The Fence, Part Three–How Two Empty Nesters Work It Out

Miss Parts One and Two? Catch up before beginning this next episode…

Tri training day. A half mile in the pool. Twenty kilometers on a bike. Five kilometer run. I had done blocks–combining two events on a single day–but today was the first time for me to try all three events in a row. I believed I could finish, but I didn’t think I would be worth much when I was done. I would find out today if all the cardio training had paid off in more ways than one.

It was 10 am and the sun was already high in the sky. I had checked the pool temp before wading in, a comfortable 85 degrees, but it still felt cold on my abs.

“Nothing to it but to do it,” I muttered, and started the stop watch on my iphone. The training began.

The first distance around our 40×20 pool was done at a snail’s pace to warm up. After my shoulders and thighs were loosened up a bit, I got a little more aggressive digging into the water. Twenty-one laps to go. On lap eighteen I noticed that Sharon had wandered out to the backyard. She had on a cover-up but I could still see from glimpses that she had on her yellow bikini top (my favorite) and a high riding pair of bikini briefs. If she was going to be a spectator for this training day, it was going to be really tough to focus.

Sharon piddled around the backyard doing “pool people” stuff–checking pool traps, checking salt levels, adding air to the floats–as I finished my pool time. When it was time to get out, she was there waiting for me with a towel. I gave her a peck on the cheek as a gesture of thanks.

“No chafing, mister,” she chided. “Get that junk good and dry before you hit that bike.” She then reached down and cupped my package. I had a pretty severe case of “pool balls” so she easily captured everything in her grasp.

“I like those ‘Superman’ briefs–they snug everything up nice and tight,” she said, making fun of the tight underwear I trained in.

“I’m a grower not a show-er, pretty lady,” I responded.

“We’ll have to see about that,” she countered, then reached up with a hand around my neck and returned the cheek peck.

“All in good time, Miss. I’ve still got 25K to go.”

“Hurry along then. I’ll keep myself occupied.”

I smiled and stripped out of my briefs, now fully naked in front of her. Looking into her deep cleavage started to stir things, so I peeled my eyes away and focused on the ride ahead of me. I grabbed a pair of biking shorts off the patio table, quickly doused my upper body in spray-on sunscreen and slipped into my training shoes.

“I’m off!” I declared.

“Why yes, yes you are,” Sharon said through a smile.

I walked down to the other end of the pool and mounted the stationery Tri-trainer cycle I had set up on the pool deck earlier that morning. Shoes were positioned in stirrups. Twenty kilometers or twelve point four miles were between me and the end of stage two.

At her end of the pool, Sharon was setting up her iphone speaker and providing us some tunes. She shrugged out of her cover, sunscreened herself, and sat in one of the many Adirondacks on that end of the pool deck.

Sharon called out to me a couple of times, but I couldn’t hear her over the music. I cupped my hand to my ear and shook my head “no.” Eventually she got the message and began her way toward my end of the pool.

As I’ve mentioned before, Sharon is a voluptuous woman with an hourglass figure. Watching her walk toward me with her cleavage prominent and her hips swaying was beginning to energize things below the waistline–the absolute last thing you want to happen when you’re leaning over bike handlebars and a pointed bike seat repeatedly rubbing against your balls and asshole. If things continued their course, there was a good chance I was either going to rupture the boys or give myself a prostate exam.

“Are you hydrating?” Sharon wanted to know as she stopped a few feet from me.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied, holding up the water bottle saddled in the bike’s water harness.

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to dry up on me.”

“No fear of that, pretty lady,” I offered through labored breathing. “I like the outfit. You look hot.”

“I am hot,” Sharon replied. There was a constant verbal tension that lingered between us, even during the past few months of sexual downtime. Both of us knew how to turn a phrase, and a conversation that was seemingly harmless could turn down right steamy in no time.

“Why don’t you go cool off for a while in the pool then,” I suggested.

“I though you preferred me hot… and bothered.”

We both had on sunglasses and that’s really the only way this conversation could have continued on this course. If we had been able to look into each other’s eyes at that point, we both would have been laughing our asses off at her last remark.

