Mandy Stevenson hated the gym, not the gym itself just the agony of having to perform the grueling regimen day after day, week after week, consuming what seemed like all of her free time. A hectic schedule as a sales representative for a cosmetic company, deadlines, sales quotas, and the pressures of family life weighed heavily on her, so heavily that she had begun to skip workouts from time to time, and didn't feel guilty about it at all. Today was just such a day; but to her credit she steeled her nerve and made her way to the dressing room, changed into her workout clothes and started warming up before the aerobics class began. Mandy worked out five times a week; every other day was an aerobic day, in between were weight lifting days devoted to certain trouble spots of her body. Being thirty five years old meant staving off gravity and enhancing her already good genes, but it was hard work.
Mandy was married to John Stevenson, an attorney for a small law firm. They were quite happy and seldom disagreed on anything important. John understood Mandy's drive to maintain her attractive looks and supported her in her professional career. Both maintained long office hours and worked at least part of the weekends if not most of them. This arduous lifestyle suited them fine; most of their friends were also business associates, and they had no children to distract them from their work. Over the years, as they delved into their careers more and more, home life and most especially sex was relegated to pedestrian status: Routine only on holidays and the odd long weekend. This is what brings us to Mandy's current predicament.
As she finished her stretching and joined the other tortured souls forming up for class, she caught sight through the large glass window of the exercise room of a young man, twenty-something, working on a weight machine in the adjacent weight room. Her class began and she realized she had been staring and missed the opening steps; hurrying she joined in the movements, hoping that no one had noticed her distraction. As the class went on Mandy's eyes followed the young man from machine to machine, barely conscious of her intention to do so, but intent just the same. When the aerobics class began to warm down, and Mandy had an unobstructed view of the young man, she marveled quietly to herself that his lean muscular frame was nearly perfect in proportion.
He was working on the trap-pull-down exercises that made each muscle in his back flex and roll as his arms were pulled to his side then extend back above his head. She stood transfixed as he repeated the exercise, and each time she would flush with the warmth of exhilaration, as her eyes followed the beads of sweat as they traced their way downward, searching a trail down each perfectly defined crevice in his back, disappearing in shadow of his lower torso that stood in stark contrast to the bulging knots of flesh above. A primal urge erupted as Mandy felt a bead of sweat on her abdomen run inexorably along her pubic hair and across her clitoris sending a shockwave of intense sensation through her as though she were electrocuted. Mandy broke from her trance and hurried to the dressing room, changed and left the gym forcing herself not to look back for the young man.
Arriving home after eight had been usual for an aerobic night, John seldom came home before ten o'clock himself. Mandy ran a bath, grabbed her sales brochures and settled back to soak and read, but she couldn't concentrate and soon found her thoughts returning to the young man's image as she gently placed a finger to the soft folds between her legs and gingerly tried to persuade the clitoris to repeat the sensation she had experienced in the gym earlier. But try as she might, her manual stimulation failed to excite the requisite response. Disappointed, she finished her bath and completed her evening grooming routine.
With so little time to spare Mandy often did her laundry as time allowed and started a small load, while she nursed a small glass of wine. She was wandering through the hallway when she heard the spin cycle start and a devious thought ran through her mind, she recalled as a girl how she had sat on her mother's washing machine imagining what an orgasm with a boy was like as the machine vibrated her into ecstasy. She turned and went back to the wash room, pressed her mound to the corner of the rapidly vibrating machine and strained to remember the young man once again. In seconds her brow was beaded with sweat her pulse was racing and the vibrations were producing the desired stimulation, her mind grasped at the image of her young man, her hands following the beads of sweat as they mingled with his muscular frame, she was reaching for the bulge she imagined was there in his shorts, her climax was close, he was calling her name
"Mandy…Mandy,"
"Yes," she moaned under her breath. Then again,
"Mandy, where are you?"
Mandy froze. The voice she had heard was John's, not her imagination, "Yes…I'm in the wash room." She called out, quickly trying to compose herself, her heart betraying her effort as it pounded out its staccato pulse in her breast. Her face was flush with the excitement and the embarrassment of having come so close to being caught masturbating. But for her chagrin, John was none the wiser and just began his shower, and readied for bed.
Mandy lay still upon the bed awaiting her husband, one recurring thought obsessing her unrequited mind; her young man's image delivering her an orgasm, the orgasm she desperately needed now, 'god was John going to take all night' she wondered. And then he was there, unaware of her agitated state of arousal. He slid between the sheets, reached for the light beside the bed, flicked the switch off, and darkness consumed them.
As lust fires roared through Mandy, melting her muscles, she reached for John's pajamas. A curling line of fine light brown hair arrowed down from his navel and began to spread just as it was covered by the elastic of his pajama bottoms. Gripping the waist band between her thumb and forefinger, Mandy ran it down over the bulge of his cock which lay flaccid, nestled between his thighs.
"Hey, what's the idea, I have to work early tomorrow?" John complained. Excitement over what was to come was roaring through her as she shoved his pajamas down around his calves, then knelt to help him get his feet free of the pants. Right in front of her face was his powerful cock. A few curling strands of his pubic bush had swathed around the shaft giving it a gift wrapped appearance.
As she knelt at his feet, Mandy looked up at him, her hazel eyes glittering with excitement. With feathery, delicate fingers she stroked the now rapidly stiffening tower of his prick. The cords of muscle in John's throat stood out with the strain as he combed his fingers through Mandy's curling hair.
Deliberately taunting John, Mandy tickled the sensitive skin on the insides of his strong thighs. She pushed back between his thighs, her fingers gently lifting and weighing the ovoid, sperm-heavy masses of his testicles. She saw his belly ripple with excitement from her bold explorations.
The first Mandy saw of that hard rod was its curving, bulbous head-just the tip of it-just its shy slit. She pulled the top of his pajamas that still obscured his man-meat, exposing more and more of his cock, the white pinkish cap of the glans, the groove under it, and the special sensitive wedge on the underside where the groove curved upward toward the slit, like the top curve of a valentine. Then she was exposing the pale shaft with its soft skin and the bulging ridges of its veins that slid over the hard, hot core. And behind that ready, erect phallus, like an artistic backdrop, were the dark blond, almost brown curls of his pubic hair.
