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I’m not sure when I decided I wanted to run a marathon. I’d never been the athletic type at all, and smoked most of my adult life. After I got married and had my boys I decided I needed to be healthy for them. I finally managed to quit smoking and joined a gym to offset the inevitable weight gain. I am fortunate to be a stay-at-home mom. We live pretty lean, but that’s OK. Over the next few years working out became a passion, along with gardening and cooking. As the boys got older and started school they didn’t require as much of my time, and I’ll look for any excuse to avoid housework, so I had time to put into training. I realized I would always be slow. I’m slow on the bike, slow at swimming, slow at running. I’d done a few triathlons and they were fun, a challenge. I still don’t know when or why I decided to do the 26.2 miler, but I’ve got a training schedule and I’m following it. The key is to build your endurance, which is what I’m doing. I run three or four days a week, and bike or swim on the other days for cross training. Maybe it’s a mid-life crisis.
I first met Gary in a rather ignomious fashion. I was riding my bike up at Flatwoods park, an eleven mile paved loop up in the uh, woods, northeast of Tampa used by bikers, runners and skaters. It’s a preserve carved out of suburbia hell. It’s full of wildlife. I’ve seen gators, deer, wild turkey, hawks, snakes, turtles, rabbits, all kinds of wild creatures. They have several nests of bluebirds, which are my favorite. I had stopped to fill up my water bottle at one of the shelters they have every few miles on the trail that are kept stocked with icy water in coolers, and got distracted by a blue bird flying close to me while I was dismounting my bike. I was trying to pull my leg high to dismount but ended up falling over ’cause I was paying more attention to the bird than I was to what I was doing. I wasn’t hurt but was glad, for a moment, that there was no one around to see me looking so clumsy and ungraceful. I was glad no one was around until I noticed that my bike chain had dislodged when I had landed on top of my bike.
I had no idea how to replace the chain; I’m not the mechanical type. I fiddled around with it for awhile, but just got grease on my hands. I was in for a long walk; I was 3 ½ miles from my car. I cursed, filled up my water bottle, took off my helmet and clipped it the handle bars, adjusted my ipod and started walking. It was a hot morning in June and I was already soaked with sweat, but there was nothing else I could do. I had seen a few people swish by but no one had stopped. Most of the ones that I had seen looked serious, hunched low over their aero bars, doing hard training rides, or groups of two or three out challenging each other.
I’d been walking about five minutes when I saw another biker go by, but this figure slowed, turned around and headed back in my direction. “Need help?” he asked as he slowed down in front of me. Thank god he looked normal. I was afraid that one of the trail trolls (big gut, stuffed sausage-like into their spandex) might come to my rescue.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, turning off my ipod, “my chain fell off and I’ve got no idea how to put it back on.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem; I can show you how to do that. But let’s try to find some shade.” He dismounted his bike and was clip clopping along on his bike shoes. There was a clump of trees just ahead that gave protection from the very strong sun so we wheeled in that direction. “My name’s Gary,” he said.
I looked over at him and took full measure. My, my I thought. A man that actually looks good in those goofy bike clothes. He had taken his helmet off too and he had dark brown hair that was plastered to his skull, wet with sweat, was very tall and very lean, very tan and looked very good in those spandex shorts. He had a blue bike jersey on. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses but I smiled at him and told him my name was Jay, short for Jayne. “Hi, Jay short for Jayne,” he smiled. I told him how much I appreciated him stopping and helping.
He leaned his bike against a tree and I held mine while he knelt down and started working on it. He talked me through what he was doing, so I’d be able to do it myself if I needed to. He told me to gear down to the small cog and then he just slipped the chain back on and turned the pedal backwards and threaded it back on and it took all of a minute. He looked up at me when he was done. He had taken off his sunglasses while he worked and I was shocked. His eyes were a brilliant sapphire blue and his shirt really brought out their color. I almost stuttered over what I was saying. He was really gorgeous. I had also noticed that wide silver band on the ring finger of his left hand. I looked down at my own left hand and looked at my rings. I had a nice rock. I had a really great husband, too. But it’s hard not to notice a man like that, very male, especially one who looked that good. Tall, dark, lean, handsome, blue eyes (my weakness, really, dark hair and blue eyes.) What’s not to like? I sighed to myself and remembered something I’d read somewhere. Zonguldak Escort There are other attractive people in this world besides your spouse. You’ve got to learn to deal with it.
