Chapter 34: Sore from the Door

Meri

Normally my sweetheart is rather quiet when we have sex, so I was quite surprised by the ruckus coming from above and I went to investigate. What I saw took my breath away. Regina stood against the wall and Mark was buried to the hilt in her petite ass, sliding in and out in slow strokes while doing a number on her boobs at the same time.

Both Femke and I had proper asses in our pants – should we wear some – but both Lydia and Regina had rather slim hips and firm petite rear-ends, so it was rather surprising to find that they were the ones who seemed to like a good backdoor intrusion. I had once tried it with Mark, but didn’t like it much. The pain had been greater than the naughty excitement of the act.

If her enthusiasm was anything to go by, my sweetheart did like it though. That much was obvious by the fact that she enthusiastically pushed against him to get him deeper into her rear. Knowing what was going on up here, I turned to go back to my practice.

Mark

Regina was a bit sore, so much was apparent by her walking somewhat funny for the next two hours, but I could tell she had liked it. Unlike Lydia she couldn’t really get an orgasm out of it, so some gentle finger work on her delicate pussy had done the trick.

“Right! Debriefing,” Meri ordered, sitting in one of the armchairs when Regina and I came out of the bathroom after taking a shower. We didn’t bother to get dressed.

Although it was only two in the afternoon, I thought this called for a beer, so I fetched one before subjecting myself to Meri’s scrutiny.

“How was it?” she asked Regina.

“Incredible,” Regina answered enthusiastically. “Damn, he really knows what he’s doing. That was so naughty.”

“Well, he’s had ample practice with Lydia’s butt,” Meri said with a giggle. “I felt naughty too, but the pain ruined it for me.”

“I was much less experienced back then,” I apologized, but Regina shook her head.

“Experience is one thing. It does cause pain, but I can’t describe it, it’s good pain, if you know what I mean.”

“Figures,” Meri said, laughing, and looked at me. “You should try to bite her nipples a bit. See what happens.”

Regina blushed, which both Meri and I chuckled about.

“So, you gonna send your pussy into early retirement, too?” she asked Regina.

“No way,” Regina said with a giggle. “Once in a while for sure, but the preparation alone is way too much hassle.”

“Wait, you were prepared for it?” I asked.

“Sure,” Regina answered with a grin. “Lydia told me about your talk, that you insist on doing no bums but hers, and that she thinks you’re being silly. So I prepared for the off-chance you would get the hint if I made it really obvious what I want. She trained you well.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” I huffed and Meri doubled over, laughing.

Lydia

I had laughed a solid two minutes when Regina had given me a blow-by-blow account of that day’s activities on the telephone. And I was also proud of Mark. Making the rear-end fun for a woman is an art that most men don’t master at all.

What it also did, was reminding me that I had been untouched for nearly three weeks now, and not even the excellent training results could mask that I was getting hornier by the day, and a little self-service can only do so much.

Thankfully the cavalry had ridden to the rescue as Femke arrived four days before I was about to leave. With the team unable to afford a training camp so far from home, she had booked herself in for two weeks on her own dime. She was living in a different hotel, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t meet and fool around in the evenings. I would not return home as a pile of pent-up hormones.

Unfortunately the Telekom team had left after my second week in South Africa, so I couldn’t ask them to let Femke ride along. Fortunately for her, Dutch men’s team Wordperfect was willing to let her tag along, so she wouldn’t have to do all the training on her own. For the four days we were there together, we concentrated on time trial practice.

Mark

I was sitting in Pasadena, having arrived the day before, waiting for my better half to arrive. Thankfully the Bachlmayer’s still ran their shop, despite both being over retirement age by now. It pained me, not to be able to disclose who I really was, but upon hearing that I was Lydia’s new boyfriend they had accepted me with the same warmth they had shown towards me in my previous identity.

Most importantly, they had German beer. My time back in Germany had reminded me of just how awful American beer was. It was basically the first successful attempt to dilute water.

Normally I wouldn’t have drunk any beer on the day Lydia was coming home, after all I would have to collect her at the airport, but John was doing that as he had a lot of things to go through with her and Lydia had decided to get that out of the way immediately, so we could have a few quiet days. That was why John would collect her at the airport, go through the piled-up business at his office before delivering her home.

Lydia

When I came home, I found Mark asleep, naked on a deckchair on the terrace. Twenty-four centigrade wasn’t exactly hot, but for us, having spent a lot of our time in Germany, such temperatures in February were essentially summer. My meeting with John had run longer than we had expected, and I could tell he had gone through quite a few beers while waiting for me.

I smiled as I put a blanket over him – the night would be quite a bit cooler – and he didn’t look like waking up anytime soon.

Later that evening, on the phone with Meri, I mentioned my worries about his growing beer consummation, but she could calm my fears, telling me these had been the first beers he’d had in over a week, reminding me that they had spent the last days together in Lübeck and on the island of Rügen, visiting Rita’s grave and the memorial for the victims of the sunken ferry on the anniversary of the catastrophe.

I could well imagine what had kept him busy in the days before that last week. The most hilarious story she had told me while I was still in South Africa, had been how Mark had fucked her silly in the living room, while Regina played impromptu metal music on her guitar to whatever they were doing. Damn, I had missed the world’s first Hard Rock live porn performance.

Mark

I woke up feeling a bit chilly. While temperatures during the day were worthy of early summer in Germany, the nights in Pasadena could become quite cool, especially if one spent them on a deckchair outside.

I waddled inside on auto-pilot, gratefully taking a pot of coffee from someone. Once my second brain cell sprang into action after a much needed caffeine infusion, I recognized the naked someone as my better half and planted a clumsy kiss on her. She smiled as she waited for me to become a bit more lucid.

