A New Running Partner

"Well," she scoffed, dragging her eyes toward my face, "just take everything off. Seems like the only solution." She was still breathing deeply and evenly, looking at me with the same intensity she'd shown when she was fondling me. She was waiting for something, and I had a big decision to make.

Or not. When a man is standing hard before a beautiful woman, decisions become shamefully easy. I straightened up. "Yeah," I said slowly. "You'd like that."

"I think I might." She winked lewdly, then lowered her gaze once again toward my shorts. "You know," she pondered, chewing on her lower lip, "I think I ought to take a rest. Let my nipples relax a tad." She smiled and began to turn back toward the front of the building. "And I just might take your advice about taking some things off. You know, to relieve the chafing."

There was a sick buzzing in my ears, a recklessness in my voice. "I'm usually right about these kinds of things," I said thickly. "Want me to come give you a hand?"

"A hand." She turned fully away and posed for a moment, making sure I could see the tight ass I'd so recently grabbed. "I might need more than a hand," she said thoughtfully, smirking over her shoulder as she walked back toward the bathroom door. And, with my jutting dick leading me like a heat-seeking missile, I followed the swaying ass and the bouncing ponytail through the hot summer day, around the front of the little building, through the rusty steel door of the women's restroom.

The day was a hot one, but there was a gentle breeze blowing outside; there was none of that inside, a stifling and smelly place that felt every bit as hot as an oven. But it had a lock on the door, and as we entered that was all Julia seemed to care about. "Let's see..." she hummed, trying to overcome the rust enough to throw the deadbolt. She was completely calm and relaxed, as free of self-consciousness as I was nervous; I stood there, awkwardly watching as she fiddled with the door. At last, with a sharp screeching noise, she got the bolt engaged. "There we go," she said briskly, smiling up at me as she headed over toward the dirty sink. "I know it's not much of a place, Mr Herrick," she prattled as she hiked herself up to the edge of the counter, "but at least nobody's going to walk in on us." She paused and then grinned wickedly. "Most likely." Then she sat there, poised and assured, her legs swinging and her eyes glaring at me from beneath her lashes as she waited for me.

Sad to say, the harsh bathroom lighting and the orange cast of the dirty linoleum counter, added to the scratched mirror behind the sink, actually set Julia off to good effect: her tight clothing showed off each curve as she sat erect, the fluid muscles of her back visible in the mirror. Her spread legs, the sweaty grey running shorts clinging for dear life, showed her labia clearly, as if she wasn't wearing a thing. It occurred to me, faintly, that she must have red hair down there; I'd never seen any before, and the thought made me smile.

"What's funny?" she prodded, her eyes narrowing suddenly as the grin faded. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I shook my head. "Just something I'm thinking about." I took a deep breath as I stepped up to her and settled between her thighs. She gave a small "hmm" as she closed them around my legs.

"But you're happy?" It seemed, from the intensity of her question, that my answer was important to her, so I gave it a little thought before I nodded. "Good," she said, her lips curling upward again as her voice grew husky. "I'm glad. Let's just be a couple of nice, friendly people making each other happy." By this time, her hands were sweeping the loose running shirt over my head; I heard it plop damply to the sticky concrete floor, and her hands went at once to my chest, my ribcage, my belly.

In that moment I wasn't thinking about my wife, my kids, the team; I wasn't thinking about the consequences, or the sordid fact that I was about to get it on in a steamy public women's bathroom. Julia was cutting through all that with a slack-jawed smile, half-closed eyes, and a pair of small hands that once again went drifting underneath my running shorts to caress the sides of my ass.

For my part, I was leaning forward to kiss her forehead and run my hands along the tight clothing of her sweaty flanks. Just as she had when we made out on the grass, her chest began to heave with deep, even breaths; I felt her hands tighten on my ass as mine drifted around her bare belly and up, slowly toward the restrained breasts with the nipples that still stared at me in accusation, the nipples that had started all this.

I suddenly had to see them; I grunted as I pushed her hands away, wrenching them toward the ceiling so that I could work her clothes off. She laughed breathlessly as the tight running gear resisted, dragging over her face and getting tangled in her red hair; the ponytail was a mess. "You're supposed to take those off separately, Coach," she gasped wriggling to help me. "You're fucking this up."

