It’s funny what a love for running can lead to. For most of my life, I was a certified couch potato. In my twenties, I would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested going out for a friendly jog. That term was an oxymoron, I’d point out, like jumbo shrimp or only choice. There was nothing friendly about jogging. At best, it was a waste of time. At worst, it was some twisted, masochistic ritual that required special shoes. Or so I thought.

At some point in my mid-thirties, though, everything changed. I can’t tell you exactly what the catalyst was. My best guess is that I just got fed up with getting winded every time I went to the fridge. I started eating right. I gave up garbage like fast food and soda. I even got a membership at the discount gym chain. My wife and friends formed a search party to figure out where the real me went.

It wasn’t easy at first, but after a few years of hard work it was really paying off. Where I used to pack a spare tire, I was now packing defined abs. I traded in McRibs for being able to feel my ribs. I went from despising running to being one of those lunatics who went to the special shoe store and carried a stick of body glide in case I decided to go for a spontaneous half-marathon run. It was a complete transformation, and for the most part, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I say “for the most part,” because there was one area of my life that seemed to get worse and worse as my fitness got better and better — my marriage.

At first, there didn’t really seem to be much of a problem. My wife made small, seemingly innocuous statements like “I wish I had your motivation,” or “I’d love to do that and get my figure back.” Over time though, the statements grew more and more terse. She’d question why I “had to spend so much time on this silly obsession.” She’d complain when I tried to serve healthy options for dinner, and gripe that I didn’t spend as much time with her as I used to. If I tried to invite her to join me on a trip to the gym or a jog around the block, she’d get angry and defensive.

Ultimately, we found a kind of equilibrium that allowed us to at least coexist. I shifted as many of my workouts as I could to times when she wasn’t at home, we made our own separate meals, and we generally didn’t talk about anything nutrition or fitness-related when we were together.

While this made things tolerable at home, it took its toll on our relationship and, in turn, our sex lives. We went from sex a few times a week to once a month, if I was lucky. I wanted more than that. Hell, I wanted more sex when it was happening two or three times a week, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I still loved my wife, but her attitude and behavior left me feeling alone and isolated.

Thanks to working from home, along with a flexible schedule, I had been able to make time for exercise most weekday mornings after my wife left for work. It was like clockwork. At 7:40, she’d leave for work, and a few minutes later, I was hopping into my car, a cherry red 1963 Dodge Custom 880. 

I should pause here to brag about my self-control. I really want to nerd out on you and spend a few thousand words discussing the 383 V8, 3-speed torque flight tranny, dual exhausts, and a nearly flawless black interior, but I’m not going to. None of that is really pertinent to this story. Just understand that my car and I have a thing going on, and if that’s weird to you, then it’s none of your business.

Anyway, after my wife went to work, I’d hop into my car and head to one of two places. Either I’d hit the gym, or I’d drive down to a park about a mile from our house that butted up to a paved trail that ran for several miles along the local creek system. It was one of my favorite spots to run. Thanks to my generally outgoing nature, I’d even made a few friends there over the years.

One particularly warm August morning, I found myself pulling into the parking lot at the city park. I noticed her almost immediately. She was prepping for a run under a big shade tree near the trail. Her cinnamon-colored hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she was wearing a neon pink sports bra and a matching pair of running shorts. Her emerald green eyes glistened as she turned her head to watch my car approach. 

Pulling into a stall nearby, I exited the car and strolled toward the tree. I should point out that at this point, cheating on my wife was nowhere in my mind. Like I said, I’m an outgoing guy and I generally enjoyed making new friends on the trail. She didn’t look like a homicidal killer, so I figured it was worth making an introduction.

“Nice car,” she smiled as I approached.

“Thanks,” I replied, stopping a few feet from where she was stretching. “Mind if I borrow your tree?”

“It’s all yours,” she replied. “I’m just about done anyway.”

“Awesome,” I said, beginning my stretching routine. “How far are you running today?”

“I’m going for ten. I’m doing the Champion’s Marathon next month, and I’m trying to get ready for it.”

