Jogging

Me? How to describe myself -- I'm in my early twenties, reasonable looking, intelligent, tall and fit. I like running and women. They're fascinating creatures.

Her? She was tall, pretty, athletic and in her early twenties. And sexy. Really sexy. I came across her while out jogging early one morning and, as far as I was concerned, it was lust at first sight.

I had gone down to the local park early. Hadn't even had breakfast yet, deciding to get my run in first. There is quite a nice park near me. It has a tanned running track that is just under a mile for the full circuit, which makes it easy to check on how far you've gone. It's not a flat track, being built with some upgrades which really test your legs after a few circuits. There are also a couple of wooded areas where you're trotting along through bushes and trees and can imagine that you're out in the country.

I was heading out of one of the wooded areas when she came running along, heading towards me. Beautiful, bountiful, boobs bouncing. A sports bra can only do so much for a girl and hers seemed to be resigned to the fact that it was trying an impossible job.

I enjoyed watching her come towards me, the look of her going straight to my groin. As she passed I smiled and nodded and was ignored. Not worrying about that I turned and started running along a few paces behind her, admiring her bottom. A very nice bottom it was, designed to be comfortably held in a man's hands while he pulled her towards him.

She had noticed that I'd started following her and increased her speed, but that didn't worry me. I adjusted and carried on, maintaining the same distance behind her. She slowed again once we left the woods, giving me the chance to pass her, a chance I lamentably failed to take. Shortly after we were approaching the other wooded section. This one quite a bit larger than the first.

Her nerve broke at this stage and she pulled up by the side of the track, glaring at me. I also pulled up and stood there, looking at her and admiring her.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

I blinked, looking startled. "Running," I said helpfully. "I frequently run here. The track's good and I enjoy the scenery," I added, looking pointedly at the bushes and trees of the woods just ahead of us.

"You're following me," she stated, accusation plain in her voice.

"Well, yes," I said, innocence oozing out of my voice. "I like to have someone run in front of me. It gives me a chance to set a steady pace. By myself I tend to run too fast and burn myself out."

"Follow someone else," she told me firmly. "I don't want a stranger running along following me."

"I'm not a stranger," I told her. "I'm John. I run here every day. I live over that-away a couple of blocks."

"You're a stranger to me," she insisted. "I prefer you not follow me."

"OK," I said, puzzlement creeping into my voice.

I moved back out onto the track, preparing to continue my run, when comprehension dawned.

"Ah. I understand," I said, turning back to her. "You're afraid that I might be a pervert or something and would try to jump you in the woods."

It was obvious from the look on her face that that was precisely what she thought (understandable) but that she didn't like me mentioning it.

I laughed. "Don't worry," I told her. "I wouldn't dream of jumping you."

She didn't like that either. She looked quite insulted. Who can tell with women? I explained.

"Look, if I wanted to jump someone, I'd be looking for a victim. Not a healthy, athletic woman like you. Also, muggers get caught, especially if they have scratches all over their face." At that point I looked significantly at her hands and her long nails.

"On top of that, I like my partners to be willing and enthusiastic. I really can't see myself getting much pleasure from trying to educate a reluctant virgin."

She was really indignant now. "What do you mean, a reluctant virgin?" she demanded. "How would you know if I'm a virgin or not?"

"Hey, it's OK," I said. "I think it's commendable that you can still be a virgin at your age."

"At my age?" she almost shouted at me, hitting on the more offensive part of my comment. "Just how old do you think I am?"

She asked, so it was only polite to give her an honest answer. I pointedly looked her over as though considering the answer.

"You'd be just over twenty," I said thoughtfully. "You probably go jogging in the mornings to sublimate your sex drive. Don't worry about it so much. You'll eventually meet a nice man and can have some fun."

"I am not running to sublimate my sex drive," she said coldly. "And by a nice man I suppose you mean someone like you?"

"Oh, no. Not someone like me," I told her. "I'm not really a very nice man where women are concerned. If it wasn't for that virgin thing I'd be trying to coax you into the woods for a little fun."

"I am not a virgin," she enunciated, fury boiling in her voice. "and do you really think you could talk a girl into having sex with you in the middle of the park during the day?"

I smiled, disbelief evident in my stance. "Some women actually enjoy it," I told her. "We slip behind the bushes and enjoy ourselves, just out of sight of the track."