“That I do, ma’am, that I do. But I’ve still got six miles to go on this torture device and then there’s the run.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to take care of my needs myself,” Sharon responded and sauntered off back to her end of the pool. Watching her leave was tougher than watching her head my way and I had to adjust everything below several times before the bike seat was tolerable again. It didn’t matter. In a few moments Sharon did something that ended training day and very well could have altered our marriage trajectory for the rest of our lives together.

She turned around and faced me as she reached the patio table. Looking directly at me, she reached behind her and unfastened her bikini top and let it fall to the ground. Her beautiful breasts were free and very inviting. Next, she stuck her thumbs into the sides of her bikini bottoms, slid them down to her ankles, and stepped out of them.

Sharon reached behind her and found the suntan lotion on the table. She turned back to me and began to work the lotion into her naked breasts. Slowly, teasingly, she caressed and pinched her nipples. When the were good and aroused, she took another handful of lotion and rubbed it into her ass cheeks and all over her pubic mound.

At that point I was toast. A raging boner could no longer be contained and I slipped my feet out of the stirrups. I was still panting, more from lust now than physical exertion. I began to unsteadily make my way along the pool deck to my faithful wife of 31 years, to the mother of our three sons, to my lover, to my best friend.

“You’ve really got a knack for putting on lotion,” I said.

“Oh, what do you care?” She punctuated her question by pulling a nipple up to her mouth and sucking deeply. Her other hand was rubbing over her clit and a moan escaped her breast-filled mouth.

Nothing over our thirty-one years together could have prepared me for this moment. Sharon had never masturbated with me in the dark of night–let alone like she was pleasuring herself now, in broad daylight, in our backyard, albeit behind an eight-foot privacy fence.

“Oh, I do care,” I replied.

“But what about your training?”

“Something’s come up.”

“What?”

I dropped my shorts down to my ankles and my dick popped out hard and proud, slapping against my abdomen.

“Impressive!” Sharon exclaimed. “Does he need a workout too?”

“He needs you to keep doing what you’re doing to yourself now. Only let’s move it to a float so you can be more comfortable.”

Sharon switched nipples in her mouth and hands on her puss. I could see that she had two fingers buried in her honey hole, slowly working them in and out. She suddenly held her dripping fingers to my mouth.

“Taste me.”

“Delicious.”

“Let’s float.”

“Gladly.”

I kicked off my shoes, secured the float, climbed on board, and beckoned Sharon to join me. She hopped on and rolled until she found me, grabbing me by the hair and forcing her tongue down my throat. I grabbed a breast, pinching and kneading. She grabbed for my other hand and positioned it over her puss.

I came up for air. “You were doing pretty good without me. Why stop now?”

“Your turn.”

“Nope. I want to watch.”

“Perv.”

“Nope. Just curious. I’ll keep your boobs happy. You rub that puss until you cum.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Kiss me. Suck me. Urge me on.”

“Gladly.”

She replaced my hand on her puss with her own. I latched on to both breasts and kissed Sharon deeply. I could feel her body rocking upward ever so slightly to what her fingers were doing down there. Obviously her back was feeling better than yesterday.

Coming up for air, I gently licked her lips, tapped the tip of my tongue on her nose, and kissed both cheeks. She was locked in on her own pleasure, focused, determined. My tongue wandered to her breasts and I enjoyed her nipples–tongue, suction, alternate pinching and fondling. It didn’t take long for Sharon to begin making those sweet noises of orgasm.

“Suck! Hold it! Hold it! Oh, oh, shit… CUMMMING, BABY!!!”

Sharon had her first orgasm masturbating with me. I would find out later that was her first orgasm masturbating–period.

I cradled her head in my hands, gently kissing any flesh I could get to, trying to help her glide down from the high she was on.

“Dick,” she whispered.

“Close,” I responded. “I’m Dave. Remember?”

“No, you doofus, I want your dick. Inside of me. Pronto.”

“Not a really good idea right now, love. I don’t want to be the reason you end up in traction tomorrow.”

“Then no fucking, just gentle. Put it in me. Hold me.”

I kissed her lips and rolled on top. It was an easy entry at this point.

“Hold me,” she required again.

I grabbed the tops of both shoulders and stroked very tenderly into her puss once, twice, three times.

“God, you feel good,” she said.

“You feel pretty amazing yourself.”

“Slide out. I want you to spoon me.”

