We cuddle breathlessly for about fifteen minutes, and then we decide to run a few miles. We can shower and cuddle some more when we’re done.
We do a five mile course, taking a little longer than half an hour, each of us carrying a bottle of cold water and the skimpiest outfits we can wear without scandal. It’s midday in the Texas summer heat, and if our sexual eccentricities were not enough to label us as insane, surely this choice of running environment will accomplish it.
We finish without incident, strip off as soon as we get indoors, guzzle some more cold water, and head for the shower. It’s not the most sensual shower we’ve ever experienced, but then, it’s hard enough to keep my hands off of Taylor’s dick during normal circumstances. When I’m in a position to wash it, I’m going to take the time to do it well. It’s enough to bring his erection back, and that’s good enough for now. I don’t want to interfere too much with his recovery time.
Taylor fixes us a light lunch, an egg-tuna salad. Afterwards, we head back to the bedroom, where Taylor hooks his phone up to the big screen on the wall, and plays back the videos and photos, mostly taken by Phoebe, of his adventures with Hera. It’s just like I imagined it would be, pussy-cock closeups, Hera straddling Taylor’s cock, facing his feet, and the camera, his almost freakishly wide shaft pulling apart her dainty cunt-lips as she wiggles and bounces on him, her her shiny clit-ring, her shrill, almost desperate pornographic narrations of her desires and pleasure, and her demands for more, and Phoebe’s warm, mellow voice from behind the camera, encouraging, cheering, flattering, sometimes gasping a little with excitement. It’s capped by a very nice, very closeup cumshot, the twitch of Taylor’s balls as his sperm rushes in to fill Hera, the glistening wetness on his cock suddenly becoming thick and white, dripping onto his pubes, thighs, and down his soaked ballsack. I have to agree with Hera’s Mom, it’s a beautiful view.
It’s an inspiring performance, and between feeling the heat of Taylor’s manhood in my hands and the visual stimulation, I’m wet again, and need to be filled. I’m always amazed by how empty I can feel when there’s a thick cock waiting to respond to me.
“Let’s take this to the couch in the living room,” I suggest. There’s anther big screen in there, and now I want to hook up my own phone. Taylor hasn’t seen the latest Hippie Hollow videos from my adventures with Carl and Sonia and Jo and Joe yet. He sits on the leather couch, and I sit on his lap, both of us facing the screen. He’s still hard enough, and his dick slides into me effortlessly as I sit down on him. God, it feels good, even if we aren’t actively fucking just having him in there is a delight.
I activate the phone, on the screen, and scroll down to the video options I’m looking for. I notice that my storage space is getting tight, I’m going to have to transfer these to a hard drive. We start with the videos that Sonia took from our Saturday morning workout. The first thing on the screen is Carl’s cock slowly withdrawing from my dripping pussy, dripping with the mixed spunk of both Taylor and Carl. I can see my legs quivering as I lean unsteadily on the safety bars of Carl’s power rack. Then we see Sonia’s beatific expression as she slurps the excess coating from Carl’s meat. Back to my cunt, with a few stray drips, and then Sonia sucking those as well, with a generous side dish of clit licking. My hips are spasming uncontrollably.
This is followed by more conservative shots of myself, Sonia and Carl doing our general weight training, if lifting weights nude can be called conservative. This is followed by the main course, Carl fucking me in his standing position, my arms wrapped over his shoulders, my legs wrapped around his waist, him supporting me with his hands under my ass. I hadn’t realized it looked so spectacular. Later he’s seen doing the same to Sonia at Hippie Hollow, and the camera pans between them and Joe fucking me, as Joanne handles the camera duties.
Taylor hasn’t said much, other than a few appreciative sighs and moans. I have gotten really into it, bouncing on Taylor’s lap and another orgasm to show for it. I enjoy porn in general, but it’s especially good when I’m in it. The thought occurs to me that maybe I should start my own porn channel, and upload my videos to the internet. The idea of millions of people watching me fuck is exciting, and I know Hera at least would agree. Usually it’s the woman who’s afraid of being displayed in public, the fear of slut-shaming is still legitimate and powerful. But lately I’ve become a proud slut, and with the right protection, maybe even a public slut. It’s the protection that might be the problem, though.
“By the way,” I mention after the end of the videos, as I climb off of Taylor. “Sonia is going to hire Carl to be her personal trainer and bodyguard when she’s on tour. She says she can pay him better than the solar installation company.”
“Really?” Taylor is genuinely surprised. “That’ll be great. I think he knows a lot more about training other people than he thinks, and he could probably use the program I wrote for him to take on other clients. He could make a business out of it if he wants to.”
“That’s what he said he wants to do,” I agree. “Sonia says he can use her name to get new clients. Although I think he really only wants to work with naked women.”
“As do we all,” Taylor chuckles.
The afternoon is relatively nonsexual. There’s always a lot to talk about, and Taylor and I both have a lot of individual and nonshared interests. Taylor sits down at his computer to work on a debugging issue with an application he’s modifying at work, and I log into a fine art forum, getting drawn into a thread about oils versus acrylics. I’ve been painting with oil almost exclusively for my entire career, but just this week I’ve decided to make the switch to acrylic, partly inspired by Hera’s work. My current project, the Sea Goddess, may be my last major oil painting. I still have a lot of questions about my reset, and my fellow online artists often have good ideas to pass along.
There are still plenty of breaks to take, Taylor and I both love random affectionate touching, and there’s plenty of that. Rarely do I walk past Taylor without him reaching out to squeeze my ass, cup a breast, or if he wants to feel like a celebrity, he’ll grab me by the pussy. Since he’s a celebrity, I let him do it. There’s plenty of whole-body hugging, too. I love hanging out with him naked. In return, he gets his own share of ass squeezings, some gratuitous shoulder rubs, an occasional testicular caress, and my favorite, to grab his cock with my fingertips just under the base of his glans, and give it a tug. There’s something about the tissues beneath the skin at that spot I find fascinating, whether he’s hard or soft, and I love the feel of it under my fingertips.
The lowering of the sun reminds Taylor that he has some yard work to do in the back. It’s a very small back yard, typical of most recent suburban budget tract homes, but it’s got a nice privacy wall, so we don’t have to get dressed to enjoy it. It’s not much, half of it is a concrete patio, and the rest is a couple of rather lonely looking rose bushes in each far corner, a small lemon tree in the middle, and some clumps of weeds and sage along the base of the privacy wall. It could definitely be improved, but Taylor is so much more geek than gardener I don’t have much hope for it. I also strongly suspect Taylor will be trading up before long, his career is going well, and he can afford much more house than this.