25th Class ReunionbyRainierWriterII©
Many thanks to Gayle for once again turning my incoherent ramblings into something readable - you truly are the best! I am grateful to Caligrl and FUB for their feedback on this work as well.
I have to be honest, when I first received the, 'hold the date' notice for my twenty fifth high school reunion, I deleted the e-mail almost instantly. As a forty three year old mother and career woman, I had left my school days far behind me. My family and I lived just over one hundred miles away from the town in which I grew up and I rarely went back to visit, particularly since my parents retired to Florida a few years earlier. If fact, I had not even thought of my alma mater in ages.
I know a lot of people look back on that time of their life with misty eyed nostalgia, but my high school years were far from my greatest. In my teens, I was a complete nerd, close to the top of my class and a flutist in the school's marching band. On top of that I was on the chunky side, with braces and thick glasses. Not exactly a recipe for stardom in your average American high school.
Just a few days after receiving the e-mail, during a restless night's sleep, I had a dream about my high school crush, Billy Hanlon. He grew up a couple blocks away from our house, and I'd see him on occasion strolling through the neighborhood with his group of friends in tow. Billy was tall and lean, with a thick head of blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He was the star pitcher on our baseball team, and rumor had it he was bound for glory in the major leagues until he injured his arm. I blushed every time he passed by, but I doubt he noticed as I'm sure he didn't even know I existed.
When I awoke the next morning, my mind ran back to thoughts of Billy. I couldn't help but wonder what he looked like and what he was doing after all these years, and a chill ran down my spine. It was Saturday and I wasn't working, so after getting breakfast for my husband and son, I made an excuse to go to the basement so I could dig out my high school yearbook.
It took me a while to locate as it had been boxed up with other keepsakes for years, but when I found it I slowly poured over every page. I barely recognized many of the faces anymore, but a few really stood out. Billy looked the same as I remembered him, complete with scruffy hair and high cheekbones. He appeared very svelte in his Harrison High baseball uniform, and I was saddened to think that things hadn't worked out for him.
I felt a pang of guilt at not keeping in touch with my two best friends from school when I saw their pictures. Michelle and Janet were my partners in crime in the old days, and I was curious if they would be attending the reunion. For some reason, I was left longing to reconnect with my past for the first time in ages.
Over the next week, my thoughts kept wandering back to the reunion. I couldn't help but wonder who would be there and what they might look like after all this time. With each passing day, my curiosity grew to the point that I was actually interested in attending. I was pretty sure I wouldn't, mind you, but the thought no longer sickened me.
Candidly, I had no reason to be particularly anxious over seeing old schoolmates. After graduating from Harrison, I attended a great private college where I earned my degree, before starting a family and subsequently embarking on a successful career. I lost the thick glasses I wore in school in favor of contact lenses, and of course my braces came off as well. All in all things were okay; I'm sure I was doing a lot better than most of my former classmates anyway.
Not that things were perfect in my life mind you. My job required me to put in long hours, so I was away from my home more than I would have cared for. In fact, I would have loved to find something less stressful, but given the fact that I made far more money than my husband and had the better health insurance, my career was important to the family coffers.
My husband, Don, was a decent guy, but not the most motivated man in the world. He held the same position at work for years, and had been passed over for promotion on numerous occasions. He constantly whined about how he got screwed in one way or another, and as a result had grown quite bitter. But I knew the truth, that he was simply lazy. So, I was left to pick up the slack, both at work and at home.
Over the years, I think it would be fair to say that Don and I had very simply grown apart. When we were young, it was easy to overlook our differences as everything was new to us since we were each the other's first real relationship. We rarely fought; we just went about our business largely on our own. Of course we still slept in the same bed, but it had been ages since we had been intimate.
The one true bright spot in my life was our only child, my loving son, Tyler. He somehow ended up with all of the best qualities from both sides of our family, plus others I had not ever seen in any of our relatives. Tyler had my curious mind and drive, with his dad's easy nature. He was also as sweet and compassionate as anyone I had ever met, and friends seemed to gravitate to him like bees to honey. He lived at the house during the summer while attending university about an hour away from home, working towards a degree in engineering.
