As the Hashers running group approached the marker indicating two miles to go, Jillian Fletcher abruptly picked up the pace and rapidly opened a gap. Tall and strikingly good looking, her bright red ponytail swished from side to side as she lengthened her stride. Jack opened his stride to match hers and pounded after her. The muscles of her sculpted back moved harmoniously under the tight harness of her purple-white splotched sports bra. The sunlight reflected off the sheen of sweat on her golden skin. On her left shoulder blade, there was a small tattoo of a Boston Marathon unicorn's head with "BQ 3:35" just below it. Jack's eyes were riveted on her perfectly rounded gluts, which swiveled sinuously under her knee-length tights – black with purple splotches. In spite of riveting his eyes on her ass the whole time, he could not make out a panty-line.
Her black-purple tights were thin and looked like they were painted on her. She ran with perfect form, and her smooth movements accentuated perfection of her musculature. Jack had a hard time preventing himself from getting a hard-on just watching her. He knew that if he ran in front of her with a view of her breasts and crotch, no amount of sobering thoughts could prevent arousal and tumescence.
The last half-mile sloped up and she increased her pace further. Jack was aware that he was breathing hard, but he kept focused on her fluidly moving butt and stayed with her. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that they had dropped everyone else far behind. A quarter mile to go – inhale-inhale, exhale, inhale-inhale, exhale – and he knew he could do it now. He relaxed and his legs turned over more smoothly. He could see the parking lot now. Over the last hundred yards, she opened up a sprint and he doggedly kept up. He did not try to beat her, but just followed her over the imaginary finish line where the trail met the tarmac of the parking lot.
They stopped and bent over, panting.
"Fifteen miles, and you still had it in you," she panted. "I pushed as hard as I could, I didn't have another ounce."
"Neither did I," said Jack, wiping sweat off his brow. "I was hanging on by a thread."
She smiled enigmatically, and was about to say something, when the first of the other runners sprinted into the finishing area. She continued smiling, but did not say anything. One by one, the other runners in their lead group on the training run raced into the parking lot. Soon everyone was stretching, chatting and discussing their long run.
Several of the runners came by to give Jack and Jill high fives.
"Jack and Jill, just like the nursery rhyme," said Phil Shoke, one of the vice-presidents of the running club. "Don't know how you two manage to pack such a sprint after fifteen miles!"
He was a handsome young man, an executive with a pharmaceutical company. Jack figured he was doing pretty well, judging by the fact that he drove a Porsche.
"Jill's always saving up a little something," said Jack. "And I just follow along, can't keep my eyes off her tight butt."
"Don't be a such a douchebag!" Jill said, her face flushing as red as her hair. But she could not keep the pleased look off her face and as Phil leaned over to take a drink from the water fountain, she shot Jack a quick smile.
"I stared at your ass for two hours, Jill," whispered Jack. "But I couldn't see a panty-line."
"Don't wear any," she whispered back, giggling.
"You two coming to The Friar?" Phil asked. It was a Friday evening and the day of the Hashers' annual social, but of course they had to do a run first.
"Wouldn't miss it," said Jill. "I'll see you there, guys."
She left to walk over to her car. Jack watched her towel off, especially as she slid up her sport bra and dried her tits. She did it so smoothly that she kept her tits covered the whole time. Then she climbed into the passenger seat of her car and Jack watched her take off her shoes and strip off her tights. The thought of her naked pussy just behind her car door got Jack half hard and he had to breathe hard to calm himself.
Fifteen minutes ticked by before the second group of runners began to straggle in. Trixie Ann Peters was among the last of the second group to come in. Jack went up to her and gave her a high five before she did her stretches.
Everyone in the Hashers running club thought that Jack and Trixie Ann were just good friends, which they were – in a way. What they did not know was that they were friends with benefits, and that both were cheating on their spouses. Jack had bred Trixie Ann and she had borne his son a few months previously. He had now bred her again and she was just over a month into another pregnancy. [See Her Fiancé's Father & Stallion-Brood Mare-Cuckold-Virgin.]
Jack and Trixie Ann toweled off and got into Jack's Jaguar. He drove to The Friar and they looked seats at the long high gathering table that was reserved for them. The faster group was already seated at the choice middle high seats and the only free ones were at the ends. Trixie Ann took the high seat by Jill and Jack stood by her at the very end, in a corner cubby. Phil Shoke sat across from Jill, separated by the considerable width of the high gathering table.
Most people had made a token attempt to change out of some of their running clothes. Trixie Ann had a mesh top over her sports bra. Jack had replaced his running singlet with a T-shirt. Jill had taken off her tights and running shoes – she now wore a short purple-white pleated skirt and high heels with ankle thongs. But she still had on her purple-white splotched sports bra. Her nipples hardened in the cool of the air conditioning and made clear knobs, revealing themselves to be both thick and long.
