Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Morgan & Me
The long days of exercise and hard work were paying off in a very rewarding way. In six weeks I found myself on the small end of a size 8. Morgan was not kidding when she said I would be wearing her like a second skin. She was there for me with every weight pulled and with every bend and shake and stretch taken.
I placed my trust completely in her hands, even though it frightened me at times. And why would it frighten me you might ask? I couldn’t define it exactly, but every time she drew close to me, especially when we were exerting ourselves and working up a running perspiration, I began to feel dizzy… not a balance dizziness, but that kind of imbalance one feels when they are struggling with their sexual emotions before someone that is so tempting, they lead you to thoughts of sex and infidelity.
Why my emotions would be excited to such a degree by Morgan was unexplainable. I had never had sexual feelings for another woman. Why her?
But there they were, everytime she had me strip naked and began to feel my individual muscles that we were working to tone. Her hand running up and down my shins and thighs, her fingers gently pinching my bottom while she measured the progress in dropping pounds and fat, her palms cupping my breasts to assess the slight increases in firmness and tone, all these brought chills and shivering want to my mind, so much so, that I had given up attempts at trying to hide the trickles of excitement that would often wander down my inner thighs. She either did not notice, or was too polite and professional to acknowledge it.
I’d go home puzzled by my feelings, wondering if they were proper and up front. I wanted to talk to her about them, but I didn’t want her to stop her training for something so silly, and decided to just ignore it as best I could.
One day I arrived to find her locked in her office. There was a note on the door that she was not to be disturbed. I wandered to the weight room and toyed a bit with a few of the machines just to pass the time, but my heart really wasn’t into it. I decided that without Morgan to inspire and cajole and put me through my paces, I was really rather tired, uninspired and a bit apathetic. I felt guilty that I needed her spirit to prop me up, but my feelings of despair and worthlessness were beginning to encroach upon me again. I decided to go back home and vacuum the house, and generally do all those mundane things that I seemed to be good at.
I slipped my tote bag over my shoulder and sauntered toward the door, but as I passed Morgan’s office, the door silently opened and I was swept within.
“So that was all you could muster? Look, girl, I’m not gonna waste my time if you can’t find the energy to overcome yourself. What if I fucking died on the highway going home tonight? Would you just cry and give up? That’s what it looks like. It doesn’t matter how muscular, how slim, or how sexy you are physically. If you aren’t there mentally and spiritually, you’re never gonna fuck your husband again… at least not in any meaningful way.”
I was crying again. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t understand how Morgan could be so driven, so energetically alive. She never stopped. She rarely even paused. I was also angry that she had cut me off just to see how I would react.
“Fuck you, bitch!”
I threw my tote bag at her as hard as I could, but she swiftly intercepted it in midair with one hand, and sent it flying back at me unexpectedly, knocking me off my feet and into a pile of swimming pool flotation noodles. I looked ridiculous, and she started laughing. I began to fume. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to go home and bury my head under a pillow and cry for hours.
“I’m going to say this once and once only,” she retorted. “You have seven fucking weeks to get to your goal. I know you can do it, but you need to know that also. I should be able to quit my job tonight and not feel guilty that you might not achieve that finish line, which is more of a starting line to a new life. But right now I feel if I dissappeared, you would be chucking down cookies-and-cream within hours. I need to do some shopping for supplies. If I come back and you haven’t shown me what you are worth to yourself and others, don’t bother walking through that door tomorrow. I’ll tell the desk to mail you your membership refund.”
She spun around and walked out the door, leaving me strewn across a pile of pool noodles. I threw my head back and thought for a few moments. That was the first time I had ever seen Morgan angry, truly angry. I felt it deeply and shamefully. I was also given a sample of a strength of mind and body that I hadn’t expected. She effortlessly laid me out with a single thrust of a tote bag.
I rose and walked out of her office into the hallway. She was nowhere to be seen. I walked toward the door. I guess I wasn’t up to the task. I just wanted to go home and cook dinner for my family, something with meat and fat, and sugar for dessert. All would be ok. My ankara escort husband loved me, and I did look pretty trimmed down, though not quite what I had originally aimed for.