At dinner one evening, I mentioned the reunion just to gauge Don's interest. He looked at me like I had three heads and asked, "You're not seriously considering going, are you? I thought you hated high school." I replied that I didn't really want to go, but was simply curious about what my friends were up to these days.
Tyler on the other hand was incredibly supportive and encouraged me to attend. "You should go, Mom. I'm sure everyone would love to see you," he said enthusiastically, which drew a sarcastic chuckle from my husband.
Of course Tyler had no idea that his mom was one of the nameless masses that wandered the halls of Harrison High, but how could he? My son always seemed to admire me; in fact, at times when he was younger I think he may have even had a crush on me. For years he was like my little shadow, following me around the house everywhere I went. I thought it was cute, but he eventually outgrew it as he matured into the handsome young man is today.
After Don's reaction, I pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was not going to attend the reunion. It didn't bother me that much as I was a good forty pounds overweight, and didn't want my old classmates to see me at less than my best. I wasn't exactly a prom queen in high school and I didn't want to further reinforce old images my schoolmates may have long held. Yet deep down a desire to go was building daily. If not for my weight, I'm sure I would have already reserved tickets.
For whatever reason, Tyler broached the subject with me constantly, asking if I was going. I told him I wasn't really interested, but it was obvious he could see the truth behind my lies. He kept pressing me with one simple question, "Why?"
I gave excuse after excuse, but none appeared to hold up under Tyler's scrutiny. Finally, somewhat exasperated, I told him the truth, that I was self-conscious about my size and that I was never particularly popular in school anyway. I hated to say it, but I let him know I was sure I wouldn't be missed. I was disappointed in myself for sharing that with him and possibly shattering his illusions, but I didn't know what else to say.
Tyler looked genuinely stunned and stated incredulously, "But Mom, you're adorable." He then added, "I bet you look better than any of the other women that'll be there."
I couldn't help but sigh as his words sank in because I knew he meant them completely. "Thank you honey, that was sweet," I replied softly as I gazed into his handsome face, and then added, "But I'm still not going." Tyler just shook his head and walked away. How could a twenty one year old kid understand how neurotic a woman my age can be when it came to her self-image?
I did my best to forget about the reunion for a few days until Tyler approached me one evening. I could tell something was on his mind by the look on his face, before he stated, "You know, I've been thinking, Mom."
I was curious about what was to follow, but was sure it had something to do with the reunion. I replied, "About?"
"Well, you know I have that gym set up in the basement, right?" he asked hesitantly. "I was thinking I could put you on an exercise program to lose a pound or two before your party."
He was of course being his usual sweet self by saying a, "pound or two," but I loved him for it. "Honey, I appreciate it, I really do, but I'm not going."
It was clear he had been expecting just such a response when he said, "Well, we could work out together anyway, you know, to each get in better shape. What do you think?"
I almost laughed in his face hearing him talk about getting in better shape. Tyler was just over six feet tall, and weighed close to one hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle. He was not overly bulky, but completely firm all over. He had a body most men would die to have and most women would love to hold.
My work schedule was still hectic, but the idea of losing a few pounds and possibly attending the reunion held great appeal to me. Between my job and Tyler's school, we rarely got to spend any quality time together, so the idea of further bonding with him was wonderful. Before my mind could formulate possible excuses, I heard myself saying, "Okay, I'm in."
"Awesome, Mom," he responded with a bright smile, "We can start this weekend!"
When Don learned that Tyler and I were going to be working out together, he chuckled, "You're kidding me, right Kathy? Bet that lasts two weeks, max." I hadn't really expected anything different, but would it have killed him to be supportive for a change? If anyone in the house needed exercise it was him, the lard ass.
