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mounds. My labia looked like the halves of a tender peach. Also
perfectly visible was my anus. A pink puckered spot, almost delicate in design,
was winking at the camera. I was totally bald between my legs. The thin patch
of hair above my clit was pressed to the bed and hidden. Dare I show this to
anyone? The thought of it sent a hot flash between my legs. I was dwelling on
thoughts that I had never let linger during my marriage.
    I played as I sat on the office
chair at the computer. I exploded as the pent up passion flowed from my core. A
tide was turning, and I wondered where it would take me.
    My husband called late on Saturday
night. He was out at a bar with friends. I wanted so much to have phone sex. He
was laughing and a bit drunk. I heard the voice of women laughing. The thought
of an erotic call evaporated. He promised to call on Sunday. He didn't.

Chapter 5
    Sunday and Monday passed by as
usual. My husband called Monday night, and he sensed I was distant. But we
warmed and got excited about the coming weekend. I told him about painting the
second bedroom. I told him I did it in the nude. I didn't tell him about the
pics. Something about his voice made me hold back. The tone troubled me. I
tried not to obsess, but the concern lingered.
    Tuesday I shopped. I found a local
bicycle shop and stopped in to see what they had. An old bicycle was in the
garage at the house. It was my aunt's and had seen better years. Its tires were
flat, and the chain looked rusty. The guy in the shop offered to see if it
could be fixed up. I went back to the house and got it into the trunk of my
car. Back at the shop, the guy examined it and was not optimistic. It might
cost more to fix than it was probably worth.
    He showed me some suitable bikes in
his shop. Some were way out of my price range. Some looked okay for what I
wanted. I told him I'd think about it and brought my aunt's bike back to the
garage and went for walk on the beach. I thought about needing something more
to do with my time and decided to buy a decent bicycle. I used to cycle when I
was younger and had one in college. I liked the idea of exploring the beach
roads and town by bike.
    Wednesday was another hot day. I
dressed for the heat and went back to the bike store. This time the owner was
there. He was an athletic and lean guy. I guessed mid-thirties. We talked, and
he selected a few bikes for me to test. I took them for a brief ride and picked
one that felt best. It turned out he would fit the bike to me by adjusting the
seat and handlebars. I watched as he put the bike in a stand. He told me to hop
on and cycle a bit. I was wearing shorts and a sleeveless top. I climbed onto
the bike and started to peddle. He said to warm up and went back into his shop.
    He reappeared and watched me
intently. I cycled and felt oddly uneasy as he watched my ass, my arms, and my
legs. He asked me to hop off and he adjusted the height of the seat and the
bars. I realized he was taking this quite seriously. I smiled thinking he had
been checking out my figure and realized he had to in order to fit the bike. He
adjusted things, and I was surprised to admit that it felt better. He strongly
advised me to buy a helmet, which I did. I explained I hadn't cycled in
awhile.  He then mentioned that local riders gathered several times weekly and
rode as a group around town and the beaches. He invited me to join them since
the “intro” group would help me get started. He gave me their schedule. I paid,
and he helped me fit the bike in my car. I brought it home and brought it into
the kitchen.
    I undressed to lie on the deck. I
spent several hours nude, tanning, and used the afternoon to read. After
dinner, I dressed in shorts and a tee and rode the bike along the shore. I did
not go far. After a few miles, I went back to the house. The bike felt much
faster and smoother that the ones I had owned before. I liked it but knew I'd
need to practice. I could tell it would be great exercise for my