End Of A Hash Run

For those unfamiliar with the running term "hash run", a hash run (at least here in New Jersey) is a cross-country run of typically one to two hours' duration where nobody's running really seriously and alcohol is involved at the outset, at the end and sometimes at an intermediate point. My running group does a hash a few times a year in the NJ Pine Barrens, along parts of the what's known as the BaToNa (BAck TO NAture) Trail. We generally do them in the late afternoon or early evening when the weather's a bit warmer.

One of our members, Jim, lives very close to the trail so we usually show up at his house, bring alcohol and sometimes a change of clothes and park wherever, then mill around out back of his property while the entire group gathers. More often than not, some beer (purely for sustenance, of course) is imbibed while we introduce new members, identify a "hare" (fastest runner), etc.

On this occasion in late May, my husband and daughter were out of town, visiting relatives. My son was at home, likely playing video games. I had considered taking one of my dogs with me (she loves trail runs), but decided to leave her at home this time (always looking out for her, especially before and after the run, can be a bit tedious).

We had fifteen hashers on this occasion - a slightly larger than usual group, but not so much as to be unmanageable. The atmosphere was light and sometimes a little bit edgy as we did the usual identifying of 'hash virgins' and other amusing categories. This wasn't my first, but my third occasion here. This evening's run was a brief ten miles, probably still dragging me out for nearly two hours in the fading light. Everybody carried a small flashlight for when it would become more than gloomy in the forest, toward the end.

OK - enough of the setup. You get the picture.

The group as a whole was almost all male - only two women were participating. Sue, a ridiculously scrawny wisp of a thing, somewhere in her early thirties - and myself, whom I'll refer to as Linda. I'm in my early fifties and while I carry a little extra weight around my hips, chest and butt, I'm not exceptional nor truly overweight. I'd like to weigh 10-15 pounds less, but who wouldn't? I'm around five-six with a graying brown bob with a flash of artificial color at the back.

Initial beers finished, we gathered on the street outside Jim's driveway as we watched the 'hare' set off in a particular direction, neon vest with a flashlight taped the back showing us the way. And off we went. On this occasion, the route was more-or-less a straight five miles out and then reverse course back. Somebody (Jim's wife) would be at the turning-point with "refreshments" for us when we got there. I was happy to drop back to near the end of the pack almost immediately, following the bulk of the runners ahead of me.

I'm not a fast runner, but I do have stamina. It's the hidden kinks of the uneven trail surfaces which get to me more than anything. And the darker it gets, the more likely I am to not see a bump or a rock or a root - any of which could trip me and send me ass-over-heels. I've received quite a few bruises over the years from what seemed (at the time) like low-impact falls while running.

I settled into a comfortable pace, falling further and further behind the main pack. I wasn't concerned for my safety as there were still at least two guys somewhere behind me. They'd probably take the first half slowly and then exert themselves a bit more toward the end. I wasn't in it to win any serious prizes, even if there had been any up for grabs.

By the time I reached the halfway mark and discovered Jim's wife with two coolers containing maybe a half dozen cold beers, I was sweaty and gross and in need of a cold one. But I hadn't fallen yet! So I paused for a couple minutes to chat and enjoy my refreshing Yuengling and then set off on the way back when I heard the two tail-enders approaching. Wiping the sweat from my eyes, I acknowledged them as I started back, vaguely recognizing them as two newcomers ("hash virgins") I'd spoken to briefly back at Jim's. One a little younger than the other, with the older looking maybe my age - hard to tell, for sure. Both in pretty good shape, though - I wasn't sure why they were so far back, except one of them was likely assigned to bring up the rear (for safety reasons).

The remainder of the run was uneventful other than one of the tree roots inevitably jumping out of the ground (not literally!) to trip me as I swerved around the parent tree. Ooof! I tumbled fairly gracelessly over my right shoulder and rolled maybe six or seven feet off the trail to the right. I lay there, briefly stunned, before making sure all my limbs and joints were still functional, before gathering myself and getting back on-track. By this time, I could see the flashlights of the two tail-enders in the distance behind me.

