Down and down the wooded hill Elegance bounded, her toned, milky white flesh flexing and throbbing with her graceful exertion - a statuesque form with the gait of a bipedal mare. For comfort and simplicity, she wore only an olive sports bra and buckled bikini, a pair of sky-blue running shoes, tennis gloves, and a large wristwatch/pedometer bangle. The weather was typical of the forested, mountainous region - humid but cool, a heavy overcast diffused the otherwise bright sun to perfectly ambient light. The fresh, damp air ran over her exposed body, easily evaporating her perspiration and allowing her luminous skin to breathe. Thanks to her sports bra, her firm but ponderous breasts, fine horizontal oblongs – like brilliant, fleshy white mangos - weren't too much of a nuisance as she took high strides down the hill - but it did nothing for her rich, raven hair that ran down to just above the base of her spine, bouncing forward and back with the perfect symmetry of her stride. Wide, clear green eyes shined in the fresh air. Her daily run up, down and around the forested hills around the estate was a good two miles. Down she came, in the side gate - double oaken door framed by the stone walls that circumvallated the two-acre estate - along the brick path and into the west wing farmhouse. There wasn't a reason to not leave the door open, nor were there doors barring the wide oaken corridors of the farmhouse itself, leading from the path down the hill, through a series of hallways, a right at the end and then another right leading down to - the hot tub, a wide, shallow, depression in the pumice floor, its sides and base a rough, asymmetrical amalgamation of polished granite and limestone. Three seconds of quick, effortless gestures: the enervated jogger kicked her running shoes and threw her gloves onto the bench that ran along the far wall - they landed one next to the other. Her breasts feeling soggy and stale against her bra was a less pressing consideration than her bikini - she loosened the buckle and pulled the olive-colored nylon down with both hands, lifting one milky thigh then the other and chucking the funky garment like a sling right on top of the shoes. Preferring her raw natural state, Elegance did not shave her soft length of pubic hair a teasing curtain upon her vulva, a musky testament to her sexual energy. Without breaking pace she addressed her urgent need, reaching down between her marbled thighs, stroking the exposed vulva then thrusting her forefingers into the mouth of her womanly canal. She moaned - mmmnmmh- -- in response to her own stimulation, arching her back and hunching her shoulders. For the first time, Elegance staggered unevenly and came to a halt as she brought her other hand down to provide counter-stimulation. The right tugged and teased the pink ribbons of her vulva and erect clitoris; the left dug into the brilliant pink depths of her vagina. A dig into the roughness above the lid left her index and middle forefingers drenched in musky viscosity and she groaned again - nnnhnn-. Almost embarrassed at her own vigor, Elegance straightened up and with a vigorous breast-stroke motion let the smooth oblong masses of her twins free from their harness, flinging the bra towards the bench. It landed a meter forward of the bench where her bikini, shoes and gloves lay. Her breasts expanded like bread fresh from the oven, inflated by her passionate need. She sought relief, stepping into the hot tub and reclining on one its polished soft stones. The lustful aesthete closed her eyes and continued to stroke her labia and tug at her vagina, but only for a moment. She sloshed glowing naked flesh across the warm, shallow pool, full of fresh water heated straight from the stream by a wood boiler, to an outcropping of several polished soft stones leaning against each other at a sharp angle. Hidden amongst and under these stones was the pneumatic agitator for the hot tub, cheerfully churning up
