure, from the slight pain and the intense fullness offset by the strange hollowness in my cunt. It was as if the orgasm, lovely and intense as it was, didn't fit the context -- but it felt too good to over think it right now.

Climax complete, I rose up and let Nick fall out of me, creating another void between my legs that was beyond description. I leaned forward and kissed Nick roughly, lapping at his mouth with my tongue before I flipped over to my hands and knees and looked back at him to command, "fuck my ass!"

And he did. He started slow, respectfully, but I don't think it was necessary. I was ready and wanting and when he pressed against me slowly I slammed myself back against him as I realized his head was safely inside. And with that implied invitation, Nick let me have it.

He was no longer gentle or caring, he slammed his cock into me so hard that I moved forward on my knees with each violent invasion. Carpet burns were guaranteed, almost a repeat of a week ago except now he was taking my ass as his own, new for us both.

I was impressed that Nick was lasting so long, and I was impressed that I was able to take such abuse from him as he sank into me over and over, every few minutes adding a hard slap to my ass with his right hand. I wanted to touch myself again but I needed both hands on the floor to steady myself against his offensives. His fingers finally dug into the flesh of my cheeks as I felt him spasm inside of me, holding his breath held throughout his climax, his cum splashing against my insides.

I collapsed to the floor, Nick falling out of me as I did so, but then felt his weight on me directly as he landed on top of me. His cock rested between my cheeks and his sweaty body made mine feel like it was trapped in an oven. He bit my lip and sucked at my neck as he told me over and over how incredible it had been, how tight I was, how sexy my ass was, and how wonderful I had tasted. I loved each and every one of his compliments.

Rolling off me was a welcome relief, his body heat was suffocating, but I clung to him regardless as the burning sensation in my ass started to make itself known. That was not normal activity for my poor bum and I knew I would feel this for a while. Still, it was a feeling that I would relish and use to invoke memories of what I had done for him, and for me.

We kissed idly for many more minutes and then I finally announced that I needed to get home, time for family and food and all that. I stood up and dressed, but I gave Nick the purple panties. They were still wet and I secretly wished he would have brought them to his mouth to taste me on them, but he did not. Instead he rubbed his thumb against the wet center, relishing the slickness, which I appreciated. With a quick last kiss I was out the door and Nick was left standing naked in his downstairs gym, holding my pricey panties.

At home I again undressed myself slowly in front of the mirror in my bathroom. I again touched myself and felt the vestiges of our lovemaking as I admired myself for being so capable and so open to pleasure and new experiences. I felt cum leaking from my ass, wondered if my poor backside would ever close up properly again, but smiled knowing not even Kim had given him that pleasure. I stood there too long, too naked, with too many wicked thoughts in my head. I let new ideas seed in my mind and I started to contemplate what color panties to associate with each.

And then I dressed in my conservative attire and remerged from the bedroom, ready to be the mother and housewife that the family expected of me.



Training the Neighbor



Becky blushed at my last comment and I worried that I had been too bold. We started our run, however, nice and slow like we usually do and the first mile is usually at a pace that allows for easy conversation.

"Well," Becky finally started in, "I don't even own lingerie that revealing."

I laughed again, but in a playful way to let her know I was not making fun of her.

"Jeff doesn't buy that stuff for you?" I asked. "I never let a gift giving occasion pass without something naughty being included in the gift bags," I bragged.

"No, that's not really his style," Becky answered, her voice a bit softer than before.

I thought perhaps I had finally been too bold, but then Becky surprised me.

"You don't have to answer, so forgive me if this is out of line, but how often do you and Kim have sex?" Becky asked, her voice firm and confident despite having just asked a very uncomfortable and private question.

I wasn't sure how explicit to be in my answer, and I was worried about giving up details about my sex life that Kim might not want volunteered, yet Becky seemed genuine, as in genuinely concerned or interested. I didn't get the vibe that Becky wanted lurid sex details but instead wanted validation or comparative data.

"Honestly, it's not something very regular," I started out in response. "We tend to have bursts of sexual activity and then we take some time off. I'm not sure why it has evolved this way for us, but it works for us."

Becky didn't say anything as we bore down a bit to climb a short hill, but after cresting she took a deep breath following the exertion of the climb and rephrased her question.

"So, like a couple times a week then a week off?" she quizzed with less confidence in her voice.

"Sure, something like that," I answered. Honestly I didn't know how much more to say and while I was intrigued to see where she was going with her questions, I didn't want to lead her into territory she, or I, would not be comfortable with. I left my answer sufficiently vague, figuring if she wanted more details she would ask. And she did.

"How long exactly, if you don't mind me asking, is your time off," she finally blurted out, "like what's the average time you go without sex?" she continued.

I tried to act cool, unsurprised and un-phased by the topic, as if this were our normal subject matter on runs.

"Well, maybe a week or 10 days max, but generally less than a week... say 5 days," I answered.

Becky didn't even hesitate this time around, her voice now carried an amused tone as she asked, "Well, then how many times do you do it when you're in one of your 'sex-bursts?'" Becky even used air-quotes as she said 'sex-bursts'. It was cute.

I was starting to get an idea of where Becky was going with this. Her tone and amusement hinted that my "break" from sex was probably much less than what she expected so I figured my frank honesty in how often we do it when we are on a streak would probably really surprise her.

"Well, we might get in three or four times over a day or two before we cool off and take a break," I proudly told her.

Her silence told me much, a couple times a day is a lot, I realize. I never stopped to think if our lovemaking routine was odd or irrational compared to others, it simply worked for Kim and I and had never left either of us wanting. We communicated openly, we shared explicitly, and we considered sexuality to be fluid -- a dynamic between people that shouldn't have a lot of rules other than mutual respect and fulfillment.

We ran for almost a mile in the wake of my confession before Becky spoke up.

"Don't get me wrong," Becky said with a bit of defensiveness in her voice, "I don't mean to sound like a prude... but four times a day?"

Smiling, I picked my words carefully, "Well, I did say over a couple days mind you. Maybe that's still a lot, but it would take me telling you details you probably don't want to hear in explaining why it's not. Let's just say we like variety, games, and sometimes sex doesn't have to include sex."

I liked the vagueness of my answer, I liked that Becky seemed to think I was some kind of sexual beast and I liked the look on her face as our run came to an end and the words, 'sex doesn't have to include sex' hung in the air.

A week later, our mileage was topping out at where I felt it should in preparation for Becky's race goal. While we would continue to work on speed, I didn't want to push mileage up much more for fear of causing over-use injuries that are so common for new runners. Becky, however, was a little disappointed that we were going to level off after months of increased training. She had eaten up everything I had thrown at her and her ambition seemed to have no limits, so I felt odd about having her slow down.

Personally, I like to add yoga into my training routine and do at home yoga sessions two or three times a week. I had previously talked with Becky about the benefits of yoga and decided to offer her a trade. We would take Friday off from our run schedule, pack those few miles into longer Saturday runs for the final few weeks until the race and I would introduce her to yoga on Fridays as a trade. I had no doubt that Becky would fall in love with the practice of yoga and also knew very well that it would help her overall strength and flexibility, but I had never shared my yoga time with any of my prior trainees. Since Becky was right across the street I figured it would not be a terrible hassle to work out the schedule with her on Fridays while saving my other yoga sessions for my personal time, meditation that I valued privately.

Becky asked, since her running attire had not been appropriate when we started, what the right clothing was for yoga. Since she didn't own any yoga specific clothing I told her to wear loose shorts or capris, and a comfortable shirt that would allow movement and stretching.

I have a few dozen yoga videos on DVD and subscribe to online yoga instruction as well, so it was easy to find an entry level routine that I felt would be appropriate for Becky and her abilities. Becky arrived promptly, as she always does, and settled in after I instructed her to remove her shoes and grab one of the yoga mats I had on hand.

The first few minutes of the video were slow stretches and movements to simply warm up the body and prepare it for more difficult positions and poses. Becky had found a pair of shorts that were probably shorter than she felt comfortable in, but justified them as the only loose pair she felt she could stretch in comfortably. As we moved through several different poses, I had to watch where my gaze was directed since the shorts were so short, and so loose, that they left Becky rather exposed at times. In only a few minutes of working out I already knew that Becky was wearing black panties with a lacy black trim and full coverage on the bottom except for the fact that they were riding up her ass a bit. Too bad I was not bold enough to suggest a thong instead! To her credit, if Becky noticed me staring at her exposed underthings, she didn't show it or at least she didn't seem to mind.

