Training the Neighbor

I knew I would have a definitive answer to that question in a few minutes when I started working her legs with the foam roller. To assume the best position to get the back of her legs, she lies on the mat face down and straightens the leg to be rolled, and brings the other knee up towards her mid section flared to the side to keep it out of the way of the large roller. This almost always causes her shorts to hike up higher on her legs while at the same time causes the leg openings to gape open at her parted legs. Indeed, a true green colored panty revealed itself as I began working the roller over her left leg.

I worked the leg slowly and deliberately, genuinely trying to work on the sore area and tendons, but I lost count of my reps up and down her lower leg as my eyes kept wandering to the gap in her shorts, the green silk that peeked out made me curious, made me horny. I tried to not be obvious about it, but I need not have worried about being caught as Becky had her eyes shut tightly through the mild pain of the roller moving over sore tissue.

Switching legs, Becky reversed the leg up and the leg straight but this time she brought her knee up even higher. Higher, in fact, than was really necessary to clear the space needed for the roller and so high that not only did her shorts gape open again, but the crotch of the shorts was pulled off center, exposing nearly her entire sex, covered by green panty, of course.

There are times when you think someone is flirting with you and it's obvious. There are times you think they are flirting but unsure if their actions are more innocent and unintentional. This move by Becky felt deliberate, as if it could only be interpreted one way, but in what was nearly a six month friendship with Becky I found respect for our friendship counseling me away from seeing this as anything more than an accidental slip of her normal discretion. Still, I could not look away.

I moved the roller up her leg and watched the strain and weight on her body cause slight movement of her position on the floor. Again, as before, rhythmic motion of the roller going up and back, up and back, felt mildly erotic and involving. I not only lost count, but I lost focus and I am sure I did a much poorer job of working the aches and kinks out of this leg.

I could see so much, yet so much was hidden. Her sex was barely contained in the tight silk panty, a small strip of cloth covering her mound and becoming wider as it stretched across her buttocks. The bottoms of her cheeks, cleaving into her legs, demonstrated the work she had been doing in training. She was toned, tight, and ready for a race. The cleft itself a line that my eye could not help but follow as it merged into her crotch, gave way to the protrusion of flesh that hinted at the soft and more fleshy components of her pussy. There was not a trace of hair, skin white and smooth, offset by green and the black of her shorts. It was all right there, all so close, all so far away.

I pulled myself out of the trance and ended the pathetic attempt at rolling her tendons. Becky dropped her crooked leg back down, side by side with her other leg, and the window into the layers just beneath was closed. As she rolled to her side to look back up at me, I realized for the first time that my cock was hard, hard as a rock and likely visible if I didn't also adjust the way I was sitting to hide the erection all too easily outlined in my own thin shorts.

"Feel better," I asked as I diverted attention from my shorts and quickly sat up and askew from Becky's line of sight.

"Yeah. Mostly. But my hip flexors still feel tight too. Can those be rolled?"

"If I had a smaller roller I might be able to target those, but just wrenching down on those muscles with my hands or pressing the palm of a hand into them might be just as effective."

I couldn't believe I just said that. It was nearly a complete lie, I had rolled my hip flexors many times and while a hand massage would certainly be of some aid, I had just setup a suggestion to put my hands on Becky in a very direct, palpable way.

"Why don't you lay on your side," I said as my mind still processed my fib.

It didn't take long to realize that I was simply doing exactly what I would have done had Kim been here instead, wearing the green panties, inviting my flirtations and teasing. I fell, as if some Pavlovian response had taken over my brain, into the kind of erotic, role-playing mindset that worked so well when Kim and I played this game. Was Becky playing, now? Was I?

I knew my next move would be mildly inappropriate, but I knew I could disguise it well so I moved over to Becky and essentially straddled her legs as she lay on her side. I was not quite sitting on her, more like kneeing over her legs and I immediately pressed the palm of my hand into the muscles of her hip and worked it in with slow circular motions.

