Tai Chi feet

Her name was Marta, she said, originally from Croatia. We are regulars at a Tai Chi class at a local park in Raleigh-Durham. Nice park, just down the block from my townhouse. I started about 6 months ago to improve my balance and flexibility, and to find a form of moving meditation. I don't do well sitting still. So, Marta. She has a light brown ponytail, fair skinned, petite, about 5'3", blue green eyes. Very slender, legs just a touch on the skinny side. Butt likewise very cute but verging on tiny. Today she was wearing a simple cotton top, tight yoga pants. As we practiced some moves, her the top bloused out enough to show side bra, not side boob. The bra appeared to be a lacy white, and the boobs a nice perky cupcake size with just a hint of nipple showing. Her English was good, with a delightful Eastern European lilt.

My name is Neal, divorced, 38 years old. I run a high-end bicycle shop here, doing well. No kids, pretty uncomplicated divorce from a lovely lady who I married too early. We grew apart as we matured and parted as fairly good friends. I'm 6'1", 175, slender but reasonably muscular. Light brown hair, stubble beard. The graceful movements of Tai Chi are intriguing and am just now beginning to relax and flow. Marta on the other has practiced longer and moves elegantly. Our post-class chatter let me know that she was into ballet as a teen, so her graceful moves make sense. She is around 30 I'd guess and said she came her for university and stayed, working now in customer relations for one of the Research Triangle's many mid-size tech companies.

We wrapped up a class, and Marta and I visited for a bit, rehydrating from Yeti (me) and Stanley (her) bottles. A sudden burst of cool wind and a clap of thunder suddenly changed the day. The Tai Chi spot is about a quarter mile inside the park, and big splats of rain blew in, almost horizontally. She and I walked briskly towards the park entrance, no shelters in that direction. As we walked straight into the storm, we were immediately drenched and chilled. Her cotton top was now sheer and those previously faint nipples were now erect and leading the way.

"Is your car near? I live just down the way," I asked.

"No, my place is about a mile away and I walk over," she answered.

"If you'd like, we can stop at my place, it's close, and dry off and wait for the rain to quit," I offered.

"I'm freezing, let's go," she says with chattering teeth and increasingly blue lips.

We reach my townhouse building and take the elevator to my second-floor entrance, leaving puddles in the foyer and elevator. Inside, I turn back the air conditioner and welcome Marta in. "I'll go get some towels, come on in."

"Oh, would it be possible for me to get a quick shower to warm up? I hate to impose," she asks, sheepishly but may be a touch coquettishly also.

"Of course, I should have offered. You can use the master bath and I'll put some dry clothes out for you," I reply. She approaches me, for a drenched hug. Her arms open wide, my eyes open wide at those lovely nips coming my way. We do a sloshy hug, those pointy nipples against my wet shirt.

"You are so sweet," she says. I usher her towards the bath, which has a roomy shower, and point to a stack of fresh towels. A hair dryer is on the counter next to the sink.

"I'll use the guest bath. Put your wet clothes outside and I'll put them in the wash, then the dryer."

In a minute or so, the door eases open, a slim arm comes out, and a clump of wet clothes splat on the bedroom floor. I leave a fresh Trek t shirt on the bed along with a pair of boxers. No panties stashed in the place. In the laundry room, I separate out the blouse, bra, yoga pants and a dainty white thong that matches the bra. That explains the lack of panty lines in those tight yoga pants that almost seemed painted on her dainty butt. I start a load after stripping out of my wet things and adding them to the load in the washer. After I wrap with a towel, I start a fresh pot of coffee that will help take away the chill. A quick shower for me, then I dress in loose athletic shorts and an REI tee, then move to the living room sofa.

After a bit, I hear the hair dryer, running just a minute. Marta emerges from the bedroom, doing a curtsy in the doorway with a hand tugging on each side of the tee. "Hope the boxers are ok, and sorry I didn't have a bra for you," I explain.

"Oh I bet you're sorry you didn't have a bra, unless, you know, you like to dress up," she says with a giggle. I wave my arms in a shrug and vigorously shake my head no. She moves to the sofa and curls both legs under her, tented by the shirt.

"I hope you warmed up, but I made some coffee, and can add brandy or Kahlua if you'd like," I offer.

