Houses in the neighborhood where I live have narrow frontage to the street. Many have a deck in front that is 4 steps off the ground. Broadleaf trees across the sidewalk are spaced about 30 feet apart. In front of some houses one can sit on a bench facing the building.
A weekend morning at 7 finds me sitting at my kitchen table sipping a second coffee. In front of me is the dirty breakfast plate that once held eggs over easy, bacon and toast. On my right sits my wife of 7 years Jenny Longfellow.
A lot has changed since we met and started dating. Jenny went on to become a psychologist working with gays and lesbians. I didn't know it back in the day but she was about to start her masters program at NYU. I took a different track going on to become an accountant at a local CPA firm.
I had met Jenny 10 years ago at the well-known lesbian haunt Henrietta Hudson. The then wild 24 year old was clad in just bikini panties and bra when our eyes met. Her curvaceous body is an inverted triangle shape with generous boobs that I found to be spectacular.
Her sense of style was just what I expected. Blond hair is a buzzcut on the sides, a typical lesbian haircut. The face was (and still is) plain. She wore stud earrings.
"I'm going for a run in a little while."
A "gym rat", Jenny preferred to run on the treadmill or peddle the elliptical. She had always insisted that too many dogs bark angrily as though they want to bite a passerby.
I, on the other hand, have never worked out in a gym, preferring instead the fresh air. Besides, girls don't need to be muscular. It's not feminine.
"I can't talk you into coming to the gym?"
"Run with me and I'll become a gym rat with you."
On that note we changed into workout clothes. She favors her black leggings with black camo racerback tee while I prefer my gray jogging shorts with the black sports bra.
For several days modesty has prevented me from acting on the notion to run naked through the neighborhood. This day modesty was about to give way to daring.
I have the body of a fashion model though I've never actually been one. My height is 5 9 and weight 134 pounds. My breasts are a modest B cup.
I had been jogging at an average speed and perspiring. The App on my phone counts my steps as the seconds pass.
A thousand steps from the house I turned back. Having left my workout clothes on the deck, I started out again, this time on what would be a four mile run skyclad.
This fresh air caressing body feels so good. Neighbors will get an eyeful I'm sure. Maybe my picture will end up on Facebook but so what if it does. Being an exhibitionist is so much fun.
Occasionally I like to masturbate, an act reserved for times when Jen's period precludes sex. Anyway, I thought of her with every stride but refrained from touching myself.
Jenny was there to greet me when I returned home. I had noticed that my clothes were not where I had left them.
"You look hot."
I giggled then asked, "perspiration hot or the other kind."
"Both," she replied.
"So are you ready to do me?"
