I’d been driving cross country from El Paso to Detroit to visit some friends when I stopped just outside St. Louis for the night. Almost ten hours of freeway driving had exhausted me, including having to make a large detour in Tulsa because of a huge accident that closed the roadway. It was about six in the evening. I drove past the usual strip malls, shopping centers and high-rise office structures that now surround most large cities these days. I made a mental note to check out a Thai restaurant I passed in one strip mall. Two blocks away was the motel where I would spend the night.
Perfect, I thought.
I’m in my early forties, divorced, dating a couple of women casually. I’ve been told that I’m not bad on the eyes by more than one woman, but a look in the mirror tells me that I’m definitely neither a stud nor a hunk. I’m pleasantly average, a shade under six feet, a small paunch which I try to keep in check by working out faithfully whenever I get the chance (too many beers and chips). I have medium length dark brown hair and green eyes, which surprise some people when they first notice. I’m not into pumping iron but I do lift free weights for tone and strength. I’d say my build is medium, maybe a little broad in the shoulders from the weight-lifting but nobody would mistake me for Arnold.
Once in my motel room, I thought about taking a shower and just crashing for the night. I remembered the Thai restaurant but at the moment
I felt more tired than anything else. I shed my sweater and trousers and plopped on the bed without even turning down the covers and after resting for maybe ten minutes I realized I wasn’t going to go to sleep for the night. It was too early and my fatigue was more nerves than physical. It was then that I thought of going to a gym, but what were the chances that there’d be one within a few miles of where I was staying?
I picked up the phone and called the front desk of the motel. I was in luck. There was a fitness center within a mile of the motel. I took one of the bath towels from the bathroom, wrapped my gym shorts, a clean T-shirt and change of socks in it, and headed for the door.
The directions were perfect. Basically I backtracked toward I-40 and I saw that Thai restaurant again. Two blocks later was the strip mall and a huge sign announcing the fitness center. Perfect.
By now it was a little past seven. I noticed the hours posted on the door; they closed at eight. I’d have to hurry.
As fitness centers go, this one was all right. I stay away from “sweat shops” where the studs try to impress each other and the few women who frequent such places. This gym looked clean, airy and was almost deserted. The manager behind the desk was friendly, even gave me a complementary pass since it was so late. I went to the locker room downstairs, quickly changed, and then began my workout.
Soft jazz played on the speakers as I began my workout, doing a few stretches and then spending five minutes on a treadmill. Then I hit the weights. It was a small place, with the usual mirrors that give the appearance of a much larger room. The only other people there were two women at the far end of the room working on some of the Nautilus equipment. They looked to be in their early to mid thirties, kind of cute looking but nothing special.
About ten to eight I hit the treadmill again and noticed that I was the only one in the place. A minute later some of the lights began to dim and then the manager appeared.
“We close in about ten minutes,” she said with a friendly smile. She looked to be in her late twenties, light brown hair and a very well-toned body.
I pushed the stop button on the treadmill. “I guess I’d better get going,” I said.
“Actually,” she said, “you can take your time. I’ve got some stuff to do upstairs in the office and I’m expecting a repairman around eight-thirty to fix the toilet in the handi-capped bathroom.”
“Okay,” I replied. “I’ll work on the treadmill until eight and then I’ll take off.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
Promptly at eight I got off the treadmill, made my way to the front of the place and then down the stairs to the locker room. At the base of the stairs was a long corridor. Almost immediately to the left were the women’s lockers. To get to the men’s I kept going straight and then took a right. The corridor was dimly lit. I could still hear the music that was playing on the speakers upstairs. They must have put a speaker downstairs as well.
As I took a step down the corridor I heard someone whisper to someone else and then the sound of water splashing. It was then that I noticed the whirlpool; it was at the end of the corridor, right outside the entrance to the men’s locker room.
Once I got closer I could see two women sitting in the pool, the same two women who had been working out when I first got there.
They seemed a bit uncomfortable in my presence. I think they must have forgotten I was upstairs. Anyway, I decided to make some small talk with them.
“Is that water nice?” I asked, kind of directing my büyükesat escort question to both of them.
“Yeah,” they both replied.
Then it occurred to me that it would feel good to spend a few minutes in the whirlpool myself. It had been almost a week since I’d last worked out and a good soak would prevent muscle cramping and soreness.
“Mind if I join you for a few minutes?” I asked.