When I was almost off the trail and about to get onto Jim's street ("street" may be an exaggeration, as it wasn't even well-paved, but there were other houses at intervals along a dirt road), I heard the tail-enders catching up with me and tried to put on a little spurt to stay ahead - and failed, of course! Next thing I knew was I received a slap on my butt as one guy passed me on the right, breaking into almost a sprint immediately so I couldn't tell exactly who he was - followed by the other guy on my left doing exactly the same!

Indignantly, I put on my best pace to try to catch them up, but to no avail. By the time I made it back to Jim's yard, everyone was milling around out back with beers or other drinks already in hand, illuminated only by the fire-pit which also served to keep the mosquitoes and other bitey bugs at bay. There was a wooden bar-like surface along two sides of the pit area, giving people a place to rest their arms and put their drinks - quite a nice set-up. A few chairs were scattered around the other two sides of the pit area, with some people sitting to recover after the run. Beers in hand, of course!

We all milled around, chatting and drinking while 'the organizers' decided on various silly categories to hand out awards for, the idea being to make sure everybody received one award for something. This whole process took far too long and by the time we were summoned to hear the results, I was on my fourth Yuengling. This didn't include the one pre-race and the halfway one. Way more than I would normally consume in an evening, but they were cold, refreshing and went down so easily. I was likely also trying to numb some of the pain from my earlier fall, as my right arm and back were throbbing uncomfortably by this time.

We went through the various awards, me standing against one of the bars with nothing but darkness behind me all the way back into the woods. "To Linda - Most Slappable Butt!" the announcer read out. WTF? That's a new low in categories, although not up to the raunchiness of some of those used in the past. I threw my head back and laughed, then set my beer down on the bar and walked around it to receive my award (an old medal being re-used from some other race). "Show us! Show us! Show us!" chanted some of the guys, with more joining in until almost everyone (including Sue) was chanting in unison. Feeling very little pain and liking being the center of attention, I bent over and wiggled by running-shorts-clad butt at everyone. Somebody (I didn't see who) leant forward and gave me another, gentle slap which set my cheeks wobbling - which I kept moving in order to prolong. "Over this way!" somebody else called out, so I turned to face away from that direction, my butt now pointing roughly toward the caller. Another slap, perhaps not so gentle this time. "Ouch!" I responded - "That was a bit hard!" as I stood upright and made my way back to my beer, swiveling my hips as I went.

One of the "tail-enders" from earlier came up to the other side of the bar and introduced himself, complimenting me on my "awesome butt". I told him he needed to get out more. He asked if I was upset that he had slapped me earlier and to be honest, I was at the time, but in the big scheme of things, it was no big deal. We were all here for some fun and if it edged toward harmless flirting or anything of that nature, I was ok with it.

As we continued to chat, I felt somebody else come up behind me, a little from my right. This turned out to be the other "tail-ender", the younger of the two. He also introduced himself and then lightly brushed at my shoulder, commenting on the dirt (which I hadn't noticed) accumulated there, no doubt from my fall. I let him brush my shoulder and upper arm repeatedly as I continued to chat with both of them. Then he started to massage my neck and upper shoulders. I wasn't sure at first if I was ok with this (relative stranger, etc.) but it wasn't unpleasant and it was dark enough nobody else could see except his friend. And it did start to feel pretty good as he worked my shoulders harder.

He stopped briefly to brush some more forest detritus from my back, daring to go as low as the small of it, where the sweat still made my running tank cling to me. This brought an involuntary shudder from me, which I'm sure he felt and his friend must have noticed. Making sure I was mostly in his shadow from the fire, the older guy reached around my drink and pulled out the front of my tank a bit, peering inside. I'm sure he was disappointed, as my running bra is manufactured a bit like Fort Knox - tight and virtually impenetrable (and a real pain to get on and off, I may add, particularly when sweaty!). It compresses my boobs in place exactly as it's supposed to - running without it would be quite uncomfortable.

