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Runner's high

You never know who you will meet on a morning's run in the park

The running trail where I do my daily jog is a gently winding track along the riverside that skirts the public golf course, detours through a couple of lightly wooded areas and otherwise keeps close to the river's edge. It's a scenic route that brings relief from the stress, noise and pollution of the nearby city. Pushing myself around the 3km circuit keeps my ageing body fit and trim beyond its years and ready for other physical activities far removed from the athletic arena.

Mind you, there hadn't been too much of the other in recent times. Not since the break-up with Marlene when she suddenly announced she'd decided having anther woman play with her breasts and pussy was turning her on far more than the thrust of eight inches of rampant penis.

At least she paid me the compliment of saying it had been superb while it lasted.  It was simply that the new sales manager at the real estate egency where she worked was taking her into new territory with toys and tricks derived from years of experience. And, besides, think of the career opportrunities if she kept the boss's basic instincts  satisfied.

And so two years of frantic fucking came to a sudden end and here I was jogging my heart out to ensure when the next hungry pussy came along I'd at least be fit for the fray.

It was soft, mild midweek morning with few other runners on the trail. An older guy came loping towards me, head down, eyes fixed on the track, looking as if he could go on forever at the same slow but relentless pace. He passed, saying nothing, not seeming to notice my existence.

Not far behind him was another runner, moving smoothly, long tresses waving side to side in time with her steps. She was neat, slim, tanned - and she smiled as we passed, no doubt noticing my downward glance at the two rounded orbs filing out her tee-shirt.  Even her brief passing smile was enough to put a spring in my step and make me quicken my pace. That shows how low I'd sunk since Marlene had found her pussy-licking friend.

It seemed almost no time had passed before I saw the blonde jogger heading my way once again. I kept my eyes firmly on her as the gap between us quickly closed. We were both running smoothly and there were only seconds in which to check her more fully. Yes, the breasts were firm and ample, even if flattened by the obvious presence of a sports bra. And the legs were long, slender and almost fully exposed thanks to her brief running shorts. There's was little doubt, too, that she was checking me out confirming whatever impression she had briefly formed on the first lap.

As we began to pass I gave her the usual runner's greeting. "Nice day for it," I said. "You're looking good."

She smiled and we both kept surging on. But not before I had time to catch her reply: "Yes. And nice buns." Or did I imagine it in my desperate, sex-starved state?

I looked back over my shoulder but she had disappeared around a bend in the track. Nothing for it but to plough on and complete another circuit in the hope she was also continuing to run, although it seemed a bit too miuch to expect.  The kilometres were mounting up and she could well have decided to stop by now and headed off to wherever she lived.

I completed the circuit of the golf course and turned into the wooded section - a narrow, secluded track.  And there she was, still running and coming towards me, slower now but her stride as even and neat and before. I shortened my stride and cut the pace. She did the same.

We stopped. She had her hands on her hips, bending slightly forward, breathing deeply. I stretched upwards, hands clasped behind my head, looking down into the valley of her cleavage.

"Hi, I'm Jenny," she said. "Conrad," I replied.

"A bit of a runner by the look of you," she said.

"Yes, long-distance stuff, marathons," I explained.

"So you can keep going all the way," she smiled, one hand brushing back the long tresses of her blonde hair.

I took that as a hint we were on the same wave-length. "You know what they say, marathon  runners keep it up longer."

"Sounds good to me," she said. "But that's enough running for one day. Time to do some stretching exercises. Care to join me?"

She pointed to a narrow track leading off the main path into a clearing where the local council had built some basic exercise bars out of pine logs.

"Perhaps you could help me. My muscles are a bit stiff."

She glanced down in the direction of my running shorts. I could feel my erection rising. 

"Seems I'm not the only one who's feeling stiff," she said, with a smile that was as wicked as they come. "Perhaps you need a bit of special exercise, too." 

She reached both arms up to grab at an overhead bar, her body at full stretch, her back turned towards me.

"Help me pull up," she said.

It was a request I couldn't refuse. I clasped her around the waist, feeling taut abdominal muscles, just the thin layer of cotton between my hands and her skin. She bent her arms and pulled gently upwards, helped by the pressure of my hands, then lowered herself until her feet touched the ground.

