Athletic Surprise

I recently wrote a story called "The Surprise" - a non-consensual story with a twist. I deliberately picked a vague title, and so I will try to write a different tale under each of Literotica's twenty-five writing categories with the same inspiration over the next year. This is Number Five.

It all started during CoVID.

As we neared the end of the second lockdown, my fiancée and I had "the talk." With both of us working from home and cooped indoors, our relationship suffered. We had no escape from each other, and the endless sniping and arguments had worn us down. She also alleged that I had "let myself go," which was not an unfair thing to say. A lack of exercise and too much time lounging at home had increased my consumption of alcohol and snacks, and I had gained several kilograms. My clothes were too tight; I needed to sort myself out.

So, she moved out, and I became a 29-year-old, with a decent job, mortgaged house, but no partner. At Christmas, I joined the gym for the first time. My festive gift to me was two sets of exercise gear, and I went religiously three times a week. I used the stationary bikes for an hour, followed by the weights, increasing the resistance and the load as the months wore on.

Within a year, my new regimen had brought my BMI to a healthy number and the beer belly was a distant and unwelcome memory. But I wanted something a little different, and my friend suggested I look for the "couch to 5k" programme to introduce people to running. I hated cross-country at school, and my first attempt on the treadmill at the gym left me exhausted after a couple of minutes. I could cycle for an hour at 30kph, but I couldn't run at a "slow-to-moderate" pace for a fraction of the time.

However, slowly the "couch to 5k" programme worked. By the end of February, I could jog three kilometres, and that became five kilometres by the second week of March.

Every weekend, the local athletics club organised a 5km event in the park. I treated myself to some outdoor running gear and attended, completing the course in just over 32 minutes. I was in the bottom quarter of attendees, but the friendly reception I received from the organisers and other runners ensured I came back the following week.

By my fourth event, I completed the course in under 30 minutes, and by my tenth, I completed it in under 28. My times continued to improve, and I edged towards the rump of "decent" runners in the sub-26 minute category. I bought more jogging clothes as I ran during the week too, eschewing the treadmills for the footpaths and trails near my house.

It was during my fifteenth event that I noticed her. I kept her pace, staying just behind the beautiful woman. A slate gray sports bra-style top with tight, short pewter and neon shorts and wonderfully toned thighs. The excellent view of the sexy runner's tight buttocks ensured I maintained my speed, despite my lungs burning and my legs screaming in agony.

She sped up on the final ascent, as we reached the 5,000 metre mark; I nearly collapsed when I crossed the finish line, gasping as I took lungfuls of air and received my time from the officials.

"Personal Best?" She asked in a friendly, local accent. I could barely speak. I nodded, taking a moment to admire her innocent expression in her beautiful blue eyes. She wiped the stray fair hair from her face, retying it with a bobble as she smiled. "Well done. PB's are always good. I didn't push myself today really as I have a marathon tomorrow," she said.

We chatted in the coffee shop adjacent to the finish line, where most of the runners enjoyed a post-run drink. Sophia - a keen runner - introduced herself and had a personal best eight minutes quicker than me.

From that week, we conversed in the cafe after every run; she always finished just ahead of me, treating the 5,000 metres run around the park as a training jog. Every week, I was at the edge of my limits, hacking away at my personal best time. At any time, Sophia could have jogged into the distance, but she never did, and stayed to bark encouragement at me as we neared the finishing line.

She confessed over coffee that she had been on a disastrous date that week, and we discussed our mutual dislike of the online dating apps. My most recent matchmaking experience had been equally chaotic; it was another thing we had in common.

But really, Sophia ran marathons and half-marathons. She treated the jog around the park as a warm-up, whereas it was the pinnacle of my abilities and as autumn descended upon us, we had a chance encounter outside of our weekly exercise. We both arranged dates for the same day at the same restaurant. Coincidence.

"How's your evening?" She asked clandestinely as I returned from the toilet, passing her in the corridor leading to the facilities.