However, having distracted my attention from the guy behind me, the latter now took advantage of me and dropped his hands to the waistband of my shorts, hooking his thumbs in either side and starting to gently but deliberately tug them down. I was stunned! I didn't know how to react. Was this for real? I had consumed just enough beer to be somewhat sluggish in my reactions, not only unsure of the reality of the situation, but also having suppressed a surprising amount of inhibition. Did I seriously not object to this stranger unwrapping my lower body? What did he intend to do with me? And we're in public, too - with a dozen people within ten yards.

Before my beer-fuddled mind came to any conclusion, my shorts were down around my knees and my interloper's hands were massaging the cheeks of my ass as his accomplice continued to converse with me across the bar. He HAD to know what was going on, yet didn't let on at all. And the attention my backside was receiving DID feel good - I must have taken some impact there as I rolled, earlier. Deeper and deeper the massage went, fingers also moving a little lower as I adjusted my position to put more of my elbow weight on the wooden bar, allowing me to thrust my butt out a little more into the pleasurable manipulations of this stranger.

After too short a time, his hands left my butt for a moment as he adjusted himself in some way (I couldn't see, only hear), followed by him reaching under me with one, hooked finger to draw it along the length of my slit from front to back. He repeated this motion several times, never penetrating, just dragging his finger pad along the length of my cunt lips. Not at all an unpleasant sensation, as I felt my innards start to pool within my cunt. I wanted his finder in my hotness, I wanted him to push just a little harder upwards, part my lips and let my juices flow over his whole finger. But he made me wait, repeating those strokes over and over and over again until I was on the point of thrusting down just to achieve the touch I needed. My eyes were open but I wasn't really seeing anything. My mouth was moving but I wasn't really talking. Well, I'm sure there were sounds coming out, but I couldn't vouch for their coherence.

Finally! At last, one of my violator's strokes broke the seal on my lips and he pushed through, finding me awash with hot, greasy secretions. The slickness did indeed quickly spread down his finger, perhaps catching him by surprise, for he almost immediately stopped the motion just as I was willing him to push higher, penetrate my canal proper, give me the touch I so yearned for.

Instead, he shuffled slightly closer to me from behind, then withdrew his probing finger from my saturated furrow, dragging it lightly but firmly backward, over my taint, feeling for the start of the indentation indicating my rear hole. Once there, the upward pressure increased again and I gasped. My face must have been such a picture to his friend, across from me. I heard a camera click and assumed it was a cell phone - I didn't care - it was only my upper body and my face - and there was no flash, so how good could it possibly come out?

I tensed around the probing fingertip, then willed myself to relax as it pushed into my forbidden rear hole. This was so incredibly naughty, letting a stranger finger my asshole in public, even if it was pretty dark. I felt my vagina gush some more, with a force I was not quite familiar with - I'd NEVER felt that before. My clit throbbed for attention and I slowly pushed my beer bottle from my right hand to my left, then dropped my right hand down to visit my precious pearl.

At that very same moment, the fingertip inside my back passage pushed upward and quickly turned into a whole, slippery finger inside my back passage. I felt so full, so violated but also so GOOD as my own finger applied pressure to my clit, sending waves of pleasure outward and around and all the way back to my newly-filled rear. And I really did feel filled, with only one finger in a place unfamiliar to being filled from that direction - and certainly not by anyone else!

Had I been more "with it", I'm sure my cheeks would have been burning with shame at the heavenly delights I was feeling as my back door was plundered. This was simply something you weren't meant to let anybody do, never mind enjoy. I could feel my orgasm rising as I slicked my own finger with more of my juices and pressed around my bud in a circular motion.

