An Athlete Forced

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She's forced in a crowded bar; her fiancé watches cluelessly.
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jxa2012
jxa2012
1,483 Followers

As the Hashers running group approached the marker indicating two miles to go, Jillian Fletcher abruptly picked up the pace and rapidly opened a gap. Tall and strikingly good looking, her bright red ponytail swished from side to side as she lengthened her stride. Jack opened his stride to match hers and pounded after her. The muscles of her sculpted back moved harmoniously under the tight harness of her purple-white splotched sports bra. The sunlight reflected off the sheen of sweat on her golden skin. On her left shoulder blade, there was a small tattoo of a Boston Marathon unicorn's head with "BQ 3:35" just below it. Jack's eyes were riveted on her perfectly rounded gluts, which swiveled sinuously under her knee-length tights – black with purple splotches. In spite of riveting his eyes on her ass the whole time, he could not make out a panty-line.

Her black-purple tights were thin and looked like they were painted on her. She ran with perfect form, and her smooth movements accentuated perfection of her musculature. Jack had a hard time preventing himself from getting a hard-on just watching her. He knew that if he ran in front of her with a view of her breasts and crotch, no amount of sobering thoughts could prevent arousal and tumescence.

The last half-mile sloped up and she increased her pace further. Jack was aware that he was breathing hard, but he kept focused on her fluidly moving butt and stayed with her. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that they had dropped everyone else far behind. A quarter mile to go – inhale-inhale, exhale, inhale-inhale, exhale – and he knew he could do it now. He relaxed and his legs turned over more smoothly. He could see the parking lot now. Over the last hundred yards, she opened up a sprint and he doggedly kept up. He did not try to beat her, but just followed her over the imaginary finish line where the trail met the tarmac of the parking lot.

They stopped and bent over, panting.

"Fifteen miles, and you still had it in you," she panted. "I pushed as hard as I could, I didn't have another ounce."

"Neither did I," said Jack, wiping sweat off his brow. "I was hanging on by a thread."

She smiled enigmatically, and was about to say something, when the first of the other runners sprinted into the finishing area. She continued smiling, but did not say anything. One by one, the other runners in their lead group on the training run raced into the parking lot. Soon everyone was stretching, chatting and discussing their long run.

Several of the runners came by to give Jack and Jill high fives.

"Jack and Jill, just like the nursery rhyme," said Phil Shoke, one of the vice-presidents of the running club. "Don't know how you two manage to pack such a sprint after fifteen miles!"

He was a handsome young man, an executive with a pharmaceutical company. Jack figured he was doing pretty well, judging by the fact that he drove a Porsche.

"Jill's always saving up a little something," said Jack. "And I just follow along, can't keep my eyes off her tight butt."

"Don't be a such a douchebag!" Jill said, her face flushing as red as her hair. But she could not keep the pleased look off her face and as Phil leaned over to take a drink from the water fountain, she shot Jack a quick smile.

"I stared at your ass for two hours, Jill," whispered Jack. "But I couldn't see a panty-line."

"Don't wear any," she whispered back, giggling.

"You two coming to The Friar?" Phil asked. It was a Friday evening and the day of the Hashers' annual social, but of course they had to do a run first.

"Wouldn't miss it," said Jill. "I'll see you there, guys."

She left to walk over to her car. Jack watched her towel off, especially as she slid up her sport bra and dried her tits. She did it so smoothly that she kept her tits covered the whole time. Then she climbed into the passenger seat of her car and Jack watched her take off her shoes and strip off her tights. The thought of her naked pussy just behind her car door got Jack half hard and he had to breathe hard to calm himself.

Fifteen minutes ticked by before the second group of runners began to straggle in. Trixie Ann Peters was among the last of the second group to come in. Jack went up to her and gave her a high five before she did her stretches.

Everyone in the Hashers running club thought that Jack and Trixie Ann were just good friends, which they were – in a way. What they did not know was that they were friends with benefits, and that both were cheating on their spouses. Jack had bred Trixie Ann and she had borne his son a few months previously. He had now bred her again and she was just over a month into another pregnancy. [See Her Fiancé's Father & Stallion-Brood Mare-Cuckold-Virgin.]

