The Runner

Nadia twirled the black pod of her armchair until her naked legs were spread to the entire city. Her fingers dug between her thighs, too feverish in her desire to care if anyone could see her. In fact, she hoped someone was watching, and getting off on her athletic body; naked, but for the clip in her platinum bob, and spread on the black leather. Two fingers slid quickly in and out of her. The other hand patted her clitoris, tickled it, rubbed it. Begged it.

"Motherfucker," she burst. But in frustration. Folding her arms and swinging the chair side-to-side, she glared at the uncaring dawn. How she hated Sundays. The day of the dead.

She licked wet fingers and decided to defer her ritual 'city-fuck'. Perhaps a run would scratch her itch.

It was a cool and quiet autumnal morning. As soon as her feet hit the pavement, Nadia was glad to be running, letting her lungs, heart and unresolved sexual tension propel her toward the park. A personal trainer told her, once, that a good long-distance runner: "Runs like a Rolls-Royce, never a Ferrari." But at times like this, alone in the park, she was all sports car.

She powered along, heady with the sensation of firing on all cylinders, of being well made and perfectly tuned.

Nadia didn't see them until it was too late. Three large guys, still high from their Saturday night. Hooded, grizzled and stale.

One ran toward her, eyes all-white with crazed lust, his tongue curled out and waggling. She swerved to avoid him and ran straight into the arms of the other two, wrapping strong limbs around her and dragging her into a bush.

Nadia was not a helpless female. She swung her head back and cracked it on the nose of one man, let out a series of quick screams for help, and rammed her foot into the crotch of the fast approaching crazy-eye.

But one lone woman cannot defeat three chemically fuelled, fully-grown men. They laughed off their pain, and gripped her tighter. The two smothered her again and grappled her to the ground, lying on top of her, while the third clawed at her leggings.

Then he disappeared.

Suddenly yanked backwards, the clawing man flew off Nadia's legs as if tied to a bungee cord. A huge shadow blurred over them, and the other two disappeared as well. Then the shadow loomed over her. A hand appeared.

"Are you ok?"

Deep and earthy. Like a tree talking. Nadia jerked away. He was the largest man she'd ever seen, another jogger. He apologised and pulled his hood off his head, revealing what looked ridiculously like an action hero. All strong chin, broken nose and slanted sparkling eyes. He offered Nadia his hand again and smiled. He had a sad smile, worn for gentleness not for happiness. It comforted her. She took his hand and stood up.

"Assholes!" she shouted at the men, who were still skulking off, slowly. They looked back over their shoulders, not even caring enough to run.

The giant shook his head. "Ignore them, waste of space. Are you ok that's the important thing."

Nadia looked down at herself, shook out her limbs and shrugged.

He shouted at the skulkers, "Next time I see you, you're nicked!"

They started running. This made Nadia laugh and the man rolled his eyes, plugged headphones back into his ears and flipped up his hood. He winked and started running in the opposite direction.

She was by his side in two bounds.

His name was Adam and they spent the next half hour trotting around the park, though it seemed he wasn't big on talking. This suited Nadia fine, she just enjoyed the gentle-giant presence of him. He ran as if it was his natural mode of locomotion, fluid and effortless. A Rolls Royce. They headed out of the park and back toward her block. Talkative or not, she had to find out more about him.

"So, you're a policeman?"

He took out his headphones. "Yes ma'am. Well, I was. Until last year. Retired now."

Ma'am! "So I guess you're older than you look then." He couldn't have been out of his thirties yet, she guessed, a handful of years older than her.

Adam smiled. "Health," he said, pointing to his ear. "Deaf in one ear. And PTSD. Pensioned off." He sighed at her confused face. "Police combat trainer. The guns. And some nasty stuff I had to deal with."

Nadia didn't know what to say. PTSD. That might explain the sadness in his smile. "So... where do you live? What do you do?" She could see her block up ahead, her heart sank. Too soon!

Again the sad smile. He shrugged. "I just run."

Then they were outside her block. If it hadn't been for the concierge outside, greeting her, she may have run on and pretended she didn't live there.

"Ok, this is me. Thanks so much for your help." Nadia stopped and put out her hand, he clasped it quickly, still running, and nodded politely. Like a gallant little bow. That was the clincher.