"It's odd," I continued, reminiscing, "that the ones who seem to get the greatest charge out of having sex like that are the ones who will completely strip for it. It seems to be an all or nothing sort of thing for them. If they're going to feel wicked then they want to feel really wicked, not just 'slip down my panties and hurry'."

I looked thoughtfully at the angry young woman in front of me, then smiled and shook my head.

"What are you smirking about now?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing," I said. "I was just thinking that when you're a bit more experienced it might be fun to drag you behind the bushes and have my wicked way with you, but it's not going to happen. You'll just keep jogging until you find your nice man and can settle down. What's your name, by the way?"

"I'm Francis," she answered, "and I told you I'm not waiting around for some nice young man. I enjoy quite a healthy sex life, thank you very much."

She probably did. All the talk of sex was getting to her. Her sports bra now had a couple of little peaks where her nipples were standing out.

"If you say so," I acknowledged. You could probably take a picture of the disbelief in my voice, it was so pronounced. That was the final spur for her.

Not wanting me to have the last word, furious that I would dare to consider her to be a simpering maiden waiting for some nice boy to come and save her from her lonesome virginity, she lost her temper, and temporarily, her senses.

Francis glanced up and down the track, saw no-one else around and just calmly reached down, took hold of her tank top and bra and lifted them up and off, spilling out a pair of really lovely mouth-watering melons.

Staring defiantly at me she laid out her challenge. "You're so sure of yourself," she stated. "Let's just go behind the bushes and see if you're capable of satisfying me."

I dithered. "You'd better think about this again," I told her. "I don't want to find myself all excited only to suddenly find myself with a little virgin crying and wanting to back out again."

"What's wrong big man?" she asked, a laugh in her voice. "Not so sure of yourself now?"

"I'm sure of myself," I replied, reaching out and cupping one of those golden globes. "It's just you I'm not sure about."

Gently squeezing that luscious breast, I idly noted no tan lines. My lovely Francis apparently sunbathed topless.

I moved closer to her, my hand sliding around her waist and steering her between a couple of bushes and into the woods. In a matter of moments we were out of sight of the path, standing in a small clearing.

I stood in front of Francis, cupping both breasts and running my thumbs over her nipples. Francis was breathing harder now, enjoying the touch but also suddenly aware of just what she was doing. If she was going to back down, now was the moment.

"Are you going to take these off," I asked, reaching down and gently tugging at her running shorts, a hint of challenge in my voice, "or do you want me to do it for you?"

I could see her pondering. The question had suddenly switched from will I do this or not to will I undress myself or let him do it?

I could practically see her trying to work out the logic of it. If she took her shorts off herself, she was effectively consenting to having sex with me. If she let me take them off, she was still consenting, but would be able to tell herself that I had made her.

My bet was that she'd strip them herself. She didn't seem to be the sort of girl who would want to make excuses for herself.

I won and lost my mental bet. Looking straight at me she reached down and slid down her shorts and stepped out of them. Then she told me that if I wanted her panties down I'd have to take them down myself, after I was naked.

I nodded. "That seems reasonable," I said. "So are you going to make me naked?"

She was taken aback at that. She'd assumed that I would be all too eager to strip off so I could get my hands into her panties. She wasn't about to back down though.

Francis reached over and pulled my t-shirt out of my shorts and lifted it over my head. Then she reached down and flicked open the buttons of my shorts and pulled them down, letting me step out of them.

Francis hesitated for a moment at that stage, looking at my jocks and how something was pressing heavily against the front of them. I noticed her swallow, then she was reaching for the waist of my jocks and pulling them down, slowly. Very slowly. I wasn't sure if it was nerves on her part or if she was deliberately teasing me. Subsequent events make me lean towards deliberately teasing.

My jocks dragged slowly down, with my cock getting more excited by the moment, wanting to spring erect but stopped by the constricting cloth. I have a reasonable sized cock. It's not a studly nine or ten inches, but it is on the high size of average, and reasonably thick.

Francis was breathing hard now as she slowly peeling of my jocks, showing more and more of my potential erection. She was getting excited, and I could smell her arousal. She stopped when the band of my jocks was pressed against the head of my cock, and I received another shock when she then leaned forward and ran her tongue the length of my cock.