Jack and Trixie Ann toweled off and got into Jack's Jaguar. He drove to The Friar and they looked seats at the long high gathering table that was reserved for them. The faster group was already seated at the choice middle high seats and the only free ones were at the ends. Trixie Ann took the high seat by Jill and Jack stood by her at the very end, in a corner cubby. Phil Shoke sat across from Jill, separated by the considerable width of the high gathering table.

Most people had made a token attempt to change out of some of their running clothes. Trixie Ann had a mesh top over her sports bra. Jack had replaced his running singlet with a T-shirt. Jill had taken off her tights and running shoes – she now wore a short purple-white pleated skirt and high heels with ankle thongs. But she still had on her purple-white splotched sports bra. Her nipples hardened in the cool of the air conditioning and made clear knobs, revealing themselves to be both thick and long.

The men all ordered beers and most of the women ordered wine. Phil engaged Jack in a running-related conversation. He took it up with apparent interest, but he was really listening to the conversation Trixie Ann was having with Jill Fletcher.

Jill and Trixie Ann worked for the same software company. Jill was the CEO's secretary and executive assistant, while Trixie Ann had used Jack's help to become the company's top sales agent. Jill was as gossipy as she was beautiful and Jack had his ears peeled, soaking up everything that they said.

"So, Trixie Ann," said Jill, when the appetizers came along with the second round of drinks. "Now that I have you to myself, you've got to tell me what brought on your incredible makeover."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play innocent with me, now. Just a year ago you were a frumpy drone of a sales agent, with a rounded ass and jiggling tits, lusted after by all the paunchy, balding middle-aged losers in the office. Always late with everything, never quite making your sales quota, always one step away from being fired. Just a year later and it's like you're a different person. You're selling more than the rest of the sales team combined, you're making more in commissions than I make all year – and I make a lot of money."

Trixie Ann colored, but did not reply. She took long sip of her juice – she had given up alcohol during her pregnancy.

"And look at you!" Jill went on. "Sleek and toned, super fit. You're looking great!"

"Not as great as you," said Trixie Ann. "Nowhere near as fit or fast. Or as good looking."

"Well, I'm a runner," admitted Jill. "I ran cross-country in college, I'm a jockette."

Jill took a sip of her chardonnay.

"You look happy too! And you had a baby boy just a few months ago. Your husband must be feeling his oats."

"He's OK," mumbled Trixie Ann. She dropped her voice to a whisper so she could not be heard across the table. "But you're one to talk. You're dating Phil Shoke. He's a real hunk! I heard that you're engaged, I see you're wearing a ring."

"Yes," said Jill, without elaboration.

She changed the subject, talking about work again. They were into their third glass and it was getting louder and more raucous. Fueled by the liquor, there was much more laughter and ribald humor.

"So your husband and you must have a pretty exciting sex life," said Jill, finally returning to personal issues. "Women's fertility drops off after thirty-five. No offense, but it must have taken a lot of fucking to get pregnant at your age. Aren't you almost forty?"

"I'm thirty-eight," said Trixie Ann defensively. "I had Judith when I was nineteen, when my husband, Alan and I were still in college."

"So does your husband like the mornings or the nights? A lot of mornings you come into the office, humming and looking like the cat that swallowed the cream. When I see you like that, I always say to myself, she looks like she's just had good sex."

Trixie Ann blushed, but then she giggled. She nodded at Phil across the table.

"I do come in happy," she said. "But what about you and Phil the fiancé? You're such a gorgeous thing I bet he can't keep his hands off you. I bet you two have sex like rabbits! You're not even thirty, are you?"

"Twenty-eight," said Jill. "And you're right, Phil wants to have sex with me every night and every morning."

"That sounds wonderful," said Trixie Ann. "But you don't sound too happy about it."

Jill glanced over at Phil. He was no longer talking to Jack, but to another man on his left that she did not know. She watched him for a few moments to make sure he was not listening. She leaned over to Trixie Ann and spoke in a low voice.

"Phil wants to fuck all the time, but he just wants to get off. He shoves his cock into me, pounds me three or four times really hard, and comes. Poof! That's it. Slam, bam thank you ma'am."

"At least he's hard and fast. Sounds better than my husband," muttered Trixie Ann.

"Do tell," said Jill, her voice becoming breathy.

"With Alan, I can never tell if he's in or not. His penis is so thin – I work on my Kegels all the time, but no matter how hard I squeeze, I can barely feel him in my pussy. He doesn't last very long either, never more than thirty seconds."