"Want to come in for breakfast... or something?" she blurted.

Adam stopped, looked at her and then back at the road, as if asking its permission. He shrugged. "Only if it's not too much trouble," he said.

#

He whistled as the lift doors opened straight into Nadia's apartment. She saw it through his eyes, all black marble and white furniture with its backdrop of the city, and felt a little embarrassed. Off the street, Adam seemed more threadbare and rain-washed. His trainers only held together by the laces. He looked... homeless.

She pointed at a corridor while rummaging through her fridge. Not that there was much to rummage. All she had was eggs and champagne.

"There's a shower down there, if you want, help yourself to towels. Umm, omelette ok?"

Adam looked genuinely touched by her hospitality.

Once she heard the bathroom door close, Nadia skipped to her room, pulling off her running gear with the intention of a quick dousing in her en- suite. However, the wall of obscured glass dividing the shower from her bedroom revealed his gigantic blurred form, turning around in the water jets right in front of her. He must have found her bathroom first.

Nadia froze, clasping her t-shirt to her nakedness. She bit her lip, twisting her foot indecisively, nervously even. A sting of excitement made her wish she had persevered with her climax earlier. She could have used a cooler head, right now.

Her feet headed, undeterred, to her own bathroom.

Ears and cheeks prickling, Nadia pushed open the bathroom door and stepped into the steamy room. Adam smiled. Her stomach flipped. Such a sad smile.

But such a great body. There was no fat on him, just muscle, bunched, bulged, and popping on every limb. As she took him in, he lowered his gaze and rinsed suds from his fat, dangling manhood. This didn't help her state of mind at all.

She grabbed the soap and joined him under the hot spray.

However, when she stroked her lathered hands down his back and over his hard arse, he took the soap from her.

"I'm done," he said and she shivered under his devouring gaze, all politeness gone. He spun her round, strong slippery hands sliding down her back. She felt exquisitely exposed but utterly safe with this tender predator behind her, and her heart leapt as his hands encircled her waist. He lathered up her abdomen and soapily caressed her breasts. He stepped closer to her, pressing his mouth to her neck and she delighted at the grazing sensation of something hard and blunt at her bottom.

She backed toward it, her body melting under his hands, her nipples tightening under his palms. He seemed in no hurry at all, the nudge of his cock notwithstanding, but she wanted more hardness pushed against her, into her. He backed away and she giggled, slithering around in his arms and casting an approving eye down at his well-proportioned club as it proudly bounced between them. Unable to reach his lips, even on tiptoes, she reached around his neck and tipped her face up to kiss.

He stooped and pressed his mouth to hers, slipping one hand over her buttocks, the other down her stomach; deliciously cupping her underneath from back and front. She moaned in his mouth. His fingers swirled over her clit and anus and made her lift one leg, wrapping it around his hips. Earlier she couldn't cum, but as he worked his thick, strong digits around her now, she found herself biting back, trying to make it last.

She reached down and took hold of his flushed cock. Almost defensively, Adam slid a finger into her and curled it precisely, as if flipping a secret switch she didn't even know she had. She cried out, screwing her eyes tight and the climax flooded out of her. He held her steady, focussing soapy fingers at the hood of her clit as she gave herself completely to his hands, up on one leg and gripping his hard-on for balance as she writhed on his fingers.

As Nadia's orgasm ebbed, Adam kissed her, softened his touches and grabbed the showerhead. He rinsed her all over as she trembled, hyper-sensitised, under the spray. He stepped out first and grabbed a warm towel, drying her while he still dripped.

"Ok?" he said, his chest heaving in a rare and bassy chuckle. Nadia was used to taking control of situations, used to being the boss, getting results. In front of this man, she felt small and meek; and today, just this once, she liked it. She swung the biggest eyes she could muster up at him and hoped her kindled need would show.

"Hmm, I see..." he said, running the towel quickly over himself. "Looks like we're not done yet, eh?"

He scooped her up in hard arms and carried her into the bedroom. To her surprise and delight, he walked past the bed and put her in the 'city-fuck' pod chair, spreading her legs and dropping like a bowing knight to his knee between them.