We progressed through the standard poses and Becky was wonderfully adaptable to the practice. I had a feeling Becky was going to really enjoy yoga and even the more difficult aspects of this beginning video didn't seem to challenge her. Yes, she held a few poses with poor posture and yes, she had beads of sweat on her forehead as evidence that yoga is much more work than is appears but she was almost glowing near the end of the workout. We headed back upstairs after cleaning up to grab some water and snacks.

Relaxing on the bar stools in my kitchen; Becky ate a few carrots as I told her about some of them more advanced yoga workouts we could try next time. She was genuinely excited about the prospect but at the same time seemed to be rushing her answers as if to move off the subject. We confirmed our run time for the morning and then ate a few more veggies while we finished our water.

I was cleaning up, my back to Becky as I put things into the refrigerator when Becky quietly cleared her throat and asked, "Hey, can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if it is too private... but last week you kind of left me hanging a bit."

"Ok," I replied.

We had not talked about the sex topic since the prior week and I had not wanted to make her feel uncomfortable so I decided to let it drop. I was somewhat intrigued, like any man would be, to know what sex in Becky's marriage was like, what she enjoyed. I wanted to know if her passive bear of a husband was treating her right and with Becky's cute little body -- a body that was getting more toned and more athletic every day -- I could not help but find her in my thoughts on a somewhat regular basis. And those thoughts were no longer contained to just thinking about running and yoga and races.

"Again, please don't answer if you don't want too," Becky continued. "But how is sex sometimes not sex?"

I smiled. I was glad that my previous, intentionally nebulous answer had left her thinking. I liked to imagine she had played out those words in her mind, over and over for the past week and I was glad she was feeling comfortable enough with me to bring them back up for discussion.

"Oh, I don't mind talking about this," I said. "I am pretty open and we are both adults, so unless what I say makes you uncomfortable, I am cool with it."

"Yeah, I don't really talk about sex with anyone so forgive me if I sound a little naïve," Becky offered.

"Well, what I mean is that foreplay and sex games and just playing with each other is sometimes far more fun than just quickly making love and calling it a night. Sex doesn't have to mean sex," I offered.

Becky looked confused so I continued, "To be blunt, you don't have to orgasm every time you play -- or at least that's the way Kim and I see it."

Becky looked even more baffled at my last statement but before I could say anything else she jumped in with an awkward exclamation, "Wow, that would blow Jeff's mind!"

"Why," I quickly asked, "is he starved for good foreplay?"

"Oh... no... more like the idea of foreplay is a bit foreign to him," Becky said, "so the concept of foreplay only would make his head spin."

Becky wasn't smiling at this point, as if the topic had become more meaningful and less embarrassing for her.

"Pity," I offered, "there is nothing better than foreplay that lasts for hours and hours."

"And you don't get there... you know... climax?" She asked, still in a bit of disbelief.

"Well, sometimes we do, sometimes we don't, sometimes one of us does and the other waits, it just depends on the mood, what kind of game we are playing, how desperate we are."

"What kind of games are you playing?"

"Well, nothing formal it's more like extended teasing and just finding ways of keeping it unique, fun, erotic," I said, smiling broadly as I thought about 'our games'.

Becky was lost. I was both surprised and accepting of the idea that she might have no idea how to make sex, well, sexy. I had plenty of Mormon friends who complained about the lack of variety, frequency, and eroticism in their love life. And it must to be hard in a strictly ascetic religion that castigated sex outside of marriage as very, very wrong. A religion that shamed the human body with extreme standards of modesty, that taught that masturbation was a serious sin. My own stereotyped image of Mormon sexuality envisioned a dark room, missionary position intercourse, and the woman rarely reaching orgasm. I hated to think I was allowing such a generalization to color my entire view of sex in that religion, but Becky was confirming this image thus far so I decided to press on for details and see how right or wrong I was.

"Come on, Becky, you don't ever shake things up over there," I asked. "You don't put on a blindfold or leave him naughty notes in his car to find on his way to work? No playful dirty talk while out on a date? No occasional nurse uniform with the skirt cut way too high?"

"Never," was all Becky said in reply, blushing and looking at me as if I just told her aliens had landed in her backyard.

"Can I ask you something more personal," I said in a more serious tone, "you don't have to answer..."

"Sure."

"Do you orgasm during sex? Always? Never? Sometimes?"

Becky seemed to almost be expecting that question and her answer was exactly what I expected: sometimes.

"So you use blindfolds and talk dirty and Kim wears naughty nurse costumes," Becky continued, smiling again and effectively reducing the tension brought on by her climax confession.

"Sure we do," I replied. "Not all the time, not even most of the time. It's about keeping things interesting, not getting bored, although we do have a couple go-to games that we favor more often than others."

"Go-to games?" Becky asked.

"Let's see, one of our favorites is the color game. Long ago we assigned different kinds of sex-play to the color of panties Kim wears so if I find her bending over to tie her shoes, for example, in an obvious way that exposes her panties then I know what kind of mood she is in. Or if she is making a show of getting dressed or letting them ride up a bit above her jeans then I know she is sending a signal and I need to pay attention to the color."

"You have a specific thing you do for each color?"

"Yeah, we kind of defined that a few years back and they stuck. It's a fun way to communicate subtly with each other and not have to explicitly state what she wants."

"So give me some examples," Becky asked but now her entire tone and tenor had changed, her smile was genuine and it felt very much as if she were eager for the dirty details instead of this being the more sanitized discussion we had started.

"Black is the easiest," I said, "It means fast, hard, now." Knowing Becky was wearing black panties right now, I purposely picked this color to start with and watched her closely to gauge her reaction, but she played a poker face as if I had not fazed her at all, so I kept going.

"White is the color that means she is not playing... it's her standby color so white means she is NOT trying to send me a message. Yellow means she would like oral from me, pink means she would like to give me oral."

Still no reaction from Becky so I continued.

"Green means she wants to be teased, red means rough... 'R' for rough."

This finally made Becky's eyes go wide, her smile fall off a bit.

"Rough, huh?" Becky asked. "How rough?"

"Well, nothing that's going to leave marks of course, at least not most of the time," I teased back. But Becky still looked at me expectantly, not letting me get off the hook with my silly answer.

"Sometimes she likes to take it up a notch," I continued. "You know, the basic stuff like spankings or being tied up so I can do what I want with her. All in good fun, of course, but she likes to be taken, forcefully, giving up control and surrendering normal limits."

"Like raping her," Becky almost gasped out, her eyes searching and dark as she blurted her question, insistent for my reply.

"No, well... yes. It's consensual but then again it's not." This was harder to explain but now I felt as if I needed to clear my name, make sure Becky didn't think I was abusing my own wife.

"It's safe, we have a safe word we use, but yes she wants me to take her and do what I want. It's very mental, a psychological game more than the sex itself. Let me ask you something... have you ever wanted something, sexually, from Jeff but been afraid to ask or been afraid of his reaction?"

"Maybe, I dunno...," Becky stammered, "sure... I guess."

"You hold off because if you admit you like something that perhaps your partner does not, you might feel guilty or perverted, right?"

"Sure..." Becky again answered in a weak and uncertain voice.

"For Kim in this game, she can remove responsibility from herself, let me take pleasure and give pleasure and she can all but absolve herself of what happens because it is out of her control. That's a powerful way to make love and experiment. Let me explain it this way: if you really wanted your spouse to completely ravage you in a genuine way, but had to explicitly ask to be ravaged, wouldn't that feel less genuine?"

Becky smiled back at this; she seemed to understand how this worked now. So I continued, "It's like sex in general, you want your partner to feel desire for you and genuine want for you. If you have to ask for sex, then sometimes it feels less personal, like a chore."

Becky nodded her head but said nothing, as if she was relating but not yet ready to comment.

"So if I see red panties, Kim gives me a subtle signal and then I can act on it. Maybe not for hours or even days, but I know the next time the situation presents itself, I am going to totally consume her. And unless I hear our safe word, I can explore and press boundaries."

Becky was absorbing now. It took a few seconds but finally she asked, "What's your safe word?"

"Snowman," I replied bluntly.

Again, awkward seconds as Becky's mind geared around our conversation.

