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Another tale, based on various facts, but ultimately only fantasy.
Sue, our neighbor, started the process to get a motorcycle license last fall. She’d borrowed her older sister’s bike to practice on, then spent a number of hours in the mild autumn air tooling around. Her sister had also loaned her a helmet, a couple of jackets, and gloves, but apart from the helmet, none of it really fit.
Prompting me to offer her one of my old jackets. It was a water proof synthetic, had a removable liner, and a fair bit of padding at the elbows and shoulders, with an integrated (and likely not very useful) back protector. Not a bad beginner’s jacket, though it did take a couple days for her husband and I to finally convince her to buy better gloves (neither her sister’s nor mine had really fit). Reasonably outfitted, she started to spend more time riding.
We both work less than 40 hours a week, though our schedules don’t really overlap. But on Thursday, a cold and rainy late fall day, I saw her getting off the borrowed bike. Taking off the wet helmet, shaking her dry, shortish, natural gray hair out, it was obvious that the weather had surprised her a bit. The gloves followed, clearly soaked, her fingers white and stiff.
“Riding in the rain long?” I asked, walking towards their garage, into which she was wheeling the single cylinder BMW.
“In the cold rain,” she replied. “And much too long. My hands are frozen stiff. Thanks again for the jacket – it really helps.”
I modestly agreed the jacket was useful, noting that I’d worn it for years. Watching as she unzipped it, then shrugged it off into my waiting hand, a number of drops hitting the garage floor as I shook it lightly.
She next shrugged out of riding pants shoulder straps, and said “I’m planning to drink a cup of coffee, then get into the jacuzzi to warm up. Want to join me?”
She was bent over taking off a boot as I replied “Sure, though without coffee.”
“We could also open a bottle of wine. The kids won’t be home for a few hours, and I’ve nothing else planned.”
By now, we were inside the house, the garage closed. She took and hung up the wet jacket, both of us noting that certain arrangements needed to be made to handle such riding accessories, as the jacket dripped from the hook. She’d been wearing a tight sweater and a shirt under it, and as always, a bra.
Unlike my wife, or my bi-friend and her quite small breasted partner, Sue is a dedicated wearer of bras, for reasons that have never been apparent to me. Not that she is shy about her breasts, exactly – her bras tend to the utilitarian generally, though consistently worn. Not that I don’t find it sexy. My wife, when she wears bras at all, favors the same general style – no wires or molded cups, though Sue’s bras tend to have a bit more padding, keeping her nipples modestly from view. Unlike the pokies my wife’s bras display when her nipples are hard.
Sue’s newly acquired riding pants were just as wet, and after stepping out of them, she hung them above her jacket. By now, still covered but dry, having removed her cold and wet outer layer, she turned into the kitchen. I followed, noticing how her ass moved under the clinging thermal ski tights, surprised to see that apparently she wasn’t wearing panties, the stretch material showing off her ass curves wonderfully. She switched on the coffee machine, turned to me, and took off her sweater. Her nipples were visibly erect, an unexpected treat, explained by how cold she become.
Her appearance was decidedly enticing, especially the contrast of how skin tight her clothes were in light of the fact how they covered her everywhere, except hands and head.
She made coffee, took a sip from the small cup, then asked what sort of wine would be most enjoyable. Being predictable, I suggested prosecco, just like the last times we had been alone in the hot bubbling water. Prompting her to move near, open the refrigerator to take out a chilled bottle, leaning towards the cabinet next to me while taking out two flutes.
“Want to drink canlı bahis it in the jacuzzi?” A somewhat leading question, considering getting drunk and being naked in the water was something we obviously enjoyed, alone or with our spouses.
I filled our glasses while she finished her coffee. She went to get a couple of the bath towels kept in the largish downstairs bathroom. Standing in front of the sliding glass door to the porch, Sue suggested undressing inside, followed by getting into the tub after taking off its fairly heavy insulated cover. “Quickly” she added, “I’m cold enough already.”
A fact still nicely apparent to me. Catching my attention, she grinned, saying that it was probably something I’d already noticed, right? Smiling back, I agreed. We undressed, close enough to need to pay attention to the other’s motions. She took off her top and bra as I removed my jeans, then she leaned against me taking off her tights. Viewing her hanging breasts, I noted how similar but delightfully different from my wife’s they were, even to the way the nipples crinkled.
Even through my shirt, her hand was notably cold. Pushing the blue tights past her thighs made her shift to one foot as her hand pulled a leg past her knee, giving me a fine view of her thick black fur.