Letting my analytical mind take over for a few seconds, I realized the tension in her hip flexors and I focused my hand and fingers over the area and tried to coax some of those hard worked tissues out of their stressed state. I worked the muscles as if Becky were just another trainee, I let a few minutes slip away in the name of being a personal trainer and coach and with my professionalism I also forgot that in this situation, I might have needed more conservative boundaries.

I snapped out of my trainer-mode-mind when I realized my fingers were tracing sore muscles well into the dimple of her buttocks and working over the ridge of her hip towards the front of her pelvis. Literally, I was pressing flesh and bone only a few inches away from her sex. More damning still, I had moved my hands to her skin, pushing her shorts higher on her hips to move more effectively against her skin and muscle. My fingers were brushing against the edges of her panties at the point the cloth crested over her hipbone.

Realizing that this might have been too forward, if perceived as anything other than a genuine attempt at soothing sore muscles, I panicked and looked at Becky's face to gauge her reaction. I was relieved to see her eyes closed and not a hint of shock on her face. In fact, with her lips just slightly parted while I worked, it almost looked as if she were in a state of pleasure. She looked like she might be in the middle of a very pleasant dream.

I spent close to ten minutes working her left hip and then asked her to roll over so I could work on the right. This time, however, Becky brought her lower leg knee up towards her chest so that her right leg was not resting directly on top of it. I straddled her remaining leg and realized this was going to be more effective with her lower leg raised, since I would not have to sit up so high as I massaged her. Moreover, it looks much more comfortable for Becky a well. Lastly, it angled her entire torso back just a few degrees bringing her pelvis, and because of her raised lower leg, panties into view.

Becky closed her eyes, her lips in a tight line as they shut, and I got started on her hip flexor.

In order to give the impression that the work I had done on her left hip I mirrored my actions on the right. I sank my palm and fingers into her hip and moved her shorts higher on her leg, and traced sinew and muscle that were tightly wound over her limb.

I pressed into her buttocks again and massaged the deeper tissues of her piriformis muscle, a spot I often painfully felt after a lot of training. I moved over her hips with my hands, traced the edge of her panties, and even slipped the very tip of my finger inside the band as I pressed into her body. I moved back down the leg and started towards the front of her pelvis, following the path of muscle and bone which, if I let myself, would lead to more private and exotic places on Becky's body.

I slid the palm of my hand over her front ridge of her pelvic bone and pressed in, and with this I was able to finally elicit a reaction from Becky's face, which I was focused on. Her eyebrows lifted and her lips parted without sound but otherwise conveying a very pleasurable reaction to my touch.

I was close to finishing up and letting her get home to her kids when I noticed something else, or at least I thought I did. Her panties where exposed, even the slight rise of her mound under the material was fairly visible due to the angle and open gape of her shorts. While her panties were a true shade of green, darker still given the shadow cast by her shorts, I thought I could just make out a even darker patch of material right where a darker patch might indicate arousal. I could not be sure, the lighting was not ideal but it looked like Becky might be getting wet.

This caused a rush of endorphins to my brain, my cock was nearly instantly hard again and I allowed my imagination to run wild. Was she teasing? Was she inviting me to tease? Were the green panties really her idea of playing my game, Kim's game? At what risk could I proceed in testing the waters here without jeopardizing a friendship?

I pressed my fingers merely a half an inch lower on her pelvic bone, ever so slightly closer to her pleasure center. She didn't flinch or move away. I rotated the girth of my palm higher, focusing that pressure on the crest of her pelvis but my fingers lingered lower, closer. With each rotation, each slow deliberate rotation, the finger in turn would move yet another half inch closer, then back... then closer.

Looking at Becky's face, her lips were widely parted now, her eyes clenched closed as if in pain, or in conflict. She seemed to consume everything I offered her and while she didn't move away or protest, neither did she give any obvious indication to draw me in further. I decided enough was enough.

I patted her hip gently and stood up, helping her up as well while trying to deflect attention from my obvious erection.