"A splash of Kahlua would be lovely," she smiles. What a change from the soaked, shivering pixie to the fresh and confident young woman settling into the sofa cushions. I make her cup, then take mine with a little brandy. Shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, we catch up. She came to NC State from Dubrovnik, where she grew up and worked as a tour guide between high school and college. Her family is there still, and she visits every year or so. Marta talks of the differences, with her home city mobbed by tourists in the high season and quiet after. Our area is vibrant and young, with lots of career opportunities, unlike her home. She loves the lively music scene and nearly mountains.

The conversation moves to Tai Chi. I tell her how challenging it still is for me, but how mellow and peaceful I feel after practice. It is great for quieting the too-busy mind. I ask her about her dance background. She started ballet at 10 and continued till 16. And yes, learning Tai Chi comes easier for her, learning the graceful patterns. I did some karate in college but still struggle see the self-defense applications of the gentle moves other than the obvious punches and kicks, even though this is far from the focus of the Tai Chi we practice. As we sip our coffees, I find her subtly moving nearer to me so that our shoulders are touching.

"I had to stop ballet, it was so hard on my feet. The pointe work and relevé wrecked my feet. I'm in good shape otherwise," (I nod yes vigorously in agreement). "But even by the end of Tai Chi class, my feet ache. It's a good thing I work in tech and can do my work seated," she explains.

"I'd be happy to give you a foot rub, I'm pretty good," I offer. She turns a bit pink, but nods 'yes'.

'OK, this is moving in a nice direction', I think to myself, and feel the beginnings of stirring in my cock. I first move the wash to the dryer, and set it on low heat to let the clothes take their good time. I pick up a bottle of body lotion from the bath and return. She has her legs bent, both feet down on the cushion, and the t shirt tented around her.

"Which would you like first?" She eases her right leg from under the shirt and I have a peek of smooth upper thigh before she moves the tee back to her knees. I move an ottoman in front of the sofa and offer a hand. She eases her ankle into my outstretched palm. "We've been too chilly today," I explain as I squirt a dollop of lotion into my palm and rub hands together to warm up the smooth liquid.

Everything else on Marta is smooth and delicate, but I can see the subtle vestiges of the ballet damage. I ease my palm into the sole of her foot, and she flinches just a bit as I press. After a few medium rubs, then deeper with the thumbs, she seems to relax again. I move to the heel, making rounded movements. Her relaxation seems to deepen. I refresh the lotion and move to her toes, starting by stretching each out, beginning with the little toe. I ease next between the toes and massage around and between each one. She lets out a quiet sigh, followed by a quiet moan. She seems to wiggle her bottom more deeply into the cushion. I reverse the pattern and move from the toes back to heel, back to sole. Again I hear a moan, this one just a bit more noticeable. Her left foot is on the floor and she seems to squeeze her thighs together, and was that a bit of a pelvic thrust? I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to the ball of her foot.

"Are you ready for the other now?" I ask, and she nods yes with a breathy sigh.

"I'm so much warmer now," she says as she lifts the t shirt to her belly and waves it a few times to cool off. The boxers she's wearing, the blue ones with the gold seahorses, are skewed just a bit to the side, and I catch a glimpse of bare labia as she lowers the shirt, now to her mid thighs. She stretches out her left leg, legs apart. I repeat the pattern on the left, sole to heel to toes and back again. "This feels heavenly," with a sigh. Her breathing seems to deepen.

"OK, next I've had a leg shake after a massage, would you like to try?" I ask. She nods yes. I move the ottoman back just a bit and hold her by the ankles, and begin to shake back and forth. I now see those lovely titties wobble back and forth in synch with the legs. I'm getting harder now, and wonder if my shorts are tenting up. "Now for the leg stretch?" I ask, and again she nods yes. "It's one at a time," I explain as I gently spread her legs and grasp her right ankle with both hands. As I begin to pull, there's almost no resistance as her butt scootches forward, sliding on the sofa cushion, the shirt now riding up, revealing the boxers.

"Oh, you need some traction, why don't you put your foot on my thigh to hold me in place," she quietly suggests.

My chest tightens and I feel a flush in my face. "Sure," I reply. I ease my right foot to her thigh, and pull again. She scootches forward again, and I find my foot sliding to her crotch, my sole pressing on her pussy under the boxers.

