The half marathon was two days away when Shelly and I had our encounter.
After that, we agreed to abstain from anything with each other and any masturbation.
It had long been an unofficial tradition of mine to abstain from orgasm shortly before a race. It was not superstition -- it was simply to conserve energy.
We met on the morning of the race in nearby Springfield, where we exchanged hugs. A few of her friends were nearby, to whom she introduced me. Most of them were female, a couple were men. We threw in some small talk about our latest running explorations and exchanged training notes. It had been the most I had talked to people before a race in my lifetime.
Shelly looked stunning, as usual. Her hair was up and perfectly framed her perfect face. She wore a cropped short sleeved t-shirt which again accented her flat tummy. Her tights seemed extra tight; I swear I could see a hint of her mound. They were dark blue with galaxies, stars, and planets all over. I swear a galaxy lay right over where her back star would be, a little pearl of a planet where her pearl would sit.
The gun went off and we were off. Some of our group zipped on ahead, others trailed behind, while Shelly and I stayed together. We agreed to take it easy today -- this was the first of three half marathons in a six-week period.
In all, it was a good race. Neither one of us ran a personal record, but we ran respectable times. We both crossed the finish line at about the same time -- she finished a little bit ahead of me as I had lost some gas during the last mile. We gave each other a tight, sweaty hug, grabbed a bottle of water and banana, and cheered other runners on as they were finishing while talking with each other and other runners about the race.
As per our plans, Shelly and I met each other at a nice Italian restaurant that evening. Yes, I know -- one is supposed to carb load before the race, but we felt we needed a reward afterwards, as well.
I put on one of my cutest sun dresses, a light blue with darker blue hearts as a pattern, spaghetti straps and ending about six inches above my knees. Some light blue lace panties were my choice of underwear, and I had all intents and purposes of showing them all to Shelly that night.
Naturally, she was stunning. Her top was a light green loose fitting button shirt, the first three buttons undone as well as the bottom two. As seemed the case with all her outfits, the shirt came down just below her navel. Her light green skirt was another loose-fitting outfit but seemed to be more the size of a belt than a skirt. Every time she turned around, I could see a hint of her lime green panties.
We got a private booth to the side, exchanged kisses on the cheeks, ordered and partook in casual small talk as we ate our meals and drank our wines. Naturally, the conversation turned to sex.
"When is the last time you had sex with a man?" she asked me at one point.
"I've met a couple of guys from the site. The last one...it was around Christmas, so eight months. How about you?"
"Three months. Around then, I was going through a period where I was literally hooking up at least once a week. But there was a lot missing. It was just fucking, no emotion, very little pleasure." She sighed. "I had even stopped masturbating after a while because I felt like I was losing interest in sex completely."
I nodded. "Same. I last had an orgasm in February, and that was with myself. Never ever had a guy make me cum. Around then, I guess I just started getting frustrated and used running as my stimulation instead." I gulped down a little bit of wine.
"You have never been with a woman before, Cindy?" she asked me before taking a long sip of her wine. "I mean...before a couple of nights ago."
We both giggled.
I shook my head. "Never even a romantic kiss. Before a couple of nights ago."