"Red is for rough, green for teasing, yellow for oral, pink for a blowjob," the word 'blowjob' feeling like a dirty slur coming from Becky's mouth, "black for fast and furious, white for off limits."

I was impressed, Becky had a great memory.

"Any other colors," she asked as she glanced at her watch.

But before I could answer Becky jumped off the stool after realizing the time. She was late getting home and her kids were probably wondering where she was. She apologized for having to run off so quickly and I confirmed our time for our run the next day as Becky sprinted across the street.

The Friday before the race, I had Becky come over just for stretching and to talk about a few last minute details about the race. She was nervous, worried about getting to the start on time and other details all first time racers are anxious about. The amount of time in training and the months of anticipation build up a certain level of stress for new runners and the day before a race can be worrying. Moreover, in the last few days of training Becky's calves had starting to ache and tighten.

The very common types of over use injuries afflicting new runners included Achilles tendinitis and I knew it would not be a problem for Becky if she iced, rested a bit before the race and used the roller to keep the tendon pliable.

Becky iced her legs while we talked about the schedule for tomorrow morning and when she was done we headed down to the gym to stretch and roll her Achilles. We had not talked about sex at all since the conversation about the panties color game I played with Kim, but to get to the basement stairs we had to walk past the laundry room. Kim glanced in at the pile of laundry on the floor, which was topped off by a half dozen pair of Kim's underwear, a rainbow of colors lacing the stack of laundry.

"Geeze, fun past few days," Becky exclaimed.

She was teasing and I knew it, I laughed to acknowledge her joke and when we continued to the basement. Becky sat on the floor and we went through our normal routine of stretches that included a few basic yoga poses that helped to stretch the lower legs and hip flexors. Several times I thought I caught of glimpse of green flashing from Becky's black shorts.

Becky had become comfortable enough around me that she had given up on the extreme measures of trying to stay safely modest at all times so a glimpse of her panties were common enough and I generally thought nothing of them. Workout clothing does not always make for the best coverage, especially when stretching and doing yoga, which puts the body in a number of unusual positions. In fact, what made a flash of green stand out today was that I knew Becky only wore white or black panties. I had never seen anything different. Black and white, I figured, were conservative choices and made sense for a woman who rarely wore regular underwear, thus making panties a risky proposition to begin with. But today, did I really see green?




Training the Neighbor



I knew I would have a definitive answer to that question in a few minutes when I started working her legs with the foam roller. To assume the best position to get the back of her legs, she lies on the mat face down and straightens the leg to be rolled, and brings the other knee up towards her mid section flared to the side to keep it out of the way of the large roller. This almost always causes her shorts to hike up higher on her legs while at the same time causes the leg openings to gape open at her parted legs. Indeed, a true green colored panty revealed itself as I began working the roller over her left leg.

I worked the leg slowly and deliberately, genuinely trying to work on the sore area and tendons, but I lost count of my reps up and down her lower leg as my eyes kept wandering to the gap in her shorts, the green silk that peeked out made me curious, made me horny. I tried to not be obvious about it, but I need not have worried about being caught as Becky had her eyes shut tightly through the mild pain of the roller moving over sore tissue.

Switching legs, Becky reversed the leg up and the leg straight but this time she brought her knee up even higher. Higher, in fact, than was really necessary to clear the space needed for the roller and so high that not only did her shorts gape open again, but the crotch of the shorts was pulled off center, exposing nearly her entire sex, covered by green panty, of course.

There are times when you think someone is flirting with you and it's obvious. There are times you think they are flirting but unsure if their actions are more innocent and unintentional. This move by Becky felt deliberate, as if it could only be interpreted one way, but in what was nearly a six month friendship with Becky I found respect for our friendship counseling me away from seeing this as anything more than an accidental slip of her normal discretion. Still, I could not look away.

I moved the roller up her leg and watched the strain and weight on her body cause slight movement of her position on the floor. Again, as before, rhythmic motion of the roller going up and back, up and back, felt mildly erotic and involving. I not only lost count, but I lost focus and I am sure I did a much poorer job of working the aches and kinks out of this leg.

I could see so much, yet so much was hidden. Her sex was barely contained in the tight silk panty, a small strip of cloth covering her mound and becoming wider as it stretched across her buttocks. The bottoms of her cheeks, cleaving into her legs, demonstrated the work she had been doing in training. She was toned, tight, and ready for a race. The cleft itself a line that my eye could not help but follow as it merged into her crotch, gave way to the protrusion of flesh that hinted at the soft and more fleshy components of her pussy. There was not a trace of hair, skin white and smooth, offset by green and the black of her shorts. It was all right there, all so close, all so far away.

I pulled myself out of the trance and ended the pathetic attempt at rolling her tendons. Becky dropped her crooked leg back down, side by side with her other leg, and the window into the layers just beneath was closed. As she rolled to her side to look back up at me, I realized for the first time that my cock was hard, hard as a rock and likely visible if I didn't also adjust the way I was sitting to hide the erection all too easily outlined in my own thin shorts.

"Feel better," I asked as I diverted attention from my shorts and quickly sat up and askew from Becky's line of sight.

"Yeah. Mostly. But my hip flexors still feel tight too. Can those be rolled?"

"If I had a smaller roller I might be able to target those, but just wrenching down on those muscles with my hands or pressing the palm of a hand into them might be just as effective."

I couldn't believe I just said that. It was nearly a complete lie, I had rolled my hip flexors many times and while a hand massage would certainly be of some aid, I had just setup a suggestion to put my hands on Becky in a very direct, palpable way.

"Why don't you lay on your side," I said as my mind still processed my fib.

It didn't take long to realize that I was simply doing exactly what I would have done had Kim been here instead, wearing the green panties, inviting my flirtations and teasing. I fell, as if some Pavlovian response had taken over my brain, into the kind of erotic, role-playing mindset that worked so well when Kim and I played this game. Was Becky playing, now? Was I?

I knew my next move would be mildly inappropriate, but I knew I could disguise it well so I moved over to Becky and essentially straddled her legs as she lay on her side. I was not quite sitting on her, more like kneeing over her legs and I immediately pressed the palm of my hand into the muscles of her hip and worked it in with slow circular motions.

Letting my analytical mind take over for a few seconds, I realized the tension in her hip flexors and I focused my hand and fingers over the area and tried to coax some of those hard worked tissues out of their stressed state. I worked the muscles as if Becky were just another trainee, I let a few minutes slip away in the name of being a personal trainer and coach and with my professionalism I also forgot that in this situation, I might have needed more conservative boundaries.

I snapped out of my trainer-mode-mind when I realized my fingers were tracing sore muscles well into the dimple of her buttocks and working over the ridge of her hip towards the front of her pelvis. Literally, I was pressing flesh and bone only a few inches away from her sex. More damning still, I had moved my hands to her skin, pushing her shorts higher on her hips to move more effectively against her skin and muscle. My fingers were brushing against the edges of her panties at the point the cloth crested over her hipbone.

Realizing that this might have been too forward, if perceived as anything other than a genuine attempt at soothing sore muscles, I panicked and looked at Becky's face to gauge her reaction. I was relieved to see her eyes closed and not a hint of shock on her face. In fact, with her lips just slightly parted while I worked, it almost looked as if she were in a state of pleasure. She looked like she might be in the middle of a very pleasant dream.

I spent close to ten minutes working her left hip and then asked her to roll over so I could work on the right. This time, however, Becky brought her lower leg knee up towards her chest so that her right leg was not resting directly on top of it. I straddled her remaining leg and realized this was going to be more effective with her lower leg raised, since I would not have to sit up so high as I massaged her. Moreover, it looks much more comfortable for Becky a well. Lastly, it angled her entire torso back just a few degrees bringing her pelvis, and because of her raised lower leg, panties into view.

Becky closed her eyes, her lips in a tight line as they shut, and I got started on her hip flexor.

In order to give the impression that the work I had done on her left hip I mirrored my actions on the right. I sank my palm and fingers into her hip and moved her shorts higher on her leg, and traced sinew and muscle that were tightly wound over her limb.

I pressed into her buttocks again and massaged the deeper tissues of her piriformis muscle, a spot I often painfully felt after a lot of training. I moved over her hips with my hands, traced the edge of her panties, and even slipped the very tip of my finger inside the band as I pressed into her body. I moved back down the leg and started towards the front of her pelvis, following the path of muscle and bone which, if I let myself, would lead to more private and exotic places on Becky's body.