"I'll just rip them off then," I grated, tugging harder; she put a stop to that by playfully lowering her arms so that she could shove me back.

"Bullshit. This cost $50 just for the bra." She straightened herself out, then looked cockily at my face. "Just watch and learn, Mr Herrick. Watch and learn." It's always amazing to see a woman get out of her bra: totally mystifying to men all over the world, and yet so effortless for women. So it was this time as well, as she had both singlet and bra sailing toward the floor before I could even think straight. She sat there, the cocky look still there, and then leaned back against the mirror to arch her back. "Feast your eyes, stud," she sighed; my God. She certainly knew what she had.

Large breasts were one of the things that had attracted me to my wife; in her younger years they'd been heavy, firm, and responsive, just about perfect in every way. And yet they'd never looked as good as Julia's: hers sat proudly atop her narrow ribcage, topped by large red areolae and those damned nipples, now twitching in the humid air as they rose and fell to the rhythm of her breathing. She was watching my reaction intently, getting a great deal of pleasure from my awe. She laughed. "You seem to approve." I nodded, my own grin spreading. "Then get your ass over here and take what's yours," she snapped.

I wasted no more time. I let my eyes slide from her magnificent breasts to her large dark eyes, past the lithe neck now craning to see me, past the freckles and the parted lips, past the pointy nose and the flush in her cheeks. Purposefully, I reached to my waistband and untied my drawstring; still holding her gaze and daring her to look away, I pushed my useless shorts off my body and let them join my shirt on the floor. I was painfully hard, my penis in no doubt now about my brain's intentions; it aimed directly at Julia, whose eyes flickered down that way and grew large. Of course, she'd only touched it and seen it tent my shorts outside; she hadn't seen it naked and ready, and I gave her a moment to take it in. I was not much of an exhibitionist, but a girl as responsive and lively as Julia gave me confidence.

She pointed at me, turned her hand upside down, and crooked her finger to beckon me closer. I obeyed, kicking my shorts the rest of the way off as I took the two or three steps toward where her luscious, firm young body waited. She was making me feel like a god, and I wanted to make her feel like a goddess.

As she expected, I moved in low to hover over her breasts. They teased me, shaking slightly as she breathed, and for a moment I watched them rise and fall. I was so close to her that my penis rested, eager but temporarily forgotten, across her left thigh, but by that time I had already taken her right nipple between my teeth and begun to suck. "Good God!" she blurted, arching her back further. She tasted like sweat and dirt and eagerness; one hand came up to clamp onto the back of my head while the other, desperate, pushed in at the side of her breast as if to stuff it further into my mouth.

No sooner did she start to get used to me, though, than I trailed my tongue through her salty cleavage and up the other side, attacking her left breast with even greater abandon. I was aware this would be uncomfortable for her later; not only were the nipples already chafed and raw, but I hadn't shaved that morning and I knew my stubble would claw at her flesh.

Not that either of us cared.

My hands crept around to clasp her waist, so firm and supple; I dug my fingertips into the top of her tight shorts and continued to feast. "You're killing me," she said, breathless; her head collided with the mirror with a bang that shook the cheap fixtures, and she settled in to enjoy me; her hands, calmer now, traced up and down my neck, reaching as far as she could toward the base of my spine.

"You know what?" I said suddenly, breaking off; my hands were idly stroking her nipples now, soothing them. "You were right, Julia. I couldn't take my eyes off these at prom."

"Fuck no," she agreed. "You and all the other teachers. But I'll tell you a secret, Mr Herrick," she went on, controlling her breath, her hand now reaching for my cock. It was glued to her thigh by sweat and precum, and I gasped as she picked it up and weighed it with her hand. "I had the worst crush on you back then. In fact," she grinned, pushing herself away from the mirror with her other hand while she scooted forward, "I used to have fantasies about you."

"Really."

"Oh yes." She was stroking me now, her eyes fixated on what she was doing down there; the other hand reached down to cup my balls. "Really dirty, evil fantasies." She took my penis and pulled, crudely poking her own labia through her shorts.

"Nice," I said. Like many male teachers, I hadn't even guessed. "Like blowing me under my desk during class?"

"Like fucking you in the locker room after track practice." She rolled her head theatrically from side to side. "A smelly, nasty locker room."