I was standing far enough away still that I couldn’t see very well because of the dimness of the light but I could hear some giggling.
“I suppose not,” one of them said.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
I took off my sweaty T-shirt and briefs, put back on my gym shorts, ditched my shoes and socks, grabbed my towel and walked back to the whirlpool. I put a foot onto the first step leading into the water and almost cried out. The temperature had to be almost a hundred and five.
I heard the two women laugh and for the first time got a good look at them. One of them, who eventually introduced herself as Sandy, had light brown hair and was wearing a fairly modest two-piece suit. The other woman, whom I later learned was Marsha, had very dark hair, either brown or just black. And as my eyes continued to take her in I realized that she was in her underwear! That’s why the embarrassment and giggling and whispering.
They were sitting side by side on the middle of three ledges that surrounded the water, the whirlpool waves coming up to their waists. Once accustomed to the temperature, I dropped down to the bottom ledge, letting the water reach my chin. God, it felt good. I could feel the tension from all the freeway driving melt away. I could feel my muscles relax as well from the workout I’d given them.
We exchanged names. (By the way, mine’s Jeff.)
“I haven’t seen you here before I don’t think,” said Marsha. She also has slid down to the bottom ledge of the whirlpool but not before I’d had a chance to notice her beautiful breasts. Of course the water made her bra almost transparent and I could see the large nipples that capped the two milky cones of flesh. I realized that upstairs both women were wearing loose-fitting sweats.
“Just passing through,” I replied. I told them where I lived and where I was heading.
Sandy joined her friend on the bottom ledge as well. I’d gotten a closer look at her breasts as well. They were of a size similar to Marsha’s, but her bikini top hid her nipples.
We talked a little about the area and then I felt a foot on my calf. I must have made a face because Sandy suddenly apologized and withdrew her leg.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I don’t mind playing footsy with a nice-looking lady like yourself.
Marsha slapped Sandy on the upper arm, a rather bit too forceful I thought. “Watch it,” Marsha said.
That exchange puzzled me but then I felt another foot on my calf and saw a grin on Marsha’s face.
By now I was feeling very relaxed, completely used to the water and feeling comfortable being around these two women. Actually, Marsha’s foot on my leg was beginning to arouse me a bit, made me realize how long it had been since I’d been with a woman myself.
“You have a nice face,” Marsha said. “I could trust a man with a face like yours.”
I wasn’t quite sure where she was going with that comment but I smiled at the compliment.
“What do you think, Sandy?”
Sandy smiled and looked at me. “Yes,” she said.
I was still having trouble figuring out the relationship of these two. Something seemed to be going on. They didn’t impress me as lesbians yet they seemed more than just friends.
“What color are his eyes?” Marsha asked Sandy.
“I don’t know,” Sandy said. “I can’t see them that well from here.”
Marsha sighed. “Why don’t you find out for me?”
Sandy grinned, stood up in the water and walked toward me. Now I was still sprawled on the bottom ledge of the whirlpool, water up to my chin. I felt Sandy’s leg brush against my thigh as she got closer to me and I didn’t mind it at all when she didn’t move her leg. My eyes were at the level of her belly button, the water coming up to the middle of her thighs which I noticed were well formed. Then she bent over, her face less than a foot from mine and gazed into my eyes. She looked much younger than I first thought, late twenties, maybe. And as she bent over her breasts began tugging at her top and I felt my arousal increase by tenfold.
“Well?” Marsha said.
I saw Sandy’s grin widen. “I still can’t see that good.”
There was a sudden splash of water, I felt another leg brush against my own, then noticed a foot wedged between Sandy’s legs, pressed right up against her pussy. This was becoming very interesting, I thought.
Sandy turned toward Marsha. “What are you doing?”
“I want to know the color,” Marsha said.
I could smell Sandy’s breath now as she moved even closer to my face and my eyes couldn’t stay away from the beautiful sight of her breasts straining for release from that bikini top. At the same time, I noticed çankaya escort that Marsha’s foot remained between her friend’s legs and now I detected a slight rocking of Marsha’s hips against that foot. Suddenly I felt as if I were in the middle of a fantastic wet dream, my cock straining against the fabric of my gym shorts.
“I think they’re green,” Sandy replied, still grinning at me.
I grinned back and moved one of my legs in between Sandy’s, pressing it against her upper thigh. Marsha must have felt my movement because she suddenly yelled “Hey!”