"Try now," she urges, and I pull the leg again, and my foot presses more urgently on her mons. She presses her hips, grinding me into her, her boxers now noticeably damp. She eases back a bit to pull the boxers aside and now pulls me to her shaved pussy. She then pulls the shirt up and begins to pinch both nipples, pale, pink and erect. The rhythm of her humps increase as the bottom of my foot is now lathered with her juices. Between her breasts and above, her chest flushes scarlet as she moans loudly, "Yes, hard, now, make me cum." The urgency peaks as she orgasms with a shudder, and slumps forward, gasping.

After a minute or so of deep breaths, she says, "Oh, how I love a good foot rub." She moves her right foot to my lap and begins to nudge my hard penis gently side to side. I reach forward and pull her boxers off. Moving the ottoman back, I kneel between her legs and begin to kiss upward from calves to thighs, gently approaching her mons. I begin to alternate licks up and down her labia on each side. She runs her hands through my hair and eases me forward. I plant my tongue at the bottom of her vagina and lick up, spreading her lips now. As I reach her clit, a little pink bud peeks out from the hood. I take a few sucks, she gasps, and I move down again and plant my tongue more broadly, opening her up yet more. Her juices flow as I take in her fresh, slightly tangy aroma. She arcs against my face and comes again with a short, feral grunt. Marta pulls the tee over her head, revealing her slender frame and heaving, peach-sized breasts. "Now, now," she urges. I pull my shirt off and slide my shorts and boxers down. She is slumped on the sofa cushion, her legs obscenely spread.

I ease the tip of my cock between her lips and move slowly up and down, coating me with her wetness. I tease the tip into her, then remove, then slide up and down again. I repeat, each time sliding a bit more of my cock into her pussy and leaving it a bit longer. I reach to palm each breast and trap the erect nipples between my fingers, then pulling and releasing. Her moans and heavy breaths escalate again. "Now, now," she screams, and I slide my 7 inch cock into her, feeling the tip bump her cervix. I pause before easing in and out, slowly and gently at first, then slamming into her, feeling my balls slap on her ass, sloppy wet noises louder and louder. I pull out as she seems to move towards another climax. "No, don't stop," she grunts.

I flip her over and pull her petite ass towards me. I take a big lick from ass to vagina, which provokes a sharp gasp, then slide my cock back into her. Instead of slamming her, I grasp her ass to control the penetration, moving her back and forth. I hold her ass cheeks apart so I can watch her cute little ass bud open. As I feel my cum begin to rise, I begin to lunge into her, pushing her back and forth on the cushion, her breasts dragging on the fabric. The intensity builds as I explode into her with spurts of semen, four or five spasms. She is now biting the cushion, muffled screams as she cums yet again. I slump forward over her, lick her sweaty neck and kiss behind each ear.

I sit on the floor as she turns over, a leg on each side of me. We rest there for a bit, both gasping and sweaty. She reaches down and swipes a finger through our combined juices, licks her fingertip then extends it to my lips for a lick also. She cups a hand over her shiny mound, and says, "Oh my, I think I have another, could you?" I reach one finger, then two, into her sloppy, velvety cunt. I stretch her open then reach forward to caress the ring of her cervix. Her breathing quickens again as I now reach up to find the grainy nub of her g spot. My semen and her juices now wet me to the wrist as I circle and massage the roof of her cunt. Her throat and chest flush scarlet once again. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, make me cum, da, da, da!" (I think she's saying yes, not calling me daddy). She slumps back on my now drenched sofa, and I scoop up the creampie, palm it into her mound, and massage it up her trunk, past the belly button, and around both breasts.

I suggest a shower, and we walk hand in hand to the master shower. I get her slippery with bath gel, taking extra time to get pussy, ass, and tits clean. She then lathers me up, gently scrubs my dick and balls. Shower over, I towel her dry. I hear the dryer cycle finish with a buzz and excuse myself. Next I bring the warm, fresh clothes. I ease her into the lacy bra and pull her blouse over her head. She reaches for the tights and pulls them on, leaving the thong in my hand. She reaches for them, brushes them under my nose. "Keep these, you never know when you might need them again." She tweaks the front of the yoga pants into a distinct cameltoe, eases an index finger into the cleft, and presses the finger to my lips for a parting kiss.

After I dress, I walk Marta to the lobby, and she calls an Uber as the rain has slackened but not ceased. After a brisk hug and a goodbye, we exchange hopes for another great practice next week.