"Dreadful," I replied. "She's anti-everything. I've just had a fifteen minute monologue on how vaccines inject satanic thoughts into your brain. Or something."

She tittered, drunkenly swaying. "He's given me a lecture on how women biologically belong in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant."

"You'd still run a faster time than me barefoot and pregnant," I joked.

She giggled. "Your personal best is twenty-five, twenty-two. Yes?"

"Yes. Three weeks ago."

"If you beat twenty-five, I'll give you a blowjob after the coffee," she slurred, cheekily smiling as she pushed open the door to the ladies' toilets. I didn't focus on my date when I returned to the table, and Sophia entered my masturbatory fantasies for the first time when I arrived home; I thought of little else all week.

Cute button nose, fair hair, athletic body. And those wonderful, cheeky, innocent blue eyes. Her small tattoo on her left wrist of the Mancunian bee, and her tight, magnificent running clothes. Everything the Mathematics teacher did and looked like was perfection.

I arrived at the start line fifteen minutes early. I stretched my muscles and warmed up before I took my position near the head of the assembling group. I knew those behind me would overtake, but I didn't want to be held up on my run by anyone slower than me.

Sophia saw me, dressed in her skimpiest, tightest running clothes. Not obscene, just noticeable. We said nothing about her wager, but when the official started the event, I used my watch to maintain the correct pace. First kilometre at 4:50. Second kilometre at 4:55. Third kilometre at 4:58. My muscles screamed as I hit the first of two inclines, trying to preserve my steady pace. Sophia easily kept with me, but 5:12 was a poor fourth sector, and I needed to speed up.

But I had no energy. The thought of Sophia's lips around my stiff cock gave me a lift, but my muscles had nothing. Every part of me burned with pain. I drove forwards, barely able to look at my fitness watch, ignoring the fires in my legs. I approached the finish line, straining with every sinew in my body, racing towards my goal.

I overtook Sophia as I sprinted; my lungs screamed with agony as I stumbled past the timekeepers. And collapsed on the earth.

24:59.

Bent double, gasping for oxygen. I felt my legs wobble and her hand touch the small of my back. "That was some run," she said. "Well done." We cheered a few finishers home, and then meandered to the on-site cafe for our usual drink. She bought the coffees and sat opposite, drinking our refreshment. "I guess you want that treat I promised."

I gulped. My heart raced as she smiled; was she serious? She took my hand and led me to the disabled toilet, out of sight of the main cafe. Nervous and excited, she closed the door behind her and knelt on the tiled floor, looking up at me. "Ready?" She asked, sliding my running shorts and underwear to my ankles.

My cock bobbed free. She took my shaft in her hand and slowly stroked it. The circumstance as much as her act caused me to groan. In a public place, this sexy athlete toyed with my prick. She smiled, leaned forward, and took the head of my dick in her mouth. I gasped as she sucked, sliding her lips up and down my cock; her tongue swirled against my glans, drawing me closer to my peak.

"You close?" She whispered. I nodded, and her hand pumped my dick faster and faster. I held onto the rail on the wall, approaching my climax.

"Very," I squealed.

She smiled, pointing my prick at her cleavage. "Cum for me," she said. "Cover me."

I grunted as the first jet of semen landed on her throat and then another. Wave after wave of pleasure surged through my body as I splattered my seed over her sports top. "You're amazing," I muttered as she pulled my underwear and shorts to cover my leaking cock.

"You too," she said, smearing my cum over her skin, and wiping her dirty hands on her clothing. We shared a kiss, and she replied. "Let's go before we are caught." We hurriedly left, and went our separate ways, with her taking the trail along the river with her cum-splattered running gear.

I didn't have a number for her, but counted down the days to the next event. She arrived in a tight-fitting black sports top and abbreviated shorts, displaying her toned torso and smooth legs. Sophia flashed a smile as we stretched. "Good week?" She asked.

"Yeah, not bad. You?"

"Good enough." She leaned into whisper as the event director gave her safety briefing. "Beat your personal best and we can do a repeat of last week."

