Impulse - Results Pt. 01

Not a big deal at all.

I showered quickly, had Stacy hand me my towel and got dressed in some clean clothes before heading downstairs for dinner.

I got to the kitchen and found Stacy and Paul engaged in conversation, each with a glass of wine in their hand. The air smelled delicious and they were infectiously speaking in such an animated fashion that I was immediately having a good time just by proxy. Paul handed me my own glass of wine and I was swept up into the moment. A moment that made me pause for a second and reflect upon the reality... I was living a very good life.

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As I continued to get stronger and the doctors gave the go ahead to do so, Stacy had been mixing up my workouts a bit more, incorporating more disciplines into my routine. It made it so much more enjoyable being able to break up the sessions with different activities. One of the things she also suggested was that we started going outside. Running on the beach was a bit too risky when I was starting but, as I got stronger and stronger, the added muscle work that was involved with staying balanced in the sand seemed to be helping out.

It also helped in allowing me to expand my physical boundaries. Up until that point I had been living in a new building, in a very new section of town and was unable to see much of it at all because of my immobility. I am sure I could have had Paul drive me around someplace but it just didn't seem right. Instead I focused on the same 200 meter section of beach in front of my building, mindlessly pacing back and forth.

Stacy had us going a little further down the beach than usual. Because my building was situated on the very edge of development, that meant that the beachfront away from the building itself was also undeveloped. On the downside that meant more sea debris. On the plus side that meant wide open expanses of sand and nobody else there.

We jogged and jogged that day, further than I feel like I had gone, even on the treadmill, since we started working together. It made sense to increase the load and the change was not unwelcome, just different.

Stacy stopped and stared down the beach and I could see some very minor movement probably another 3 miles down.

"Have you been down there at all?" I was the only person she was with when she asked but it seemed she wasn't speaking directly to me.

"Where?"

"To that section of the beach with the people down there," she responded, pointing to where she was looking.

"No, I really haven't been anywhere since I moved to my building. This is basically the furthest that I have gone from my own front porch."

"Oh, just curious. It is a really nice section of the beach. I actually go down there as often as I can. Though, with my schedule recently that hasn't been as often as I would like." She trailed off a bit and went silent for a moment. "You ready?"

I nodded my approval and we started our jog back to the building to finish up my morning session.

That was it.

Not that I was expecting anymore.. but maybe you were.

Nothing was really different for a while. I worked hard at PT, getting closer and closer to my pre-injury fitness levels. I arranged with Stacy that even when I was "cured" we would still work together to get me in the physical shape we both felt I had the potential for. We still had our 10x per week PT. We still had our 6x per week massage. Stacy continued to eat breakfast and lunch with me most days. She used my apartment here and there as well but her clothing was always on in my presence.

Even my net worth was improving.

Based on fluctuations in the stock market I now found my assets worth significantly more than they had been while I was working.

It was a very pleasurable life for me.

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I suppose one could say things changed a bit more about 8 weeks after the shower incident.

It was a Friday and I was not meeting with Stacy for PT. We had been talking the day before and she told me that her two appointments for that day had called off. Being that I had been seeing how hard she had been working lately and how much better I was doing I told her to just skip my massage and take the day off for herself. She thanked me profusely and agreed that she would take advantage of the time to kick back and relax. I myself didn't have much going on. It was a beautiful day though and a solo jog on the beach sounded great.

I was coming to the realization that my life would be changing again soon as my strength, mobility and agility were basically back to normal. It wouldn't have been an exaggeration to say that the only way someone would have known of my injury was the scar on my leg. Even that though wasn't even that bad.

With the weather as nice as it was I left the apartment shirtless and decided to catch a little bit of sun my otherwise relatively pale skin had lost, setting out in the same direction Stacy and I had so many weeks before.

The sun felt phenomenal on my body and my leg felt pretty good as I made my way down the sand, away from civilization, past the garbage, aimlessly into the distance. I passed one or two people here and there as I churned out one step after another but mostly I was left to my thoughts. A few miles later, just as I was figuring it was about time to turn around, I was shocked when I heard my name called from the vegetation line up away from the water where I was.

