Manchild

Tonight's bra, though, was new. I'd picked it out earlier that morning. It was bright pink, unlike the basic black I usually wore. It was also sleeker, sexier, and more revealing than anything else in my workout collection. It was designed to get attention, which was exactly why I was wearing it.

Finally, I started to peel off my sweatpants. Normally I work out in standard yoga pants, the style that ends below the knee. With long legs, slender but toned, and a cute, athletic bubble butt, I look good in yoga pants. Then again, yoga pants look good on most women: sexy because they hug your curves, but modest because they don't show any skin. They've become our uniform. If you want to get attention, you've gotta wear something that shows off a bit more.

Like yoga shorts.

I was wearing yoga shorts. Sexy ones, which came with the sexy sports bra as a sexy set. Bright pink, rather sheer (the underlying thong was visible), and quite short.

My striptease complete, I stuffed my discarded clothes into the cubby and made my way toward the yoga room. I could feel the eyes of many fellow gym members following me.

"Sexy Mel," Anthony said as he intercepted in front of the doorway.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to interrupt your workout."

"Not a problem. Just finished."

"Oh no! You're leaving?" I gave him a little pout. "My yoga class is just starting!"

"I still have to shower. I'll grab a smoothie after that and wait around for you."

We were still standing at the entrance to the dance studio, not exactly blocking traffic but causing some detours and attracting attention. Anthony the Gym God looked pumped up and massive, while Mel the Yoga Princess looked barefoot and mostly naked. Women heading into the room were noticing us; men watching the women heading into the studio were noticing us.

But we only had eyes for each other. Electricity crackled between us.

"I'll see you in an hour," I said. I leaned in and gave him a little peck on the cheek.

It was an advanced class, with lots of work on the hips, which I enjoyed. Then again, a lot of people seemed to be enjoying the class, including some people who weren't in it. The dance studio, which is a wonderful space, has an interesting feature: one wall is all glass, and it faces out into the main corridor of the gym. It's pretty common for people to gather and socialize and mill around in that area, and sometimes you have (or at least it feels like you have) an audience for your yoga session, or Pilates or jazzercise or whatever.

Tonight's session was no exception. There was a bit of a crowd on the other side of the glass. Toward the end of the class, Anthony and a couple of friends were front and center. I glanced his way a couple of times, and each time he was staring right at me. I smiled once, and he smiled back. When I wasn't looking his way, I felt his eyes on me. It was mildly distracting but I liked it.

After the workout, my body was very happy with me, filling me up with endorphins. I had a smile on my face, and every muscle felt tired but relaxed. Especially my hips.

Out in the main corridor, I didn't see Anthony right away, so I went straight to the cubbyholes to get my stuff. As I bent over, I realized that my yoga shorts had ridden up in the back and had given me a wedgie. Without really thinking about it, I tugged them back into position. Then I realized the front had risen as well and I was bit shocked to realize I'd been sporting a camel toe. Just as I started to adjust it, I became aware of a looming presence behind me. I spun around, still tugging on the bottom of my shorts...

I encountered a solid wall of muscle and testosterone. Anthony, all 6'4" of him, was in the middle, flanked by two other guys almost as big. They were close enough to me that I could smell the manly scent of their freshly showered bodies.

"Sexy Mel," Anthony rumbled, as he stepped up to me, arms opening for an embrace. I hesitated for a heartbeat, not because this display of affection was so public, but because I was sweaty, and he was so clean and fresh. And also because I was still tugging my shorts out of my vagina. But it didn't matter because the Manchild wasn't taking no for an answer...

It was the first time I'd been body-to-body with him, and it was sensational. My frisky nipples led the charge, poking him and then getting shoved forward from behind as my breasts were crushed against his hard, muscular torso. Then my belly, groin and thighs made contact. His big, powerful hands landed on the bare skin of my waist, between my shorts and bra. I was looking up into his eyes and he was staring down into mine, and our lips were only a few inches from mine...

I turned my head just in time for his lips to land on my cheek, which was not his intended target.

The hug lasted just long enough to feel inappropriate. Before it could become scandalous, I gave his chest a firm shove.

Somebody had to draw the line somewhere, I guess.

"Sweetie, I'm all sweaty and you just showered. You smell amazing, I don't wanna get sweat all over you."