I stepped out the door and into the midday sun of an early May morning. I could hear the birds singing and the trees were bursting into that youthful yellowish green foliage that was unmistakably Spring. I breathed in the fresh air. The earth upon which I tread was old, billions of years in fact. Yet every spring it came alive as fresh and young as could be.
I took my keys out to open the car door. I looked back to bid the YMCA a final goodbye, but couldn’t bring myself to it. If earth could be reborn after a billion winters, could I not do the same?
I chucked the keys back into the tote and walked back into the Y. I felt stronger and more determined than ever. Morgan may have the strength of a football running back, but she would never lay me out on a pile of pool noodles again… if I could prevent it… and I would.
I changed into my swimsuit (not the thong, but the old one piece) and climbed into the pool. I drifted, floating, out into the water, suspended in its bouyant bosom, and thinking of the task before me. I had come too far to throw it all away. I rolled over into the water onto my right side, side-stroking from one side of the pool to the other, then on my left side, swimming back. That was my warm up. Soon I was reaching with a powerful invigorating crawl from one end to the other. I felt my strength returning. Not only in my arms and torso, but in my will and determination. As much as I depended on Morgan for everything, she made me realize that it would all be for naught once we had parted ways. I had to depend on myself… myself alone, floating in a vast confluence of turbulent waters.
I forged a path through that turbulence, owning it, bending it and my body to my will. From the pool I went to the weights, giving myself over to the mesmerizing series of repetitions designed to firm up all the places I had let grow lax over the years. I began to truly exercise because my body craved and wanted it, not because a trainer was endlessly prodding me toward an unobtainable goal. I knew, at that moment, that there was no longer a question of not achieving that far off goal of a few weeks past.
The goal was in my sight, in my mind, in my spirit, in my muscle and sinew. I drank in the strain to my physique like a toper drinking in his besottedness. A hot jacuzzi, yoga, zumba, and another round of weights left me exhausted and covered with sweat. It was soon closing time, and still no sight of Morgan, although I felt her presence through it all.
Finally, just moments before closing, I met her in the hallway as I walked toward the showers. She motioned me into her office.
“You’ve done well, grasshopper,” she spoke in a feigned Chinese accent. I folded my hands and gave her a mock bow. I was still slightly out of breath and sweating profusely. As I rose from my bow, a trickle of sweat traced a path between my buttocks and down to my asshole. I shivered and tightened my butt cheeks. Morgan smiled, as though she knew exactly what had just happened.
“I need to talk to you about something important before we continue toward our goal,” she opened. I appreciated the way she made my ‘my’ goal ‘our’ goal.
“Am I not progressing as well as I should?” I countered. I felt guilty about the weakness I exhibited that morning.
“No, Mary, you are progressing extraordinarily well. This is about something you said to me when we first met. It had to do with you offering your ass to your husband if it came to that. Is that not correct?”
I had to admit that yes, I had said that, but not thinking it was that serious a thing to contemplate.
“I have to ask you once again… do you trust me, Mary? I mean REALLY trust me?”
“Of course I do, Morgan. How could you ask such a question after all the work of the last six weeks?”
“I have to ask,” she responded thoughtfully, “because the nature of everything is going to change in ways, that only absolute trust will achieve the ends you desire.”
“Morgan,” I stared unblinking into her eyes, “I’m yours to mold as you will. I trust you more sometimes than I trust myself.”
She stared back, unblinking for a few long seconds, then stood.
“Ok. Follow me.”
We walked back out into the echoing hallway. The place had closed and everything seemed empty and cavernous. I followed Morgan to the yoga room. It was dimly lit with a few safety lights that were meant to burn through the night. They cast a grey, eerie glow. We sat down on two yoga mats facing each other. She reviewed the chakra lessons and had me meditate inwardly, to my being’s core. The sweat had dried, but I still had that left over oily feel.
Suddenly all was quiet and I felt her eyes burning into me.
“Mary,” she almost whispered, ” let us, for just a moment, relocate our core.”
She ankara escort bayan spoke very softly and soothingly, almost hypnotically. I decided to do whatever she asked, regardless of my personal feelings or inhibitions, and, as if she had understood that decision, she spoke.