“There, all done. Nothing to it, really.” Gary said.
‘Thank you oh so much,” I said. “You’re right, it’s not that hard, I think I can do it if it happens again.”
“When, not if,” he said, standing up and brushing off his hands.
“Oh, your hands are all dirty!” They were smudged with black grease from the chain. “I’m so sorry you got your hands all messy.”
“Oh, I don’t mind getting dirty,” he said. I looked up at him sharply. Was there something else in his tone? He’d put back on his glasses so I couldn’t read his eyes. I just raised an eyebrow to him and smirked. “I mean, it washes off,” he added hastily.
“Oh, OK. I see. Uh, thanks again. I feel like such an idiot. Thank you for rescuing me. I will call you Gary, rescuer of distressed damsels. Make that Gallant Gary, Rescuer of Distressed Damsels.”
“Don’t be daft, Jay, short for Jayne. It was no problem.” We had wheeled our bikes back onto the path. Several other bikers had passed us by during the repair. We mounted our bikes and rode together for a minute or two, chatting easily. We talked about biking a bit. He was really into it and it’s just a hobby for me, cross training, a way to burn calories and raise my heart rate without pounding my legs. It was also a way to get outside and get some fresh air. After a few minutes he said goodbye and sped off after I had thanked him yet again. I finished my ride a short time later, loaded my bike, stretched, and headed home. I was in a really good mood for some reason.
The next time I saw Gary was about three weeks later. I was in the parking lot, my ride already finished. I was taking off all my stuff (helmet, glasses, heart rate monitor, ipod, gloves) when I heard a “Hey!” behind me. I turned around and peered up at this tall guy. He said, again, “Hey, it’s Gary. The guy who helped you with your bike chain.” I couldn’t see a thing without my glasses. I ducked into my car, found my regular pair, put them on and turned to him. Oh, yes, he was as handsome as I remembered. I flashed him a big smile.
I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. I’m short, I’ve got shoulder length dark brown hair that curls in the humidity (which is most of the time in Florida, thank goodness) and I’m very curvy. Even though I work out like a fiend I still have a pot belly. I blame having two kids. I’ve got great legs (a vanity point for me) a nice factory rack (36DD) and my husband tells me I look hot. I’m pretty enough, I guess, but no raving beauty. I won’t be stopping traffic anytime soon
“Ah, yes, Gallant Gary, Rescuer of Distressed Damsels! Good to see you again. And again, thank you.” I looked pointedly at his hands, “Guess the grease came off.”
“Yes, it did. And please don’t call me that again. It makes me feel like an idiot.” He grimaced.
“Why? It’s true. I don’t mean to belabor the point, but you rescued my ass. No one else stopped to help. I’d have had a really long walk without you.”
“OK, OK. Thanks accepted. Just stop calling me Gallant Gary,” he requested.
“Alright. GG it’ll be.” I smiled at him. I remembered back when I was in my early teens and my best friend and I gave all the good looking guys nick names and one had the nickname of gorgeous guy, GG for short. Gary didn’t need to know that. We chatted for a few more minutes and then he went off for his ride and I climbed into my mom-mobile van and headed home. I noted his car, a red Toyota Matrix with a pro-biker bumper sticker on the back.
We saw each other sporadically. I was always happy when I pulled into the parking lot and saw his car. But then one time when we were talking he said he rode at Flatwoods every Wednesday morning, so suddenly Wednesday became my morning to ride as well. To heck with that yoga class.
In the beginning I’d be riding and would see a swoosh go by, with a wave and a “Hey, Jay short for Jayne!” called out. That happened for a few weeks. Then, if he’d catch up with me on a ride he’d slow down and ride with me for a minute or two before speeding off. Then it became a mile or two. We’d chat about inconsequential things. He was encouraging me to get more serious about biking but I was balking because it’s just a release for me. I didn’t want to invest money in pedals and clips and special shoes and all that. I just liked to get out and ride and I needed to give my body a rest from running. I would like to go faster but that was not the point. The fact was that I was out, on my bike, riding for an hour to an hour and a half. To me, the former couch potato/smoker/slouch it felt like a major accomplishment.