“Oh, cool,” I chimed. “I’ll be running that one, too. It’ll be my third full. What about you?”

“It’s actually my first. I’m a little freaked out about it, honestly.”

“Eh, don’t be,” I reassured her. “Look at it this way — if it’s your first, you’re guaranteed to set a personal record no matter what!”

She chuckled at my joke. “Good point,” she smiled. “Well, I’d better get out there before it gets too hot.”

“Yeah, I hear you there. Hey, quick question before you go.” I replied. “What kind of gel are you taking?”

She stopped and looked at me quizzically. “Gel? Not sure I’m following you.”

“You know, energy gel. Are you taking anything for your longer runs?”

“Honestly,” she confessed, “I’m pretty new to running, and I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Oh lord,” I muttered, fishing my spare gel pouch out from my waistband. “Here, take this with you. When you get to about the halfway point today, eat it. You’ll feel a lot better when you’re done. I hope you like banana.”

She looked at the pouch skeptically for a moment, then her expression brightened. She reached out to take the pouch, and I couldn’t help but notice the wedding band on her ring finger. “Thanks,” she said as she smiled. “I’ll give it a shot. Have a good run!”

“You too!” I replied as she took off down the trail. A few minutes later, I took off going the other direction, completely putting the interaction out of my mind as I started out on my own run.

It wasn’t until about a week later that I saw her again. This time, she was just getting out of her minivan when I pulled up.

“Hey!” She exclaimed. “Banana man!”

“Well, if it isn’t marathon girl,” I laughed. “So, did you try that gel pouch?”

“Oh. My. God,” she stated. “It was so awesome. I mean, it kinda tasted funky, but when I got done with my run, I didn’t feel like I was going to die. I went out and bought a case of them on my way home.”

“Sweet,” I replied. “Happy I could share a little long-distance running wisdom. So, going for another ten-miler today?”

“Oh, no,” she said.” I ran hard yesterday. I was just out here for a little jog to keep the blood pumping.”

“Hey, me too,” I told her. “Want to join me for a friendly jog?”

Her eyes beamed at the suggestion. “Sure!” She exclaimed. “That would be awesome. Oh, by the way, I’m Beth.”

After making introductions and a brief warm-up, we hit the trail. I have to admit, it was absolutely delightful. I’d gotten so used to going out alone, that having someone friendly to chat with as I pounded the pavement was an adrenaline rush.

Through our conversation, we discovered that we both had a lot in common. We were both married with kids. We both had our ‘couch potato’ era earlier on, and got hooked on fitness later on. We even went to the same gym. The conversation was so good that somewhere on the way back, we wound up slowing down and just walking as we talked.

When we arrived back at the park, we said our goodbyes and wished each other good luck with the marathon training. I was just about to climb into my car when I heard her voice from behind me.

“Hey, wait,” she began as I turned to face her. “Would you mind if I got your number so we could do this again? It’s just that I’m really new to this whole thing, and you seem to know what you’re doing. I could sure use the coaching, if you’re willing to take on a running newbie.”

“Yeah, why not?” I smiled. As lonely as I’d felt due to the issues at home, having someone to chat with during workouts would be a welcome change. We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet the following day for a “real” run.

Over the next few weeks, Beth and I met nearly daily. For someone who had just picked up running recently, she was a natural. At first, the conversations stayed fairly professional. I mean, we’d talk about our personal lives here and there, but the focus was mostly on running and working out. 

Somewhere along the way, Beth started getting flirtier with me. It was pretty subtle at first, and I was honestly so oblivious to the idea that a woman would be interested in me that I didn’t pick up on it initially. When I finally did notice, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Here’s this hot, younger woman who could have been a model for a running magazine, hitting on the guy who was called Quasimodo by the kids in his middle school Literature Class the entire semester they were reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It didn’t compute.

I’d like to say that I steered away from it and kept our friendship strictly platonic. Instead, I went the other way, and found myself beginning to flirt back. If I’m being perfectly blunt, it felt good to have someone giving me that sort of attention. I hadn’t really felt wanted at home for years at this point, so having this kind of attention was almost intoxicating.

