At Uni

Gavin had made the running squad at uni. He was in the finals.

Isabella was back on one of her infrequent return trips home. She's taken Steve shopping for Gavin for some running clothes.

The cellophane wrapper crinkled in Isabella's grip. "How do I know which ones fit him?"

"Just get small, they stretch," said Steven.

"But that seems so haphazard," replied Isabella. "Is Gavin really small?"

"He's the same size as me, I'd buy small, then they are snug."

"You're the same size, of course," said Isabella. "Where are the change rooms?" She took Steve's arm with a firm grip.

There wasn't much room in the change rooms with Isabella, as well. Steve looked at Isabella pleadingly. "Just put them on, Steve. I ran modelling agencies before call centres." Steve still didn't look convinced. "I'm a middle aged woman, Steve. You are a little too young for me."

Steve dropped his pants and took the black tights from Isabella's hand.

He pulled them up to his waist, they were snug.

"Let me see." Isabella's hand slipped up under Steve's shirt, pulling the shirt out of the way, coming to rest just under Steve's nipples, her hand on his skin.

Nothing was hidden under the black, stretch material. Nothing but the truth. Every thing was very real, every contour, every muscle.

"How do they fit here?" Steve jumped as Isabella's hand caressed his balls. "Not too tight?"

"No," Steve choked out.

"Young men," said Isabella. She laughed. "I forget how modest you are."