TENNIS ANYONE?

So, it's Monday and the weather is great--warm and sunny, maybe 70 degrees. I've been cooped up in the office all day. An entire day of meetings and a deadline. Basically a Monday. I'm not ready for the weekend to be over.

I call my husband right a the stroke of 5, and offer to pick him up downtown. I tell him I have all kinds of pent up energy I need to get out and don't want to just go home and cook diner. He has two rackets in his office and suggests we drive up to Rosecrest, where there are several public outdoor courts. It's a large park, overlooking the city, quite popular in the summer for tourists, picnickers, and weekend outdoor recreationists. But it's Monday, and Spring. The cherry and apple trees are in bloom, but the oaks are still bare, the roses of the Rosecrest garden are still stubs. So, we figure, we'll have the place to ourselves.

When we arrive, it's just as we'd hoped. A few cars in the parking lot, but no one on the courts. It's warm and the air feels so much more alive than winter. It feels like vitamins soaking into my skin long missing. In a playful mood, I slip off my panties. I have to admit, the feeling of being bare under a skirt is a real turn on. It feels so free. The thought of the spring air tickling my delicate skin seems perfect. After a day in the office, it's exactly what I need to feel.
So, I'm definitely doing it for the pure physical sensation. Maybe, if my husband sees my skirt fly up on a serve, or a really hard backhand, he might notice. He'll be surprised. Maybe turned on, but I doubt it. After so many years of marriage, seeing each other's bodies, it's not exactly new information. Still, deep down, I'd like him look at me that way again. I want to feel a little daring, a little risky.

So I serve. Maybe a little of my skirt pulls up in the back, but he can't see from the front. We play. With each hit, I'm trying to slam the ball, making a load grunt like a professional. It's really getting me going. All my work stress is being taken out on the ball. I am getting sweaty. My heart is pounding.

I'm feeling really great. But still, no matter how hard I slam the ball, my skirt has just enough weight to stay down. It seems my chances for flashing my husband are totally gone. As I bend over to fetch a ball form the net, I can feel the skirt lift in back. I can feel the cool lick of air on my folds. It's like a soft tickle of the breeze. Then I feel something else. Something much more intense. It's a feeling I've had before, very sexy, but also scary. I feel the hair standing up on the back of my neck. Why does the body react to a situation before the eyes can even take in the information and process it?

But I can definitely feel the sensation. Without looking, I realize what the feeling is: someone is looking at me. You know how you can just sense when you're being stared at? Exactly! I served again and we played. The thought of someone watching me, of being able to see me each time I bent forward really got me. My husband couldn't see. He didn't even know a wasn't wearing panties. But whoever was watching me did!

As I played, and grunted all the more, and glistened with sweat, and knew that I had eyes on me, I made a point to lean forward even more, to exaggerate stooping down to pick up a ball. I could feel my skirt rise up, and knew the eyes were fixed between my legs.

After an hour of play, it was starting to get darker. We were getting hungry for dinner. The air had a bit of a chill, though my skin was hot. I felt so tuned on by being watched. My pussy was soaking wet, part from exercise, and part from arousal. I felt I had to tell my husband that I had been playing the whole set without underwear. He looked at me, as if either unimpressed or simply not believing me. So I raised my skirt in front in full view. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped. I certainly had his attention then!

Just then I heard clapping. I turned around and saw a group of teenage boys. They were just outside the court, clapping, whistling, and cheering. I instantly blushed. They must have been watching me the whole time. In my mind, I thought I had been flashing a single person. I blushed when I realized I'd given a group of teenagers the best show they'd ever gotten. I thought my husband would be furious, but he laughed. We had to walk past the boys back to our car. I blushed beet red.

Maybe it was the attention, or maybe my husband suddenly got a reminder of himself as a teenager, but on the drive home, he reached over and pulled up my skirt. With the windows down, the cool air felt good. He fingered me as we drove, getting me even wetter and more worked up. WHen we got home, we didn't even make it to the bed, but made love the second the door closed. He took me, dominant, like an alpha male mounting his mate after a play from the younger wolf pack.

Now, we make exercise part of our after-work activities. Tennis or jogging or bicycling...whatever we're doing, my husband has me do it without panties. We've flashed quite a few guys now, and after each time, my man lets me know his still top dog.