"Phil!"

What the heck? Who the hell would even know me? I hadn't left the apartment for weeks.

"Phil!"

I knew the voice but couldn't place it.

The body, however, that I could place.

Stacy shakily ran to me, her gait broken from the shifting sand beneath her feet. She waved with her left hand and used her right hand to hold a large, straw sunhat down on top of her head. The sunhat, maybe in addition to a tanning oil, was the only thing she was wearing.

I stood there, dumbfounded, just staring at her as she quickly continued her way to me.

"Hey," she exclaimed, "what are you doing here?!"

She ran herself directly up to me and grabbed me in an embrace, her hot, oily skin pressing up against my sweaty chest, and kissed me on the cheek.

"I just happened to find myself here," I answered. "No real reason other than that. Testing my leg strength is all."

"This is the beach I was telling you about," she exclaimed, twirling around with her arms stretched out wide and her face pointed up toward the sun. "Isn't it wonderful?"

30 seconds before it was decent, but common, beach to me. I admit my feelings about it being wonderful changed rapidly.

"Are you in a rush to leave? Why don't you stay a little while?" Stacy was already pulling me up the beach toward the vegetation line.

Looking around I saw probably about 20 people scattered around the beach all pretty spread out from one another and all, from what I could tell, nude. I had wondered how I had never heard about it before, but these things tend to fly pretty low under the radar. There are very few "well publicized" nude beaches in the US like Haulover in Miami or Blacks in San Diego, heck this one might not have even been official.

Stacy glided across the sand, dragging my clumsy, confused self behind her as we made our way up to what I assumed was her spot, a small chair and towel combo. She seemed even sexier than the last time I had seen her nude. While she always looked great in her yoga pants and tank tops, sunshine was an even better outfit.

She pulled the towel off the chair and put it on the ground, plopping down on it while practically pushing me into the chair.

She gazed up at me just beaming, a smile spread across her face.

"I am so glad to see you," she said again.

This girl seriously knew how to work my ego. I had never quite felt so welcome in a place that I had arrived at accidentally. I told her as much.

"Haha. Well, that's okay," she continued on, "I would much rather you feel welcome here than otherwise."

We did a bit of chit-chat. Talking about how my leg was feeling, how I felt about running on it and running alone.

She was just so comfortable sitting there, exposed to me. It wasn't as if she was obscene. It wasn't as if she was touching herself or had her legs spread in some sort of provocative pose, but even her present level of exposure would still cause most people to retreat into at least some sort of protective shell, especially considering this was our first experience with one another.

Not Stacy.

She was calm and confident and inviting.

She was incredibly sexy.

I felt a stirring in my shorts. An obvious reaction to the emotions that I was feeling at that point. I was only wearing a pair of loose running shorts. Not that much different than the thin Hooters shorts, just looser and less orange. The problem with the shorts is that they offer no resistance at all to any sort of visual demonstration of Stacy's effect on my physical well being.

I had to leave... immediately.

IMPULSE: I broke into the conversation and said that I had forgotten about something back home and, while thankful for her hospitality, really needed to get back.

She seemed a little disappointed, which made me feel a little bit bad, but it didn't change the growing-by-the-second problem I had in my shorts.

I got up to leave and Stacy stood up right into me, again pulling me into a tight hug. The mostly-erection in my shorts was now firmly pressed against her while the smell of her salty, oily skin and touch of her soft breasts pressed into my torso diverted more blood from the head on my shoulders and diverted it to the head in my pants.

There was no way she couldn't have possibly noticed.

If she did know and was as offended as I expected she was she certainly did not let on. She held me in her embrace for a second before letting me go and off on my way.

"It was so great to see you," she again exclaimed, "I'm really glad we ran into each other."

