"Private Di Bristol reporting for Boot Camp, Sarge. All shipshape and Bristol fashion", said a bright and bubbly Bridget as Stefan opened his front door.
"What are you like? You're kinda mixing your metaphors, I think but I'll let it go. And what's this with "Di"?"
"It was my radio name, my brand. Just using my middle name, instead of my first and my maiden rather than married surname. The bosses didn't think that Bridget Offerton would have the same draw as "Di Bristol" even though it was the same little old me."
"Interesting, good to see you keen for your workout, though."
Stefan eyed the vision before him up and down. Hair tied back in a scrunchy, beautiful beaming face looking up at him and that curvy body hidden away in a leisure suit with the open zippered top and slightly low cut t-shirt offering just a hint of what he knew lay beneath.
"Yes, thanks for walking me home last night. I was quite squiffy after those mojitos. Sorry I couldn't persuade you to stay over.."
"Well, we're in a formal relationship to better the physical and mental wellbeing of one another during this health crisis. It was my duty as your bubble partner. Besides, we'll spend the night together tonight, for sure, your place or mine?"
"Ooh, come to mine for tea and you can have me for breakfast.. I mean, breakfast with me!"
"Both, I hope, anyway follow me", said Stefan in fake stern manner.
Stefan led Bridget past the stairs on which he had impatiently fucked her doggystyle within minutes of her crossing his threshold and down the stairs that led to his business premises. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, glimpsing left, they both must have been conscious of the fact that they had shared a shower cubicle there for a second saucy session. But it was Stefan who had to get a hold of himself. He had said it himself "exercise not sexercise". Yes, it ticked the physical and mental wellbeing boxes but his older lover had a genuine desire to get a bit fitter and he was the professional that could assist her toward that goal. "Down, boy!" he thought.
Stefan led Bridget past the sauna area and dip pools through to the back of the basement where the gym could be used either air-conditioned with the doors closed or as was more appropriate on this warm spring day with the doors open and the sunken courtyard available for outdoor exercising.
"Now, I told you, I'm no PT but I've devised a program for you which will gently introduce you back into a regular exercise regime." said Stefan.
"You know I'm no PT either. Have I ever left you unsatisfied? With a full ball sack?"
"Oh, give us a chance. It's hard enough restraining myself as it is without you and your innuendo. Now take this sheet, follow the instructions moving around the gym to each exercise station in numerical order and if you need any assistance or have any questions, I'll be right beside you."
Bridget sulkily complied. A slow walk on the treadmill with shake-outs and stretches, various floor exercises, some of which needed Stefan's guidance, Bridget fighting the urge not to be naughty as he leant over her showing her which limb was supposed to be in which position. The gym session lasted just 50 minutes but Stefan thought it had been a good start.
"Do you think you could follow that program independently next time?". She nodded. "You've done really well. Massage before shower!"
"M-m massage?" asked Bridget suddenly nervous at the thought of a professional physiotherapist on a busman's holiday on her body.
"Yes, I'd like to and it will do you good. I'm told my hands work wonders but I don't have a good benchside manner."
Through an inconspicuous door between the isolation tank rooms and the steam room, Bridget was led into the massage chamber.
"Go and get undressed and then lay on that bench, face down with your head through the hole."
Behind the screen, Bridget unzipped her leisure suit top, removed it and let it fall to the floor. She unlaced her trainers, removed the ankle socks and pulled her tracksuit bottoms down. Now in only her bra and knickers she felt strangely vulnerable. She had got to know this man physically in every way conceivable. They had both declared love for each other but this had all been in the last 4 days. Did she really know him?
"You, OK there luv?" came the gruff voice of her much younger lover.
"Am I just having jitters because I'm in his cellar almost naked? It didn't bother me yesterday as I pumped his cock with my tits and watched his semen spurt over my neck and cleavage."
Bridget shuddered, centred herself and remembering the magical passion of the last 4 days - the passion that she had sought to spark with her bodacious "bubbling up" plan - shouted "just struggling with this damn bra! I'll be right there."
She released the magnificent knockers from their splendidly engineered housings and pulled the knickers down her legs. No wet patch in the crotch, no flush in her cheeks, no dry mouth. "Perhaps I'm just not feeling it today! Oh well, a skilled masseur wants to rub me down, I could just try relaxing into it, I suppose."
