Flo Jo And Jackie

Do y'all remember Flo-Jo, Florence Griffith-Joyner, the outstanding female sprinter who won numerous gold medals in the Olympics and various track and field competitions in the 1980s?

She was the one who wore the fashion-forward, provocative track clothes and had the long, brightly painted fingernails. To my eye, she was every bit as sexy looking as she was a stellar athlete.

When she married 1984 triple-jump gold medallist Al Joyner, Flo-Jo became the sister-in-law of Jackie Joyner-Kersee, a superb athlete in her own right and pretty good-looking herself. Jackie was married to Flo-Jo's UCLA track coach, Bob Kersee. Point is, Flo-Jo and Jackie were attractive world-class athletes who were close friends and shared a passion for track and field competition, so they frequently trained together.

Jackie was from rough, crime-ridden East St. Louis and never forgot where she came from, so she would often spend time there in various community leadership roles trying to improve her hometown. I lived across the bridge in St. Louis in the early- and mid-90s and saw Jackie interviewed on the local news, so I knew she was in the area. I was also aware that Flo-Jo was trying to make a comeback for the '96 Olympics in Atlanta.

Please hang in there, as this story is actually going somewhere!

East St. Louis, Sauget and other nearby little towns were bleak, poverty-ridden places with many abandoned buildings, rife with drug and gun dealing, and a few large chemical plants along the Illinois side of the Mississippi River. The main tax revenue was from the many sexually oriented businesses situated there, so police were very lax about enforcing the already loose laws that governed them.

I had driven over there one afternoon to find a strip joint recommended by a business associate. I got all turned around and completely lost--quite unnerving, especially since I passed a dude walking down a back street carrying an assault rifle. Have a nice, day, mister.

I finally wound around and ended up at the track behind a school, where I saw a couple people in the distance on the far side practicing starts out of blocks and hopping a few hurdles. Perhaps these folks could give me directions; at this point I was much more interested in getting back to the relative safety of St. Louis than finding the titty bar.

I saw no one else around, so I got out of my car and began making my way toward the two tracksters. Crossing the infield, I could see that they were women, and as I got closer, I realized that they were, lo and behold, Flo-Jo and Jackie Joyner-Kersee! They stopped and stared straight at me as I approached with the friendliest, I'm-no-danger-to-you, see?-I-have-no-assualt-rifle look I could muster.

I explained that I was lost, saw them so stopped to get directions, only to realize who they were. Tense at first, especially Flo-Jo, they relaxed when I told how much I admired them and spewed out a few of their career highlights to prove my point. A former high hurdler myself and T&F aficionado, I was able to easily communicate in track lingo, so in no time, we were all getting along great.

Though I had set out to watch women dance naked, this was even better, as both of them were wearing the skimpiest, most revealing clothes.

Jackie had on a form-fitting thin sleeveless electric-blue nylon top and Flo-Jo was wearing a next-to-nothing tight white midriff-baring top with thin shoulder straps. They both had on matching white nylon super-short short-shorts. Perspiring through what little clothes they had on in the summer heat, they were as good as nude. Like nipple city, dude.

Familiar with the track routine, I started to help out by moving hurdles, retrieving the javelin and spotting long jumps (Jackie was a heptathlete). They were very friendly and thanked me for assisting, saying they'd planned for Bob to help, but he'd been diverted elsewhere.

I must say, the way finely tuned athletic bodies look in motion stimulates a very deep part of my cerebral cortex. All those muscles rippling, perfect buns flexing, firm little breasts jiggling, face and jaws relaxed, the determination in the eyes, the blazing speed. And to have the good fortune of seeing two of the world's greatest female athletes do it all first hand. Talk about up-close and personal!

Speaking of up close and personal, at one point I was helping with their starts coming out of blocks. I was sitting on the track right behind them and was holding the pressure-sensitive devices attached to the blocks which registers the time it takes the runner to react to the starting gun.

"Runners take your marks...set...bang!" In their set position, hips hiked up, I could clearly see their pussies and bung holes, Flo-Jo's shaved and Jackie's closely trimmed. Oh, to watch those fine booties flex and then blast away!!! Reminding them that you cannot make up for a sub-optimum start, I encouraged them to practice over and over, which they did. Purely in the interest of good start times, of course!

The piece de resistance was when Jackie went to the other end of the field to work on the pole vault while I continued to work with Flo-Jo on her starts. She launched out of the blocks and pulled up immediately, grasping at the back of her upper left leg. "Rub it out! You gotta rub it out!" she shouted over and over.

She quickly lay face-down, pointed at the spot, and I went to work massaging the Charlie-horse out. Oh my Lord in heaven, here I am slathering my hands over the unbelievable leg muscles of none other than the beautiful, sexy, Florence Griffith-Joyner--perhaps the greatest female athlete of all time.

I am dangerously close to her pronounced bare pussy lips, the sides of which were now visible on either side of the thin strip of sweaty shorts material. As I rubbed hard at the dissipating knot, she was saying, "that's it, that's it, you're doing good," and I did "accidentally" brush the back of my hand against her exposed labia a few times, giving rise to a knot of my own.

She took a deep breath, sighed, and looked up at me with those exotic, piercing eyes. "You know, you've got great hands. I wonder...." Then Jackie appeared again, noted the time, and suggested they start stretching and then go.

I helped gather up their equipment, enjoyed the last views of the stretching bodies, and gave them a hug good-bye at the same time. As I did so, they each gave my buns a quick squeeze. "Boy's got a tiny little butt," said Flo-Jo, as they both smiled and walked off to their car, thanking me one last time.

Was I on to something there? Probably just my imagination, but I'll never know, as Flo-Jo died, curiously, of a heart attack in 1998.

She still holds the world records she set in 1988, 10.49 sec. in the 100 meter and 21.34 sec. in the 200 meter, and no one has even come close to breaking them.

Man, if I could have scored with Flo-Jo, that would have been a world record for me.