I made my way back down the beach, at a 45 degree angle away from her as quickly as possible, thoroughly upset with myself. I could not believe how out of sorts she made me. Yes, she was an attractive woman. Yes, she had a very casual view on nudity. Yes, she had no issues with personal contact while nude. But it wasn't as if I was a virgin. It wasn't as if I was an unattractive slob with no social skills whatsoever. I had made my fortune partially based on an easy-going sense of self that allowed me to adapt to social and professional situations effortlessly. Where the hell was that person and why was my brain causing me to react that way?

After a few minutes of running, going too fast just to get away as quickly as possible, I stopped. I turned myself around and looked back in the direction of where I had left Stacy.

I started walking back towards her.

I turned back around.

I ran home.

I jumped in a very cold shower.

Ho-lee-shit. What the hell was happening?

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RESULT: The next day Stacy was already in my apartment before I had even gotten downstairs. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence so I shouldn't have read anything into it, I just couldn't get the memories of all of my senses out of my head.

"Good morning!"

Her greeting to me was so saccharine it was obvious she was in a good mood.

"Good morning to you as well."

Paul took that as his queue and quietly left. I am not sure why Paul always seems to assume he shouldn't hang around but, in general, unless he was specifically asked to stay he tended to beg off.

"How is the leg feeling?"

"Fine, actually. Stronger every day thanks to you."

"Did you get your 'thing' done?"

"What?"

"Yesterday. When you left the beach you said you had something you forgot about that you needed to get back to. Did it all work out okay?"

"Oh, yeah... that. Yup, worked out great."

She had to have seen right through my bullshit. Again, she did not let on.

"Okay, well today is going to be a tough one for you during our AM session but the good news is that we are going to do your massage right after so I think you won't have any soreness for weights in the afternoon."

And with that, we went up to the gym and got started.

She was right, it was a tough workout. Stacy had me doing interval work both in the pool and then on the elliptical. I pushed hard and felt like I was getting tremendous results. The best news is that it didn't even feel particularly draining. I was on some sort of high that allowed me to breeze right through. Even Stacy seemed surprised.

"Hold on there, Stallion," she quipped, "I don't plan on letting you fire me just quite yet!"

135 minutes later we were done and we packed up to go back down to my loft for my massage. It was in the elevator when my nightmare started.

Have you ever heard that smell is the sense that is most tied to memory? I can assure you it is true.

I had somewhat known why my workout felt so great that morning, it was simple. The previous night I slept like a baby and I was totally rested. The cold shower had honestly tempered my emotion and allowed me to pass out. Plus, Stacy looked phenomenal that day. She was wearing a very low-on-the-hips pair of spandex-cotton shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top with a built-in bra. The shorts were low enough that, even though tight, whenever she moved in the right direction the edges of a g-string panty band would peek out from the edge or the top. Not so much that she needed to readjust, she probably never felt it, definitely enough to keep me motivated and distracted from any personal pain. I had been pleased that I was exercising because I was so turned on being around her I would have had a rock-hard erection had the blood in my body not been forced elsewhere to complete the workout.

In the elevator that all changed.

We weren't talking, just riding side by side when it hit me.

Her scent.

It was intoxicating, just a hint of the tanning oil and salty sweat that I had gotten into my brain the day before.

In an instant I was brought back to all of those emotions and visuals from less than 24 hours prior.

I was horny.

I was hard.

When the elevator stopped at my floor I let Stacy get off first. The act of chivalry was something that I would have done most days anyhow but that day I had to for any sense of self preservation. My dick was throbbing against the side of my shorts and I felt I would need duct tape to hold it down.

Stacy walked directly into the massage room and I followed. My brain was thinking of every single excuse I could possibly come up with to stall or avoid getting undressed but my feet just kept moving. My eyes were glued to her sexy ass, not even seeing the tight material covering it, rather visualizing the sight of the glistening, naked skin from the day before.

Nothing was said as we walked into the room and she doubled back around me to close the doors as I walked through. Nothing needed to be said. We had completed this same routine many times already. It was my job to simply get undressed and lie down.

