This entry wasn’t going to be posted . . . J’s initial reaction to my “mis-adventure” brought me down to earth to the realities of our situation. But over the past few days and nights as we both re-counted, re-explored, and re-lived the details of last Monday, it’s suddenly become alright again. Re-discovering each other all over again, has been just simply glorious and that feeling of release and “sharing” feeling has been an explosion of emotions and enjoyment all over again. We’ve been like newly-weds the last two nights, and especially again after this morning when we actually confronted the subject of my adventure.
So . . . whilst we all do things on the “spur of the moment” . . . things that we often live to regret . . . I’ve always believed that I was able to perfectly control my emotions and desires and never embarrass myself on a “personal relationship” issue. But on Monday I did something completely irrational and silly that could easily have gone completely wrong, or worse-still, ruined J’s trust in my ability to judge what is “ok” and what is not in our relationship.
I had booked a day-off from the office to manage a family appointment. On my way home from the first part of my errand, I decided to pop-into my gym as both J and I have had to miss our normal Sunday morning work-outs for the past few weeks. Unlike the normal weekend-mornings, there was virtually nobody else around and I had most of the equipment to myself.
After just a few minutes though I was joined by one of the regular trainers from our Sunday morning classes. He’s a young Canadian and has always been very helpful and attentive and has that bouncy outgoing charm and chat that seems natural for so many North Americans! J had often remarked in the past that he “obviously has a thing for you” and I’d enjoyed exchanging flirty comments and teasing with him on numerous occasions. Even without J around, it just seemed natural to continue with our normal conversations and teasing jokes and jibes. I explained the reasons for my unexpected week-day presence and found myself enjoying his undivided attention and company. He was just finishing his shift and his invitation to join him for a “winding-down session and massage” at his house “just around the corner” came so out-of-the-blue and yet so easily and naturally that to my complete astonishment I found myself saying “yes alright then” without stopping to think! It wasn’t until I gathered my belongings from the locker and walked out into the corridor where he was waiting that it suddenly hit me just exactly what I’d agreed to.
He was still chatting non-stop as we walked towards my car, his words and voice unintentionally distracting me from the sudden panic-attack thoughts racing round in my head. My throat was dry and my heart pumping as we reached the car with me desperately trying to think of some viable way of “changing my mind”. Here I was accepting directions from, and driving-off with, a young man whom I knew nothing about and who was almost half my age.
It was already too-late of course, and as I drove I felt tingly flashes of excitement as well as the flashes of doubt! “In for a penny, in for a pound” I reassured myself in my head. The house he shared was indeed only a few streets from the gym. And he led me into the kitchen explaining that his housemates would all be out at work doing “normal 9 to 5’s”.
He poured some juices from the fridge and with glasses in hand said “come on, we’ll be more comfortable in my room”. It was clearly a single-man’s room, clothes draped around in piles on a chair and a desk against the window. I recognised a Poster from the Gym on one wall with smaller pin-up type pictures of young ladies stuck randomly alongside. One of those hand-held type barbell exercise thingys sat on the end of the desk, amongst magazines and books. But before I had the time to take much more of my surroundings in, he was standing in front of me pulling me into an embrace . . . my head was swimming, I felt silly again, rather than aroused. Disorientated and suddenly out of place . . . the tingles were replaced again by an embarrassed, awkward feeling of silliness.
There was no question that he had a lovely body. I’d always admired his bulges and tight chest beneath his gym vest, and lovely long bronzed legs in his shorts and trainers. But I stood unable to respond at all as he continued his embrace and running his hands down my back and over my hips. I managed to extricate myself and stammer “you’re going too fast for me. I thought you just wanted to give me a massage!”
He apologised and pulled away and I managed to regain some of my composure as I navigated my way to the computer chair in front of his desk. “I like my shoulders done!” I told him. He stood behind me and began working on my shoulders and neck as I looked out of the window down onto the street below. I could see my car parked directly across the road and a mother pushing a pushchair along the pavement . . .