Always the practical person, she used my phase of relative mental and physical immobility to blow me gently. Not that she had to do so for long...

Meri

Regina and I were still laughing. That sounded so much like Mark. We had seen the spectacle of his less than lucid morning entries often enough by now. When Lydia had told us in the evening we could almost see it before our eyes.

Considering how busy we had kept him during the second-to-last week he had been in Emden, I was surprised that she had managed to make him cum in just two minutes. But then, sex between those two was on an entirely different level than the mere fooling around that he engaged in with Regina, Femke or me.

Now, left to our own devices, Regina and I settled into our normal rhythm again. I went to team practice during the day, she went to college, and three times a week she went to give her lessons in Bill O’Connor’s offices.

Since we had a joint bank account now, she had finally stopped worrying about money. Granted, my sponsorship deals and the salary from the team provided the majority of it, but knowing she was contributing as well had stopped her tendency to feel bad whenever we spent some money on anything.

And we did spent quite some money. Although Jenny’s track rental and fuel costs were covered by a few small sponsorship deals with local businesses, the travel costs were not. Her second national race had been in the south of Germany, somewhere in Bavaria and it had been a long slog down there. Thankfully, her small kart fit easily into the street barge, so we didn’t need a trailer, which would have made the travel time even longer.

Apparently others weren’t quite as able to afford the cost as she was up against several kids who had not contested the race up north in Emden. This time she had to settle for third place as two eight year old boys in their second season narrowly beat her time. Freshly turned seven, Jenny took it like a trooper, knowing that she couldn’t win every race and that the two kids who beat her would likely not contest the entire season. With points from a win and a third place, she remained in the lead for the bambino class national championship.

Mark

We had spent a few quiet days, often making slow luxurious love in various places around the house, but the fun soon came to an end, as the season was starting in earnest.

Lydia’s condition was worlds better than the year before. She had finished second in a 10.000 meters race at a track and field meeting in Mexico and won a half-marathon in Vancouver, but the real test was about to come when the Boston marathon was coming up on Patriots’ Day, the third Monday of April.

The trans-continental flight to Boston was well within the range of our small plane, so travel arrangements weren’t all that difficult.

Regina

Despite the fact that Jenny was with us, we were all stark naked. With no Mark around to feel awkward when bumping into a naked seven year old, we could let our inner nudists run free, knowing that the hedge around the garden would keep any curious looks outside.

Since the German TV programs were somewhat limited, especially when it came to sports broadcasts, Meri had bought a satellite dish to get hold of international programs, and thus we all sat around the table on the terrace, watching the ESPN broadcast of the Boston marathon on the small mobile TV set we had bought the year before for our holiday in Prerow.

Since the temperatures were unusually warm for late April, much like the year before, we had started the nudist season early, and Jenny was clearly having a ball. We had always been to the nudist beach back home in Cottbus, but here she had a whole backyard to frolic around and she was obviously loving it. Meri and I had actually put up one of the tents from the trailers, so she had her own ‘palace’ in the garden.

When the race was about to start, we could see that Lydia was nervous. With ten thousand or more people running the race, competitive athletes were put at the front. Since we rarely wore any clothes around this place, I had seen her naked often enough, but now, wearing this skimpy running suit, she looked even hotter. Such clothing could only have been designed by men, as the little top and the tight pants left not much to the imagination.

The race started and helped by Meri’s explanations, we could see that she did her usual shtick – she found her pace and stubbornly stuck to it, not reacting to any accelerations or breakaway attempts. Several such attempts were made of course, but Lydia was undeterred and continued at her pace that she knew she could keep up for the entire forty-two kilometers.

Unfortunately – for her opponents – that pace was significantly higher than the year before. Whenever someone or a small group broke away from the front, she slowly reeled them back in, even if it took ten kilometers.

When the countdown reached six kilometers to go, she was at the front of a group of five. Her opponents, who had all tried to get away at some point or other were quite satisfied to let her do all the work. When I pointed that out to Meri, she merely grinned and said that those four girls were in for a world of pain.

True to her prediction, one by one Lydia’s opponents began to grimace and then dropped back. She ran the last three kilometers all on her own, winning nearly a minute ahead of everyone else.

Jenny had cheered her ‘auntie Lydia’ all the way to the finish.

Mark

Damn that felt good. After the write-off that 1993 had been, she was back. The yellow press fell all over themselves, attributing her success to that new boyfriend she had been with – me. Thankfully, the old bullshit line that John had fed them two years prior, about Germans keeping their personal relationships private, was still working and mentioning that I existed was as far as most rags went.

Not to mention that it gave me an excellent excuse to massage her tortured leg muscles back into shape once we were back in Pasadena. And unlike in 1991, I could finish that massage in places that had been a no-go three years in the past, so my better half got a howling orgasm to go with her physiotherapy.

Of course she also had to do the media rounds. People had gotten so used to seeing the big city marathons being won by Africans, that her win had caused a bit of a stir. The highlight of it all had been her starring on the Late Show with Letterman.

You could tell the guy knew what he was doing and he came prepared. He had all the facts – her ancestry, her side job as a cyclist, why 1993 had been such a damp squib. He even talked about her various appearances in the media with less clothing than is common workplace practice. Lydia gave her normal answer that she was proud of her looks at that age and that she wasn’t averse to flaunting it. She stunned the whole audience when she told him that she had spent her last holiday at a nudist resort, without going into any details about where or whom with.

The funny bit was that Letterman had not been stunned as much by the fact that she spent her holiday naked, but that other people at the place hadn’t made a fuzz about it, reminding me neatly of the cultural differences between America and Germany. I doubt we could have done something like that in the states.