Next thing I knew, Francis jerked my jocks sharply down, my cock sprang free and was promptly captured by her mouth swooping on it. Holding me in her mouth, Francis continued to push my jocks down to where I could step out of them. Then her hands came back up to my groin and played with my testicles while her mouth moved slowly up and down. I was in heaven and I was in hell. I didn't want her to stop but I wanted her to stop so I could plunge into her.

I let Francis have her fun for a few more moments before reluctantly pulling her upright, stopping that throbbing torment. Now it was my turn.

I sank to my knees before her, taking hold of her panties and slowly pulling them down. As soon as her mound began to emerge over the panty waist I leaned forward and pressed my mouth against her, drawing it lower with the panties until my mouth was on her pussy with my tongue darting along her slit, helping to dampen and sensitise.

Francis's hand clutched my hair, holding painfully tight as I continued to caress her with my tongue, teasing her lips and darting between them to agitate her internally. Easing her panties down I encouraged her to step out of them, all the time continuing that gentle torment.

Finally I stood, looking at Francis's flushed face. Her eyes were wide and trying to see all of me at once, and her whole stance was begging me to continue.

"You're not a virgin, are you?" I murmured.

She just gave her head a gentle shake. (I must admit that with a body like that I would have been astounded if she was.)

"Do you like being taken roughly or gently?" I quietly quizzed. She seemed puzzled by the question. I tried again. "Your sex life has been pretty standard up until now?" I asked. She gave a nod.

"Then let's try something a little different," I murmured, taking her arm and encouraging her to lie down.

I reached down and took hold of her ankles. Then I smiled at her. "Just go with the flow," I said. "I'll show you what I want you to do."

Francis lay there, breathing hard and waiting for me to spread her legs and take her. Instead, I took her leg and lifted them, up and out and forward, bending over her at the same time. In very short order Francis was bent double and could see her own pussy, lips swollen and flowering, with my cock pressed against it.

"Now," I told her, "I am about to take you roughly, sinking all the way in just that first thrust while you watch."

Her eyes seemed to open even wider, a touch of trepidation creeping into her, and then I was ramming myself home, plunging fully into her with one ruthless thrust.

Her hand flew to her mouth to try and muffle her sudden scream of shock, but her body had been prepared and eagerly accepted my battering ram as it breached her defences and charged fully into her unguarded passage.

Francis was trembling slightly now. I could feel those subtle vibrations rubbing against me as I lay on her, holding her pinned with my erection.

"Now you can use your hips to push me out and relax to let me drive back home," I told her. "Not what you may be used to, but let's try it."

I could feel Francis lifting her hips, encouraging me to withdraw slightly, but as soon as she relaxed a little my weight drove me back down and in. She was gasping with the effort but was enjoying the change, as we silently battled with our bodies.

My hands reached down and clasped her breasts. I started squeezing them in time to the thrusting of loins against loins, building up the tensions in us both. Now the time had come to deliver and I was thrusting into Francis harder and harder, pummelling her pussy, pounding out my superiority over her.

Francis was accepting, her pussy warm, wet and welcoming, taking my full length within her and pleading for it to stay. Together we hammered out our desires, each using the other to build upon, rushing towards an end that was coming both too quickly and too slow.

I saw Francis's eyes widen and knew she was about to come, so I slammed even harder into her, welcoming her orgasm with the spurt of my seed within her. Then we were slowing and relaxing, with me leaning back away from Francis so she could slowly unfold and lie flat again.

Eventually Francis spoke. "I told you I wasn't a virgin," she murmured. "But I'm still a bit unclear how I finished up here, naked, with you fucking my arse off."

"I told you I wasn't a nice man and I think you wanted to prove you could handle a not-nice man." I replied. "You see that white tree over there? The one with the very smooth trunk?"

Francis looked at where I was pointing, puzzled.

"That," I informed her, "is a Ghost gum. All it's bark comes off at this time of the year and its bole is very smooth."

Francis looked at me, curious to know what I was getting at.

I smiled at her. "That means that when I take you leaning against that tree, you won't have to worry about getting your back scratched."

"Really," said Francis dryly. "You're assuming that I want to see you again. We may never meet here again."

"You don't quite understand," I said, indicating my reviving erection. "I intend to do that right now."

I pulled her to her feet, steering her towards the tree. She was protesting, but only feebly, knowing that I was ready to take her again.

"I know," I heard her muttering to herself. "Go with the flow. How did I get myself into this?"