"You smell amazing on me," he replied. My body rewarded him with a pretty blush. I finally took a glance at his wingmen. I recognized the one on the right.

"Jake, nice to see you!" Jake was another of Josh's football teammates. He held out his hand, I thought for a handshake, but he raised my hand to his lips.

"The unforgettable Mrs. H," he said. Okay, he wasn't in the same league as Anthony, but he had a bit of cheesy charm.

"And this is Freddie," said Anthony, gesturing to the dude on the left. "He's in a couple of my classes." Freddie, I guessed, must be pre-med because his eyes were giving me a full physical exam.

"So, did you guys enjoy the show?" I was referring, of course, to the yoga class.

"Only the part you were in," said the Manchild. Jake looked surprised at our flirting. Freddie chuckled but mostly just kept eyeballing me.

I wasn't quite sure why the other two guys were there. I didn't think Anthony needed backup; he certainly didn't lack confidence. They were the same guys he was talking to when I arrived, so I guessed they were just sort of...there.

But they were also sort of in the way.

"Thanks for waiting around, sweetie." I gave Anthony a sexy smile. "I wanted to talk to you about something..."

That should have been their hint, but the wingmen didn't take it. They were too busy devouring the eye candy, I guess. Anthony picked it up, though.

"I'll catch up later, guys," he said. They took THAT hint and skedaddled. Anthony didn't turn to watch them go; he simply waited a couple of seconds for them to get out of earshot.

"You've been thinking about it," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Maybe." We both smiled. I touched him on his chest with just my forefinger. Drew it downward a few inches before withdrawing it. My heart was pounding.

"We could hang out. Give it a try, I guess."

His big smile melted me. Behind all his game playing, my answer seemed to make him genuinely happy. It made me feel sexy, to be desired like that.

"How about dinner on Friday?" he asked.

And there it was: the reason I'd hesitated in the first place. Could I really just leap forward into a dinner date with him? And if I did, he'd be looking to get some dessert afterward, if you know what I mean. Was I ready to fight that battle with myself?

Baby steps, my husband had said.

"Dan's barbecuing for me on Saturday night," I said. "Why don't you come over, like 7:00?"

To his credit, Anthony showed no surprise or disappointment, or really any emotion. He simply took a moment to consider.

In making his move on me, Anthony had placed an all or nothing bet. The prize (me) was high value, but the probability of success was low. I was offering him a middle path, a chance to stay in the game: something short of an actual date, but perhaps a chance to move things in the right direction.

A baby step.

How would my Manchild respond? He might prove to be more Child than Man: stomp away in anger for not getting what he wanted, or perhaps slink off in fear of a confrontation with my husband.

But I believed I could see more Man than Child in Anthony. I could see the strength, courage, and persistence for him to get what he wanted.

He couldn't make it clearer that what he wanted was me. He had felt the heat in our flirting, felt the chemistry developing between us. He'd felt my body on his.

The game was underway, and he was still in it. I figured he was man enough to see it through.

"Sure, I'll be there." His strong, confident voice vibrated deep inside me somewhere. "See you Saturday."

□ □ □ □ □

Among his many wonderful traits, Dan is a Barbecue God.

"It's easy," he says. "Highest quality meat, simple seasoning, flawless execution." Dan's not one of those guys who runs around frantically in front of his guests, dripping sweat on the meat and singeing his eyebrows. Nor does he sit back and chug beer while his wife does all the work. Flawless execution is his game.

At 6:00, Dan fired up both (spotlessly clean) barbecues. Gas powered, wood chips for flavor. Soon he laid down the various cuts, and then it was lids down and he was back inside watching TV. By 6:45 the grills were off and by 6:55 all the food was in covered trays being lovingly warmed by little sterno flames. And somehow everything could remain fresh and delicious for hours if necessary.

He makes it look so easy. He doesn't even break a sweat. He was sipping a beer and looking completely relaxed as he walked into my world...

...which was a completely different story. I'd spent the last three hours agonizing over every detail of my appearance. My hair was uncooperative; makeup was a nightmare; and now I was naked with all the clothing I owned tossed madly about the room.

"Everything okay, honey?" he asked sweetly. I wanted to yell and scream and take out my frustration on him. Or throw myself into his arms and cry away the perfect minimal makeup look I had finally decided on and laboriously applied. Or maybe go full scale meltdown and run screaming out of the house and dash nakedly around the neighborhood until the cops showed up and tased me.