My cock fluttered. "24:59 nearly killed me."

"Are you saying my incentive is not good enough?" She asked, giggling. "Is it not worth dying for?"

It was. I had to better 24:59. The wonderful touch and mouth of the sexy jogger was compounded by the naughtiness of engaging in a public place. It was also the first blowjob I'd received since a very slutty Tinder hookup at the turn of the year, and Sophia was the sexiest woman I'd played with in my life.

Pacing was the key. I could run the quarter of the course in record time and would have nothing left for the final three. Sophia could maintain my pace with a light jog as I spluttered and panted my way around the course. At the 4,000 metre mark, I was slower than the previous week.

My memories of her wonderful lips and sensuous mouth drove me forwards. I had to have that again. I increased my pace, ignoring the exhaustion in my muscles or the agony in my lungs. Like Philippides charging to Athens, knowing that the lives of the Athenians were under threat, I ran for a single purpose as I strived towards my finish. My motivations were less noble, but just as powerful as my legs carried me towards the end. Gasping, I threw myself past the timekeepers, exhausted and spent, collapsing on the floor.

24:57.

Sophia chuckled and once more, after the coffee, we snuck into the oversized disabled toilets and the athletic beauty sunk to her knees, taking my stiffening prick between her lips and drawing gasps of pleasure from my sensitive shaft.

She jerked the base of my dick as her talented mouth brought me to orgasm and I climaxed over her dark top and chest, spraying her with my cum. "That's so wonderful," I muttered. We kissed briefly and hurriedly left the cafe. My running partner publicly exhibiting the stains as she jogged along the river bank to her home.

The following weeks, I hit 24:56 and then 24:55. Each week, taking a second from my personal best and splattering my friend with the contents of my balls as a reward. I joked she should be a personal trainer, with her motivational strategy, but the secondary school teacher just chuckled at my teasing.

As we reached winter, a storm and torrential downpour caused the event to be postponed; the course was too muddy, and it was too unsafe for the 300 runners. Sophia sent me a text the day before, asking me to meet her at a car park in a wood, a few kilometres outside the town. The picnic area was popular in the spring and the summer when the small woodland had a carpet of bluebells, but on a cold, wet November, it was deserted.

"The loop around the wood is two and a half kilometres," Sophia explained. "So two laps. And it's not that flooded as we're on top of a hill. Just a big puddle at the end."

"OK," I muttered. "But I can't compare my times from our usual run to this. The terrain is different."

"You'll still get your reward," she replied, grinning. She stretched her calf, watching me as I ogled her in her summer running gear. "Or maybe more."

"You must be cold."

"No, I jogged here."

"I can take you home," I offered, gesturing towards the only vehicle in the car park. The fitness addict shrugged. The route was a lot more pleasant than our usual running event. We jogged past the picnic benches with spectacular views over the town, but the undulating route was awash with wildlife and woodland animals. We approached the end of the loop and had to run through a twelve-inch deep puddle in a dip. Sophia laughed as I splashed her, sending dirt into the air as my right foot landed in the water.

My lungs burnt as we finished the second lap. Sophia had mud over her bare legs, and my running tights were similarly coated. But alone, at the finish point, we kissed. My hands squeezed her peachy butt, and she mewed.

"You're so fucking sexy," I told her, panting. She smiled at me, grabbed my wrist, and led me to the picnic tables overlooking the valley beneath. She sat on the edge of the table, looking into my eyes and meeting my gaze.

"How fucking sexy?"

"Very," I muttered, biting my lip.

"I always get excited after a run," she admitted, lying back on the damp picnic table. "Fuck me!" I'd never wanted to do anything more in my life; my hands pulled her shorts to her ankles, pulling them over her mud-caked shoes. Satiny smooth and neatly tucked, my finger swept along her slit as she parted her legs. I bent to kiss her cleft, and her palm tapped me on the head. "No, just take me."

"I don't have a condom."

"I don't care," she snapped. "Fuck me! I'm horny." My cock strained in my running tights; I lined my erect prick against her opening, pressing the glans so it poked into her.