I knew where this was going, and ran my hands, feather-light, up and down her flanks. She shivered. "I don't see any lockers in here, Julia."

"Nope," she said, smiling that wicked smile, "but it's close enough." And then she moved her wicked smile to mine and kissed me again. Not like the frantic, desperate early kisses on the grass outside; no, these kisses picked up where we'd left off just before she'd left me horny and helpless on the ground, driving and rhythmic, our tongues flickering agreeably among our teeth.

At one point we came up for air, our eyes staring intently at each other, our busy hands fluttering across breasts, buttocks, penis, thighs. She whimpered happily. A thought came to me. "Want to know what I was smiling about earlier? When you asked what was funny?" She nodded, her eyes brighter than ever. "I was thinking I'd never seen ginger pubes before, and I was wondering what they'd look like."

The eyes widened; another whimper, then she dropped my cock and laughed long and lustily. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, shoving me backward hard. I stumbled against a rusty stall door behind me. "Just perfect." She slid off the counter, her breasts bouncing just once as she landed; glaring over at me with an air of challenge, she shucked off the tight grey shorts and the soaked thong beneath. I caught my breath; a fire-colored, sodden strip of springy hair came curling up from between her legs, ending at a well-trimmed line about three inches later. Still glaring, she slowly worked her feet apart and posed, hands on her hips, with her legs spread. "Still think it's funny?" she husked.

"No ma'am," I said in awe, and as we stood there, both of us sweaty, naked, and very ready to fuck, it seemed we both took in the moment. I cleared my throat; I was glad she'd told me this was a fantasy of hers. I never did like making decisions. "Well, Julia," I said after a moment, openly admiring her glistening body, "this is your show. How do you want to do this?"

She ran her hands lightly up her body, brushing her mound and cupping her own breasts before raising her arms to dismantle her destroyed ponytail. Then, in a moment I'm sure I'll remember until the day I die, she turned on her heel, bent slowly over the filthy sink, and spread her arms out along the counter. The bunched, hard muscles of her legs strained as she pushed her shining, perfect ass straight at me. She looked at me in the mirror, boldly scanning my body before she looked directly into my eyes. "Come and get me," she said quietly.

I felt a strange giddiness. There, before me, sandwiched between those glorious thighs, waited the unknown; I hadn't had sex with anyone other than my wife since I'd gotten married over a decade before, and as I took a deep breath and stepped forward I wondered what she'd feel like. Her legs, already tensed, tightened further as she raised herself up to take me in; I realized she was holding her breath. But there was no longer any kind of decision to be made, so I grabbed my penis, lined it up, and drove it in.

There was no need to tease or explore, no need to be tentative; Julia was a woman in heat, and her vagina accepted me with a hot, eager gratitude. We both moaned as I went all the way in, fitting perfectly; my pubic hair was tickling her asshole before I stopped, our thighs pasted together as she dropped down a tad to make herself a bit more comfortable.

I looked down to where our bodies were joined, past her narrow ass and her tightly muscled back, over the dripping red hair and into the mirror where her eyes had closed blissfully. She let her breath out slowly, fogging the mirror, then she opened her eyes and looked again at my reflection. Gone was the lighthearted, smiling Julia with the carefree attitude; the twinkle in her eyes now was deadly serious. Her mouth twisted into a smirk that was almost cruel.

"Now then," she drawled, her voice low and deep, "fuck me, lover."

I did not need to be told twice, and the dark part of my brain that she'd first awakened out on the grass came screaming onto the scene. I pulled out and rammed myself brutally back in, with none of the steady even pressure of my first entry; this was a vicious, violent stroke which her body accepted gladly. "Hell yeah," she grunted quietly, now dropping her head down so that her hair dangled into the sink. It had been years since I'd fucked anyone in this position, and I remembered at once how much I liked it; my hands found their way to her tapered waist, bruising her as I gripped, and I began driving into her with a savage, ancient rhythm.

Her spine twisted systematically before my eyes as she got into it, her muscles tensing as she pushed herself backward to meet my thrusts. I heard sounds I'd been missing for years: the clapping slap as our thighs crashed together, the steady squelching noise of a rutting penis, the occasional suppressed groan from one or both of us as the hot, eager pleasure mounted and mounted. I felt the slick, overheated furnace of her vagina and the muted swing of my balls hitting her clit.

