June 2013 – Part Two (Planks for Pleasure)

I have an easier time getting up on training days now that bK and I have further spiced up the routine. On the wrong days, we are two people bickering over trivial things while exercising in undergarments. On the right days, each set is a combination of exercise and “body appreciation”. Either way it is never boring. If these brick walls could talk they would describe my personal trainer tweaking my nipples and playing with my body while I get these side bends out of the way. If they could laugh, they would chortle at the number of times I ask him to show me how to do simple exercises so I can squeeze his ass and play with other parts of his body. With each set, the struggle to ignore his touch or my body’s response to it increases. I generally don’t sweat below the waist (which will be helpful) but I’m all kinds of moist by the time I have to return to the treadmill at the end of each session.

Around the third week of June, planking becomes very challenging. Not only does the time period increase, but while I plank I have to keep retrieving my thong with one arm as bK repeatedly tries to remove it.  During the alternate exercise between planks we continue to touch and tease. We also ignore the growing bulge in his drawers and discuss current events.   On this day, when I wrap up the other exercise drop into the third plank I don’t bother to retrieve my thong when he slides it down.  When I look down and back, I note that his boxer briefs have joined my thong on the carpet by my feet. The next 30 seconds could not be moving any slower. What do you reward yourself with after a tough workout? Ice-cream? Chocolate? A kale omelet? I think I deserve something more today.

bK’s voice drifts as he reaches the last fifteen seconds of the count. I hear him move to his bag to get a condom. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 Time! I collapse on the towel that now gets placed on the exercise mat as I feel bK drop to his knees behind me. I pretend like he is not there and start to get up, but he takes a commanding grip on my hips with both hands and suggests that we take a little break…Sure, but I’m going to be lazy with this one – I lean forward and offer up the goods. bK slides home and reaches forward to massage my tingling clit with his left hand. Mmmm – appropriate reward after so many planks. And it feels just right. He rests inside me while his left hand continues to move in a firm circular motion on and around my hot spot. As I heat up from the massage upfront, he begins to pump for gold. Long and measured, this deep slow stroke is the perfect stress buster. Surgeon general approved. I arch back and up to meet each foray and reach back to stroke his balls (we’ve come a long way since that punch and I love the way his body reacts to the touch). Twerking by the weights…

When his lingam and my yoni connect – time stands still and only pleasure matters or registers. I concentrate solely on his member moving inside me, his head massaging my cervix, the length of his swollen manhood brushing up and against my vaginal walls as our hips grind against each other…his movement further emphasizes what I already know about his prodigious dancing skills.  Slick but secure (kegels :-)), I match his rhythm, bouncing back and up to meet each thrust. We’re unwilling to tolerate even a brief break in this link-up prior to release – my hold on his ass is just as urgent as his on mine as we ride wave after wave of pleasure. Slow wind, deep grind, lost mind…While we bone this way, we transcend – floating above random conversation, forgiving (temporarily) slights real and perceived, casting aside silly disputes – for a time we even come upon the solution for peace in the middle east…so strong are the tides of lust rushing through and around us.  Non-verbal communication is best for us.

Just kidding.

We have a nice post-plank romp.   Afterwards we gather ourselves, return to reality and clean-up – then one of us has to continue with a cardio “cool down” on the treadmill.  I regret that I didn’t discover softcup® for another month or we wouldn’t have had to skip a week of these.

Two weeks to the start of Ramadan (and the end?).


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