An affair: tennis and then many better matches in her bed.
She noticed and nodded, remarking:
"Yes, caesareans, good work."
"And good for something else, too, ... like a virgin, well, not quite."
"Um-hmm, that's why."
We smirked and finished our showers. She handed me the other towel and said:
"Also change these on Fridays."
We returned to the bedroom. I helped her gather up the clothes that had been on the bed. As we began to dress, I remarked:
"This will be first, seeing you in something other than tennis clothes. Your sports bras gave me the wrong impression of your figure."
"Why I wear them, so they don't bounce around and get flabby."
"My good luck to see that they haven't."
"And mine too, that you have."
We smiled, and she put on her bra, hooking it behind her back and then jiggling her boobs in their cups. I grinned and said:
"Much better, but not better than without."
As we continued to dress, she remarked that she really hadn't meant for me to see her underwear on the bed, but we agreed that that made it even nicer that I had, that it had been another unintended suggestion to me, and that we were both pleased with what had happened. We chuckled with smiles and took our coffee bowls back to the kitchen.
I didn't want to be the one to suggest or ask if we would do it again; that was the lady's prerogative. She turned back from the sink with a slightly quizzical expression, then snorted and remarked:
"Still looks like you've been playing tennis."
"I hope so, but I wasn't, we weren't."
"Better. ... Should we do it again? We were talking about it."
"Sounded like we wanted to then; I did, I do. Maybe we 'shouldn't', but that wasn't what you meant."
"Oh, we 'shouldn't,' but if we want to? I do."
"Risk it? Might be anticlimactic, after the thrill of the first time?"
"Oh, it was that! But good enough to risk."
"Only one way to find out."
"Um-hmm, even without that. Tomorrow, substitutes?"
"Um-hmm, an hour later. ... And if you change your mind, you can tell me on the intercom when I ring."
"You're sweet, but then we wouldn't know. ... But if a kid is sick or something else, well, I won't make up an excuse; it will be true."
"Good that we can be honest. I'll expect the worst, not to be disappointed."
"I hope not."
We parted at the door with smiles, and I waited for the elevator, hoping no one would join me on the way down, especially someone from the floor just below hers. I escaped the building unobserved and went to my car. It was too early to drive home, since I should have been playing tennis for an hour with my supposed friend and then an hour and a half doubles, plus at least half an hour drinking coffee.
What all can happen in a couple of hours on a weekday morning! I drove off and parked somewhere else, continuing my thoughts. It had been the best sex I had had in years, the fulfillment of all my fantasies - and maybe hers too. And tomorrow? We both wanted to risk it. No first time thrill, but we knew how to have good sex, give each other good sex. It would still be good. Didn't we both want it to be? And if it was, next week? The week after? Could we arrange our schedules to allow that? I couldn't continue to play with my supposed friend, but I could say that I was substituting for another player; my wife never looked at my lists, and I wouldn't leave them lying around any more. And, of course, every couple, three weeks, I wasn't scheduled to play. But would she want to?
I fondled my balls through my shorts, trying to remember the last time I had had two orgasm in one session. It must have happened, right, once with her. She had also sucked my cock. And once with her. She didn't do that, but we went to bed with three rubbers, and the last time we didn't have one. Hadn't really been that good, but we had done it four times, at least, I had come four times. Back then I wasn't so conscious, considerate about whether she did. But Mrs. O had. What was her first name?
We never used first names, or addressed each other by name after that, but that is getting ahead of the story, also revealing that it co