In the Long Run
Copyright© 2024 by The Horse With No Name
Chapter 83: Play It Again, Sam, Again And Again
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 83: Play It Again, Sam, Again And Again - Mark and Lydia hit a lot of bumps during the cold war and fate eventually brings them to the other side of the globe, but even there the challenges don't end. This is the founding story of my planned "It's always the Germans" universe, which will be created when this story reaches the year 1998.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Sports Incest Mother Son Light Bond Anal Sex Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Massage Oral Sex Pegging Petting Nudism
Mark
Back in the day, in 1990 and 1991, I had learned massage techniques from Jonjo’s older brother, at a time when Lydia was actively running away from the reality that we were no longer mother and son in the usual sense, but that we were madly in love with each other. It was the nature of the situation that my head was not entirely clear and I could not fully focus on what I was learning, so it had taken me weeks until I had acquired the necessary skills for Jonjo’s brother to assess that I was ready to put my hands on the legs of an actual athlete without the danger of doing more damage than good.
Jogi apparently had no such problems and now, after less than a fortnight of practicing under my tutelage, he had become more than skilled enough that I had absolutely no worries to leave even Lydia in his care. First and foremost this was of course a big help for me. Massaging the tortured muscles of an athlete required a lot more skill and strength than the pointless ‘rubbing hands over thighs’ fake massages that one got to see in porn flicks, which then inevitably ended with the subject of the massage being fucked by the masseur. It was a rather hard job instead.
Granted, our massages also ended with the recipient of our care having an orgasm, but that didn’t come before Jogi and I had worked rather hard on our respective subjects’ legs for half an hour or even longer. I normally didn’t always use my fingers to deliver the fun part of a massage, but for the moment I kept it to this method.
Doreen was okay with allowing Jogi to finger the other women once the therapeutic part of the procedure had been taken care of, but that was as far as her comfort zone extended when it came to sharing her boyfriend with others.
We were all respecting the limits she and Jogi had set. We had all seen how the relationship between Jonjo and Femke had fallen apart when it had clashed with the reality of our rather liberal attitude to sexual relations. Nobody had any intention to let that happen to the relationship of Jogi and Doreen too.
Interestingly enough though, although a gentle fingering was as far as Jogi was allowed to go when someone else but Doreen was lying on the massage bench, he seemed to be spectacularly good at it and I had noticed that there was some secret jostling going on among the girls about who would get to lie on Jogi’s bench and who had to ‘make do’ with me.
Doreen had first dibs of course. Nobody would have dared to deny her the right to be first on Jogi’s bench. It was a good thing I wasn’t too hung up on my ego, else my sudden drop in popularity would have hurt me. I could always rely on Lydia to make a bee-line for my bench, but especially Femke had developed a preference for Jogi’s services. Without envy I had to admit though that Jogi was certainly much faster than I had ever been when it came to giving Femke an orgasm. Where I would have to work diligently for ten minutes or more, Jogi had her howling in no more than half the time.
Lydia
That physio-in-training Jogi had become somewhat popular lately had not escaped my notice. Even Regina, who didn’t even train for anything had taken a liking to getting a massage from him. I was seriously worried that Mark could be hurt and both I and Meri had made it a point to prefer him over Jogi. What made me worry even more was the fact that he had been rather quiet all evening, so I employed the trusted old method of putting two bottles of beer in front of him, removing my clothing, and making him talk.
“Are you okay?” I asked him and he just smiled at me as he opened the first beer.
“You’re worried that I might be upset, because you are all suddenly so fond of Jogi’s services,” he stated the obvious.
I just nodded.
“Don’t worry about that. If anything, I actually want you to give Jogi a try too. The boy is a natural, and I’m not only talking about the fingering at the end. It took me two months to learn what he has absorbed in just ten days. He has a real talent for it. I would trust him with your leg muscles any day. That’s how quickly he’s learning.”
“Tell me the truth,” I demanded. “You’ve been so quiet all day. Does it really not bother you?”
“Why should it?” Mark asked with a chuckle that sounded genuine. “You are all calling it quits in two years, well, except for Doreen. She’s only starting her career. By the time you, Nadja and Femke bow out, I want Jogi to be as experienced as he can be, because when you call it quits, so will I, at least as a professional physio.”
“You have some plans already,” I guessed.
Mark nodded. “Your idea of me making those drawings for your book has reminded me of how much I missed the simple fun of just being an artist. I’ve taken the job with John’s company and became a physio because it was prudent to do so at the time, and it helped building up my new identity, but at some point I want to go back to just being a nerdy kid with a pencil and some paper.”
I smiled, happy about the fact that my worries had proven unwarranted.
“Then we will have to think seriously about what we’ll do to earn money though,” I reminded him. “We’ve made enough cash over the years to live at least ten years just off the interest but I intend to live a bit longer than that.”
“We won’t be unemployed,” Mark said. “Ian has been pestering me for a while to go on the board of directors for his company, but I begged it off until you’ve finished your career. It’s largely ceremonious really, just a few meetings a year, but it will pay well. And you will have no problems continuing your budding career as a coach.”
“I would still have to travel a lot,” I reminded him.
“We all will,” he replied. “When you call it quits, Jenny’s career will start in earnest. For the first few years the racing will happen mostly in Germany and neighboring countries, but if she really makes her way up the ladder, we’ll be all over the world anyway.”
“True,” I conceded. “Somehow we’ve never talked about the future after the sport.”
“It’s still two years away,” Mark said with a shrug. “A lot can happen in that time. Imagine you’re still in such good shape in 2002. Are you sure you will still call it quits?”
“I’ll be forty-two,” I said with a chuckle. “No matter how good my form will be, I’ll go out before they bring a wheelchair to greet me at the finish line.”