Memories of our first time alone in the jacuzzi rose, adding to the enticing view. Remembering stroking her soft leg hair, then playing with the floating curled hair under her arms, before my fingers slid through her then somewhat sparse bush. Never quite playing with her exposed pussy, as she spread her legs wider, head back and eyelids fluttering, the water pulsing between her thighs, her lower leg floating against my almost erect rod. Both us remaining in a certain framework of propriety, much like that of my past experiences with another married woman, renting a room from her and husband decades ago.
That first time alone in the jacuzzi, it was clear that her pubic hair had been shaved a few months previously, for a bit of medical attention as she explained. Unlike myself, having till now never cut any pubic hair. That evening, on our second bottle of prosecco, various combinations of flowing, jetting, and pulsing water were shared, most not that interesting to me – but then, I like hot tubs, compared to whirlpools or jacuzzis.
It had been easy for both of us to enjoy ourselves then, naked friends in a private setting, male and female sharing an adult attraction. In all honesty, the mood was different from similar times with my bi-friend, where orgasm was most certainly a welcome thing to share, without concern.
This time, after undressing, Sue slid the glass patio door open. We went out quickly, doubling the jacuzzi’s padded gray cover before moving it out of the way. I have always enjoyed watching active naked women, this time being no exception. Breasts are not meant to be bound, at least in an intimate setting. The fact that we had already been naked together several times, both alone and with our spouses, added its own familiarity.
Following her as we retrieved the large towels, our glasses, and the bottle from inside, returning to the chill damp outside was less than pleasant, though the steam rising from the still water was inviting. She stopped near the water’s edge, turning to me with her glass raised. We clinked glasses, drinking deeply. She stepped carefully into the water, first on the molded seat ledge. Moving onwards through the water, she turned at the corner before sitting down, holding her glass above the water.
I joined her, sitting close, and we toasted again. As always, the water felt incredibly hot to me, making the cool drink an interesting contrast. The water temperature is set to 98°, which always feels hot for the first few minutes, as I have a distinctly limited tolerance for temperature extremes.
We both settled in, quickly drinking most of our first glass. She stretched out, eyes closed, her legs beginning to float. Hesitantly, I let my legs spread. Closing my eyes, enjoying the desire to feel her skin against mine bahis siteleri in the water, though aware it might not occur.
The first touch of her leg against mine led to our legs remaining in contact, letting the water support them. Sitting up, breaking contact, she finished her prosecco, setting the glass on the edge. I did the same, watching her the entire time, aware that my cock had begun to grow.
In the warmth of the jacuzzi, her nipples were flatter than before, more appealing than the hard nipples of a cold woman with goosefless on her breasts.
Settling back down, feeling the first effects of the prosecco, I asked “Enjoy the bike between your legs?,” in very non-serious fashion.
“Riding is fun – but not like that.”
“That was a sort of trick question, honestly – no woman I’ve ridden with, at least of those I’ve known well enough to ask, has ever been turned on by riding. Neither have I, for that matter.”
We talked a bit more about riding. With the glasses empty, it seemed enough time had passed to refill them. Again we toasted, carefully, over the water. Coincidentally, our outstretched legs brushed, first briefly, then more consistently.
Till now, the jets had been still, the water clear. Catching each other looking over and down, we grinned, drinking our second glass quite quickly, legs in floating contact. Letting ourselves drift together, rubbing gently, enjoying the feel of another’s skin in the heated water.
After a comfortable while, she asked about whether we’d need a second bottle, remarking that no one would be home for at least a couple of hours. Taking the first bottle, I carefully filled our glasses evenly, toasting again. Getting drunk naked in water is something I’ve done every summer for more than a dozen years with a bi-friend. Enjoying gin and tonics on cloudless hot summer days, sitting out on a raft in the middle of a nude lake, is not the same, exactly, but the fundamental attraction is similar.
She finished her glass, grinning again, then stood up in front of me, saying she’d get the next bottle. Reaching for the empty bottle between us, her breasts hanging gorgeously, an irresistible sight. Much the same as watching her uncovered ass as she walked inside, after quickly toweling off.
She had to work a bit at closing the sliding door one handed, before crossing the covered patio and going down the stone steps, opening the bottle and filling both glasses from outside of the jacuzzi. Placing her breasts, with their now crinkling nipples, at eye level. She was a touch too eager pouring the first time, her glass foaming over.
Taking a step closer to me, she spent more time on filling my glass, her now slightly turned and free breast swaying slightly. She then came back up the stone steps, stepping out of her sandals as she stepped into the hot water, her body gloriously near as she sat back down.