"Start face up today," she said.

Fuck.

It was usually a flip of a coin as to whether she would have me start on my chest or my back. It often had to do with the workouts of the day. Her timing still couldn't have been worse.

I kept my back to her and slowly kicked off my shoes and socks and pulled off my shirt. I was desperately trying to will my cock into submission as she moved about in the background, preparing the lotions and potions that she rubbed onto my skin daily.

The thought of her touch only made it worse.

I slowly pulled my shorts down, awkwardly and painfully having to pull and shift around my steel member.

"Are you ready?"

I glanced over to her and realized that she still had her back to me as she finished up her own tasks.

I had no choice.

I laid down on the table and stared up at the ceiling, still praying for a last minute holy reprieve that would allow me to save myself and Stacy from the imminent forthcoming embarrassment.

None came.

I damned myself for the decision made so many months prior, when I admitted to her that I really didn't need the towel on me and if it was easier for her it was fine with me to be fully uncovered.

I resigned myself to my fate.

Through the corner of my eye I saw Stacy turn around from the corner and walk toward me, rubbing lotion or oil onto her hands. She appeared to be looking straight out the window and into the distance as opposed to directly at me. Indeed, why would she have any different focus today than she did any other day?

She took a few steps forward and then stopped.

I heard her slight gasp.

We both spoke at the exact same time.

"Whoa..."

...and...

"I am so sorry!"

I turned to look at her with what I am sure was a sheer look of terror in my eyes. What the hell was happening to me? I was not 13 and going through puberty. I usually had a significantly higher level of control over my body.

Right then I did not.

She broke my gaze and walked directly up to the side of the table.

"Well, I guess I now know that what I thought I felt yesterday was not a fluke occurrence"

"Oh, God... this is just getting worse."

Stacy stepped up to the table and paused.

"Phil..."

I looked up and locked eyes. She had a pleasant smile on her face.

Not beaming, not sarcastic.

Nurturing.

She broke that gaze for a moment as she looked down at me, my cock swollen and basically twitching, literally hovering over my stomach, not willing to subside in the least. Goddamn fitness! Why couldn't have half-hearted erections like other guys my age?!

I could see a brief look of hesitation on her face but, nevertheless, Stacy tentatively wrapped one of her hands around me, gently squeezing.

"Oh, my God! Are you okay? Did you take something?" She wasn't mocking me, rather she seemed legitimately concerned.

"Take something?"

"Viagra maybe? You are hard as a rock!"

She kept her one hand on me, not moving it in any way, and then put her other hand on my chest.

"No. Nothing. I didn't take anything."

I was practically breathless. My breathing was short and labored. I had my eyes closed for a moment, trying to figure a way out of my predicament. How awful... how embarrassing... how...

I opened my eyes and Stacy was smiling directly at me. She was looking directly at my face and smiling. Not a beaming smile but more of one of acceptance and encouragement.

What the hell was I thinking? This wasn't a problem, it was an opportunity.

I sat up quickly.

Stacy was surprised by my movement and stepped back with a bit of wild-eyed excitement. She appeared to think that I was pushing her away.

Her initial assessment couldn't have been further than the truth.

I was able to just grab a hold of her hand and pulled her back to me, wrapping my arm around her back. Our foreheads were pressed up against one another just for a brief enough moment for me to see the excited look come across her face before we attacked one another.

Our tongues wrestled as we frantically tried to pull her clothing off. Of course the one problem with the current fashion in fitness clothing is that it is so tight it is difficult to pull off of the wearer. Troopers that we are though, we persevered and we succeeded.

Stacy was soon nude and on top of me, our hot skin pressed together while we continued to explore each other with our mouths and hands.

My fingers found their way to her butt and, reaching around, down to the lips of her waiting womanhood.

She was already very wet.

There was nothing necessarily romantic about what happened that day. There was no prolonged foreplay, no extended timeframe lovemaking. We were hot for each other and our passion was frenzied.

I lined my rigid cock up with her and slowly started pushing in.