I felt the pull of attraction every time I saw him but tried to quash it. He chatted happily about his wife, Tracey, also a serious biker, and I spoke about of my husband, Mark. We were both happily married. How odd is that in this day and age? I just enjoyed my time with this very attractive Zonguldak Escort Bayan man. I’m happily married but, let’s face it, not immune to the charms of a handsome, attentive man. I could never tell if he was flirting. He kept everything on the level, kept the conversation simple. We talked about biking, camping, politics, music, our spouses, our kids and their activities. One day we finished our ride at the same time and went to the back of the office area where there are picnic tables to do our post ride stretch. I did the normal quads and hams and back stretches, then I felt that I still had my heart rate monitor strap on. I reached up under my shirt to unfasten the belt and glanced up. Gary was looking at what my hands were doing under my shirt with what looked like intense interest, but as soon as he saw me looking at him he looked away. I don’t know if I imagined it or not.
We continued this way for a few months. He’d catch up with me on a ride and we’d spend maybe 10 minutes riding together, talking about everything and nothing. Almost like a new relationship when you share and explore and get to know each other, but it wasn’t that deep, we didn’t get into feelings or emotions too much. Probably closer to an exercise buddy relationship, where you start to share things with people you sweat with. Anyway, it was odd. I found his company stimulating and fun. We shared lots of laughs. Along with my weakness for dark hair and blue eyes is a weakness for a man who can make me laugh. I appreciate the time and effort it takes to be entertaining and to amuse me. Gary could tickle my funnybone. He could make me giggle so hard that I’d have a hard time keeping my bike straight and one time I almost rode into his bike but recovered at the last second.
I harbored secret fantasies about GG. I knew he was happily married so I didn’t include any long term thinking in my thoughts. They were more salacious and short term. I just wanted to get into his pants. But I was at war with myself. How can I profess to love my husband yet harbor fantasies of another man? Forsaking all others, ’til death do us part. I vowed all that in front of a couple hundred people. Our sex lives was not bad for a couple who’d been married 13 years. But we’d lost the passion of the very early years. As Mark once said, “Why try something new when we know that the tried and true works?” Sex was routine….let’s face it, boring. While I’m not one to scoff at an orgasm, there are degrees. There are lightening storms and there are hurricanes. There are street buskers and there’s the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. There’s 7-11 and there’s Saks Fifth Avenue. There’s a molehill and there’s the Alps. There’s Russell Stover and there’s imported Belgian chocolate. Sex was good but not awesome. But I was not out looking. Mark was a good man. Too busy for my taste, but I’d long ago settled on my fate. I took what time I could get from him and was happy that I was able to be a stay at home mom. Actually, I was delighted with my role. Stay at home mom, volunteer at various activities, gym rat, runner, cyclist, gardener, kayaker, baker, cook. As long as I took care of hubby and kids, which I did very well, I could do whatever I wanted. It’s a good life to have and I didn’t need to do anything to mess it up.
It was early December and I took my bike up to Flatwoods early in the morning, right after I dropped my son and the kids I carpool off at school. My bike was strapped to the back on my rack. It was a bit cool, low 70’s, but I had a jacket on. It was overcast but I didn’t think anything about it; it rarely rained in Florida in December. I pulled into the parking lot and there weren’t many other cars there. I put air in my tires and got ready. Strapped on heart rate monitor, sweat band, helmet, watch, sunglasses, Ipod and headed off for my ride, shedding my coat before I went because I knew I’d heat up quickly from riding. It was a wonderful morning and since it was overcast it was easy to see (the sun wasn’t burning into my retinas) so I really enjoyed my ride. But as my ride progressed it became more gloomy, and the wind picked up. It started to sprinkle at about mile 8 of the 11 mile loop; another 2 minutes went by and it was pouring. I heard thunder and lightening strikes. Close. I tried to spin faster but was worried with the slick road that I’d crash.
I heard him approach from behind. “Hey, Jay short for Jayne! Lovely weather we’re having this morning, eh?” He pulled abreast. I looked over at him and he was as soaked as I was. It was raining so hard that I had a hard time seeing because the rain was driving right into my face and into my glasses. It was also getting colder, but I was still warm from the ride. “There’s a shelter up ahead. Let’s stop there until this passes.” I followed him as he wheeled off the path onto a gravel road that led to a brown lean-to with picnic tables. It was about 200 feet off the main path. We were laughing at our predicament as we pulled up under the cover of the shelter. I was glad to be out of the rain. We leaned our Escort Zonguldak bikes against the wall and took off our helmets and gloves and I took off my glasses since they were spotted with water and I couldn’t see through them anyway. “Didn’t you see the weather this morning?” GG asked as we sat down on one of the benches. It was raining torrents, we could barely see out of the shelter because it was a solid curtain of water, some of it spraying on us because of the wind, getting us even more wet.
