#ItDoesn’tChafe

Part I

When Ronnie came back home that afternoon, her legs were killing her. She’d been out of the house for the first time in weeks. And thus obviously had to wear clothes. Not just airy clothes, like a summer dress, but things to keep the evil stabbing bloodsucking mosquitos at bay. So thick canvas coverals. Boots. Even thick underwear to protect the sensitive bits, should one of the buggers find their way inside.

And now, everything hurt, everything and by that she meant really everything was chafed. She’d had a change of meds, oh let’s see, over six weeks ago and had some minor side effects. Unpredictable blood pressure dips, that caused her to get woozy, but worst case scenario even conk out. So she’d taken sick leave and put all her projects that were outside the house on hold. Max was keeping everything afloat in the meantime and Ronnie had focused on catching up on officework and whatever else.

And surely, as it was a very hot summer, on day two, she simply dispensed with wearing clothes. ‘Why should I wear clothes? I’m inside all day. It’s bleeding hot. Who’s going to see me? The dogs?’ Max had grudgingly agreed, it was very distracting to say the least, to see Ronnie traipse around naked all day, taking calls, doing office work, housework and most importantly, catching up on sleep and letting her body adjust to the new meds.

They’d even stopped getting frisky for a while, after a slightly scary bit where Ronnie had passed out mid-orgasm for about 10 seconds. The blood literally couldn’t be in two places at the same time.

As her body had slowly grown accustomed to incrementally higher strains put on it, she’d started walking on her treadmil in the kitchen when she started her second week of acclimatisation.

Their pack of dogs would sniff her legs and drop flossy ropes and tennisballs on the treadmill in front of her and she’d have to suppress a laugh and watch the toy being launched of the back end of the treadmill whilst she simply stepped over it. The dogs weren’t sure whether they liked this game or not.

She’d put her laptop in front of her and her in-ear headphones in and started watching movies and youtube videos, whilst she walked. When the video was done it jumped to the next one, that was on the playlist still, as it was set on repeat. It was Joy in Hong Kong. They’d looked for it earlier cause one of her other projects had reminded her of it. Soft core porn. Ronnie looked at the clock, 11:50. No calls or other stuff scheduled during lunch. And she still had thirty minutes left on the treadmill. Naked. Whilst in front of her on the screen Joy was about to find out what made Asian men interesting in bed.

‘You be good boys and girls now and don’t distract mommy!’ She said to the dogs, which stopped them from offering new toys and allowed her to focus more on the screen. It was turning her on. She put her hand on her nipple and squeezed her not overly large breast gently. She wasn’t in bad shape, she’d looked better when she was younger, age was catching up with her. Some bulges were forming, but nothing that’d put her in the chubby section. Still, she’d lost some tone as well due to the lack of exercise. She saw that her timer said it was 20 minutes still, so she upped the speed of the treadmill by another 0, 5 km/hr. She was still walking a languid pace, but had started swinging her hips more.

As she did so, she infrequently made a cross-step, exaggerating the movement and hipsway, but more importantly, she’d rubbed her legs together more. They were getting wet. It wasn’t sweat. Ronnie double checked whether the laptop’s camera had the slidercover over the lens. She kept softly kneading her breast with the one hand and extended the other to between her legs. Very gently she cupped her mons with just the three fingers and scrunched it, teasing it, teasing the labia. A shudder went through her and she had to focus on keeping balanced and walking. She was way too sensitive. Her clit was starting to throb with her pulse. She felt it all the way inside. It wasn’t distracting, but noticable.

She cupped her mons again and teased herself once more. This time catching some fluid and bringing it to her mouth. She painted her lips with a single vertical stripe and poked her tongue out to lick just the tip of the finger and catch it with her lips. On screen Joy was getting undressed in a hotel room by an Asian man. He was eager. She was wet and he inserted without any need for external lubrication. The camera looked at the couple from behind ferns, curtains and whatever else the producers could put in front of them so the actual penetration wasn’t visible. It was titilating and frustrating at the same time.

Ronnie kept squeezing her breast, now the one, then the other and dipped her finger between her legs, whilst still walking on the treadmill. She wasn’t walking fast, the speed was set really low. But a sheen was developing all over her body. Goosebumps also popped up and small hairs in places where she didn’t shave, stood on end. Her whole body was starting to get electrified. She hadn’t orgasmed for weeks. Now that she was finally paying attention to her body, it was very much ready to give in and throw it self over the edge.

Ten minutes left on the timer. She was slowly driving herself insane and wasn’t sure if she’d survive the next ten minutes. At times soft moans and heavy sighs escaped her mouth. She tried to suppress them, to keep the dogs from reacting to her, but couldn’t keep it all in. On screen Joy was showering. And by showering as is normal in porn flicks the producer had crammed in maximum screentime of the actress soaping up her boobs and her labia. Ronnie couldn’t help herself giggling softly at the thought that she hoped that the pH of the soap was OK for her vagina. Then again: she’d just been fucked three ways from sunday, so it’s not like her pH wasn’t already out of whack.

She shook her head at her own silliness for not being able to stick to the plot and being distracted by such details. Well, when she said plot, she meant: the run up of convenient circumstances that led to an excuse for the next tryst. Plot was perhaps too high praise for the flimsy excuses for Joy to dive in headfirst at any cock offered to her, but well, what other word was there. The plot was still having it’s effects on Ronnie. When the treadmill timer showed that her hour of planned walking was about to end, she started teasing herself more and more as the treadmill slowed down into the preprogrammed cooldown sequence. Her finger dipped in deeper and deeper each time. Every two or three times, she’d curl her finger inward, causing her to bend over slightly and having to pull out fast before she lost her balance as the treadmill was still moving.

Despite the curled finger being inside only fractions of a second, Ronnie was very close to coming. When the treadmill beeped away it’s final three seconds, Ronnie was shuddering and had to grab the counter to stay upright. Her breath was hitching. The dogs moved up towards her as they smelled the familiar scent and saw their mom panting hard. As they brought a new set of tennis balls and flossy ropes, Ronnie laughed and managed to squeak out: ‘Not now, floofs! Mommy will be with you in a minute. Mommy just needs a second.’ Her head was hanging between her arms that rested on the counter by now. She’d locked her knees to prevent them from buckling, as they were still trembling. As she panted her way through orgasm, slowly breathing out and luxuriating in the electrical discharges she was feeling tickling the insides of her tummy, she slowly came to her self.

She asked the dogs to follow her to the bedroom, closed the door behind her, making sure everyone was inside and lay on the bed exhausted. It was too hot to snuggle under the comforters. She took her teddy, put him between her legs and pulled her knees to her side. The bears snout was on the tip of her breast as if he was suckling. Two of the dogs lay against her back, despite the heat, just to be close to her. She fell asleep with a grin of contentedness.

(Continued in part II)