The men all ordered beers and most of the women ordered wine. Phil engaged Jack in a running-related conversation. He took it up with apparent interest, but he was really listening to the conversation Trixie Ann was having with Jill Fletcher.
Jill and Trixie Ann worked for the same software company. Jill was the CEO's secretary and executive assistant, while Trixie Ann had used Jack's help to become the company's top sales agent. Jill was as gossipy as she was beautiful and Jack had his ears peeled, soaking up everything that they said.
"So, Trixie Ann," said Jill, when the appetizers came along with the second round of drinks. "Now that I have you to myself, you've got to tell me what brought on your incredible makeover."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't play innocent with me, now. Just a year ago you were a frumpy drone of a sales agent, with a rounded ass and jiggling tits, lusted after by all the paunchy, balding middle-aged losers in the office. Always late with everything, never quite making your sales quota, always one step away from being fired. Just a year later and it's like you're a different person. You're selling more than the rest of the sales team combined, you're making more in commissions than I make all year – and I make a lot of money."
Trixie Ann colored, but did not reply. She took long sip of her juice – she had given up alcohol during her pregnancy.
"And look at you!" Jill went on. "Sleek and toned, super fit. You're looking great!"
"Not as great as you," said Trixie Ann. "Nowhere near as fit or fast. Or as good looking."
"Well, I'm a runner," admitted Jill. "I ran cross-country in college, I'm a jockette."
Jill took a sip of her chardonnay.
"You look happy too! And you had a baby boy just a few months ago. Your husband must be feeling his oats."
"He's OK," mumbled Trixie Ann. She dropped her voice to a whisper so she could not be heard across the table. "But you're one to talk. You're dating Phil Shoke. He's a real hunk! I heard that you're engaged, I see you're wearing a ring."
"Yes," said Jill, without elaboration.
She changed the subject, talking about work again. They were into their third glass and it was getting louder and more raucous. Fueled by the liquor, there was much more laughter and ribald humor.
"So your husband and you must have a pretty exciting sex life," said Jill, finally returning to personal issues. "Women's fertility drops off after thirty-five. No offense, but it must have taken a lot of fucking to get pregnant at your age. Aren't you almost forty?"
"I'm thirty-eight," said Trixie Ann defensively. "I had Judith when I was nineteen, when my husband, Alan and I were still in college."
"So does your husband like the mornings or the nights? A lot of mornings you come into the office, humming and looking like the cat that swallowed the cream. When I see you like that, I always say to myself, she looks like she's just had good sex."
Trixie Ann blushed, but then she giggled. She nodded at Phil across the table.
"I do come in happy," she said. "But what about you and Phil the fiancé? You're such a gorgeous thing I bet he can't keep his hands off you. I bet you two have sex like rabbits! You're not even thirty, are you?"
"Twenty-eight," said Jill. "And you're right, Phil wants to have sex with me every night and every morning."
"That sounds wonderful," said Trixie Ann. "But you don't sound too happy about it."
Jill glanced over at Phil. He was no longer talking to Jack, but to another man on his left that she did not know. She watched him for a few moments to make sure he was not listening. She leaned over to Trixie Ann and spoke in a low voice.
"Phil wants to fuck all the time, but he just wants to get off. He shoves his cock into me, pounds me three or four times really hard, and comes. Poof! That's it. Slam, bam thank you ma'am."
"At least he's hard and fast. Sounds better than my husband," muttered Trixie Ann.
"Do tell," said Jill, her voice becoming breathy.
"With Alan, I can never tell if he's in or not. His penis is so thin – I work on my Kegels all the time, but no matter how hard I squeeze, I can barely feel him in my pussy. He doesn't last very long either, never more than thirty seconds."
"If that is all it takes to get you smiling and humming all day long, you're easily satisfied."
Trixie Ann knew that she should stop here, but she was desperate to tell someone about her exciting new life. She leaned over even closer and spoke into Jill's ear. Jack had to strain to hear her over the buzz of background noise.
"I'm having an affair! With a man that really knows how to drive a woman wild. My husband often goes out early to the job center or for interviews. Whenever Alan is out, he fucks the bejesus out of me before I leave for work."
"Tell me everything," said Jill, her eyes bright.
"He goes down on me and then he fucks me at least twice. Missionary, doggie style, cowboy, reverse cowboy, we're done them all. He makes me cum so many times that I don't bother to count; I just let GO!"
"My God, Trixie Ann! You're not making this up, are you?"
Trixie Ann smiled a lazy smile.
"Whenever we have a morning tryst, I'm lightheaded all morning."
"Did he breed you?"
"Yes," said Trixie Ann nodding. "And he bred me again last month. I'm pregnant, just over a month in. That's why I'm drinking juice."
Jill took a sharp breath.
"Who is he? Do I know him?"