“Stand up and undress, and don’t make me ask you to remove those fucking cotton panties.”
I stood and pulled off my t-shirt and sports bra, my shoes and socks, and finally, my shorts and panties. They were all sweat-soaked, and the A/C immediately gave me goose bumps and hardened my nipples.
There were a few yoga mats stacked up by a mirror. She gently led me over to it by gently enfolding one of my buttocks in her hand with a finger sinking between my cheeks and almost touching the borders of the puckered rosette of my asshole. My body quivered to the thrill it gave me, and my vaginal flow could not be damned as it trickled down, and filled, my entire pussy gap.
“Now, Mary,” she murmured in a mesmerizing mellifluous flow of words, “bend over, feet apart, and place your hands on the mats in front of you, close your eyes, and relocate your core to the tiny pucker of your anus. Picture it as beautiful, desirous, the navel of all your wantonness.”
As she was reciting her unusual mantra, she drew her face and lips close to the object in question. I wanted her to think it was beautiful. I wanted her to think it was desirous. I wished her to be drawn to its blatant and undeniable wantonness. Her intake of breath would leave a cold impression that made the pucker tighten, while each warm exhalation, combined with words that concentrated my attention to it, caused it to loosen and relax.
“Very good, Mary,” she said encouragingly. “Next, push your pucker outward. Then relax… again… relax… beautiful!”
Her voice was so gentle and reassuring, the fact that I was exposing my asshole, and following her rather bizarre instructions, seemed so natural. I have never trusted anyone so completely as Morgan. Not even Micah, but then, this was all being done for Micah. Or was it? Sometimes I began to think that I owed this to myself. He could take it or leave it. And Morgan… she seemed to always intrude into any thoughts I had that were sexual.
“Ah! So sweet. So desirous,” she whispered softly into the dim atmosphere surrounding our exercise. Suddenly, as I was pushing outward, I felt her finger press against my desirous hole. When I relaxed, the finger seemed to slide in effortlessly, with no pain or discomfort whatsoever. It was a new feeling for me. I had always heard that even the smallest intrusions were somewhat discomforting, yet here I was feeling nothing unpleasurable. In fact, I was enjoying it.
She stood up behind me and drew me upright, with her finger filling my butt. I could feel her perfect breasts pressed against my naked back. She had pulled her swimsuit down to her waist and her nipples were warm and erect. I felt her trembling breath against the back of my ear.
“Tomorrow,” she spoke in an almost inaudible breathless whisper. I felt her finger slip slowly from my anus. I stood there, not wanting to look over my shoulder. Her footsteps receded from me, down the hall, and into her office.
I caught up my belongings and scurried, naked, down the hall after her. By the time I had reached her room, she was pulling a few items off her cluttered shelves, tossing them across her desk for me to retrieve. I picked up a bubble pack with two laxative pills.
“Take one tonight and one tomorrow morning. Oh yes, and get a book of crosswords or sudokus to work on while sitting on the toilet. You’re gonna be there a lot. Tomorrow about noon take this mixed into some Gatorade.”
She tossed me a powdered packet of some powerful purging substance.
“This is your lunch tomorrow. After that, only clear liquids. Show up here about half an hour to closing. We’ll do some stretches in the yoga room until everyone has left.”
“Who’ll be joining us?” I asked.
“No one,” she replied.
“But…”
“Mary?” she interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Trust me.”
This was what I always referred to as a crunch time, a focal point in ones life that any decision one makes will send that life spinning onto paths unpredictable, or fulfill your greatest desires.
The sun rose to find me shitting my guts out, which continued through the day, especially when I downed the powder. By the time I arrived at the Y, I felt amazingly light and empty. I was reticent, wondering what Morgan had planned for me, but nothing would turn me from my goal. I had struggled far too hard.
She met me at the door, her beautiful dark hair cascading over breasts that one could not help but admire. Today she was wearing a short t-shirt, exposing a firm, but not overly muscular, stomach that I wished I could someday attain to. Her signature low-riding sweatpants billowed out from the lower part of her hips, leaving her abdomen fully exposed escort ankara down to the point where her pubic hairs were slightly revealing themselves.