I was actually enjoying his massaging fingers across my shoulders and leant forward to give him more access to my back . . . Cooing my satisfaction and encouragement as his hands squeezed and kneaded up to my shoulders again. He then ran his fingers up the back of my neck through my hair onto the back of my head and it felt really lovely. I’d never had a head massage before! Lovely!
He was becoming bolder now as my pleasure at his massaging was audibly obvious. But of course it was just the soothing and relaxing pleasure of his massage, not of arousal, and as his fingers strayed down over my shoulders to my breasts I suddenly remembered where I was again and what his intentions and expectations obviously were. All those teasing and suggestive remarks that both I and J had made in his company on our Sunday morning sessions came back to me. Now I really was here, really was with him, and . . .
It did feel exciting, and naughty, and very, very silly as well. There was no turning back now . . . and, actually, despite my misgivings later, and J’s response, and the realisation of how much I’d compromised both myself and J, . . . at that precise time, I didn’t want to stop. I was suddenly enjoying what was happening, and what I was doing. I wanted to be there, and I wanted him to be excited, I wanted to excite him. I wanted to touch him and have him touch me. I wanted to be what I was, an older woman exciting and arousing this younger man who could have had any number of the younger, more supple, more attractive women I’d often see in the gym.
I stood up and this time embraced him. Now I was running my hands down his back, running my hands over his hips and around his waist. I could feel the bulge in his shorts. I pulled back a little “you can take my top off if you like” I told him. I raised my arms to help him lift it up over my head, and let out little moans of encouragement as he bent down to suck at my nipples. I didn’t need to look at them to know they were hard and straining erect, I could feel them!!! As he continued to suck, I let him slide down my tracksuit pants over my bottom, and I started to lift his own vest up over his chest. He had to pull away to free his head and arms, but then bent forward again to continue sucking at me. I was reaching down into his shorts now and sliding the palm of my hand over his hardness, and then with both my hands I grasped the waistband of his shorts and started to pull them down. We had to release each other to continue shaking our clothes, and trainers, off, before he pulled me down onto the bed with him. He felt smooth and hard all over and I wanted to lift up and look at him . . . and he was smooth . . . completely smooth all over! His body was just as nice as it always looked under his vest, but I’d imagined him to be bigger and more muscular down there as well, and had to consciously hide my disappointment that he actually wasn’t any different. In proportion with his muscular chest and arms, his erection was much less impressive than I’d hoped it would be . . . certainly thinner than V. I started stroking him there but he was already turning me over and climbing over me and sucking at my breasts again. I held his head in my hands and guided him from one to the other and tried to adjust myself beneath him more comfortably as his hands were reaching between my legs.
His rubbing, and pushing my legs wider with his own, was all happening too quickly though, and I pulled his head up away from me and said “slow down a bit, let me get comfortable”. I pulled myself up the bed further and then reached down between our tummies. I held him with one hand and started to rub the head of his willy over my lips and clit. He was propped up with an arm either side of me, looking down at me guiding him over and around my pussy. “You look beautiful down there” he said. I could only think to answer “so do you”, as I continued rubbing myself with him. I’d never been with a completely clean-shaven man before, it seemed strange and arousing at the same time and I liked looking down between us and seeing his arms and tummy flexing and straining.
I guided him into me and then lifted my legs around his bottom and hugged myself around his shoulders and up into his chest, as he pushed into me. His stroking was nice at first, slow and rhythmic, but he then started pushing faster and faster. I started thrusting back, not through a feeling of enjoying it more, but almost remotely . . . feeling like I had to respond in the same way to make it seem like I was enjoying it too. I could tell he was certainly enjoying it, and he was lifting himself up now, reaching down with his hands under my back to lift me more upwards and into him. We both had our eyes open looking at each other . . . He smiled at me and said “you look beautiful”. I couldn’t answer as he stroked more and more. With S, or V, I would have been able to say “slow down” or “let’s change to this”, but now I couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t that I felt that he was more in control than I wanted, but more that I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t enjoying his attentions. I wanted to be wanted, I wanted to be desired like this. If this is what he wanted me to be, I wanted to be it for him. And he was certainly able to keep his rhythm and stroking going. We rocked back and forth . . . for what seemed like quite a long time . . . it was nice, and it was stimulating, but . . .