She smiled at me, watching my expression as I slipped fully inside of her.

Bare, skin-to-skin sex, in a public place. It felt so dirty, but such a beautiful, sensual moment. A squirrel ran across the woodland floor as I buried my dick into the lithe, athletic jogger. "Faster!" She snapped, barking at me as my hands gripped her thighs for leverage, pounding my prick into her warm, welcoming cunt.

She bucked her hips to my cadence; her muddy shoes wrapped around my T-shirt as we fucked. I panted as I hammered into her. My chest pounded with the exertion of the run and of the frenetic sex. The cool, November wind couldn't dampen our lust as I felt nothing but the amazing warmth of her pussy riding my dick.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the dirty picnic table as she groaned, squealing with each thrust into her. "Come in me," she begged, sensing how close I was.

Her thighs met my every stroke. Her muscles released in perfect harmony to my rhythm as I chased my climax. The soundtrack of nature mingled with our ragged breaths, lustful squeals and the wet, slapping sounds of our bodies.

"Come inside you?" I asked, hammering into her and approaching my orgasm. "I'm ..."

"Oh fuck yes!" she squealed, arching her back as my cock twitched. Her hand went to her clit, rubbing it intensely as my dick spasmed, spewing cum into her pussy.

Her body shook as she felt my climax inside her, and she gasped, squeezing my cock with her muscles. Her thighs trembled, and she cried, shaking as she frigged herself to orgasm, thrashing her legs as her body convulsed.

She lay panting, savouring the aftershocks of her peak. When I withdrew my prick, a slither of cum leaked from her cunt, and she looked away from me, reaching for her shorts. In the commotion, they had fallen from the bench into a puddle, and I passed them to her, apologetically.

Sophia smiled as she ran her finger over her leaking slit. "Hmmmm," she muttered and looked at my gaze. "I like to get dirty in every way," she said, sitting on the table and putting her wet shorts over her ankles, over her mud-splattered legs.

"Can we go for dinner?"

"I'm not dressed for the pub," she joked. "I don't think they'd let me in!"

"Tomorrow," I asked. "Or any day in the week?"

She accepted, and I took the Mathematics teacher out for a meal. We started dating that week and settled into a routine: we ate out on Tuesday evenings, and went for muddy runs on Wednesday and Sunday, as well as our 5km race event. I no longer needed to break my personal best to get a blowjob as long as I plastered my new girlfriend with my cum. She loved being dirty and messy after her exercise. It was her "kink."

At the start line of the first event after Christmas, and after we had returned from visiting our families, Sophia patted the small of my back as I stretched my muscles. She looked worried and met my gaze. "You know when you said that I would run faster than you barefoot and pregnant?" She said, with an uncertain look on her face.

"That was ages ago!

"Well, we'll find out soon." She paused. "I'm pregnant."

My heart skipped a beat. Had I misheard? I couldn't breathe, and I hadn't run a metre. A million questions and thoughts ran through my mind and I stared at her, barely able to process what she had revealed.

"I ... I don't know what to say."

"I promise you I didn't plan it. You know when I was ill after we went to the Dog & Duck. I thought it was food poisoning. Well, I guess I threw up the pill!" She grimaced. "I was due on at Christmas and did a test a few days ago, but I couldn't tell you over the phone. You had to hear it from me. And it's early days, so there's a lot that can happen. I just wanted you to know and I ... well ... I know it will change things. So, I don't blame you if ... y'know."

The whistle from the event director was the cue for the crowd, and dozens moved around us. Sophia turned and started running. "Wait!" I called, and she stopped, allowing everyone to pass her.

"You won't get a personal best if you don't run," she remarked, but she didn't finish her sentence as my lips touched her lips, kissing her as my hands wrapped around her body.

"I think I've already snagged my PB," I whispered when our kiss broke. "She's right here. Let's go for a coffee and talk."

"After your run," she demanded, and backed away from me. "I need to keep the father of my child healthy."