It had been a slow summer. I had a decent job at my father's law firm - a lot more substantive work that what a typical college undergrad could expect - but no matter how much I adore him, it was still working for Daddy. A knee injury at the beginning of vacation further cramped my style, and limited my workouts to the gym in the office building - again usually with Daddy and/or some of his co-workers. On top of that, a series of rainy weekends had kept my friends and me from the beach, and my boyfriend delivered the straw that broke the camel's back by giving me the "let's see other people" talk as he headed to Australia for a semester abroad. So, I spent most of my "vacation" around one or both parents, with a limited social life, and NO SEX! Ugh!!
I learned early in my sexual life that boys (and men) like looking at my body, and I usually am happy to oblige them by wearing as little as legally allowed at the beach, and going on extended runs in nothing more than extra-small running shorts and my sports bra. This dovetails well with the fact that I also love sex. However, this summer I had been limited to wandering naked around the house when my parents were out and using my trusty vibrator for companionship.
Finally, about three weeks before it was time to head back to campus, the physical therapist cleared me to start biking. So, at least I could get outside to exercise. Running is my preferred workout, but I would take what I could get. My first ride was on a muggy Wednesday evening after work, and I planned to ride at a park about five miles from my house that has a fairly level two-and-a-half mile loop. Horny as I was, I really wanted some male eyes on me, but I couldn't convince myself that riding hunched over in a crop top was sexy. So, I dug out an old triathlon outfit I had used in high school. Then, I had worn it over a swimsuit, but today I decided to wear it by itself. After I zipped it on, I admired the way it hugged my curves. Its dark blue fabric disguised the fact that I was naked underneath, but if you looked closely enough you could see the outline of my camel-toe and of my hard nipples.
Upon reaching the park, I unloaded by road bike from the car, and went through my stretching routine. Given that it was a really nice evening, I was surprised - and a bit disappointed - that there weren't more people around. Being careful to protect my knee, I started off slowly. After about half a mile, I passed a couple walking their dog. Because they were going the same direction as me, I couldn't see their faces, but I hoped the man enjoyed the view of my spandex covered ass. I next passed some soccer fields, and enjoyed the view of a local high school team at preseason practice. Yes, the boys probably were a bit young for me, but most of them were shirtless, and their sweaty bare torsos got my juices going. Some of the players were jogging toward me, and I gave them a big smile. I was a bit pissed, however, not to get more than a passing glance.
"I'll show them!" I thought, tugging at the zipper at my neck. "Yes, that's much better." Where before, my c-plus cup breasts had been completely hidden, now when I looked down I could see a bit of cleavage. Standing up, no one would have thought twice about the amount of skin I was showing, but hunched over my handle bars, I was giving a nice view to those who cared to look. The cool breeze on my skin also helped cut the stifling humidity.
As I passed the park's rear entrance, I saw an older guy stretching. I hoped he was just starting his run because I liked his looks. He obviously was in shape, had a head of tousled brown hair, and a firm jaw covered by a salt-and-pepper beard. He looked up at my approach, and locked eyes with me after giving my neckline an appreciative glance. This time, my smile was returned. After breezing past him, I glanced back and was pleased to see him still checking me out.
By the time I passed the soccer field a second time, I was well warmed-up and had settled into a nice pace. I liked the feel of my self-created breeze down my shirt, and the feel of the narrow seat against my clit kept me in a pleasant state of semi-arousal. This time, the boys shyly returned my smile while staring at my tits the way only teenage males can.
"Much better," I thought. Even so, feeling horny and bolder, I decide to pull my zipper down another three inches or so. Now, anyone looking would know that I wasn't wearing a bra, and the added looseness allowed my nipples to move against the fabric stimulating me further.
Rounding a curve, I saw the runner again. He seemed to be in his early forties, and was moving at a good pace with long, powerful, strides. I smiled as our eyes met. He returned my grin, and made a point of moving his gaze to my chest as we passed.
"Thank you," he mouthed.
I laughed, and called back, "your turn!"
I smiled prettily at a couple of women who gave me dirty looks as they power-walked, but their disapproval was more than offset by the soccer players. Some were bold enough to hoot and whistle at me, and I blew them a kiss as I sped by. The thought of my body fueling their masturbatory fantasies that night made me even hornier. I knew my vibrator was in for quite a workout when I got home.