Then I began to sense and feel him changing his pushing and thrusting. His eyes closed and his face began to tighten. “On my tummy” I told him, trying to gently pull away from him. But he was gripping me tighter and now pumping quicker. “Why?” he was gasping. “Because I want you to, not inside” I was saying. I had managed to pull him out now and slide further under him, clamping my legs around his bum and thrusting myself against him in rhythm to meet his pumping. “Why?” he continued asking, but not relaxing his pumping for one stroke. I kept clamped around him, bucking back in time against him. “Because that’s where I like it. Come on. Come on”.
He let go of my hips falling forwards to balance himself with his hands on either side of me on the bed again. We were both gasping, him with his coming as he splurted out on my tummy, me with the exertion of his pumping me back and forth on the bed and trying to keep my legs clamped around his bottom. We rolled over onto our sides and both relaxed our grips on each other. I slid my head up onto his shoulder and relaxed into his chest as he rolled back onto his back. He was panting slightly and I could smell that we were sweaty as well as spermy. He asked if I wanted a towel, but I shook my head and told him I just wanted to lay there for a while. He said “I’ve been wanting to do that since the first day I saw you.” I giggled and replied “Me too”. It wasn’t a lie, I had wanted to that first morning when I’d seen him and we’d started chatting about how long J and I had been members. I stroked his chest and told him how smooth and firm he felt. We continued complimenting each other until I changed the subject matter to questions about the reasons he’d come to London, his family and life back home and what his plans were.
We’d been chatting for 15 or 20 minutes when he started wanting to stroke me again, but I told him I had to go as I had some important errands. He continued chatting as we dressed, offering coffee and wanting to “arrange another time”. . . I felt embarrassed and awkward again now, anxious just to leave and gather my thoughts. As we stood inside the front door saying our goodbyes, I could tell he felt as awkward as I did. I crossed the road and got into the car without looking up. As I indicated and pulled away I glanced across to see him standing on the doorstep watching me as I drove away.
My heart was thumping again as I drove home and rushed to shower and change. (I really did have to be somewhere else and was running late). It had been unfulfilling and yet tremendously exciting and naughty . . . I was bursting to tell J. It was hours before I would see him, and it wasn’t something I’d be able to tell him about over dinner!
I phoned him on his mobile. Blurting out what had happened, with a mixture of excitement and yet embarrassment . . . I knew it had been silly . . . and dangerous . . . but we’d often talked about it, surely he’d be excited too, and tell me how much of a “turn-on” it was.
It wasn’t the right time to call. It wasn’t the right time to tell him. And he said everything that I’d thought about as I showered. I’d gone back to a strangers home, someone I didn’t really know. What if he’d turned-out to be completely different to how I’d thought? And, we’d been going to the gym for years, everyone knew us there. He is bound to tell someone. And . . . all the other things that I’d been asking myself since . . .
For the first time in memory, an evening following “an adventure” wasn’t the usual wonderful time that J and I would normally spend together . . . but, over the next three nights and mornings as we’ve talked, and enjoyed the excitement, we’ve agreed . . . it has happened, something we can’t turn the clock back on, a moment that possibly would never have happened if we were just like most normal couples or friends that we know, or . . . then again, perhaps it is just as likely to happen to one of those normal couples but they just wouldn’t be able to deal with it in the way we are able to. To treat it as exactly for what it was. A spur-of-the-moment adventure, not life-changing, not meant to change anyone’s life or relationship, just a moment of fun and excitement that we should be thankful we are able to experience.
This morning I was able to chat for a few minutes with my young man. I was flattered that he wants to arrange “another personal massage” session. J and I had already agreed that although he enjoys knowing that S and V know “he knows”, in this instance, we felt it best that our gym instructor should not be told of our “unusual” arrangement and should think that J is completely unaware of the events of last Monday!!!
On Tuesday morning, I’d told both S and V that I wouldn’t be available during this week (to great disappointment from them both), because in the light of what had happened the day before, I knew I just wouldn’t have been myself . . . but this morning has just been so wonderful, it’s almost been like we’ve discovered our adventure and excitement for the very first time all over again.
