It is after work and I am at the gym. I don't often go these days, but I've had a long hard week in front of a computer – too many donuts and cups of bad coffee - and I need to do something active. After all a woman in her mid-30s needs to watch her figure! I've been there an hour or so, working up a good sweat, when Cliff comes over and offers to spot me on some weights. Lifting weights isn't my kind of thing, but it doesn't take long for him to convince me. He is looking good in a stretched singlet and loose shorts, rugged looks and nicely tanned bod – and of course that carefree grin. We had a bit of a fling late last year – a two night stand actually – and I enjoyed his lean hard body working over mine. Good physical sex. We both wanted it and it happened quickly. Pity it hadn't worked out, but he's got little more than air between the ears. Anyway he soon got over the rejection and hooked up with a big chested bimbo and seems happy enough.
Well Cliff spots me for about ten minutes and I spend the whole time looking up the billowing leg of his shorts at his bulging jock strap, remembering how hard and thick that cock got, how he had fucked me three times with it in less than 48 hours, how yummy it tasted. That's the kind of action I need now to punctuate the celibacy that has descended on my life - it has been ages since I last had sex (nearly 4 months! It's just not natural!). He sees me watching and squats slightly so his jock pouch shifts forward and I see his hairy perineum. We smile at each other and he pointedly looks at my stretched latex sports top where my nipples are beginning to show.
He squats low again and I get to see his tight arse hole, ringed with damp circlets of dark hair – beautiful in a very male way. How come I never noticed this before? I catch his eye and lick my lips while he holds the pose. After a few more minutes of this flirting, I am in a bit of a lather and tell Cliff I have to go for a run to warm down before going home. He offers to go with me because it's dusk now and it's best that a girl doesn't run alone.
I go to the change room to get running shoes on and switch from leotard to shorts. He is waiting out the front, a small sip-up pouch strapped around his waist, and we head off to the sports ground nearby and start lapping the oval. We are going quite slow and talk a bit. I learn that he is still seeing his bimbo, that she wants them to live together, but he likes his freedom. I am horny and make sure our arms and hips touch from time to time.
We are on our fourth circuit and I stop in the shadow of the grandstand for a breather, hands on hips, bending a little forward. Cliff turns comes back to see if I am OK, putting a hand on my shoulder. I straighten up, our eyes meet and I kiss him. He is very quick to respond and after a moment I slide my hands down the back of his shorts, over the strap of his jock, and cup his bare buttocks. They are firm, smooth and slightly damp with sweat. I massage them. He gets his hands down my tight shorts and I feel his finger stroking down my sweaty crack until it locates my chocolate treasure. I kiss him harder and he wiggles the sweaty digit against my ring. I moan, bear back, and the tip slips through the tight muscle. I am dizzy with lust when we finally break apart.
We make our way into the grandstand, where it is quite dark. I sit on a bench, tug down his shorts and nuzzle his cock through the coarse weave of the jock strap. It is semi-hard and pressing out the pouch. I suck at it through the stained pungent material, the man smells making my head spin. Then I turn him round with my hands and tell him to bend over. His buttocks are pale in the dim light, framed by the elastic straps of his athletic support, and beautifully muscled and shaped. I squeeze and stroke them, then hold them apart and survey the pucker. It is taut and male and smells slightly sour. I am washed over with a raunchy abandon. I dip forward and lick up and down his crack in long swipes, getting lots of salty sweat. I love his manly physical taste, even the earthy tang as I pass over his anus.
As I lick him, I reach forward into the pouch and free his hard cock. It is bigger and heavier than I remember and I look forward to getting fucked by it. He is groaning and even though we are both enjoying it, I want that cock and tell him to turn around. It bobs before me and I take the spongy fat head between my lips and savour the taste, texture and sheer power of it. Then I reach round, grasp his buttocks, and pull him forward so that his cock eases deep past my lips. With a slight tilt of the head I am able to take most of his thick pole, feeling the helmet graze the back of my throat. With my hands on his bum urging him on, he slowly moves back and forth for a couple of minutes, groaning as I apply suction and wash around the shaft.
He pulls me up and we kiss hard. Then he tugs up my top. My tits, released from the tight sports fabric, hang heavily, the nipples straining. I can't remember being hornier. I cup them and hiss at him to suck them. He does, grazing the nipples with his teeth and making me moan and clasp at his head. Then he turns me round, bends me forward and he pulls down my shorts and panties. I step out of them as his hands roam around my buttocks, then delve in my sweaty crack. He spits and eases a finger into my pooper again. I groan as he probes me with it. I want him to rim me, but he has other ideas. He picks up his zip bag and takes out a tube of KY gel. He holds it up and looks at me enquiringly. I hesitantly nod, bottom lip between my teeth, and he steps behind me again.