Saturday afternoon Tyler and I met in the basement to begin our training. I felt really self-conscious, so I dressed in a baggy pair of sweat pants and an old tee shirt. I was impressed by how serious Tyler was taking things as he explained the program he had designed for me. However, I was mortified when he asked me to step on a scale, and even more so when he produced a tape from my sewing kit to take my measurements. I did my best to talk him out of it, but he was insistent that watching the weight and inches fall off would be incredibly motivating.
Left with no good argument against it, I finally relented, and he set about taking my measurements. I don't think I'd ever been as embarrassed as when my son dropped to his knees and wrapped the tape around my thigh. He didn't tell me the reading, and candidly I didn't want to know, he just wrote it down in a notebook.
Next he moved to my hips, then my abdomen, each time being as professional as possible. Finally he stood and blushed a bit as he moved the tape around my chest. I felt a tingle run down my spine as the back of his fingers scraped across my breast momentarily. I was a bit ashamed at my reaction, but it had been ages since I'd been touched in an intimate way, I could hardly be blamed, or so I told myself.
After he finished jotting down the figures, Tyler announced, "We'll do this once a week and I'll put it up on a chart so we can monitor your progress as we go."
There was no way on earth I wanted my numbers posted on the wall for anyone to see, particularly my husband, so I told Tyler that was just not going to happen. In addition, I explained that I was not going to subject myself to the scale every week, and offered a monthly compromise. Thankfully he understood, and agreed to keep my measurements in his notebook. The reunion was still six months away, so I just hoped the temporary humiliation would somehow all be worth it in the long run.
Tyler had a padded mat on the floor and I was soon upon it as he put me through a long stretching regimen. I was more than a tad embarrassed at some of the positions he placed me in, bending over this way or that as every other stretch seemed to have either my butt or my breasts thrust outward. I was glad I wasn't wearing a skimpy leotard, not that I even owned one, of course.
After a good fifteen minutes on the mat, I was instructed to get on the exercise bike to further warm up my muscles and get the blood flowing. Tyler said ten minutes would be a good start, so I began peddling away. After only three minutes or so I was sweating and feeling short of breath, but fought to make it to the finish.
I assumed we'd take a break after my time on the bike, but Tyler had other things in mind. I was sweating profusely when he started me on some light weight lifting. He showed me proper technique, which most often involved him touching or holding various parts of my body as he did so. I knew he was just being helpful, but at times his fingers strayed close to some of my more delicate areas, which once again made me shiver.
At times I found myself watching Tyler intently as we took turns lifting weights. He appeared so powerful as he pumped the bar above his head, sweat soaking his brow. After a while he pulled off his tee shirt and worked bare-chested. His abs were cut and his chest looked like that of a body builder, so much different than my droopy, sagging husband.
After another half hour or so, Tyler released me to the most enjoyable shower I had ever experienced. As I stood under the hot water, I couldn't get him out of my mind. His hands had been where nobody else's had in so long, I felt guilty that I actually found it somewhat titillating. As I soaped my body, I discovered that my nipples were hard and my vagina was aroused. I quickly put the soap down and rinsed off, forcing myself to focus on things other than my son.
The next day my body was sore all over and I could barely walk, but mentally I felt wonderful. I was proud that I had taken the first step towards the new me and was determined to prove Don wrong in the process. I was still tender at work on Monday, but didn't let on as I wanted to keep what I was doing a secret in the event the pounds were more difficult to shed than I'd hoped.
Tyler gave me another day to rest, but on Wednesday evening we were back in the basement, where he put me through my paces once more. Everything seemed to be a bit harder than on the weekend as I think my muscles were still tired, but I fought through the pain and did my best. Tyler kept offering me words of encouragement which made things easier than they otherwise might have been.
Since I had perspired so heavily during our last session, I decided to do away with the bulky sweatpants in favor of a pair of athletic shorts. I'm not sure if it was intentional or not, but Tyler's hands seemed to find my bare legs on numerous occasions. During my stretching he pointed out some of the muscles I was working in my legs, and lightly traced a finger up and down them for effect. My skin tingled at his gentle touch, yet I did my best to remain calm.