“OK.” I repositioned myself behind her and was inside her again. A few gentle thrusts were offered and I kissed her shoulder blades.

“Doggy,” she continued.

I gave Sharon space and although she grunted a few times getting there, she made it to all fours.

“Sharon, babe, I don’t know…”

“Stick it in me, damn it.”

I obliged, bringing myself up and in till my balls were kissing her ass. This was a moment of sheer will for me. Every ounce of my being wanted to grab on to her hips and cut loose, pounding her like an animal. Instead, I slowly entered and exited a few times and paused for her next request.

“On top,” she demanded.

I pulled out and lay beside her. She crawled over me, grabbed my dick and lined it up with her puss. Instead of directly inserting it, she steadily rubbed her clit with my dick head and began to moan.

“That feels really fucking good, lover.”

“Then keep doing it.”

“Think I will. Pinch my nipples.”

Sharon wasted little time achieving her second orgasm of the day. It was a low, slow gentle rocking motion but she made it to her happy place eventually.

“Cummming!” She announced, then slowly fell off me. I caressed her face, her breasts, her tummy, her hips, her mound, gently applying kisses to anything I could reach.

“Your turn,” she whispered.

“Sharon, baby…”

“Your turn, dammit.”

“Sharon, I…”

“Will you just fucking say what you want?”

The last few months of sexual frustration came to a head for me at that point. I rolled off the float and walked away. I took a few walking laps in the shallow end of the pool and came back to my loving wife.

“What do you want, lover?” Sharon inquired.

I was raw. Needy. Unnerved. “I want to pound you. Hard. From behind. No condom. I want to cum on your asshole and rub the cum in. There. I said it. Fine.”

Sharon smiled. “Let me get this straight. You want to fuck me doggy. Hard. Fast. No condom. You want to dump your load on my asshole and then rub it in. Probably stick that big fat thumb of yours in my ass while you’re at it and make me squirm. You want to mark your territory.”

“Yep.”

“That was Pensacola,” she said, reminding me of a previous vacation.

“Yep,” I replied.

“Ain’t gonna happen today, stud,” she countered.

“Didn’t think it was, love, but you asked,” I replied.

“Second best?”

“Blowjob.”

“OK.”

“No, not in the pool. No sunglasses. I want to see your eyes–your soul–loving me.”

“Done. Porch?”

“That works.”

We maneuvered out of the pool and made our way down to the porch. Sharon grabbed a tube of coconut lotion off the table on the porch and applied a big dollop between her breasts.

“What was that for?” I wanted to know.

“Anticipating your every whim, lover,” she replied.

“Good call.”

I flopped into a porch seat, grabbed a pillow off one of the other seats and threw it down in front of me. “That ought to make it easier on the knees,” I told her.

“Thanks!” she replied, then knelt down and swallowed me.

“Damn, baby, that feels so good!”

She looked up at me, half my dick in her mouth, my balls cradled in her hands. Her dark green, hazle eyes sparkled.

“Suck my dick,” I demanded.

And she did. Tongue bath on the balls. Long, slow strokes all the way around. Deep throating. All the time looking at me.

Finally coming up for air, she looked at me and commented, “Don’t you want to PUSH?”

“Yes!” I replied.

She nestled my dick in her cleavage, rubbing the lotion all over my shaft. “Then PUSH! Fuck my tits!”

I did. Like a wild man. I fucked her tits like there was no tomorrow.

“Cumming!” I warned. But Sharon had no backup in her today. She tightened her hold on her breasts and looked deeply into my eyes.

“Cum, you fucker,” she demanded.

“Cumming!”

“Fuck my tits!”

“Cumming!”

“Blast me!”

I did as I was told. Sharon was whitewashed from brow to boob.

“Shit,” I exclaimed.

“Shit,” Sharon commented. “Do you ever jerk off?”

“Not lately,” I said. “You?”

“I will now. Just damn.”

“You turned on?”

“Baby…”

“You turned on?”

“Baby. Baby. Baby. Your cum is fucking amazing.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Maybe we make this a somewhat regular thing?”

“Maybe.”

“That works for me.”

“I’ve missed you, lover.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

This introduction to the empty nester lifestyle had been quite a unique experience for both of us. Where to from here? Only time would tell…

To be continued…