I slid the palm of my hand over her front ridge of her pelvic bone and pressed in, and with this I was able to finally elicit a reaction from Becky's face, which I was focused on. Her eyebrows lifted and her lips parted without sound but otherwise conveying a very pleasurable reaction to my touch.

I was close to finishing up and letting her get home to her kids when I noticed something else, or at least I thought I did. Her panties where exposed, even the slight rise of her mound under the material was fairly visible due to the angle and open gape of her shorts. While her panties were a true shade of green, darker still given the shadow cast by her shorts, I thought I could just make out a even darker patch of material right where a darker patch might indicate arousal. I could not be sure, the lighting was not ideal but it looked like Becky might be getting wet.

This caused a rush of endorphins to my brain, my cock was nearly instantly hard again and I allowed my imagination to run wild. Was she teasing? Was she inviting me to tease? Were the green panties really her idea of playing my game, Kim's game? At what risk could I proceed in testing the waters here without jeopardizing a friendship?

I pressed my fingers merely a half an inch lower on her pelvic bone, ever so slightly closer to her pleasure center. She didn't flinch or move away. I rotated the girth of my palm higher, focusing that pressure on the crest of her pelvis but my fingers lingered lower, closer. With each rotation, each slow deliberate rotation, the finger in turn would move yet another half inch closer, then back... then closer.

Looking at Becky's face, her lips were widely parted now, her eyes clenched closed as if in pain, or in conflict. She seemed to consume everything I offered her and while she didn't move away or protest, neither did she give any obvious indication to draw me in further. I decided enough was enough.

I patted her hip gently and stood up, helping her up as well while trying to deflect attention from my obvious erection.

"Thanks," she offered, "that really felt fantastic..." her words trailed off as if she wanted to say more but decided otherwise at the last moment.

We walked up stairs and said goodbye, a few final words of encouragement given to let her know she had every right to be confident about the race in the morning.

One word of advice I might have given Becky, but didn't, was that a good, old-fashioned orgasm the night before a race is a great way to relax. I hoped she would be making a few moves tonight on her teddy bear husband to help her sleep before the early morning alarm clock went off tomorrow.

As I prepared my own gear for the race, Kim and I were discussing our day and I was filling her in on the details of Becky's Achilles issues as I stripped down to get into the shower.

In the shower I watched Kim undressing through the glass door. A veteran supporter of my many races, she too understood the pre-race therapeutic value of an orgasm and was always more than happy to accommodate in this regard. She peeled off her shirt and bra, stepped out of her shoes, unzipped the pencil skirt she had worn to work that day, letting it fall to the floor and leaving her in only her panties... her green panties.

I laughed at the site of the lime green thong as Kim stood at the counter and took off her makeup, wearing only the thong.

"That's funny," I said, "Becky was wearing green underwear today as well!"

Kim looked at me via the mirror she was facing and gave me a mischievous smile. "Did you tease that poor girl," she joked as she turned and started yanking the thong out of her ass crack and down her legs.

I didn't answer, the question was rhetorical, but Kim kept her own bedroom stare fixed on mine as she stepped into the shower and grabbed my growing erection.

"Poor girl doesn't know what she is missing," she said as she knelt in front of me, water cascading over her face as she swallowed the length and girth of my dick.

There is simply nothing like a good orgasm, in the shower, before a race.

The alarm blaring at 4:30 am jarred me from a deep sleep but immediately remembering it was race day energized my mind and I shot up to go get ready. Having prepared everything the night before, it was only a matter of minutes before I was ready to head out the door.

Kim was solidly asleep when I kissed her forehead and told her goodbye. She had been very supportive at the finish line of many races for many years but today she had plans with a college roommate and so she slept in.

Across the street the lights were on and as I backed my car out of the garage Becky appeared on the front porch, ready and smiling. In the car Becky was chatty and full of energy. We drank a bit of water and shared a banana as we drove to the start of the race. Becky did not appear to be nervous at all and given her training I knew she need not worry about how she would perform. It was her first race and finishing was all that counted.

It turned out to be a beautiful day for a race, cool temperatures at the start and clear skies made for perfect conditions and stunning scenery as we ran through the picture perfect mountain valley that hosted our 13.1 mile jaunt. We had pre-determined the pacing, started slow and increased the speed only slightly as the race progressed and as her body told her it was not only accommodating, but thriving in the race conditions which included longer mileage than she had ever run at once before.

The target time for finishing was sub 2 hours, but we were well on pace and feeling good as we hit mile 11 so I asked Becky if she wanted to turn it up a bit. We dropped down to 8-minute miles and as we crossed the finish line the gun time showed 1:52. Not only had Becky finished her first race, she had finished with a very respectable time.

Becky stopped to grab her finisher's medal from the volunteer and then looked back at me, her eyes on fire at the accomplishment. People react differently after finishing their first long race. Some collapse, others cry, some limp off with the medal and never return but Becky, Becky looked like she had just discovered chocolate for the first time and only wanted more.

A few steps beyond the finishing area she turned towards me and nearly jumped at me in excitement. I hugged her tightly and congratulated her on an impressive debut while at the same time she thanked me for my help and for training with her. These are the rewards of introducing new runners to the sport.

The day had warmed up considerably over the course of the race and I suspected temperatures at the finish line were in the low 70's, plenty warm for a race. Becky, as we hugged and celebrated, was sweaty from head to toe. Her running tank was saturated and with my arms around her back my hands slid over the slick wet of her skin where it was exposed above her shirt. My own racing singlet was equally soaked and together we were probably a wet, smelly mess. And that really turned me on.

I don't know how uncommon this was, but I had a thing for women drenched in workout sweat. I don't know exactly why, but as a fitness fanatic I think I took a sweaty body as a sign of an intense workout, the result of hard work and dedication. I liked the smell of fresh sweat, its salty aroma was appealing, perhaps it was pheromones or some other attractant but sweat indicated good, positive things in my mind. We didn't stay in our celebratory embrace for long, perhaps three or four seconds tops, but the sensation of Becky's hot, wet body -- a body that she had worked hard to achieve -- a body that looked like that of a runner, was turning me on again.

Breaking our hug we found water and some fresh fruit in the finisher's area to help recover from the run and then started our slower walk over to the car. 13.1 miles for a runner who had never run more than 11 was bound to have some adverse affect on her legs. We had been finished for about 15 minutes now and indeed her walk was slowing down, a few aches and cramps setting in. And the direct sunlight was also still sapping energy and fluids from us both, so I suggested before we get into the car for a 20-minute ride home we should go stretch in the shade of some trees. Becky gladly agreed.

We sat and our stretching routine was established enough that our habits took over as we moved right through the stretches, taking about 10 minutes as we recounted the race. When we were done I asked how her Achilles were feeling.

"Really, my hips are far more sore than my legs," she groaned.

"Let me have at them for a bit," I replied as I moved towards her.

She went to her side in the same position as the day before and pushed up her running shorts as well, I moved carefully over the sore tissue but more boldly into her butt cheeks and then towards the front of her pelvis. I felt her, not just massaged her, and wanted to convey something more with my hands than just therapeutic relief. Moreover, her running panties were soaked just like the rest of her clothing and the wet, nearly dripping panties were almost more than I could take. My fingers slid over her skin, easily dipped beneath the fabric, lustfully explored marginally more than the day before. Becky didn't flinch, didn't protest, and didn't move away.

The other leg was the same reaction, even if I took a few more bold strokes beyond those on the prior leg. I kneaded deeply into her buttocks and let a finger, (accidently?), slip nearly to the crack of her ass before pulling it back quickly. On the front I pressed into the flesh of her lower abdomen where I really had no business massaging, just to see the wet material over her pussy slide further towards center, nearly letting the outer lips of her sex become visible. Again, Becky seemed to let me do what I please.

Finally I ended my assault and we made our way, far more gingerly than before, to the car and to home. As we talked more about the race we both realized that we had no plans beyond the race. There was not yet another goal, we had not talked about continuing our training afterwards. Everything we had done to date was centered on the singular objective of getting to, and through, the half marathon. Objective now accomplished we really had no excuse to plan the next run or talk about the next step up in speed or weekly mileage.