“What’s wrong?” I said, teasing. “Can’t I play too?”
“Of course,” Marsha said, but there was an undertone that I couldn’t quite figure out.
“Come here,” Marsha said to Sandy. Sandy waiting just a second before moving back next to her friend and in that second I couldn’t help myself: I gave her a quick peck on the lips, saw her grin turn into a smile.
“You’re a bad girl,” Marsha said, giving Sandy a hard whack on one buttock.
“You’re right,” Sandy said. “I am a bad girl.” She took a seat on the middle ledge and I watched as she quickly undid her top and retied it, making it looser so more of her breasts showed. I assume that Marsha saw what she was doing.
“Do you like bad girls, Jeff?” Marsha asked me, rising from her seat.
I watched the rivulets of water rush down her body and for the first time really saw what a beautiful body she had. She had on the skimpiest of briefs and I could clearly see some pubic hair but not much. Her breasts, while not as full as Sandy’s, were still beautiful and now I saw that her nipples were completely taut. Marsha took a couple of steps toward me, smiling.
“Do you?” she repeated.
“But of course,” I replied airily. “They’re my favorite kind.”
“I want to see your eyes for myself,” she replied, bending toward me. I felt a hand on my upper thigh and she leaned even closer, her face mere inches from mine. I felt a soft thigh brushing against the outside of my other leg and just that much skin contact made me almost explode. Her breath smelled sweet with a hint of spice.
“They are green,” she exclaimed, smiling at me. I reached for her arm but she brushed me away. “No,” she said. “I can touch you but you can’t touch me. That’s the rule.”
That comment deflated my cock by about fifty percent. Like most guys, I enjoy a little teasing but this was going a bit far. If she was one of these hard-core control types, I was going to call it a night. I think she could sense my response, however, because immediately I felt her lips on mine and suddenly I felt my own arousal soaring again.
“I’m sorry,” she purred. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Somehow I believed her but I also knew better than to try to touch her again. She kissed me again, not deeply but with her lips soft and then I felt her hand move up my thigh just a few inches until it gently brushed against my rock-hard erection. Then she went back to her seat, sitting next to Sandy on the middle ledge.
Both women grinned at me. Like most men, I’ve fantasized having two women at once but never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would actually find myself in such a situation as this.
There was an awkward silence for a moment and then I heard Marsha say, “Do you want him?”
“Yes,” Sandy said, immediately.
“How badly?” Marsha asked.
“Very,” Sandy said.
“Good,” said Marsha. “Go to him.”
Once again, Sandy stood up and approached me but not as closely as the first time.
“I guess the question now,” said Marsha, “is does Jeff want you.”
“Oh, yes,” I replied quickly. “I’m already in love with her.”
Both women laughed, but Marsha especially.
“Maybe it would be nice to see more of him first, do you think?” Marsha asked Sandy. “After all, right now all we can see is the top of his head. The rest of him is under water.”
Quickly, perhaps too quickly, I stood up. Sandy moved back a step as I moved to the top ledge of the whirlpool and sat down. I looked down, watching the water drip from my chest and stomach. I was wearing a pair of nylon gym shorts, rather snug fitting, especially now that my erection was tenting the front of them. I tensed my cock, making it jerk a bit. It got the desired effect from Sandy: she giggled, her eyes widening, a huge grin spreading across her lovely face.
“May I kiss him?” Sandy asked.
“Yes, you may. But you can’t touch him otherwise. And he’s not to touch you,” said Marsha.
In an instant her lips were on mine, soft, moist. I felt her tongue, just the tip of it, exploring my lips and it was all I could do to keep from wrapping my arms around her and pressing her to me.
We continued kissing. I stole a glance at Marsha. She was now sitting on the top ledge of the whirlpool, all but her feet out of the water and visible to me. She had one hand between her legs, the other over her breasts. She saw me glance at her and she gave me a wicked grin.
“Are you a naughty boy?” Marsha ankara escort asked me.
“Yes,” I said. Although some of her demeanor put me off I was becoming unaccountably excited about what was unfolding here. “I am a very naughty boy.”
“Good,” Marsha said. “Why don’t you show us how naughty you are. Why don’t you remove your gym shorts and show us your cock.”
I carefully slipped the elastic waistband of my gym shorts over my cock and watched as they slid into the water where I kicked them off. The whirlpool jets soon sent them swishing over to Marsha. She picked them up.