“Do you mind me turning the jets on?” she asked, a hint of a smile playing around her mouth.
“Of course not – besides, water jets can be more fun in their way than riding, I’ve heard.” It was a bit daring to say such, but we were both quite relaxed by this point.
She turned to push at a couple of buttons, turning on the lights, then activating the pumps to create fairly powerful jets. Ironically, I’m not really a fan of such jets, though as I already remarked, other people have a different reaction.
Sue’s sigh was subtle as she settled down in a particular spot, prompting me to let my leg float against hers, my hand reaching down to begin stroking her leg. She let her eyes close as I continued to explore her unshaven leg. Which is delightful to feel, the hair fine and so soft, as she has said she has never shaved her legs. Slowly, I began to let my hand drift higher, along her thigh.
“That’s really nice like that” she said softly, her hand slipping down between her legs. It soon became apparent that the reason had nothing to do with modesty. Unlike the still water’s clearness, the bubbling currents made it difficult to focus on details underwater, at bahis şirketleri least visually. But the gentle widening of her legs along with a certain expression beginning to form led me to think that she might just be starting to play with herself.
I was hard by this point, but still careful not to do anything to unduly disturb Sue. Though trying to make her more horny was acceptable, as my hand slid along her thigh, then over her hip, fingers curling over her soft ass. Her nipples were right at water level, presenting a lovely sight, prompting me to ask if things were still really nice like that, hand now starting to ride up her back.
“Oh yes” she sighed, raising her head to look between my legs. “Nice cock” she murmured, “why don’t you touch it.”
“Oh yes,” she sighed again, my hand having glided near her breast before sinking again.
“You’re enjoying a water jet, aren’t you?” I asked, just before touching my cock.
“Yes, it always feels so good to do this when I’m in the right mood.”
By now, she was looking intently at my face, undoubtedly recognizing the same expression that I’d seen take over her face, one of a turned-on adult playing with themselves, just giving in to the pleasure.”
“But here is more fun, isn’t it? My wife loves water jets.” The conversation was considerably less smooth than written words convey,
“I know – she’s told me. Even about getting off in public at the sauna.”
My cock was rigid in my stroking fist when Sue added “she also told me you got hard watching her.”
“I get hard watching a sexy woman pleasure herself – as you can see, I’m sure.”
My hand was cupping her soft breast, and her breathing was becoming more regular and deeper. She shifted a bit, placing a sexy tit more firmly in my spread hand, prompting me to begin to squeeze it. Her moans were low as she reached over to touch my rigid cock, as another married woman started turning me on so good.
“I love watching a woman in the water,” I moaned, words just escaping as the pleasure grew. “My wife also likes having her ass fingered when cumming with a vibrator or showerhead. Do you?” However, I did not wait for an answer before taking my hand off my cock and sliding it between her butt cheeks.
“She never .. that’s nice .. like that .. never said .. said that .. oh yeah .. do that.”
“Everyone likes getting horny,” I said, “this is just a way to get even hornier.”
“Yes .. oh yes .. fuck yes.”
By now, Sue had gone beyond conversation, her desires beyond words as she rode herself to orgasm. Which I would not be sharing, as a male orgasm is so much messier. The same applied at the sauna with my wife – she could cum without caring, and did, but in the end, I felt a certain reasonable restraint.
Allowing me to focus on the differences in sounds and motions and reactions as Sue started to cum with my finger pressing deeper into her yielding ass. I squeezed her nipple between pressed fingers, feeling the contractions between her legs grow more intense. Her unshaven leg was rubbing against my cock, providing even more insight into what she wanted, especially after she started cumming.
“Stop .. stop ..” I heard, not knowing precisely how long she had been cumming, my finger in her ass as she played with her pussy. Meaning I only continued, shifting pressure and motion until I felt her hand began to move over her cunt, playing with herself again.
After cumming at least a couple of more times, weightless leg so sexy against my cock, she again began to beg for me to stop. Considering that I was only fingering her ass, a very reasonable request to be followed. Though if it had been my hand at her cunt, I would have made her cumm at least a couple of more times, particularly after she begins to beg, until unable to stop moaning from the pleasure. Much as I did to another married woman, decades ago.
Married adults don’t stop being adults because they are married – and certain adult pleasures are impossible to resist, particularly when a certain shared awareness of boundaries exist. While enjoying the pleasures within them, even when they are likely just one time events.
And I still haven’t had the chance to ask Sue whether she has enjoyed the coil vibrator I gave her years ago.
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