About a week before the Champion’s Marathon, I picked Beth up at her place to head down to the park for another friendly jog. She was wearing the same pink outfit she had on the day we met. I found myself wondering how I hadn’t noticed how hot she was back then. On our way, I couldn’t help but notice Beth grinning at me from the passenger seat.

“What?” I finally asked.

“You haven’t given me your opinion yet!” She responded.

“You mean on your texts from last night?” I asked, laughing.

“No, on my tits,” she laughed. “Yes, of course, my texts from last night. You never replied!”

“First off,” I said, “Your tits are lovely.” Beth giggled as I continued. “As far as those texts, my god, Beth. How could you do that to a guy? I was watching a movie with my wife when all of a sudden, I got your ‘red or blue?’ message, followed by those photos. You’re lucky she never sits next to me anymore, or I’d have had a seriously hard time explaining why I’m getting these photos of some chick in lingerie.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you had a seriously hard something,” Beth laughed. “C’mon, I need your opinion!”

I smiled and shook my head, and I could feel my cock twitching in my pants. “Fine, I liked the red one. I think it went better with your hair.”

“Hmmm,” she began in an affirming tone as I pulled into the parking lot at the park. “Right answer.”

“Sweet!” I grinned as I parked. “What do I win?”

Beth locked her eyes on mine. “Do you know what I love about your car?” She asked in a sultry voice.

As I looked into her eyes, the sexual tension between us grew so thick you could cut it with a knife. Despite all our flirting and playful banter, up until this point, I’d managed to keep my hands off Beth. I knew we both had families, and, in my mind, I’d built a wall that I vowed never to climb. Now, as I looked into her eyes, I could feel that wall beginning to crumble.

“I’m guessing it’s not the positrac rear diff,” I joked, trying to diffuse some of the tension, as she shifted, moving closer to me. 

“It’s all of it,” she said in a low voice, unphased by my reply. “The whole car is just sex on wheels. But my favorite part is this beautiful bench seat, because I can do this,” she purred as she drew even closer to me.

At this point, her face was barely an inch from mine. I found my eyes momentarily flicking down to her pink lips. I could feel her breath on my face as the wall in my mind rapidly eroded.

“Beth,” I barely whispered, the last of my resistance escaping as our eyes remained locked on each other’s. In my mind there was a pile of rubble where a wall once stood, and I found myself leaning forward, pressing my lips into hers. 

I’ve sat here trying to come up with a way to accurately describe our first kiss there in my car, but there just aren’t words that can do it justice. It was transcendent. It was ambrosial. I could list a hundred words on passion and sensuality to describe the moment our lips melted into one another, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Time itself seemed to freeze as we met in that first, passionate kiss.

As our kiss lingered, I felt Beth’s lips begin to part, and I followed suit. Before long, our tongues were dancing as we made out there in the parking lot. Beth moaned into my mouth as my arms wrapped around her. I felt one of her hands land in my lap, and I couldn’t help but groan as her delicate fingers first made contact with my cock through my smooth running shorts. 

A few short minutes later, I happened to open my eyes briefly as we made out. “Hey Beth,” I got out between kisses. “I think we have an audience.”

Beth broke off the kiss, opening her eyes and turning her head to see a couple guys attempting to cover up their gawking. She immediately backed off me and fell into the seat beside me, her cheeks turning the cutest shade of crimson.

“Don’t worry,” I chuckled, putting my hand on her thigh. “I’m sure they were just checking out the car. Hang on.”

With that, I put the car in reverse, and pulled out of the parking stall. Beth and I didn’t say a word as I drove. We didn’t have to; we both knew what was coming next.

A minute later, I pushed the garage door opener button on my visor and pulled my car into the garage, shutting it behind me.

“C’mon,” I winked, opening my door and climbing out of the car. A moment later, I was holding Beth by the hand, practically dragging her into the house. As we stepped into my living room, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I spun around to face her.