“May I?” she asked.
“Whatever,” I replied.
Marsha stood up on the deck, bent over to slip out of her panty briefs and then pulled on my gym shorts. As I mentioned, I have a bit of a paunch and so the shorts barely hugged Marsha’s hips, yet they did look sexy on her. Like Sandy, Marsha’s thighs were well developed, with just a bit of flab which I don’t mind on a woman.
“Well?” she said, looking at me. “What do you think?”
“They look good on you,” I said.
She laughed, then walked around the deck until she was directly behind me. I was standing on the top ledge. I felt her come up behind me, felt her breasts press against my neck, her hands caressing my chest and shoulders.
“I love the tone of your muscles,” she murmured to me.
Then I felt her hand drift down my side, cup an ass cheek and squeeze it. “Very nice,” she said. “So firm.” Then I felt her hand reach between my legs from behind and grab my scrotum. She squeezed it firmly and I felt my cock elongate even more than it already had. To say that I was primed, within a few steps of exploding my semen all over the place would be the understatement of the year. I’m no longer a young stud but I’ve discovered the joys and pleasures of staying power. Women really appreciate that and I intended to do my best to stay under control.
“What do you think, Sandy?” Marsha said, her hand still squeezing my sac. I was adjusting to the pressure now, enjoyed being taken to a new level of pleasure while still feeling under control.
One look at Sandy’s face removed any necessity of her speaking, but she responded anyway. “He’s big,” she said, her eyes filled with lust. She looked almost intoxicated yet on closer inspection I could see that her entire body was trembling.
I smiled. I’ve read about all the studs with their nine and ten inch pieces (and longer). No one’s ever commented much on my size but I’m proud of the response I’ve gotten from the ladies I’ve taken to bed with me.
“Would you like to touch it?” Marsha asked.
Sandy nodded her head.
“I didn’t hear you,” said Marsha.
Marsha still cupped by sac in her hand. She gave it another squeeze and this time I couldn’t help but emit a low moan. I heard Marsha sigh.
“You may touch it but you may not play with it. Just touch it.”
I felt Sandy’s hand on my cock then. She cupped the middle section of it in her palm and then closed her hands around it. The sensation of having my scrotum and cock both touched by two different women sent me to another level of pleasure and for a moment I thought I would lose it. Then I felt Marsha’s hand leave my scrotum and in another moment she had stepped into the whirlpool standing behind Sandy. Sandy and I stared into each other’s eyes. At that moment her face looked so beautiful.
“May I still kiss him?” Sandy asked.
“Yes,” Marsha said. “You may.”
As she kissed me I felt the smallest of squeezes from her hand around my cock. I found it frustrating that I couldn’t touch her but soon her lips and hand distracted me from that negative thought.
“Stop,” Marsha said. “You can hold his cock but no more kissing.”
Reluctantly our lips separated. Both of us were breathing quite heavily at the moment. I think I felt the pressure on my cock increase just a fraction.
Marsha moved her hands around to the front of Sandy, cupping a breast in each hand. “I bet Jeff would like to see these. What do you think?”
“I think so,” said Sandy, a small smile appearing on her face.
Quickly Marsha removed the top, allowing Sandy’s breasts to feel their freedom for the first time. They looked even larger now for some reason, Marsha’s removing the top causing them to sway for just a moment. Then Marsha cupped Sandy’s breasts again. I saw her pinch the nipples, rubbing them, causing them to harden and grow.
“Don’t you dare move,” Marsha said.
“No,” said Sandy. “I won’t.”
“Good girl,” Marsha replied.
Sandy’s eyes were wide open now, her body trembling as Marsha continued to massage her nipples, occasionally jiggling her breasts, pressing them together. I heard a soft moan escape Sandy’s throat. Marsha quickly slapped Sandy’s left breast.
“I said no noise,” Marsha said sternly. “And no moving.”
“Yes,” said Sandy.
I’ve never been much into pain or what I’d call kinky sex. I’m basically a meat and potatoes guy, I guess. Maybe you’d call me naïve or conservative. I love oral sex as much as the next guy and that and just plain fucking from a variety of positions is about the limit of my repertory. This was definitely new. I wasn’t sure of all the dynamics going on. At times I felt a bit repulsed and yet on the whole I was feeling as aroused as I think I’ve ever felt.