The drive home was a little somber as we both felt the deflation of having nothing else to look forward to, but the remedy seemed easy enough.

"How about we step it up, plan on a full marathon this fall," I asked.

"I was just going to suggest that," she replied quickly.

The rest of the drive home I offered a suggestion that we take a few days off and simply relax. She should do plenty of stretching, icing, and walking for sure, but no running. The timing was ideal too, since I had a rare trip out of town for the first half of the next week and thus we decided to meet up to begin the next phase of her training next Wednesday.

At home I had the place to myself since Kim was going to be gone for most of the day. I showered and cleaned and took care of a few errands. Personally, and not to brag, but 13 miles was not a run that pushed me and I was not sore. It was simply a product of years of running and training and I hoped that someday 13 miles would be inconsequential for Becky too. I actually felt energized and so I cooked a nice meal for Kim and I, opened a nice bottle of wine, and right on cue Kim walked through the door.

"Wow, what a great surprise," Kim said in response to finding a formally set table and food, hot and ready.

We sat and ate, Kim filled me in on her visit with her old college roommate, and I gave Kim the details of the race, especially focusing on how energized Becky had been at the finish.

Kim was impressed and happy for Becky. She was encouraging as I told her of our plans to train Becky up for a full marathon.

"I would not have thought she had it in her," Kim said. "Maybe you will get another chance at those green panties!"




Training the Neighbor



Kim was grinning as she said this. And perhaps this is the perfect time to fill the reader in on the nuances of our relationship, the way Kim and I made things work in a way that might cause other couples to squirm.

Early in our relationship Kim and I knew we were a special match. Our sex life was exceptional, right from the start, and communication between us was never a problem. We just seemed to read each other well, and good communication evokes trust, trust builds confidence, and confidence sparks yet another level of openness and mutual communication.

Moreover, Kim and I knew there was risk in monogamy, feared a relationship gone cold over boring sex and familiarity. Both of us came from parents that had divorced over issues related to infidelity and we were wary of marriage, despite our intent to commit in such a way to each other. We had begun almost immediately to openly combat these issues by allowing each other space, giving implicit trust, and engaging in practices to keep the sex hot and interesting. The games we played in, and out, of the bedroom were the result of our deliberate decision to fan the flames.

I had never cheated on Kim, and I was nearly certain she had never cheated on me. But the idea of us being with another person also didn't fit the lingo of "cheating" as Kim and I had defined our relationship. This may be hard to explain, but let me try.

Several years into our marriage we played a game wherein we would go to a local bar or club and split up for the night, essentially flirting and hitting on other people in the club while we observed each other. We never allowed this game to extend beyond the club, or at least not with those innocents that were drawn into our game for a few hours, but we would often get back home and recount what we had done, what we had watched of one another. The conversations were hot, exciting, forbidden and since role-play was a way we often kept the sex innovative, particular strangers from the clubs would often become the characters for our post-clubbing play. The flirting in clubs never went beyond dancing and drinks, never even involved a kiss or more than a few touches on the dance floor, but the implicitly sexuality of the scene was the fuel we selfishly craved and used.

Shortly thereafter we played other role-playing games, games that explored the idea of swapping partners or group sex scenarios into which we openly fantasized about friends and co-workers. The swinger idea even materialized into conversation about how, who, and eventually when... but because of our mutual satisfaction with each other the idea never really took flight. The idea seemed far more appealing than the reality of doing it. However, the most important theme that came from our fantasies, role-playing and other exchanges was that our relationship was built on respect and trust, not just physicality. Perhaps we were kidding ourselves, but when envisioning a partner swap we were able, at least in our heads, to separate the physical from the emotional.

Making the point a bit more directly, one night several years ago Kim told me very matter-of-factly that if I were to ever cheat on her that I was to promptly return and give her all "juicy details". Not exactly an endorsement for an open marriage but not a bright line rebuke of extramarital relations either.

All that said, the fact still remained that Kim and I had been inventive and trusting and it had allowed us to survive well beyond the term of most marriages. We liked each other and we craved each other.

The next day, Sunday, I was ready for another run and I stepped into the early morning sun eager for an easy six-mile outing. At the same time Becky was walking her cute family to church services. I barely recognized her, dressed in an ankle length skirt and a very modest blouse, she looked completely different from the attire I now associated with her: shorts, running skirts, bright shoes, and sporty tops. Her hair was also loose, large curls and hanging around her shoulders, again a big departure from the pulled back simple pony that she wore while running.

When I say Becky was walking to church, I should clarify -- it was more of a delicate hobble. Clearly she was sore, still, and feeling the pace and distance from yesterday's race. I asked her how she felt and she grimaced in return. We chatted for only a second more, but she again thanked me for training with her and told me she was still on a high, despite the pain. And with that I went on my run while she slowly made her way to church.

The Mormon Church has three-hour block meetings and so I returned long before Becky did and I was showered and out front washing the cars when she limped back home. Her husband not with her, again, since his duty as lay clergy meant he spent hours before and after formal services in his church calling. With Jeff still at church we took more time to talk.

While Becky was still glowing and surging with energy following her successful race, she was clearly sore and pouted frequently as she shifted from leg to leg while we talked. I also sensed the somewhat typical anxiousness about taking time off after a race; so many new runners have trained and trained and taking time off feels like cheating. I had to repeatedly tell her that she needed a break, needed to recover, and would be a better runner if she allowed herself proper time to heal.

Just the same, the combined soreness she exhibited and constant nagging about wanting to get back at it caused me to make a concession. Yoga and stretching, back at it this afternoon, in a couple hours after she had time to feed her kids and get them settled after church. She was coming over to stretch and be rolled to help work some of the soreness away. And I confess I found myself excited about having the opportunity to be with her and to touch her again.

Becky showed up around 4:00 that afternoon, her husband still gone, something she mentioned with a trace of disdain in her voice. Kim was home so Becky and Kim chatted for a few minutes before all three of us headed to the basement gym, Kim only coming along for the conversation.

Becky had worn her yoga capris, unfortunately, and I wondered if she had tried to maintain a bit more coverage assuming Kim would be around today. Kim, however, had to run to the grocery and left Becky and I alone after only a few minutes. We worked through our regular routine and I reached for the roller as we concluded the stretches.

Becky assumed the position and I started rolling up the side of her left leg. However, only two or three rolls into the sequence her capris were bunching up in places making the roller skip and bump, painfully, along her leg. I stopped and pulled her capris tight against her leg and tried to use my own leg against hers to hold them in place, but after only a few more rolls up and down her side they continued to bunch and Becky audibly complained about the painful affect of creased material under the roller.

"Shoot, that's not helping," Becky joked.

"Yeah, those pants are just not liking the roller."

"Guess I should have worn shorts."

"Want me to grab a pair of shorts from Kim?" I asked. "It's that, you strip down to your undies, or we skip the roller today," I said in a voice that let Becky know I was kidding, mostly.

Maybe Becky didn't think I was joking, but she simply stood up and peeled off her capris.

"Guess this is little more than you have already seen," Becky offered, "Besides, rolling only takes a few minutes. Let's do this."

I was really caught off guard by Becky's boldness. She could have just been comfortable with me given the time we had spent together or even just desperate enough to have some relief to her soreness that she was willing to overlook the strangeness of being in her underwear, in a home other than her own, with a man other than her husband. Or she could have been a much bolder woman than I gave her credit for, a thought that was settling into the reality of my mind as she now lay before me, green panties obtusely standing out amongst everything else.

Green panties, again. This could not have been coincidence or a mistake, this must be some way of Becky playing back at me, if not outright flirting with me. Green. Kim and I reserved green for teasing, extended foreplay and flirting. Kim and I had found sexual energy in flirting with others, and I thrilled at the boundary pushing concept of consensual flirting when both parties well understood where the gray area stopped and the black and white divide stood firm. Flirting. Fine. I considered myself very skilled in the art of erotic teasing, this was a game I could play.

The rolling was relatively uneventful except to offer an opportunity to look carefully at Becky and her body, covered in a pair of tasteful green panties. We moved from left leg to right, rolling on her stomach to make the switch with her cute bottom sucking at the underwear. She didn't attempt to un-wedge the material, likely too flagrant a move at this point. Right leg finished, I didn't even ask, I simply put the roller down and began a hand massage similar to that I had done the last couple days.