"Again," she said. "But this time a bit firmer and higher I think"

She flexed and bent her arms. My hands grasped her waist and then slid slowly higher, feeling the swelling of the lower half of her breasts, firm and hard to my touch.

She held her pose for ten seconds then lowered herself down.

"That was good," she said. "Now it's your turn."

I reached for the bar, tensed and waited a couple of seconds as I felt her hands come into position on my hips. I began to bend my arms and hoist myself up to the bar. As I drew my body upwards her hands moved down from my hips to my thighs and then around to the front of my legs and under the thin nylon of my running shorts.

Her finger tips touched my erection and ran the length of the shaft all the way to the tip, now weeping pre-cum,  before she moved her hands away and back to my hips holding me steady as I lowered back to the ground.

"You're very fit," she said. "Very firm and hard.  I like that in man."

She licked the fingers that had touched the tip of my cock. "Very tasty, too," she said.  Again she gave me that smile that said more than a thousand words yet cautioned against taking too much for granted.

She pointed towards the bar. "I think I'll have one more try but this time perhaps you could give me a bit more of a lift. Let me feel those hands."

She grasped the bar, her body at full stretch, every muscle taut, breasts thrust forward as far as they were allowed by the sports bra.

I slid my hands up under her t-shirt, feeling her rib cage, then moving higher. She strained and lifted, my hands slid beneath the fabric of her bra, circling each breast, fingers on her nipples, as she chinned the bar and held herself there, firm in my grasp.

She released a sigh: "Oh that is so good. Hold me hard."

I did as I was told.  The pleasure was as much mine as hers, fingers feeling the stiffening of her nipples and the swelling of her breasts. Slowly she lowered herself to the ground, my hands still firmly in position, her back pressed against me, butt forced hard into my erection.

"I need release," she said. "Bloody sports bras are always too tight."

She twisted away from me, slid her arms out of her t-shirt and then wriggled them out of the bra, sliding it up and over her head and tossing it to one side before slipping the t-shirt back into place.

"Got to keep reasonably decent," she said aware of the look of disappointment that flashed across my face. "You never know who might be passing. And you'll be surprised how much fun you can have with your clothes still on."

Was that a comment or a promise? My hopes (and my erection) stayed high as she  pointed towards a sloping plank raised off the ground at one hand where there was a hooped metal hand-hold.

"Leg and stomach work," she said and turned away to lie down on the plank, arms stretched out over her head to grasp the metal hoop. Her breasts, no longer fighting the constraints of the sports bra, stood up rounded and proud, nipples clearly defined against the thin fabric of the t-shirt. Her shorts were pulled up tight into her crotch, the shape of her crack clearly defined. 

"It's great for the abs," she said and raised her legs up straight and back over her body with toes almost touching her forehead. 

All was revealed. There was nothing beneath those flimsy shorts other than firm, tanned, inviting flesh.  She brought her legs back down in one slow, smooth, seductive movement and stood in front of me.

"Your turn, big boy," she said, her hand reaching down to my shorts and giving my bulging cock a quick squeeze. "Let's see how flexible you are."

I lay down, arms stretched back to clasp the hoop, body flat on the sloping board, and began to raise my legs up and back towards my head. She stood alongside my waist and leaned over me, one bare arm reaching for the back of my thighs to give them a helping push, her head coming down to mine, her tongue reaching out and probing into my mouth.

As she worked her lips and let her tongue flick sensuously around mine her hand moved up my straining thighs and under my shorts. Her fingers touched my balls and found the cleft of my arse, rubbing away gently, probing, massaging, rimming the ring of my anus and then moving forward to fondle my balls.  She extracted her tongue from my mouth.

"Enough stretching, bring your legs slowly down," she instructed.  Her hand slid down towards the back of my knees and then, just as smoothly, around to the front, back up my thighs and up under my shorts. The thin cotton provided no resistance as she grabbed my cock and brought it out into full view, standing stiff and proud.

"A quick sucK while no one's looking," she said, and plunged her mouth down over its glistening head, damp with my juices.