She couldn't stop grinning as he contemplated her sex, deliciously drawing out the moment. She was glad she'd waxed recently, and squirmed for him, opened her knees as wide as she could, her legs dangling over the arms of the chair. His cock flexed and jumped, the only sign of his arousal, and all she needed.

He softly stroked along her inner thighs and over smooth outer lips. His touch was so gentle it was almost tickling, his pale eyes utterly focussed on her. He slid her open and a twist of longing made her catch her breath. He pushed his thumbs deeper, sliding open her inner lips too, like the pages of a book.

He sighed at her spread pinkness and she stroked his face, her fingers toying with the thought of grabbing that gorgeous head and yanking it to her. Her clitoris throbbed in the air between them, caressed only by breath as he drew near. She felt a trickle from inside, chilling as it rolled slowly between her bum cheeks. Adam's tongue curled out over his lip.

At last, he pressed his lips to her bud, his rough chin lightly grazing the sensitive, spread, labia. Nadia sighed and he did it again, then again until his chin strung her wetness and she rocked her hips up to his lips.

He slid his tongue deep into her, stirring it inside, and then played super-slicked games with her nub. She arched back in the chair, arms thrown behind her and legs pulled up and back. She clenched her teeth to hold off cumming, dug her nails in his hair, even curled her toes, but the minute he sucked her clitoris into him she squealed into orgasm.

She ground her hips at his head, her eyes screwed shut, gasping, until it was so overwhelming she had to push him off. Opening her eyes found him wiping his hand across his mouth and staring hungrily at her hole. She leapt on him, pushed him back on the floor and dropped her hips onto his erection.

Bracing herself on his stomach, she bounced and rolled on his member, staring at his stretched muscular form below him and desperate for him to burst in her. He glowered in concentration and held her hips, ramming into each of her down strokes and to her annoyance, she soon felt herself ready for another. Her entire sex had become so over eager with this man, what was going on?

He sat up and kissed her nipples and this self-control was simply irritating. She wanted him frenzied and spurting inside her even when his lips and tongue just felt so good alongside his glorious cock. As she became un-coordinated, he curled his hands under her buttocks and quickened his deep, hard fucking, tossing her over the precipice into another climax. Lost to her body, all she could do was form soundless 'Oh's at the ceiling as she was juddered by unstoppable pummelling.

He lay her back while she was still trembling and held her legs wide by the feet, taking a deep breath and building his strokes again. This was impossible. The charging bull of her last orgasm seemed to hesitate before it disappeared. Adam's bucking pace picked up; the climax reared its head and charged back at her. He hammered; Nadia screamed and felt her body rent by the largest climax of her life, a roiling tsunami of deep, intense pleasure.

When she opened her eyes again to this mad hero, his body shone as if oiled. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, "all done?"

She shivered and pulled off him, curling down between her floppy legs and taking his slippery meat in her hand. She looked up at him, lapped a flat tongue over its saltiness, and squeezed his balls. It was her turn. He owed her. She wanted him to explode. Now.

But all she got was another sad smile.

#

One year before, an overweight, recently pensioned, ex-policeman was running home from the gym.

He had never felt happier. The police pay-off meant he wouldn't have to work again, it was his tenth wedding anniversary, he had a beautiful wife that clearly loved him, and he was going to get back early and fill the bathroom with candles for her. Then he was going to make love to her, with every part of him. He was going to do all her favourite things, make her cum a dozen times, then who knows? This year she might put aside her squeamishness... do him like she had on their honeymoon, properly. All the way.

This morning she had said he was looking good, losing the fat. She said he looked, "Good enough to eat." He shivered in anticipation.

He was only dimly aware of the closed lounge curtains as he poised his key at the lock, but jolted at the sudden male voice barking, "Baby, I'm cumming!" It came from inside, from his lounge. He peered through a gap in the curtains and dropped the keys.

In the middle of the room stood a muscular, naked man, arched up on his toes and lost in the spasms of orgasm. Knelt before him was Adam's wife. She was fully clothed and working her hands and mouth at the stranger's grunting thrusts, humming in muffled joy.

Adam slumped. He looked down at his flabby belly, his box fresh trainers. He turned back to the street. And ran.