Later, when I was on the bench doing some light weight work, I gazed downward and noticed my nipples were slightly engorged and protruding through my sweat-soaked bra and tee shirt. My chest was heaving due to my exertion, which in my mind made them all the more prominent. I looked up and found Tyler's eyes were cast that way, desire clearly written across his handsome face. For some reason, rather than feeling embarrassed or outraged by his overt staring, I strangely became somewhat excited. I could not recall the last time a man looked at me that way, and as crazy as it may sound, I enjoyed the feeling.
Tyler took his turn upon the weight bench after me, and my eyes wandered down his chiseled torso to his midsection. A sizeable lump pressed up the fabric of his tight athletic shorts and I couldn't help but ponder just how large he was down there. I had only been intimate with one man in my entire life, and wondered just how varied their equipment might be. Things like that were not discussed in my small circle of conservative girlfriends, so my mind raced as I averted my eyes. I had never even seen a Playgirl, for heaven's sake, and probably had less experience than most girls half my age these days.
When we finished the workout, I gave Tyler a hug and headed off to the shower. I let the warm water cascade down my body for a long time, feeling some relief in my aching muscles. I chided myself for feeling aroused in my son's presence, but I just chocked it up to the frustration in my marriage and lack of male attention.
After my shower I slipped into a comfy old pair of pajamas and headed to the living room to watch some TV before bed. Tyler was there already bathed and viewing his favorite program from the couch. When I approached, he smiled at me and patted the sofa to offer me a spot right alongside of him, which I happily accepted. Don was upstairs on the computer as usual, so it was just the two of us watching the tube.
Tyler asked me how I was feeling, and I admitted that I was more than a bit sore all over. I was surprised when he offered me a massage, and I once again felt a shiver run through my body at the thought of being touched in an intimate way. The idea was certainly appealing, so I only made a halfhearted attempt to decline, but he insisted. On his instructions, I sprawled forward across the cushions and tried to make myself comfortable.
Moments later, I felt his hands lightly caressing my shoulders, and then slowly work down across my back. I have no idea where he learned his technique, but the massage was heavenly. Tyler must have known how sore I was because he never applied too much pressure, just gently but steadily rubbed my aches away.
Very softly, he asked, "Feel okay, Mom?"
"Wonderful," I whimpered honestly.
Tyler focused most of his attention on my back and shoulders, but occasionally dropped down to rub my calves and feet as well. At times his fingers strayed close to my breasts when he was caressing my sides, but he always kept things professional. After such a hard workout, I felt like I was slowly melting into the sofa and I loved every second of it.
The massage ended long after Tyler's program was over, and I felt guilty that he had probably missed the entire thing while he focused his attention upon me. My muscles were very tired, but the rubdown stimulated me in a way for which I was unprepared. Blood flowed to areas of my body it had not in ages, and naughty thoughts entered my head while he held me just before we called it a night.
When I climbed under the sheets that evening Don was already snoring loudly. He had no idea a horny woman was so close by, and I certainly was not going to wake him. I had never been particularly into masturbation, but at that moment I was feeling the need for some self-pleasure and slipped a hand down into my PJ's. With my husband sleeping just inches away, I fondled my sex in a slow, rhythmic fashion. Only three or four minutes later, I came with a shudder, biting my lip to remain silent.
The next three weeks of our workouts played out similarly to the first. Tyler watched my every move like a hawk and continued the positive reinforcement when he thought my energy was waning. At other times he gave me a bit of tough love when I needed a kick in the pants, which I greatly appreciated.
Don would usually grunt aloud or utter some other negative sound as Tyler and I made our way downstairs, which I think only heightened the kinship between my son and I. It was almost as if it was us against him, which for me proved highly motivating.
I know it may sound crazy coming from a woman of my age, but somehow I almost felt like a teen again. After years of being ignored, it was wonderful to have someone pay so much attention to me. It didn't hurt that he was handsome, and actually seemed as interested in my mind as my physical wellbeing. Tyler was effusive in his compliments towards me, and I soaked them all up like a sponge, whether he was exaggerating or not.