With nothing to impede my hands or eyes, I was erect again and bolder than ever. Little of her ass escaped my deep tissue massage and again I traced the top of her hipbone forward, only giving deference when it ran into the hem of her underwear. Even then I let my fingers tease at the edges, nudge onto covered skin.

As we moved to her other side she chose instead to roll across her back, stomach up. I stopped her while she was flat on her back and pressed deeply into both of her hips at once and massaged down into the top of her thighs, closing in on the juncture of her legs. She was utterly exposed even with her underwear holding tight over her sex, it was also tight enough to reveal her pussy in shape and size, a slight cleft in the middle, no evidence of hair. It was erotic beyond description. Thank god she kept her eyes shut as I ministered my touch as my eyes could barely move from the target between her legs.

I moved my hands back to her hips about to nudge her to the other side but as I did this her shirt rose under my fingers by no more than 2 or 3 inches but this exposed the skin of her lower stomach just above the top of her panties. This skin was white, creamy, and soft over her abdomen, which was strong. But this skin was also marked with the long jagged ripples caused by pregnancy, scarred from the stress and stretch marks from carrying children inside her. It was beautiful.

It was a badge of strength and honor. I craved the woman that, with maximal intensity could endure hard workouts, hard runs, sweat and pain evident in their work ethic and results. Could anything provide more evidence of the strength of a woman than these marks?

Kim and I had never had children. We were initially interested in having kids but Kim had difficulty getting pregnant and as we got older we decided we liked our life situation as it was and so I eventually had a vasectomy to ensure that no surprises landed on our doorstop. Thus Kim had a picture perfect stomach, hard abs and no scars -- what most would find ideal and for many, unachievable. Indeed, Kim was very attractive and looked great in a bikini with her perfect stomach, but Becky had a completely different appeal, a symbol of her femininity and toughness.

Becky might have been self conscious, however, of the scars becoming evident with her shirt riding up higher. She made an attempt to roll over to her other leg, and of course I accommodated and gave her other side the same deep tissue treatment. At one point I nearly cupped the inside of her thigh, placing my fingers on the back and pulling forward, literally less than an inch away from her silken covered sex. I applied enough slow pressure at this point that Becky reacted for the first time to my touch, her hips jutting forward slightly but noticeably, pressing against my hand.

It may have been an involuntary reaction on Becky's part, to thrust forward like that, as she opened her eyes for the first time and then awkwardly rolled onto her stomach. Not that she wanted to be on her stomach, I suspected, but she likely didn't want me to think she was reacting to my touch and was instead was pressing forward for the roll.

Since I had never really massaged the back of her upper legs while she lay on her stomach, I also awkwardly tried to find a therapeutic way to approach and touch her. We were in new territory -- but with her rolling to her stomach I was left awkwardly straddling one of her legs, my left kneed between her legs, my right knee to the outside of her right leg.

I started by basically kneading the hamstring on her right leg but since I was basically sitting on it I had limited the range of the muscle I could get to. Her left leg was simply out of reach for an effective massage. I could reach up and grab at her ass, but this seemed to be pushing things just a little too far so I made an attempt to get at a better angle by lifting my right knee and then nudging inside her legs so I was kneeling with both knees between her legs. Of course this required that she spread her legs much more, making this entire attempt the brashest move I had made yet.

I now had a choice... either move and end this farce of a therapy session or reach down and work on her hamstrings -- and the hamstrings won out. I still had limited range on her legs, but at least now a hand could work on each leg and I dug my knuckles into the flesh of her legs, then alternated my touch to grab them forcefully with my hands, kneading the muscle between my fingers.

As mentioned, Becky's legs were splayed open, wide enough for me to knee between them and thus her entire crotch was easily exposed, explicitly visible. Even the material that once offered full coverage of her buttocks was now wedged between her cheeks. Thank God Becky could not see me from her position, as I was fixated on the perfectness of her ass and protrusion of her intimate parts.

My fingers had involuntarily moved up her legs. I would catch myself nearly on her ass before I consciously moved back to her legs. But even when working on her legs I had an inclination to move to her inner thighs, and then up towards forbidden places as I massaged. At one point I realized my touch had become too soft to pass as a massage, that my fingers were less than an inch to either side of her pussy, and I was about to again pull back to safe territory when I realized Becky was wet.

Her panties were dark, soaked, and almost shiny with the slickness of her reaction. She wanted this and was not retreating. She was wet as I moved my hands to the very side of her panties, framing her pussy between in my hands. I pressed into her skin, still avoiding direct touch but with clear enough intent. I moved back and forth to the sides of her panties, the wetness now escaping enough to provide lubrication for my fingers that only slipped with more ease over her skin. Becky wasn't moving or reacting in any way other than the implicit permission given by her lack of protest.

I pulled my fingers away from her panties, slowly and with much friction and my hands firmly pressed against the inside of her thighs. As I pulled fingers against her skin, her skin also pulled and the very edges of her sex began to escape the confines of her panties. The slightly darker skin of her wet swollen lips revealed themselves from the sides, her panties retreating inward, further separating the skin. I pushed my hands back towards center and then pulled away again -- more of her cunt as bared.

Finding center yet again I moved my hands to either side of her and now moved up and down just barely touching her exposed lips with my fingers as they slide across the skin. Subtle with my touch, but with increasing wetness seeping from Becky, my senses were escaping my control. With one last bold move I pressed together my hands on either side of her pussy. Not tightly, not even enough to do more than make firm contact with her exposed labia, but enough pressure to cause them to bulge slightly, to let juices seep onto my fingers. I kept that pressure on the sides of her cunt and moved my fingers up, towards the front side. To this point I had not invaded the skin hidden by her panties, only teased flesh out of coverage, but as my fingers moved up they slipped under the fabric, into the private area covered, barely, touching the flesh immediately above her pussy and below her naval.

Becky was on her stomach, of course, but the further my fingers and hands crept under her body and explored the space of her lower abdomen, the more her body rose to allow me access. It was slight at first, in fact I barely noticed, but when I reached the top of her panties with my fingers it was clear she was hovering several inches higher, letting the entirety of my hand have access between her legs and the floor.

Having felt the top of her panties from the inside as it stretched across her stomach, I pulled my hands back in retreat. My hands effectively had pulled her panties entirely inside the lips of her pussy and nearly all of her sex was exposed now except for the core. As a final teasing move I let my right hand index finger move directly to the very top of her pussy and as soon as I felt the cleft of her sex I pulled it an inch away from her skin, pulling the fabric of her panties out and away from her sex as well. I slide that finger against the inside of her soaked panties, slowly, all the way down which dislodged the cloth from her cunt. I held it there, only an inch above the entrance to her pussy. I could not see the opening, still covered by cloth suspended above and by my finger and obstructing my view -- but I could feel the heat of her body and the saturation of my fingers.

Becky was also suspended, not yet having relaxed she remained with her ass in the air, her pussy nearly begging for the next touch. I debated, I considered, I wanted to plunge my finger inside her. Despite loving the slow measured teasing that had gone on for the better part of an hour now, I still hesitated taking that next step. Just as I decided to brave pushing into her warmth we both heard the door upstairs open. Kim was home.

Now I panicked simply because the noise jolted me from the trance of such an erotic moment, but Becky literally freaked out. She flew up from the floor and had her yoga capris back on in a matter of seconds. My surprise had subsided by the time Becky was dressed, but she was flying up the stairs before I could even start to calm her down. I followed her up the stairs and we found Kim putting groceries away in the Kitchen.

Becky's small talk with Kim was so innocent you would have thought nothing at all had happened with Becky downstairs. She was calm, on the exterior, and polite and even reminded me that we were still on for our next run later that week when I was back in town. She then excused herself and made her way back home while I finished helping Kim with the groceries.

As I put groceries away, however, Kim noticed my still erect cock pressing against my workout pants.

"Damn!" Kim said as she reached over and grabbed my dick through my pants. "Green panties again today?"

"You won't believe this," I started. And then I proceeded to give Kim a replay of my time with Becky.

Now, I confess I saved a few details for myself as I told Kim about Becky dropping her capris without me even asking, the green panties, and the visible excitement. I had not detailed the camel toe I caused or the near attempt at deeply fingering Becky. By that time Kim was on her knees in front of me pulling my cock free, distracting me from the days previous events.