As Bridget rounded the screen, holding her towel in front of her midriff, she saw Stefan now in white scrubs with his back to her as he prepared some oils on the worktop in front of the mirror.
"Hop on the bench and just try to relax. I can tell that you're nervous for some reason. And lose the towel, please. No need for modesty around me."
The lady obeyed her master and lay face down on the massage bench.
Stefan approached the bench carrying a bottle of specially mixed oils. He poured a small amount on his hands, placed the bottle on the wheeled bathroom tidy unit, then, after rubbing his hands together, placed them between Bridget's shoulders. Bridget let out a sigh of relief and remembrance of the touch that she'd craved, experienced and was now feeling again. She felt those large hands covering every respectable inch of her small yet broad back. The thought of the places they were touching led to thoughts of the parts they were not. She longed for them to, but knew that there was no rush, let the man do what he wanted to do and all in good time, if it was meant to happen, she'd be ready. When she stopped over-thinking she drifted away and was barely conscious of the sounds of the early stages of her arousal being audible. When she did realise that she was uttering those noises out loud, she became more turned on.
"Oh, Stefan, your hands really do work wonders!"
Oiling his hands regularly as he massaged the whole woman before him, Stefan now worked the backs of both Bridget's legs and as his hands neared her gorgeous fat arsecheeks he was struck by the heat emanating from that area. Massaging the back was always the soulless part of the job, he looked forward to Bridget turning over, allowing him eye contact and the view of most of his lover's best attributes. This thought was getting him aroused. He slipped his hand down the front of the trousers to adjust himself. This merely gave his penis the freedom to straighten and stiffen more.
"Time for the front, now, darling!"
Stefan lowered his head towards Bridget's beautiful face and kissed her on the lips. Bridget's heart fluttered and she was sure she felt her fanny get a little wetter.
"I'm looking forward to this bit." said Stefan pouring more oil into his hands, rubbing them together and placing each hand on Bridget's splendid tits.
Bridget cooed with delight as her masseur rubbed and squeezed her breasts. His fingers tweaked her nipples causing them to stiffen. The soft, heavy funbags wobbled with each touch from her lover. Stefan could feel his dick straining in the restrictive cotton trousers. He raised his oiled hands to Bridget's neck and gently squeezed her throat.
"The fans used to call me "The Strangler", you know?"
Bridget trusted him implicitly but the thought of tender touch turning to strangulation had crossed her mind. This had been part of the reason for the trepidation she had felt as she was undressing.
"You are going to fuck me, aren't you?"
"Sure thing, babe but you need loosening up a bit more yet though." and he resumed his massage.
"Sometimes you don't seem to know what you want, Bridget, dear. You've come in here all shy and nervous like you didn't know me and didn't want me anywhere near you and soon you'll be begging me to ram my cock harder and harder up your sopping wet fuckhole."
"Too right I will! You have to understand though that my feelings and mood are changeable. I can get spooked and clam up but just the right words or touch and I can become as horny as hell again. We're complex organisms us older women."
The rest of the massage, as delightful as Bridget found it was just a preamble to what came next. Stefan rubbed the last of the oil in his hands into Bridget's stomach and thighs, the dry skin accepting the soothing uncture like the soil drinking in long awaited rain. He then used the hand sanitiser and rubbed his hands on a nearby towel before instructing Bridget to spread her legs. He went to the bottom of the bench and leaned over so that his face was almost buried in the hairy, damp muff. The overriding fragrance was that of the oils but just over that was the delicious odour of the lady's sweat and yes, a hint of cunt juice. Stefan inhaled deeply and moved in to taste it for himself. Bridget squealed in delight. He set about french-kissing those lips with which he'd become so familiar over the last four days. His nose nuzzled Bridget's clit. Stefan's cock was craving attention but Stefan knew he had to exercise self-control. Bridget was moaning and every now and then came a "Fuck" or "Omigod!" through clenched teeth. Stefan was hell bent on giving the girl the first of her orgasms today with his mouth.
"Oh god, oh god, oh gawwdd!" Stefan felt his lover's body tense and relax in quick succession and knew he'd done good work.