Regina
Except for the Olympic games in Atlanta four years ago I had mostly stayed home when the others had traveled to competitions or training camps. The last four weeks had given me a whole new appreciation of just how hard the girls had been working over the years to keep up their fitness.
Especially Lydia, at an age when other athletes had long since called time on their careers, was literally torturing herself to compete with much younger athletes. I certainly understood why Meri had wanted to get out of this the year before.
Now it was a question of whether or not it had all been worth it. While the Summer was already taking its leave in Germany, bringing the rather frustrating prospect of actually having to wear clothes most of the time, the warm season was only just starting in Australia when we walked out of the airport in Sydney. It was the farthest from home I had ever been.
Back in 1993, when I had met Mark for the first time during that memorable chat outside a hotel in Stralsund, I would never have thought I would one day be at the other end of the world. Back in the day I could hardly afford the cheapest room in that very hotel in Germany.
Granted, back in those days I would also never have thought that I would come to live with another woman for the rest of my life, while still having a boyfriend of sorts whom I shared with four other women. Life had a way to surprise us.
Lydia and Mark, being themselves, had booked a rather lavish suite in a hideously expensive hotel. Heck, even the room they had booked for Jogi and Doreen was at least three times as big as the entire council flat Jenny and I had still been living in seven years ago.
Mark
It was only the second time that Australia hosted Olympic games, but they definitely knew how to do it in style. The opening ceremony was an absolute spectacle. Not as garish as the celebration in Atlanta four years ago, but definitely spectacular. Future host cities would have some high bar to clear.
Two small victories had already been scored. The United States had chosen Lydia to bear their flag, and Nadja had been chosen by Iceland to lead their small eighteen athlete contingent into the stadium. Femke had had that privilege four years ago, bearing the flag of the Netherlands, but the Dutch had bestowed the honor on a male swimmer this time.
John had somehow managed to get us VIP passes, which meant we could watch the proceedings from a comfortable lounge instead of sitting the big crowd outside. That had the additional advantage that our girls knew where we were and they all waved at us as they walked past on the tartan track of the stadium.
We didn’t have too much time for sight-seeing this time. On the second day the women’s triathlon featured in Olympic games for the first time. Of course we went to watch that. With Doreen hoping to compete one day, and Lydia as her prospective coach this was a vital learning experience.
Femke was the only one to get an early start. Nadja and Lydia would not get to compete until the second week of the games. Our Dutch muscle babe did of course take that as a convenient excuse to take me to the task for her ‘good luck boink’ before the first knockout stages for the track pursuit.
She had done very few track races since Atlanta in ‘96, and none since she had started to compete in skiing over the winter, but the Dutch association had nominated her regardless.
This lack of regular competition showed a bit in her line, as Meri pointed out. To the uninitiated like us it wasn’t really visible, but apparently she took a too wide line and wasted energy. Wasting energy or not, she made it easily into the semi-finals though, which would also happen in the second week. That meant we now had five days for sight-seeing before we would get to visit some event or other pretty much every other day.
Lydia
Except for Femke’s ‘good luck boinks’ we had more or less decided on a moratorium on the naughty fun. With Mark or Jogi working on our legs every day – and our pussies at the end of the massage – none of us had any reason to complain about a shortage of orgasms. Regina, meanwhile had volunteered to make sure Mark was was well catered for when it came to blowjobs. In Jogi’s case that was of course Doreen’s job, but the two of them were in each other’s pants so often anyway, they didn’t even wear any unless we went outside to watch an event.
With all of our competitions bunched into the second week we actually got to see a bit of Sydney. The absence of any pipe bombs in trashcans on the main square and Sidney simply being a lot nicer than Atlanta in 1996 played a major role in that.
In between we did keep up our practice of course, although fresh from altitude and heat units, we did not need to go all out. There was no point in wasting our energy before the main events.
Regina
The second week had started and Femke was again the first to go in the time trial on the track. Unlike the road variant it was an exceedingly short race – just five-hundred meters, or two laps. That was perhaps even a bit too short for Femke, but she made the best of it. With the heats only taking around 35 seconds per round, we soon knew that Femke had added a bronze medal to her collection, only beaten by a French woman and an Australian girl who had made the best of being on home turf to score the silver.
Nadja was competing later on the same day in the semi-finals of the ten kilometers in the stadium. Lydia, as her coach, had a premium place at the track side while we watched her from the stands. Nadja only came in third, but even I, as someone who knew little about sports, could see that she had conserved energy and not gone at the ultimate pace she was capable of. The third place was enough to advance to the finals in two day’s time. That was when the medals were handed out and when it ultimately counted.
Femke
One down, two to go. I had competed in the track time trial for the first and last time and I had walked away with a medal. In a way it was weird to think that at twenty-eight I was competing at my last summer Olympics. Lydia had been thirty-two at her first. But unlike me the cold war had screwed her out of competing in 1984 and 1988. To think this should have been her fifth Olympic games was utterly unreal.
For me there would be no more summer games. I was dead set on calling it quits when I hit thirty. Many others were still competitive way into their thirties, and Jeannie Longo of France was such a freak of nature she would probably still compete when she was fifty, but I noticed that it became harder and harder to keep myself in peak fitness. I didn’t want to continue until training became a nuisance or even torture.
The DS of our team had already offered me a spot on the team as a coach for the time after my retirement, so I could safely plan for that time without any worries about the future.
Besides, Lydia and I had already decided that we would be involved in Doreen’s career after our retirements. The cycling part of the triathlon was essentially a time trial and as a multiple champion I was in a prime position to coach her, while Lydia would take care of the running part.