I was totally consumed with her thrashing body, trying desperately to make this last for her. I had no idea how or even whether she would orgasm, and after so many years of familiarity with the same person I had to concentrate to tell how I was doing. Judging from the way she reacted, though, I needn't have worried; she dragged her head out of the filthy, stained sink, focused once more on my face, and snarled, "Yeah. Right there. I'm almost there."

"Here?" I stabbed back into her, varying my angle. "Or here?" Another thrust, and she lurched against the counter.

"Jesus," she gasped, her movements growing more and more erratic, her body squeaking as it moved through the sweaty puddle next to the sink. "Wherever." I smiled slightly and looked back down to watch, amazed, as my dick moved in and out of her pussy. It almost seemed like I wasn't even consciously moving it: it would come out, glittering and angry red, her purple-pink inner lips clutching, unwilling to let the fucking stop; then the red cock would plunge back in, froth squelching at her entrance and spraying through my pubes, my heavy balls battering underneath; then the same again, and again, and again. My grip on her waist was starting to hurt my fingers; soon, I became aware that her steady, determined efforts to buck backward were falling apart, becoming erratic, her gleaming ass moving in circles between my hands. She was gasping, high-pitched, the tendons in her neck taut and straining; in the mirror, her eyes glared at me like a woman meeting Jesus. A few more thrusts, and she gave a guttural moan that sounded like a person drowning; her head sank.

I was elated, my ass continuing to drive forward as she squirmed in pleasure. I'd been with women who faked it before, and there were many times I'd been unsure; this was not one of those times. My middle-aged dick was making this girl cum hard, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter until the knuckles went white. "Look at you," I taunted, cocky in my triumph. "Hope you're getting what you wanted."

"Holy cow," she gasped incongruously; her tense body, the rigid muscles trembling, was starting to relax again. She huffed a deep breath as she turned her head, ignoring to mirror to look straight at my face. "Do you even have to ask?" She laughed, a maniacal sound in that squalid place, and sighed again. "Goddamn."

Her body seemed to melt back into the counter, but I was feeling anything but relaxed. "Julia," I quivered, my dick still attacking her, "I'm about to cum. What do you want me to do?"

"Ahhhh..." she sighed, smiling in contentment. "Hell, do what you want. I don't care." She looked back at me again, her eyes twinkling, again, in the old mischievous way. "I got more than I bargained for on this run already." Squaring her face back to the mirror, she gathered herself to start bucking back again for me; but I saw the twisted mouth, the effort now, and I could tell she thought it was time for this to be over.

Fortunately, so did my dick. I gave a strangled cry as I pushed into her one last time, the urgency and intimacy as powerful as it had been on that first thrust; my grip on her waist tightened as I hauled her hips back, stuffing as much of my cock inside her as possible as I exploded in the best orgasm I'd had in years. "Yeah," I chanted, whispering now, the sweat pouring off of me and dripping onto her lower back. My head spun; this must have gone on for four or five big, soupy bursts before my penis had finally had enough, dribbling to a halt as Julia and I swayed gently, easily, both of us panting as if we'd just recovered from heart attacks; her arms left sweaty drag marks on the counter as she pulled them slowly in to rest her chin in her hands, while my death grip on her hips subsided to gentle, lazy caresses across her twitching ass.

"Whoah," I said, awed by what we'd just done. My dick was softening inside her, drowning in a thick broth of semen and vaginal fluid, as I looked wide-eyed into the mirror. She gazed back at me thoughtfully. My drifting fingers found the dimples above her ass, and she sighed happily.

"Whoah is right." She gave a little squeal as I made my penis twitch. "Hey now. None of that; I'm suddenly realizing I'm naked in a disgusting public restroom. So no matter how happy your little guy is inside me, we're going to have to find someplace else to do it if you want some more."

"Is that an offer?" I twitched again, but then backed carefully out of her.

"Mmmm." She arched her back, uncoiling slowly from her position. "I'd love to. We should probably go find a shower or something, soap each other's back. You know, cleanliness is next to godliness." She stood and raised her hands high, stretching her back sideways. I moved a little so that I could see her naked, glorious front reflected in the chipped mirror. "Wow, Mr Herrick. I could get used to running with you a little more often. If you know what I mean." She giggled as she turned, looking around for her clothes.