We went to the yoga room, where we stretched together until everyone had left. Some of the stretches were aided by her ever gentle and knowing hands. I had certainly become more limber in the past few weeks. Morgan often joked that men liked their girls limber and wet. The ‘wet’ part I had down, what Morgan referred to as my fucking faucet left nothing to be desired. I had inadvertantly stiffened through the years since high school, and it took a lot of work to restore my former stretchiness.
I worked up a sweat in the yoga room. Morgan suggested I shower.
I walked into the small shower room equipped with four heads, and turned on the water as hot as I could stand. My nervousness and reticence dissolved in the steamy stream of pulsing flow. Morgan said she’d join me shortly, which I found a bit odd. She had her own private shower in the bathroom connected to her office, and I had never known her to use the public shower.
I closed my eyes and let the relaxing, penetrating warmth of the water caress and soothe me. Thoughts began to surface in my brain. I had never seen Morgan fully nude. It made my pussy tingle to think of it. But why? I had never been attracted to women before. Why did this particular woman have such an effect on me.
“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” Morgan’s soft voice broke my contemplative reverie.
With eyes still closed, I answered, “No, not for years actually.”
“Open your eyes, Mary.”
I opened my eyes to the stunning beauty before me, but gasped as I stepped out of the streaming flow and against the tiled wall.
“Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!” I was at a loss to retrieve any other words from my vocabulary.
Standing before me was a goddess of goddesses, possessing a curvature and natural beauty that was simply phenomenal.
But at the epicenter of all that was truly defining in a woman, nestled amongst the pubic hairs, dark and lustrously curled, hung a penis of such proportion, that even limp, engendered visions of surpassing virility and massive proportion. I found myself with eyes dilated and mind racing, gasping for breath at the site before me.
I felt betrayed by the very person I had placed such trust in. Not only that, I felt threatened. She was, or was it a he, my mind sank into a state of confusion… she, he, was far stronger than me, and I felt cornered. I clambered across the shower room to my personal belongings, pulling out my phone.
A concerned look crossed Morgan’s face. Was I calling the police? She began to say something, almost in a panic, but I put my finger to my lips, giving her a stern look. She stood on the opposite side of the room, shutting her eyes to the situation she had engendered, waiting to hear her fate.
The phone rang once… twice, and the other line picked up.
“Honey,” I tendered, “pick up the kids from practice and y’all go out to eat. I’ll be late at the Y tonight.”
I flipped the phone shut with an audible click, and looked at Morgan.
“You should have told me,” was all I could say.
“It was too much of a risk,” she retorted.
“That’s putting it mildly,” I countered.
“That’s not what I meant. Let me explain. I was afraid if you knew, I wouldn’t be allowed to touch you and encourage you to do the things you needed to do to accomplish your goals. You deserve to reach out and grasp the beauty that is inside you, and show to the shallow world that you can bring that beauty to the surface and do all that a woman of your talent deserves to do.”
I stood, transfixed in silent contemplation. She grew more and more fidgety.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered with eyes downcast. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go, but I want you to know that you can achieve your goals with or without my help. You know what do. Just remember I have faith in you, that you can make your dreams come true. It takes tremendous force of will. I know that more than most, as I am trying to be the person I’ve always aspired to be. I obviously have a long way to go, but someday I will stand before a mirror naked, and see my own reflection.”
She, for I had come to the conclusion she was truly a woman, turned her back to me and began to vacate the shower room.
“Stop!” I broke my silence. I slowly walked up behind her. She was several inches taller than me and my stomach nestled against her ass. I stood on my toes and whispered into her ear.
“I trust you, Morgan…
Completely!”
I turned the spigot of the shower, casting us into a silence interrupted only by the odd, occasional drip. We walked back toward the yoga room, stark naked through the cavernous halls. Her penis swung with the rhythm of her feminine, swaying hips. It, like the rest of her, was a thing of beauty. On the way, she retrieved a small bag from her office.
In the yoga room we sat on the mats facing each other. Nothing was hidden, nothing threatened. We were communicating in a deep and trusting language, a language in which hormones, pheromones, desires, and a sense that everything was as it should be, was the only language that was necessary.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32