I turned my head to one side, looking towards the running track, hoping anyone passing would be too intent on their exertions to notice the exercises my cock was going through.

She took in its full length, her lips moving against the flesh, her tongue licking, releasing saliva to lubricate the steady movement, up and down, up and down. I was stiffening more than I thought possible, so close to releasing a flood of cum yet wanting to hold back for as long as I was able. She held the shaft and flashed a quick smile in my direction before giving a lingering lick of the very tip and releasing her hold. She sat back on her heels.

"Don't want to wear you out," she said. "They tell  me marathons are all about pacing yourself and saving something for the final dash to the line."

She waved an arm at the exercise board, indicating I should move.

"My turn now," she said and lay down flat, arms back over her head, breasts still erect, legs at full stretch and her brief shorts again riding high up into her crotch.

"Ready?" she said, that alluring smile again lighting up her face.

She ran her tongue slowly around her lips.  I took the hint as she breathed deeply in and began slowly raising those long limbs back towards her head.

I rested a guiding hand gently on the back of her thighs and, as she lifted her legs up and back, slid it smoothly up towards the meeting of her legs, under the edge of her shorts and on to a mound edged by the smallest patch of trimmed hair. I extended a finger and inserted it between the folds of damp flesh, feeling for her clit.

She flexed her thigh muscles and clench her vagina tightening momentarily on my probing finger. Her head was right back, eyes closed, a smile on her face as I added a second finger and pushed the digits deeper inside her, feeling the increasing wetness of her. I knelt beside her, my knees hard up against the bench and rested my other hand on her taut stomach, bare in the gap between shorts and shirt. My right hand pushed deeper inside her, fingers circling and massaging; the other slid up her body, under her shirt ond on to her breasts, firm yet malleable, like ripe grapefruit.

She gave up all pretence of doing her stretching exercise as she released her grip on the metal ring and brought her hands to the hem of her flimsy t-shirt and tugged it upwards, baring her breasts for any passers-by to see.

"Suck them," she gasped.

She didn't wait for me to respond but clamped her left hand on the back of my head and guided it to those creamy mounds. I fastened my lips on to the nearest nipple and set my tongue into high-speed rotation, flicking, licking, teasing the raised brown centre of her breast. My other hand kept working at her cunt, varying the pace, sometimes fast and urgent, sometimes slow and teasing, now sliding three fingers in and out of her increasingly wet opening.

Her right hand moved suddenly forward and snaked beneath the elastic waistband of my shorts, grabbing at my stiffness, rubbing hard, pulling the foreskin back as far as it would come, her thumb sliding over the slimy cum-covered head. 

My mouth was full of one breast, my left hand was kneading the other, my right hand was deep inside her vagina, soaked in her cum, as she thrust her whole pelvic region up and down to match the rhythm of my probing fingers.

She gave an extra hard jerk on my cock. "So Mr Marathon Man, how's the stamina now? What was all that about keeping it up longer?"

She pulled my head back offf her breast and sat up. She swung her legs sideways and off the board, my fingers sliding out and leaving a sticky trail of cum down her thighs.

Through all this she held firm to my cock, but now only gently moving her hand up and down. She pulled hard on it, forcing me up off my knees, my cock now millimetres away from her mouth.  She didn't heistate but plunged it right in, teeth gripping, tongue licking, one hand massaging my balls.

She was right: I'd hit the finishing line. My whole body seemed to explode, my cock jerked and throbbed as it released spurt after spurt of cum into her mouth.

She swallowed hard and continued to hold my cock in her mouth as it slowly subsided and expelled the last dribbles of cum. She kept sucking and licking, her eyes smiling at me. She ran her tongue around her lips as I reached out and ran my hands gently over her breasts.

"That was a real mouthful," she said. "Very tasty."

She put a hand down to her crotch, moved the gusset of her shorts aside and put a couple of fingers inside her slit.  She took them out and held them up to my mouth, wet and shining.

"An appetiser," she said.

I licked and held them in my mouth enjoying the magic mix of sweet and sour, honey and salt.

"Next time you can have the full meal."

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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