"Thanks," she offered, "that really felt fantastic..." her words trailed off as if she wanted to say more but decided otherwise at the last moment.

We walked up stairs and said goodbye, a few final words of encouragement given to let her know she had every right to be confident about the race in the morning.

One word of advice I might have given Becky, but didn't, was that a good, old-fashioned orgasm the night before a race is a great way to relax. I hoped she would be making a few moves tonight on her teddy bear husband to help her sleep before the early morning alarm clock went off tomorrow.

As I prepared my own gear for the race, Kim and I were discussing our day and I was filling her in on the details of Becky's Achilles issues as I stripped down to get into the shower.

In the shower I watched Kim undressing through the glass door. A veteran supporter of my many races, she too understood the pre-race therapeutic value of an orgasm and was always more than happy to accommodate in this regard. She peeled off her shirt and bra, stepped out of her shoes, unzipped the pencil skirt she had worn to work that day, letting it fall to the floor and leaving her in only her panties... her green panties.

I laughed at the site of the lime green thong as Kim stood at the counter and took off her makeup, wearing only the thong.

"That's funny," I said, "Becky was wearing green underwear today as well!"

Kim looked at me via the mirror she was facing and gave me a mischievous smile. "Did you tease that poor girl," she joked as she turned and started yanking the thong out of her ass crack and down her legs.

I didn't answer, the question was rhetorical, but Kim kept her own bedroom stare fixed on mine as she stepped into the shower and grabbed my growing erection.

"Poor girl doesn't know what she is missing," she said as she knelt in front of me, water cascading over her face as she swallowed the length and girth of my dick.

There is simply nothing like a good orgasm, in the shower, before a race.

The alarm blaring at 4:30 am jarred me from a deep sleep but immediately remembering it was race day energized my mind and I shot up to go get ready. Having prepared everything the night before, it was only a matter of minutes before I was ready to head out the door.

Kim was solidly asleep when I kissed her forehead and told her goodbye. She had been very supportive at the finish line of many races for many years but today she had plans with a college roommate and so she slept in.

Across the street the lights were on and as I backed my car out of the garage Becky appeared on the front porch, ready and smiling. In the car Becky was chatty and full of energy. We drank a bit of water and shared a banana as we drove to the start of the race. Becky did not appear to be nervous at all and given her training I knew she need not worry about how she would perform. It was her first race and finishing was all that counted.

It turned out to be a beautiful day for a race, cool temperatures at the start and clear skies made for perfect conditions and stunning scenery as we ran through the picture perfect mountain valley that hosted our 13.1 mile jaunt. We had pre-determined the pacing, started slow and increased the speed only slightly as the race progressed and as her body told her it was not only accommodating, but thriving in the race conditions which included longer mileage than she had ever run at once before.

The target time for finishing was sub 2 hours, but we were well on pace and feeling good as we hit mile 11 so I asked Becky if she wanted to turn it up a bit. We dropped down to 8-minute miles and as we crossed the finish line the gun time showed 1:52. Not only had Becky finished her first race, she had finished with a very respectable time.

Becky stopped to grab her finisher's medal from the volunteer and then looked back at me, her eyes on fire at the accomplishment. People react differently after finishing their first long race. Some collapse, others cry, some limp off with the medal and never return but Becky, Becky looked like she had just discovered chocolate for the first time and only wanted more.

A few steps beyond the finishing area she turned towards me and nearly jumped at me in excitement. I hugged her tightly and congratulated her on an impressive debut while at the same time she thanked me for my help and for training with her. These are the rewards of introducing new runners to the sport.

The day had warmed up considerably over the course of the race and I suspected temperatures at the finish line were in the low 70's, plenty warm for a race. Becky, as we hugged and celebrated, was sweaty from head to toe. Her running tank was saturated and with my arms around her back my hands slid over the slick wet of her skin where it was exposed above her shirt. My own racing singlet was equally soaked and together we were probably a wet, smelly mess. And that really turned me on.