But Anthony was due any minute, so I didn't have time for any of that. Instead, I took a deep breath.

"Having a little trouble deciding what to wear," I admitted. He leered at my nude body.

"Kinda like what you're wearing now."

"Not helping."

"Sorry, baby. Ok, look. Relax, have fun, dress sexy. Does that help?"

"How sexy?" I asked. Dan pondered this for a moment.

"What's the sexiest thing he's seen you wear?" he asked.

"The pink yoga outfit."

"Something sexier than that," he said. Which sort of flabbergasted me.

"And make it snappy. Loverboy will be here in ten minutes."

I checked my clock. "He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. Maybe he changed his mind."

"He'll be here." He headed down the stairs. "Don't keep us waiting."

Sexier than my hot little yoga outfit? How could I manage that?

I considered my options. A sundress maybe? No, not quite sexy enough. I wanted to show some skin. I needed a two-piece combo.

Well, the top would be easy. I had something which technically was a tube top, but was really almost a bandeau, with barely enough fabric to cover my breasts. I only wore it once in public, to a country club event. When I first put it on, I thought it made my boobs look amazing, but it was a nightmare as the night went on. It was sheer, not quite see-through, but too thin to control my nipples when they stiffened in the cool breeze. But the bigger problem was that the top was just a tad too loose, and it kept working its way down my body. With every step, my boobs bounced and the top slipped lower. I had the constant feeling that my breasts were about to pop out. I spent the entire night tugging the top back up and adjusting it and twisting it and otherwise drawing attention to my bouncy tits and erect nipples.

Tonight, though, I'd be inside and not walking too much. The top would certainly grab attention, but it wouldn't go AWOL. Unless I wanted it to.

Okay, so the top half of my outfit was decided. What about the bottoms? I decided against a skirt, I just didn't have anything that went with the top. I had some nice, cute shorts, but nothing that could compete with the yoga shorts. Did they even make shorts like that? They'd have to be almost as small as panties...

Panties! Of course! I had some boy shorts underwear I could wear as outerwear...If I dared. My heart and tummy fluttered, but...yes, I dared. I started digging through my lingerie drawer...

And then the doorbell rang, nearly giving me a heart attack.

□ □ □ □ □

At this point, you may be wondering how far Dan and I intended to go with this game. At that point, to be quite honest, so was I. Dan and I seemed to have in mind the same idea of a barebones outline -- we would invite Anthony to our home; I would dress sexy and flirt; Dan would barbecue and chaperone; and we would "see how it played out."

We both felt excited and energized about the stages that were well-defined. But it seemed like neither of us wanted to get into the details of "see how it plays out."

We danced around it by just not talking about it, or by using code words: I was "hanging out" with Anthony; he wanted to "date" me.

When I woke up late Saturday morning, the reality finally hit me: Anthony wanted to FUCK me. And it had become increasingly clear to me that I wanted to fuck him. We were embarking on a path where that could actually happen. Could I really go through with it?

Then again, that wasn't even the most important question. What really mattered was: how far was Dan willing to go? During our post-coital conversation a few nights back, he seemed to get aroused by the general idea of other guys being interested in me, and me being tempted in return. But would he really be okay with me leading Anthony off to the guest bedroom, closing the door, and...?

Early afternoon on Saturday, I tried to ask him.

"What, ummm...so how do you think things are gonna go tonight?"

"Don't really know." He was prepping the meat and didn't seem fully focused on me. "Just play it by ear and see what happens, I guess."

"Oh. Yeah, okay." I made my voice sound hesitant and uncertain, hoping to draw him out. It didn't work. I tried again.

"I mean...should we think about how far we want to take things?"

"Take things?" He still seemed distracted.

"You know. Should we cut things off if they go too far?"

"Well yeah, of course. If they go too far." I thought I caught him fighting down the beginning of a smirk. He was playing stupid and playing me.

"How far is too far?" I asked. He shrugged.

"This is your night baby," he said. "I'll follow your lead. If you're not comfortable with something, give me a sign. 'Scuse me now darlin', I gotta get this stuff ready."

Which was why I ended up with so much anxiety over my hair, my makeup, and especially my outfit. How sexy should I look? How far was too far?

And when Dan finally told me to be sexier than Anthony had ever seen me before, it gave me guidelines I needed. I also made me shiver with anticipation for the adventure that awaited me.