Kim sucked me deeply, and I lost my voice feeling my dick hit the back of her throat. Kim was an exceptional lover, but when it comes to giving head she was second to none. She slowly swallowed my length for a minute or two and then pulled me free. Rising back up to kiss me, her lips swollen and red from their work below, she took off her blouse and stripped out all of her clothes. No words were spoken as I also discarded my clothing and then let Kim push me back onto the thick lush carpet.




Training the Neighbor



Kim mounted me and rode me hard, kissing me deeply while she ground herself against my pubic bone, my cock deep inside her. She was nearing orgasm when she lowered her mouth to my ear.

"Did you want to touch her, babe?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Did you want to fuck her?" She was so close to a climax, I could sense it through her whole body.

"Yes!"

With that single word Kim's climax crashed into her and she shook as she rode me through her orgasm. She settled on top of me, still impaled as the violence of her orgasm subsided. Her mouth still smashed against the side of my face.

"Are you going to tease this poor girl any more, hun?" She asked.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah, I think that might be fun for you."

"You're not upset?" I asked.

"Should I be?"

"I'm touching and teasing another woman, babe!" I made a dramatic show of this last statement.

"Well, you're just flirting with her, right?"

"Sure. It's just flirting."

"Do you want to do more than just flirt?" She was still in role-play mode, I could tell, but there was something else in her voice now too. Something new, something untested.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Do you want me to do more than just flirt?"

"Hmm." Playful pondering was her reply. And after a few more seconds of me thrusting up into her from below she continued, "Let's just see where this goes."

My cock exploded in reaction to those words, and I pounded myself into her flesh while she met each thrust with equal enthusiasm. Had my wife really just given me permission to fuck Becky?

Permission or not, I was headed out of town and so it would be days before I could test those waters again. My trip, however, was peppered with the thoughts of Becky, of Kim, of Becky... and I masturbated each night in the hotel as I replayed over the events of Sunday afternoon. I didn't even need the mental image of fucking Becky to get me hard, to get me off. I had not jacked off that much in years and it was strange to feel so much excitement that I couldn't hold off until I was back home with Kim. Usually, Kim was more than enough for me and I had not beat off more than a couple times in the last year, and usually only when Kim was on her period.

I had not talked with Becky since she left the house on Sunday, so Thursday morning I was relieved to find her waiting outside for our first post race run. But nearly immediately something was different. I didn't immediately notice, but she had on capris again instead of shorts, despite the temperature already in the 70's. Moreover, she was a bit cold, standoffish. She seemed curt and formal, not the Becky I had been running with for the past six months.

We ran, but slow, and Becky seemed recovered from the race but it always takes a toll. We only covered 5 miles and then walked a ½ mile cool down back to our street. We stretched lightly in the street and made small talk. I was very worried that the line we crossed Sunday had jeopardized our friendship, but I am not one to dance around the edges of an issue, so I spoke up.

"How do the hips feel?" I asked.

Becky only looked up at first, like I had cussed or burped. Her face was a mixture of confusion and disbelieve. Had I said something wrong?

Her face softened, however, and she finally answered back.

"They feel pretty good, honestly," Becky said. "You worked magic last time."

As she said this she let her chin fall a bit, but her eyes drifted up towards mine as if to test the waters. I would have assumed she was mad at me for going too far on Sunday, but perhaps she was the one feeling guilty for her participation, for her evident want.

"Well, I'm glad I could help." I ended it there. I was pleased to see some relaxation in Becky's demeanor in the last few minutes, to understand she may not be mad at me for my roaming hands on Sunday.

"Let's try and pick it up, say 7 miles tomorrow?"

"Sure. Sounds great, actually," Becky said, smiling like the Becky I knew.

As I got back into the house my cell phone rang. Kim was on the other end.

"So... how was the run?" she asked, her voice high and satirical.

"Sorry, babe, but it was just a run."

We talked for a bit more, but I found it odd that Kim would call to see if my first run back with Becky would develop into anything. I told her she was a total pervert and then got into the shower and jacked off, imagining Becky in my basement, my fingers tracing the wet sides of her pussy.

The run the next day did not start well. Becky was outside on time and this time wearing a new red running skirt and in a much more energetic mood than the day before. But only a few yards into the run Becky pulled up with a moan. Her hips were killing her, she said. We walked a bit further, tried to run again, but still her hips were hurting.

Our route for the day took us past a large park on the side of town. I suggested we try a run/walk combo to the park, perhaps a mile away, and see if things loosened up. By the time we got to the park, however, Becky was still hurting. I may have made a mistake given that we were now about 2 miles from home and Becky was down to a walking pace. I found a patch of grass near some trees on the edge of the park and we sat to stretch her muscles for a bit before trying to head home.

We stretched for nearly 15 minutes, neither of us having even worked up a sweat on the run over to the park, but when she tried to stand she still felt stiff pain. I had her lay back down on her side and I assumed my normal position and worked on her right hip. I pulled her leg up and to her chest while she lay on her side and I worked the muscles with my hands.

Her running skirt, of course, had to be hiked up a bit and I looked around to make sure we had at least a modicum of privacy before I resumed working her sore side. As I looked back down, however, I was greeted by a pair of sunshine yellow panties, a thong no less, radiating the color from her waist. Yellow. Did she remember yellow meant oral... me giving Kim oral sex? Again, aside from the green panties that lingered in my fantasies now, I had never seen her wear anything but black or white. And I was instantly hard.

Looking around again to make sure we were properly hidden, I decided it was now or never, put up or shut up.

"Let's try this, see if we can't loosen things up," I said, rolling Becky onto her back and settling in between her thighs. I kept her left leg straight, but had her pull her right knee up and out and away from her body. This had zero affect on her hip flexors, but it exposed the very narrow patch of cloth that covered only the very center of her very wet crotch. And did I mention we had not worked up even a bead of sweat on the run?

I applied some weight against her leg, pressed it high and outward, which was likely a good stretch for her hamstrings but little else. Becky moaned, nonetheless, at the stretch and closed her eyes as was typical when she was being worked on. I put a hand on the inside of her thigh to press her leg even further away... apart. With my right hand on her inner thigh it was only a wiggle away from center and my pinkie finger moved easily onto her pussy, brushing the outer lip. Becky bucked slightly at the touch, towards the touch, acknowledging my finger and its intent, her own intent made clear.

I moved my hand down her leg a couple inches, and by doing so I slid my fingers under the front of her thong and across her wet pussy. This was not a subtle or accidental touch, I conveyed my desire with the pressure I applied moving across her lips, letting her slickness trail behind. I moved back so my index finger was right over her clit and rubbed slightly a few times. Becky bucked again. My pinkie, near her opening, dipped in slightly but not enough to penetrate. It was so wet that it was hard to find definition in her tissue, friction impossible.

Enjoying the game more than the goal, I pulled my hand back and feigned additional movement in the name of a massage, and used the break to inspect one more time that no one was around, no one watching us in this very public place.

Once I had confirmed the coast was clear I decided to go for broke. I moved my body backwards so I could lie beneath Becky's legs and I kissed the inside of her thigh perhaps 6 inches up from center. This surprised Becky, but I was going to test the theory once and for all. Was Becky playing the colored panty game and if so, did she have the guts to really play?

I kissed again, lightly, a couple inches closer. Becky jolted again in surprise, or appreciation. I moved closer, I could smell her now, and I kissed the tendon just at her crotch, just right of her panties, just a fraction of an inch away from her cunt, the lips of which were spilling juice to the point of my kiss. I stuck my tongue out to taste it, and licked up the side of her pussy, feeling her leg on one side of my tongue and her cunt to the other.

Her salty fluid tasted like candy, I nearly moaned out in desire as I lapped long and slow at the mess dripping to the side of her sex and then trailed my tongue back down, this time directly over her labia. I teased at the bottom where the juices were thick and pushed the tip of my tongue against her opening -- gently. But before diving in I repeated the whole cycle on her other leg, starting six inches away with kisses and finishing the a long lap up her side, the tip teasing her opening.

About to pull away from the tangy center of her womanhood Becky raised her hips to meet my mouth and my tongue found the opening, delving an inch or two into her sweetness. She bucked a few times against my tongue but I then pulled back and rose up and away from her.

This did cause Becky to finally open her eyes and look around, look at me, her face confused and wondering why I had stopped.