I don't know how uncommon this was, but I had a thing for women drenched in workout sweat. I don't know exactly why, but as a fitness fanatic I think I took a sweaty body as a sign of an intense workout, the result of hard work and dedication. I liked the smell of fresh sweat, its salty aroma was appealing, perhaps it was pheromones or some other attractant but sweat indicated good, positive things in my mind. We didn't stay in our celebratory embrace for long, perhaps three or four seconds tops, but the sensation of Becky's hot, wet body -- a body that she had worked hard to achieve -- a body that looked like that of a runner, was turning me on again.

Breaking our hug we found water and some fresh fruit in the finisher's area to help recover from the run and then started our slower walk over to the car. 13.1 miles for a runner who had never run more than 11 was bound to have some adverse affect on her legs. We had been finished for about 15 minutes now and indeed her walk was slowing down, a few aches and cramps setting in. And the direct sunlight was also still sapping energy and fluids from us both, so I suggested before we get into the car for a 20-minute ride home we should go stretch in the shade of some trees. Becky gladly agreed.

We sat and our stretching routine was established enough that our habits took over as we moved right through the stretches, taking about 10 minutes as we recounted the race. When we were done I asked how her Achilles were feeling.

"Really, my hips are far more sore than my legs," she groaned.

"Let me have at them for a bit," I replied as I moved towards her.

She went to her side in the same position as the day before and pushed up her running shorts as well, I moved carefully over the sore tissue but more boldly into her butt cheeks and then towards the front of her pelvis. I felt her, not just massaged her, and wanted to convey something more with my hands than just therapeutic relief. Moreover, her running panties were soaked just like the rest of her clothing and the wet, nearly dripping panties were almost more than I could take. My fingers slid over her skin, easily dipped beneath the fabric, lustfully explored marginally more than the day before. Becky didn't flinch, didn't protest, and didn't move away.

The other leg was the same reaction, even if I took a few more bold strokes beyond those on the prior leg. I kneaded deeply into her buttocks and let a finger, (accidently?), slip nearly to the crack of her ass before pulling it back quickly. On the front I pressed into the flesh of her lower abdomen where I really had no business massaging, just to see the wet material over her pussy slide further towards center, nearly letting the outer lips of her sex become visible. Again, Becky seemed to let me do what I please.

Finally I ended my assault and we made our way, far more gingerly than before, to the car and to home. As we talked more about the race we both realized that we had no plans beyond the race. There was not yet another goal, we had not talked about continuing our training afterwards. Everything we had done to date was centered on the singular objective of getting to, and through, the half marathon. Objective now accomplished we really had no excuse to plan the next run or talk about the next step up in speed or weekly mileage.

The drive home was a little somber as we both felt the deflation of having nothing else to look forward to, but the remedy seemed easy enough.

"How about we step it up, plan on a full marathon this fall," I asked.

"I was just going to suggest that," she replied quickly.

The rest of the drive home I offered a suggestion that we take a few days off and simply relax. She should do plenty of stretching, icing, and walking for sure, but no running. The timing was ideal too, since I had a rare trip out of town for the first half of the next week and thus we decided to meet up to begin the next phase of her training next Wednesday.

At home I had the place to myself since Kim was going to be gone for most of the day. I showered and cleaned and took care of a few errands. Personally, and not to brag, but 13 miles was not a run that pushed me and I was not sore. It was simply a product of years of running and training and I hoped that someday 13 miles would be inconsequential for Becky too. I actually felt energized and so I cooked a nice meal for Kim and I, opened a nice bottle of wine, and right on cue Kim walked through the door.

"Wow, what a great surprise," Kim said in response to finding a formally set table and food, hot and ready.

We sat and ate, Kim filled me in on her visit with her old college roommate, and I gave Kim the details of the race, especially focusing on how energized Becky had been at the finish.

Kim was impressed and happy for Becky. She was encouraging as I told her of our plans to train Becky up for a full marathon.

"I would not have thought she had it in her," Kim said. "Maybe you will get another chance at those green panties!"