Almost immediately, our lips met in another kiss. Freed from the confines of the car, my hands roamed all up and down her body as we made out. Beth moaned as I squeezed her ass and cupped her tits. My hands found the hem of her sports bra, and I began tugging it up. Beth raised her arms up and over her head, breaking off the kiss just long enough for me to pull the garment up and off her. A moment later, my t-shirt joined her sports bra on the living room floor.

Pulling back from the kiss, Beth looked me in the eyes with an impish grin. Without a word, she sank to her knees in front of me. Grabbing my running shorts by the waistband, she tugged them down to the ground along with my underwear, causing my cock to spring free, nearly hitting her in the face. Her eyes darted up to mine momentarily, before lowering down to my cock.

Almost tentatively, her lips approached the tip of my cock, just barely brushing it. She gave my cock a little kiss, and then another. On her third kiss, she pressed her lips forward, engulfing the tip of my manhood. I could feel her tongue swirling around the tip, eliciting a groan of satisfaction from my lips.

Beth slowly started bobbing on my cock. Her arms wrapped around my legs for stability as she picked up the pace, slamming her face down on me faster and faster. Before long, she was blowing me furiously as I groaned in satisfaction. This was my first blowjob in years, and it was absolutely the best I’d ever had.

I could have easily stayed there another minute, and I’d have probably blown my load all over her, but I wanted more. “Hang on,” I said, gently pulling her off my cock, “I need to fuck you.”

I took Beth by the hand and almost dragged her up the steps to my bedroom. As we burst through the door, I grabbed her and threw her onto the bed. Beth giggled as I jumped in bed after her. She arched her hips up off the bed as she slid her running shorts and panties down to her feet before kicking them free.

I climbed on top of her, kissing her deeply as I pulled her hair tie out so I could run my fingers through her hair. As we kissed, I lined my cock up with her entrance and started rubbing it on her slit. Beth moaned into my mouth, running one hand through my hair as her other hand slipped down between her legs. Finding my cock, her fingers wrapped around it, gently putting it into position.

Breaking off our kiss, I looked at the woman in my bed. “Are you sure about this?” I asked her. I knew I was ready, but Beth was married too, and I had to make sure this was what she really wanted.

“Just start slow,” she smiled up at me. “You’re bigger than what I’m used to.”

That little boost to my ego was all I needed to hear. Slowly, I pushed my way inside her. We never broke eye contact as my cock disappeared inch by inch between her velvety folds. About halfway in, I reversed course, pulling out until just my tip was left inside her. I repeated this a few more times, pushing a little deeper each time. 

Once I could tell Beth was ready for it, I pushed in and kept pushing, until I was buried to the hilt inside her. Beth’s eyes fluttered, and an “oh fuck” escaped her lips. I grinned, pulling back and giving her another full thrust, followed by another, and another.

Gradually I picked up the pace, fucking her harder and faster. Beth started moaning as she held onto me for dear life. I kept pounding her harder and faster, until I was fucking her as hard as I’d ever fucked in my life. Beth was screaming in ecstasy As I plowed her cunt again and again.

“Oh fuck!” She screamed. “Yes! Don’t stop! Oh fuck! I’m coming!”

As I continued ramming into her, I could feel Beth convulsing under me as her orgasm racked her body. I grunted, feeling my own orgasm starting to build. I slammed into the woman with reckless abandon. Pushing myself closer and closer, until I was right at the edge of erupting.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Slamming into Beth as deeply as I could, I erupted, filling her pussy with my hot, sticky seed. I let out a long, low groan as my cock fired shot after shot deep inside her.

Completely spent, I rolled off Beth and laid beside her. Part of me wondered what we’d just done. Another part truly didn’t care. Beth and I turned out heads to face each other, and as we lay there smiling, I knew I found something more than just a good fuck. I found a friend, someone who wanted me as much as I wanted her.

In the years that followed, Beth and I have remained close friends. We both stayed married to our partners, and we’ve both continued fucking like bunnies whenever we can. There are so many more stories I could tell you, and maybe someday I will. For now, just know that sometimes the best thing that you can do is to find someone to join you for a friendly jog.