"If that is all it takes to get you smiling and humming all day long, you're easily satisfied."

Trixie Ann knew that she should stop here, but she was desperate to tell someone about her exciting new life. She leaned over even closer and spoke into Jill's ear. Jack had to strain to hear her over the buzz of background noise.

"I'm having an affair! With a man that really knows how to drive a woman wild. My husband often goes out early to the job center or for interviews. Whenever Alan is out, he fucks the bejesus out of me before I leave for work."

"Tell me everything," said Jill, her eyes bright.

"He goes down on me and then he fucks me at least twice. Missionary, doggie style, cowboy, reverse cowboy, we're done them all. He makes me cum so many times that I don't bother to count; I just let GO!"

"My God, Trixie Ann! You're not making this up, are you?"

Trixie Ann smiled a lazy smile.

"Whenever we have a morning tryst, I'm lightheaded all morning."

"Did he breed you?"

"Yes," said Trixie Ann nodding. "And he bred me again last month. I'm pregnant, just over a month in. That's why I'm drinking juice."

Jill took a sharp breath.

"Who is he? Do I know him?"

Trixie Ann did not answer, but just smiled blandly. A frustrated look came over Jill's face.

"You're driving me crazy, Trixie Ann!" Jill said, crossly. "You've got to tell me!"

Jack had heard enough. He drained his beer, rose and stood between the two women. He put an arm around each of their waists, just below their sports bras.

"Enough private talk," he said, pretending that he had not been eavesdropping. "This is a social!"

"Take your hand off Jill," hissed Trixie Ann in his ear, "Phil is just across the table and he's looking."

"No whispering," said Jack, ignoring her warning. He tightened his hold on Jill, feeling her ribs, with his forefinger brushing the underside of her bra. He went on loudly. "We're all runners here, but I think we can agree that Jill is our queen. No one can keep up with her."

There was a round of clapping, whistles, and calls of "speech, speech!" Jill's face went red again and her green eyes flashed.

"How many marathons have you run Jill? Ten? Eleven?" continued Jack, still in a loud voice.

"Stop, Jack, or you'll be sorry," Jill said in a low voice.

"Every week, it's the same, isn't it?" Jack persisted. "We all tag along till Jill decides she wants to drop us."

"I'll drink to that!" said Phil, though he did not look particularly happy.

"You've asked for it, Jack," said Jill, sliding off her bar stool and standing up. "Jack is our man of mystery, isn't he? He's always asking questions, but never talks about himself. No one knows anything about him. Well, I make it my business to know who I'm sprinting with, especially when he's ogling my ass for two hours."

There was a burst of raucous laughter at this.

"Jack Grierson, CEO of the Foncault Group. You all know that, or you should. But we're runners here, right? I qualified for Boston for the first time this year, after three years of trying – I ran 3:25. How many of you know that Jack ran Boston ten years ago in 2:50? Or that he ran New York in 2:44?"

There was a collective intake of breath. The Hashers were not a particularly fast running club and these times were beyond any of the members' abilities.

"It was a long time ago ..." began Jack.

"Did you know that Jack served in the Army Special Forces? I searched through the all records and even pulled in some favors from friends in the Pentagon – but guess what? There's no information on record, except that he served. So what kind of secret activities were you up to, Jack?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Jack, hastily. "I was just a grunt, a non-com. Nobody important. Let's change the subject."

Jill looked up at him dangerously, eyes challenging.

"You win," he said. "I can't match you at public exposure."

She smiled, acknowledging his capitulation. The others drifted back into their conversations. Jack moved to insinuate himself into the small space behind Jill, squeezing her into the high table. He felt her firm round derriere and she felt his incipient erection. She thought she was safe in public, so she rolled her hips slowly to ensconce his manhood between her tight ass cheeks. The intimate contact with her ass through the thin barriers of her skirt and his tights caused him to harden further. Both of them were conscious of Phil across the table. The man next to him as trying to have a conversation with him, but Phil was distracted by Jack and Jill and was only half aware of what he was saying,.

Jack moved his hips deliberately up and down, simulating sex. He gradually became convinced that Jill was naked under her skirt – that she still had no panties on! She was trying to ignore him, talking to Trixie Ann about one of the managers in their office who was always padding his expenses. Trixie Ann could see what Jack was doing, but carried on the conversation with Jill, pretending not to notice.