“Uh, no, I don’t normally have time in the morning. Why?” I asked.
“There’s a tropical storm heading this way,” he replied.
“Shut up! It’s December! It’s past hurricane season. That’s just plain crazy.” I took a slug of water. “That explains why the parking lot was practically deserted.” I was getting really cold now that we had stopped riding. “And if you knew a tropical storm was heading our way, what are you doing out here?” I demanded. I started rubbing my arms while my teeth began to chatter and I started to shiver. My extremities (toes and fingers) get like ice when I get cold.
“Oh, a bit of rain doesn’t normally keep me from my ride. I’ve ridden in worse. And I thought I’d be done before the storm got here. Now that I think about it, this probably isn’t the main part of the storm, but some of the early bands.”
“It’s a pretty large band.” I chattered between my teeth.
“Jay short for Jayne, are you OK? I think you’re actually turning a bit blue.” I reached for his hands. “My God, you’re like ice!” He sounded alarmed. “I don’t have anything for you to put on, everything I have is soaked. Here,” he said, pulling me onto his lap, “let’s see if body heat can get you warmed up.” He rubbed his hands up and down my bare legs and arms. I was too cold to do anything but try to snuggle as close as possible. I tugged up his shirt so my hands could be next to his skin and he yelped when I touched him. My body was racked with shivers from the cold. He kept this up for a few minutes. “My God, woman, what is up with you? You head out without looking at the weather, without the proper clothing for the day. I should let you freeze. You’ve earned two demerits.” Slowly I was relaxing and warming up a bit and was enjoying his ministrations. This felt pretty darned good. Then I felt a bump under my rear. His penis was twitching and coming to life. I lifted my head that had been burrowed into his chest and looked up at his face, into his eyes. At that moment, a fire erupted inside me. In a second I went from being cold to on fire. My body became instantly aroused and I wanted him. Our eyes met and our gazes held for a moment and the fire continued to build inside me. He whispered my name, “Jay,” and lowered his head to kiss me. It started off slow, tentative, but the heat kicked in quickly. Our lips parted, tongues met and I heard some soft moans escape from my throat. He ended the kiss and pulled back, a question in his eyes. If either one of us felt enough guilt to stop, this would have been the moment to do so. If I felt a flash of regret the lust I was feeling soundly squelched it. I reached for his face with one hand and pulled him back for another kiss. The other arm I tightened around his back. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this degree of hunger and desire. His breathing shallowed and he was gulping air between kisses. I got up off Gary’s lap, stood up, never breaking the kiss, and straddled him so we were spandex to spandex. I could feel his penis straining through the fabric. His hands were roaming everywhere, up and down my legs, ass, back and arms, squeezing, caressing, rubbing. The frantic kisses continued.
“Oh my God this feels sooooo good, you feel so good, ohmigod, ohmigod” I groaned.
He pulled at the hem of my shirt, moving it upward. I leaned back and helped him pull my soaked shirt over my head and he attacked my sports bra while I slipped off my heart rate monitor strap. The wind was cool on my newly exposed skin but I was on fire, I couldn’t feel it at all. The only thing I felt was his hands on my body. They managed to free my boobs from the imprisonment of the sports bra. They bounced free and swayed. He stared at my chest for a moment. “Wow, I’ve been wondering what they looked like. They’re even nicer than I imagined!” he exclaimed, lowering his head. He was able to fully enclose one breast in his large hand and took turns, back and forth, sucking, biting, nibbling, squeezing, caressing. I leaned back and enjoyed the sensations for a few moments, then I straightened up and got him to stop for a moment and tugged his shirt off. What a nice chest. Broad, lightly sprinkled with dark hair, he was very lean. I admired him and ran my hands up and down his sides. He bent over and started on my breasts again, first one and then the other. I closed my eyes and shuddered in pleasure, then opened them and peeked down at him. The contrast of his dark, tan skin against my very white breasts was amazingly erotic. My nipples were a dark, rosy pink, little erasers. He looked up at that moment and our eyes met and we both smiled. He stopped for a quick kiss on the mouth then went back to my breasts. He seemed to know the right pressure to apply. Not too light a caress, not too hard a twist, but just right. My boobs have never been particularly sensitive but I was feeling sensations like I never had before. I could have sat there forever.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32