Hello, my name is Karen. I'm writing this story because I still can't believe this has happened to me and I guess the only people I feel comfortable sharing this with are complete strangers.
I guess I should start out by telling you something about myself. I'm 36 years old, 5'7 and about 133lbs. I have long red hair (just above my waist) and green eyes. I have 36C breasts and keep myself in pretty good shape. I'm a mother of two beautiful girls, one is 3 Β½ the other is only 8 months. I had gotten a little heavy during my second pregnancy (150 lbs YIKES!), so shortly after I had the baby I decided to get into shape.
I began jogging and doing Tai Bo classes just 4 weeks after my daughter was born. Amazingly I had gotten down to my original dress size (6) in less than six months. My legs and ass became firm again and I finally was almost completely happy with my body. (Is anyone ever really happy with their body?) One of the benefits of the second pregnancy however, was my breasts retained their fullness bringing them to an astonishing 36D (which cost me a small fortune in bras!).
My husband is a Colonel in the Army and is gone more often than not. He's been in the Army since just before we were married (12 years) and it seems, at times more in love with the Army than he is with the girls and I. Being the wife of a Colonel affords us certain privileges on post. We live in a big red brick house with tall white pillars on a street covered in pine trees. He makes good money and we have access to some of the exclusive areas of the military installation; such as the Officer's club, the Officer's wives club and the Officer's gym. These places offer us some exclusion and a break from the young, immature, enlisted men.
Every morning at 0600 (as the Colonel would say), or 6 AM, I go for a walk around the post. I pride myself in how good I look, especially for being a middle aged woman. Usually there's a certain place I like to workout. There is a gym on the south side of post that the infantry guys use. It's for enlisted men only. I would hardly call them men; some of them are just out of high school, barely 17.
I could use the exclusive Officer's gym if I wanted too, but what fun is it seeing a bunch of old men with bear guts running on a treadmill. No, I go to this gym for the atmosphere. If they knew I was a Colonels wife working out in there it would certainly upset the balance of things. As it is, they don't know who I am so I get a lot of attention. It's all harmless fun. I usually show up there around 0630 wearing tight short shorts (the kind that your ass cheeks hang out of if you bend down too much), tennis shoes and a tank top with sports bra, barely containing my ripe, full middle aged breasts. I normally wear my long red hair up in a ponytail, which seems to drive men wild.
I go to work out for the sake of working out of course, but that's not the only reason. I go to be watched by young horny enlisted boys and admittedly to watch them. My favorite thing to do is the hamstring curl. That's where you lay on your stomach and hook your legs into the bar of the machine and pull your heels to your buttocks. I love pushing my ass up in the air as I curl the weight with my legs. I pretend not to notice the young studs staring at my flexing ass cheeks. I like to look through the corner of my eye and see their young hard cocks spring to life as I push my married, high society butt into the air with each lift of the weight. Sometimes I'll stare right at a boy's crotch, looking ominously at his boyhood, until he turns beet red and shys away. I love being in control and teasing these young soldier boys.
There are few things sexier than a young man in tight shorts, straining the Army issued fabric with his rising boyhood. If those boys knew I was an officer's wife they would want me that much more. It's like wanting the principals daughter because she's off limits, taboo. All in all it's harmless fun, a way for a sexually repressed wife to get a little release and live out a little fantasy.
One day I noticed a boy that was different and without sounding clichΓ© or having the benefit of hindsight, he looked a little familiar. He was black; of course there were other black boys, but not quite like him. He was tall, maybe 5'10 and built like a brick shithouse. This soldier had a body that belonged on the cover of a magazine. He always wore baggy physical training uniforms, which I thought was modest but I knew he was hiding an incredible body underneath. I've never really been attracted to black men, but lately I've started to notice them. Their bodies are usually muscular, they're cocky and they love white women. The other thing I noticed about this boy was his jock. I could tell he was wearing a jockstrap and by the looks of it, he needed one to contain that bulge. He was handsome, built, and it looked like he was packing, the problems were; I'm married, I'm white, I'm old enough to be his mother, I'm an officer's wife, and he didn't look a day over 18.
Although it began innocently enough, we began flirting with each other. Ron would help me spot my weights; give me tips on how to better "execute" as he called it, the exercise motion. One day he asked me out for a drink, I kindly declined saying I was happily married. "And besides aren't you too young to drink?" I asked. He said, "No Ma'am, you can drink at 18 on post at the enlisted club."
"There was no way in hell this Officer's wife was going to be caught dead drinking in the enlisted club with a black teenager!" I thought to myself. I didn't tell him that because I didn't want to blow my cover. He was persistent though and kept asking me out over and over again. Each day I got up, I looked forward to seeing him, wanting to tease him by thrusting my bottom up in the air on the workout machine.
Sometimes I would walk past him, gently pushing my ass into his crotch, acting like nothing happened. Sometimes I would swing my hand and brush it against his package while changing a weight, or moving to another machine. I love teasing young men and I just knew he went back to the barracks every morning and jacked that big black dick, thinking about me. (Little did I know, as I would find out later, just how wrong that thought was.)
One day my husband and I got into a huge fight over the phone (he was deployed overseas), I was hurt and angry. I had hoped he would call back and apologize for some of the awful things he said, but he didn't. 4 days went by and no phone call. I was upset, and I was getting a lot of attention from this total stranger, which was something I desperately needed.