Now that Jill was standing, Phil could see less of Jack. He could see that Jack was just behind her, but he could not see what he was doing. Jack took advantage of the cover of the high table to cup the undersides of both Jill's breasts. Still talking to Trixie Ann, she tried to twist out of his grip, but he held her fast.

"You're commando," Jack whispered in her ear.

"OMG, Jack, you're big," she whispered back. "Back off, don't you dare do anything more here."

"Just lean forward, Jill," he whispered. "Lower your tits below the table edge."

"Let me go Jack, we mustn't! We could get into a lot of trouble if someone complains!" she hissed.

"Lean forward, or Phil will see my hands on your tits."

Jack's hands crept up her ribs, so she hastily did as Jack instructed and leaned forward, screening her breasts with her elbows and the table edge. Jack took a breast in each hand, kneading them through the Lycra of her purple-white sports bra. Unbelievably, her nipples got even harder, thicker and longer. Jack's face was in her red hair. It smelled of her shampoo, her conditioner and her sweat.

Then one of Jack's hands tracked downward, pressing on the swell of her belly and then further down. He found the hem of her skirt and darted up. She gasped as he suddenly inserted a finger into her, two knuckles deep. She took a swig of her drink to mask the gasp.

"You OK, love?" Phil called across the table.

"Never better," she responded, trying to sound normal. But she could not keep a telltale shake out of her voice, for Jack's finger had been joined by a second one and he was moving them in and out, in a circular motion.

"You can't do that here, Jack!" Trixie Ann whispered in his ear.

"Why?" he whispered back. "Do you want my fingers in your pussy instead?"

"Jack," hissed Jill. "Stop it! You're driving me crazy!"

"That's the idea, Jill."

She was breathing hard now, almost like she was running again.

"This is not funny, Jack."

"It's not supposed to be funny."

"My God!" she breathed. "I'm going to cum!"

Her hips began to rotate and she simulated a fit of coughing to cover the juddering of her body as she came.

She was still in the haze of her orgasm when Phil called again, "You OK, love?" This time there was a note of worry in his voice.

"Just had bit of my drink go down the wrong tube," she panted.

To her horror, she realized that Jack had pulled down his tights and his rampant erection was under her skirt between her ass cheeks.

"Jack, don't!" she whispered.

Then she coughed again to cover her mewing as Jack pushed his cockhead into her doggie style.

"Drink some water, love," Phil called over from the other side of the table.

Jill knew that if she tried to drink anything, she would splutter it out. For Jack was sinking his huge cock into her, an inch at a time. It was like nothing she had felt before – so thick, so hot and so long! He had a breast in each hand and kept rocking back and forth, pushing deeper and deeper into her. Just as his mount met her ass, he pulled the cups of her sports bra up into her armpits and began kneading her naked breasts, rolling her thick nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand.

Screened by the high table, Jill was impaled on Jack's huge cock and her sensitive nipples were over-stimulated, but above the table, she fought to maintain a normal façade. Jack was behind her and now that she was bent forward, he could see Phil across the table.

"Check out that hit!" he said to Phil, pointing to one of the big flat screen TVs where a football game was in progress.

"That lineman really gave the QB the business!" agreed Phil.

And I'm giving your fiancée the business, Jack thought, as he really began to fuck Jill. She dared not straighten up and reveal her naked breasts. She really wanted to moan and squeal and the effort of keeping it bottled up showed in the tension on her face.

"What's the matter, honey?" asked Phil, noticing the lines on her forehead.

"Nothing," she panted. "Just a sudden headache."

"I'll take you home, let's go right away," he said, concerned.

"No, no," she gasped. "It will pass. Trixie Ann here was just asking about whether I'm coming to the office party next week." She turned her head toward Trixie Ann just as the first waves of her second orgasm hit her. "I'm ... I'm .... I'm ... cumming! Yes! I'm cumming!"

Jack fucked her through her orgasm. Her pussy gripped his shaft in a jagged series of hard contractions. She rotated her hips as she came and Jack let himself go. He managed to keep a straight face as he pumped his load deep into her through several hard thrusts.

She disengaged from him, pulled her sports bra down to cover her breasts, straightened and slid out from between Jack and the table.

"I'm going to the ladies', Phil," she said. "Then let's go. I want to sleep at your place tonight."

jxa2012
jxa2012
1,483 Followers
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