"I think we should probably try and get you back home," I said with a wink.

Curious thing, but the run back home was completely unencumbered by sore hips. We nailed a very nice eight minute mile pace for the two miles home and this left me wondering... was Becky really that sore today? Was she ever that sore when asking to be rolled and massaged?

As we slowed in front of the house we had very much worked up a sweat this time. Both of us glistened with wetness over our entire bodies and we were breathing hard. I motioned for Becky to follow me inside.

"Let's get a drink," I said.

I pulled a couple of Gatorade bottles from the fridge and we took long pulls off the orange fluid. We were both still dripping with sweat, Becky was leaning against the granite counter top in my kitchen as I approached her and took her by the waist. Her tiny frame was easy to heft so that she was sitting on the counter and I maintained constant eye contact with her as I moved between her legs and then tilted her back so she was reclining on her elbows.

I dropped to my knees and found the level of Becky's waist on the counter at the perfect height -- I was starring directly at her sweaty, messy pussy barely covered by the poor excuse of an undergarment.

I didn't even bother to pull it aside as I dropped my face to her center and licked, with much pressure, over the fabric. I ground the material into her cleft and sucked it back out, sucking the juice from the material before letting it snap back in to soak up more. I eventually tongued aside the cloth and moved my tongue directly into her sex, I lapped slowly, long, and with pressure up her folds and down into her hole. I could taste the sweat, and the juice of her excitement.

With my left hand I now held the crotch of her panties to the side and I sucked her entire mound into my mouth, licked inside and waited to feel her response. What did she like? Where were her hot spots? How could I make this worth the risk she was taking?

It didn't take much time to find a rhythm that Becky responded to. Within a few minutes Becky was bucking at my face as I held my position firm, tongue out, while she used me like a toy. On the downslope of her climax I sucked her overly sensitive tissue in between my lips and drank her in, creating enough friction to extend the sensation of her orgasm a few more precious seconds.

I rose, and Becky looked at me expectantly. She didn't make a move or sound, but waited for my response to what had just happened. I smiled at her gently and caressed her leg and she moved forward slightly, almost dutifully and reached for the bulge between my legs.

"Oh, you don't need to do that," I said, putting my hand on hers and moving it gently away from my swollen member. "You wore yellow, and that means your treat. Well... my treat actually, but I hope you enjoyed it too."

And I meant this. In the game as Kim and I played it, no reciprocal action was expected. This was a critical part of the game, the favors and anticipation and yellow meant eating her out, and in the case of Becky, that's what I had done. Gladly.

"Are you sure?" Becky asked.

But I gave her a reassuring smile and told her the pleasure was all mine.

"Do you think I'm awful?" She asked.

"Awful? Why would I think that?"

"Your married... I'm married..."

Her voice trailed off after that and so I decided I needed to clarify a few things.

"Yes, we are married," I started, "but trust me, Kim is ok with this and while we have not played like this with others, we have talked about it and Kim could sense something happening."

I let that settle in a bit before continuing on. Becky looked shocked at my confession, I could tell she wanted to dive into what I meant by 'Kim is ok with this' but I moved on instead.

"And yeah, you specifically are married. That's a bit awkward, I won't pretend otherwise. You're beautiful and you were making yourself available in a way. I think you wanted this, you seemed to enjoy it..."

"Yes..." she hissed, "But, Jeff..." Becky stammered.

"I won't say a thing. This is our secret. If you never want to see me again, if you don't want to run with me, I will follow your lead. Jeff, however, is your issue to deal with. He seems like a really great guy and I know, religion wise, this posses a problem for you two."

Becky broke a bit with my last remark.

"He's just never home, never interested!" she exclaimed. "And I have been so bored at home until you started training me."

I could not tell for certain, but it seemed she was on the verge of tears. Quite the contrary, however, as she continued, "Do you know we have never had oral sex? I rarely orgasm with Jeff, and we rarely have sex to begin with so do the math!"

Becky wasn't near tears, she was frustrated and nearing a stage of anger.

"That was soooo good, by the way," Becky hissed, her mood changing from sentence to sentence. "Was the yellow panty too bold a hint? I mean, you know... when you first told me of your game and you mentioned oral sex so casually I just could not get it out of my mind. I have wanted it for so long, but it's taboo for Jeff!"

Frankly, I was astonished. Oral sex was such a staple of our sex play, Kim and I relied on oral sex as a component of nearly every time we were together. When first married, it was much easier for Kim to climax by oral stimulation and having an oral fixation of my own, it was nothing other than pure pleasure to go down on her as often as she wanted.

"Is Jeff the only one you have ever been with?" I asked.

"Yes. We married when I was only 20, he was 25 and neither of us had sex of any kind before we married."

"Yikes!" I blurted out, but I couldn't imagine sex with only a single person your entire life. "I mean -- I guess that means it was special, right?"

"It means I didn't know what I was doing!" she exclaimed, but with a smile. "Can I say something else, without being too mean?" She waited for me to nod before continuing. "Jeff got heavy, so heavy right after we got married. His sex drive dropped off the chart and sex is awkward. I hate saying that, I love him dearly, but I don't crave him anymore. I am so bored... at home, and in the bedroom. Ugh!" She grimaced, maybe thinking she had said too much.

"Well, you're beautiful, a terrific runner, and you taste like honey," I said as I approached her again. I kissed her forehead and tried to not be too invasive. I only wanted to comfort her and let her know I understood, sort of, and was not judging her.

But as I gave her a slight hug she pulled me closer. I was certainly not against having more time with her but I was worried about her emotional state and if she were thinking rationally about the situation. But when she raised her head and moved her lips towards mine, it was too fast and too good to think rationally myself.

We kissed deeply, me standing and her still sitting on the counter. Her mouth and kisses felt urgent, new, wet, and full of want. That feels nice, even for a guy who has a terrific lover at home, her desire for me or for whatever she was after was manifest in the way she kissed. Her tongue was wild against mine, searching.

I lifted Becky a few inches from the counter as I slipped her yellow thong from around her waist and let it fall from the tips of her feet to the floor below. I sat her completely naked and wet bottom back on the counter.

It took only a quick flick of my hand to undo the tie to my running shorts and they fell easily to the floor. I don't think Becky even realized I had removed them when my cock touched her leg and she gasped at the feel of it, breaking our locked mouths.

She looked down and her hand searched with minor apprehension for the shaft near her leg, gripping it tightly as she moved her hand up and down it's length.

"Holy crap, it's so thick...," she said as we resumed kissing.

Her hand continued to pump my dick as I moved my arm around her back and brought her to the edge of the counter. My dick was now aimed at her pussy and her hand slipped away as she sensed the closeness to her sex.

"Are you sure you want this?" I asked with the head of my penis at the very gate of her cunt.

"Please... "

And with that I pushed inside of her, entirely. It was not an urgent or frantic move, instead I slowly penetrated her with a sure single thrust that filled her completely, causing her to moan into my neck.

"Is that ok?" I asked, before moving again.

"Uh huh..."

I pulled out all the way and then with more speed filled her again. I tried to kiss her but she buried her head into my shoulder and clenched at my back. I pushed in over and over while she seemed to be in a trance. I knew I could come at any moment, the slick newness of her tunnel offering new sensations and just the knowledge of who I was in providing a mental fuck for my mind.

"Can you come like this?" I asked her.

"I don't know..."

"Try touching yourself," I offered. "Have you ever used your fingers while he was in you?"

"Oh no way," she was nearly offended.

I wondered at that point if the poor girl had even ever masturbated. I grabbed her right hand and guided it to her pussy, pulling out enough for her to wedge in the fingers on top of her clit.

Her fingers barely moved at first, but as she became comfortable with the touch, with me, with our rhythm, I felt her hand start to find a pace of its own. I felt the fingers moving in a specific pattern, her speed picking up, her breathing getting deeper.

Her back arched as she found a second release for herself, her fingers making slick smacking noises as they flicked over her clit and her pussy clenched at my cock as her climax built and surged. The sensation of her inner muscles pulling and pulsing at my cock sent me over the edge too. I started to spasm and thrust into her with force, deeper than ever. I held myself still as I shot stream after stream of cum into her body.

Becky seemed alarmed at the realization that I was cumming inside her. I could sense the alarm and told her, between gasping breaths, that I had had a vasectomy. There would not be another child coming from this woman as a result of this act.