Then suddenly, the finger was gone, removed with an almost silent 'plop'. Its owner reached his hand around my head and slowly drew The Finger across my upper lip, making sure I knew where it had been. Then, as I moaned quietly, he whispered "are you watching?", causing me bring his hand into focus as he reached out across the bar to his friend, who simply opened his mouth and sucked in the finger, making it very clear to me he was rolling his tongue around it, extracting all the flavor he could from its recent visit to my forbidden passage. I was mortified, I shuddered, I pressed harder on my own clit.

I was incredibly close to cumming. I didn't know if I should try to hold off in case my friends had anything else in mind, or should I just tip myself over? The feelings coursing through my body were delicious, tantalizing, warming. Should I take myself over the edge now, or let the intensity build further. I noticed the man across from me was staring me directly in the eye as he swirled his friend's intrusive finger in his mouth. I burned with embarrassment, but also a feeling of liberation. I could control these two, I knew I could.

Then my world changed again.

I felt something a lot larger than a finger poking between my butt cheeks. But it was largely dry, unlubricated. I tried to tip my pelvis to direct it more toward my wet cunt, but its owner had something else in mind. I heard him spit on what I imagined to be his hand, before he withdrew slightly and spread the saliva over the end of his cock. I slowed my rubbing rhythm, waiting for him to make his move.

He pushed forward and a little upward, steering the tip of his cock toward my recently-vacated rear entrance. More pressure. I felt it slide in just the right direction, homing-in on my tiny rear slit. I felt the tip pressing into me, I renewed my attentions to my clit. I knew I wasn't going to be able to take something the size of a cock back here, but I felt like there was no downside to trying. I bore down a bit, keeping my right middle finger active on my clit. I could feel the head of his cock pushing, trying to get through, stretching my tiny anal slit as much as it could. I could feel the stretching, but no real pain, just a mild discomfort back there.

I upped the pressure on my clit. I moved my finger faster across it, too. If I was to be able to take this guy's cock back there, I needed to be right at the very edge of orgasm, else I wouldn't be able to stand pushing hard enough. I started to rock my whole pelvis up and down a little, goading it, coaxing it to push my slit a little wider. I could feel the muscle ring expanding and contracting inside me. When expanded, it was nearly-but-not-quite enough to allow entry. I wanted entry, though, I really did.

The pressure on my anus was delicious and sexy and oh so naughty, but it just wasn't enough to let the head of his cock slip through. And then suddenly, I exploded. My clitoral ministrations in concert with the pressure on my asshole was enough to push me over the top. I came. And while cumming, I continued to bear down on his cockhead, but to no avail. It just wouldn't fit it. But my orgasm continued as I keened quietly and spasmed repeatedly. I really don't know how more people were unaware of the woman behind the bar, twitching with the strangest faces, the constant click-click-click of the one guy's cellphone the whole time I was cumming.

And then the guy behind me came, just as I was coming down from my own high. I felt him twitch and once more try to push inside me, but this time heard him groan as hot spurts made it into my tiny rear slit. And they kept coming - three, four, five, six spurts, each accompanied by enough pressure to open up my private hole just enough to let them in. This was also new territory for me and while not unpleasant, I wasn't quite sure what to do about these deposits - would they trickle out by themselves at any time, or would my muscle be strong enough to wait until an appropriate place and time to purge?

Once my rear-lover withdrew and backed-off a bit, I did a couple test squeezes and determined I could probably hold his private deposit for later. That was a relief. Seeing the fellow across the bar smiling at me, I dipped my right middle three fingers in my sodden cunt and scooped out as much moisture as I could, before offering my fingers across the bar for him to suck on. Which he gladly did, rolling his tongue between them and around them in the most lascivious manner until they were devoid of my lady juices.

At the conclusion of my finger-cleaning, I took the opportunity to pull my running shorts back up and take a swig from my now-warm beer. The guy behind me slapped my butt (!) one more time before offering thanks as he and his mate made their way back out to the street and, I suppose, home.