□ □ □ □ □

Our house is a standard two-story design, with the bedrooms upstairs and the living room, kitchen, and dining room downstairs. My bedroom door was open; they couldn't see me from the living room, but I was able to hear them.

"Hi, Anthony, nice to see you again." Dan's voice was jovial and booming. He's a charming host when he wants to be.

"Nice to see you too, Mr. H."

"Call me Dan."

"Sure. Thanks for having me over, Dan."

They both sounded relaxed and confident. So far so good. I began searching my lingerie drawer. I had several boy short panties, in a variety of colors. Luckily, the Wayward Tube Top was white, so it would match pretty much anything.

"Something to drink?" Dan asked.

"A beer would be nice." Uh oh. My alarm bells went off. The Manchild wasn't legal age for alcohol.

"Sorry, did you say diet coke or regular coke?" my husband asked. They both chuckled. Nicely done, I thought. First point goes to Dan.

"Just water," said Anthony.

I considered and rejected several pairs of boy shorts. The black ones just weren't sexy enough, the red ones had a hole in a strategic place, the lavender ones were a bit too sheer, the Hello Kitty...what the hell, how long had I had those?

"Mel's gonna be down eventually. Just making herself beautiful for you." Oh, Dan...

"She doesn't need to do anything for that," said Anthony. Dan, caught off guard, hesitated for an instant before chuckling awkwardly. I smiled and felt warm inside. Point to Anthony.

And then I saw the panties I wanted...

"Honey!" Dan bellowed. "Your young gentleman has arrived!"

Jesus. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm coming, baby," I called.

"Oh, okay. When you're done coming, get dressed and join us." Dan guffawed at his own joke. Anthony erupted into deep, barking laughter. Lovely; my husband was mocking me, and he and the Manchild were bonding over it.

That required a response. I slipped on a sexy little silk robe, more cute than revealing, but it hugged my body enough to heavily imply that I was nude underneath.

Right outside my bedroom door was a walkway that led to the stairs. I stood at the railing and gazed down at my admirers. I cleared my throat, and they looked up.

"I'll be down two minutes," I said to Dan with saccharine sweetness. He pretended to look chagrined.

"Hello, Anthony. Glad you could make it."

"Evening, Mel." Well, at least had dropped the "Sexy" for my husband's benefit.

"You look stunning," he continued.

"Thank you, sweetheart." I turned and headed back to my bedroom. As I passed through the doorway, I undid the robe and let it begin to fall. At best, they caught a hint of bare shoulder, but that was plenty for now.

I left the door open. They couldn't see me, but it would encourage them to imagine my body in its final moments of nudity.

Now where was I...oh right, the panties. They were simple cotton, with little lacy details. They were white, innocent, almost virginal. Sort of like bridal lingerie.

They weren't boy shorts, more like bikini briefs. My whole idea behind boy shorts was to wear something that looked mostly like actual shorts but left some hint that it might be lingerie.

These were definitely underwear. There was no way they'd pass for outerwear. At best, they looked like something you might try to pass for shorts if you really didn't care whether or not you passed.

In other words...perfect!

I slipped everything on and gazed upon myself in the mirror. I was stunned. It looked even more bridal than I had expected. That thought made me feel like Cupid had just fired an arrow through my womb. My insides felt hot and wet. My heart was thumping. I was excited. I was aroused.

Tonight, I was cosplaying as Anthony's virgin bride.

They were watching for me, of course. The second I re-appeared in my bedroom doorway, they fell silent. I took slow, leggy strides to the top of the stairway. I held my position, then playfully struck a couple of casual-sexy poses. My nipples felt diamond hard. My pussy felt hot and humid. My long, lithe legs were lethal.

As I started down the stairs, their eyes went to my bare feet. I had considered but rejected various footwear options: sandals (too granola), flip flops (too beach), high heels (too stripper), and workout shoes (just no). Going bare looked (and felt) deliciously naughty and was the clear choice.

In my mind, I had pictured a stately, sexy, statuesque stroll down the stairs, commanding their attention long before I walked into their midst.

The damn tube top had other ideas. I hadn't considered that the bounce would be bigger on stairs. I took the first step...BOUNCE...then the second and third...BOUNCE BOUNCE...Already the top had slid down a fraction of an inch, with hardly any more fractions to spare.