Couch to Nine Inches

"You know what," said Olivia. "I think I'll go for a run."

"You will?" her husband Mark replied with a wince.

She rolled her eyes. He was really milking this whole vasectomy thing. The doctor had said he should be good to go within a week. Well, it was now a week later, and her husband was still claiming he was out of action. She'd never thought of herself as someone with a particularly high libido, but without a sexual outlet, she was finding herself with a surprising abundance of sexual energy. Hence the run idea.

"Yep." She already had all the necessary gear, having a number of times in the past started the Couch to 5K programme in a bid to lose a bit of weight. She had never finished it, however, always losing motivation as soon as she was happy with how her body looked. Of course that inevitably resulted in her slowly gaining weight again, at which point the cycle would start anew.

"Think you'll stick with it this time?" Mark asked.

"What's that supposed to mean? You don't think I can do it?"

"That's not what I said. But maybe that is what I think." He was having fun prodding at her competitive spirit. "You get bored as soon as you see some results."

"Maybe I will. But if you're not able to tire me out, I need another outlet until you are." With the kids occupying themselves, she set off towards the bedroom. Her husband followed.

Mark watched her arse in appreciation as she struggled to pull some tight leggings over her bountiful butt. That accomplished, she packed her generous tits into a sports bra and threw on a t-shirt over the top. The transformation into running mode was almost accomplished. All that remained was getting her hair out of the way. As she put her blonde hair up in a high ponytail, a rare look for her that he particularly enjoyed, he wanted nothing more than to throw her onto the bed.

Unfortunately, his pride and joy was still a little too tender for that business. It had been Liv's idea for him to get the snip. They'd decided to stop at two kids, finding them more than enough of a handful to be getting on with. For a few years, they'd accomplished that by making sure to wear a condom. But with their incomes being squeezed of late, Olivia had identified condoms as a luxury they could ill afford. So they'd opted for a more permanent solution. Mark was perfectly happy to go through with it, but the economic argument meant much less to him than finally being able to fuck his wife raw again.

"So let me get this straight. You're horny, but instead of just masturbating like a normal person, you're going out on a run?"

"Yep." She had never put much stock in masturbation. For her, sexual activity was always a two person pursuit.

Mark went silent for a moment. "You sure you're not just on the hunt for a handsome runner you can pull into the undergrowth and have your wicked way with?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes. This wasn't the first time he had made jokes about her sleeping with other men since he'd had the operation. She put it down to embarrassment about him not currently being able to perform.

"Or maybe you're hoping they'll be the ones pulling you into the undergrowth?" he continued. "I'm not sure I'd be able to resist with you looking like that"

"You're crazy if you think anybody would give me a second glance. Anyway, I think your mouth is writing cheques your cock can't cash," she laughed.

He ignored the second half of her jibe. "I'm not crazy. I guarantee you'll be having an effect on any man you run by."

"An effect?"

"Just take a look at their shorts."

She threw a pillow at him for that gross image. "Shut up and go make sure the kids haven't injured themselves."

***

Olivia was pounding the pavement. It wasn't as difficult to get back into the swing of things as she expected. She considered herself a reasonably healthy and active person, after all. Sure, she didn't do a whole lot of organised exercise, but she always seemed to be on the move doing errands, and her diet was OK-ish. She'd never wanted to be a stick-thin supermodel type anyway. As far as she was concerned, all women looked better with a bit of meat on their bones.

Regardless, this time she wasn't running to lose weight, or even to improve her fitness. She simply wanted a distraction from the sexual energy that had been building up in her this past week.

She was annoyed how her husband had planted the idea of staring at men's crotches in her head. Especially when the whole point of this run was to take her mind off that kind of thing. Now, like an intrusive thought, she couldn't help but stare when a man ran past her.

Olivia just hoped she wasn't being too obvious. She had definitely seen a few impressive outlines through running shorts. But that didn't mean they were into her. Maybe they'd passed a more attractive woman ahead of her. Perhaps the ones she'd seen could just be naturally big even when they weren't hard. Or maybe the act of running simply swung blood into a man's dick. Who knew? It wasn't like she was a penis expert.

Indeed, with them having been together from their school days, her husband's specimen was the only one she'd seen in person. She knew from chatting to girlfriends that Mark's penis could at the very most be described as average, being around five inches and not particularly thick. Not that she was complaining; it did the job for her.

She had set off without any concrete idea of her route, instead just following her legs wherever they were taking her. For a while she managed to convince herself that she was making good time. That was until a man blew past her out of nowhere. From the brief glimpse she got of him before he disappeared into the distance, he looked around the same age as her--a fact which made the discrepancy all the more embarrassing. Oh well, at least she now had a benchmark to compare herself to.

She also couldn't help but notice that he was black. Usually, that fact wouldn't even have registered with her, even though they lived in a pretty rural, sleepy, and mostly white part of England. But in her current mindstate, her immediate thought was how black guys are supposedly meant to have big cocks. If only she could have caught a glimpse of what he was packing to confirm whether that was true...

She shook her head. God, Olivia, stop thinking about penises!

***

The rest of the run went off without a hitch. She felt full of energy, strong and capable. It was almost a disappointment when she made it back to her front door. She said hi to the kids then went upstairs.

"How did it go?" her husband enquired, poking his head through the bedroom door.

"Good! I feel like it was easier than it's ever been before," she said, stripping off to get in the shower. She noticed that her husband was still looking at her expectedly.

"And?"

"And what?" she replied.

He looked around to make sure the kids weren't in earshot. "And did you make anyone hard?"

"Can you stop being ridiculous for just one second?" she asked pointedly. Unfortunately for her, her blushing face gave away the truth.

"Were they bigger than me?"

"Don't be gross."

"I'm serious!"

"Do you really want to know the answer to that question?" she warned him.

He nodded eagerly. What was wrong with him? Had the surgery accidentally severed some nerve connecting his brain and his balls and sent him doolally?

"Yes they were bigger than yours."

"What, all of them?"

"How do you know I checked out more than one?"

He just stared at her in response. She could see from his eager expression that he wouldn't be offended if she admitted the truth.

"Yes, all of them," she sighed.

She couldn't pretend to understand the male psyche, but it was obvious he was enjoying something about this conversation so she decided to throw him a bone.

"Well, one guy overtook me so I dunno about him. But he was black, so I'm guessing..."

Her husband looked flushed. He was about to say something when one of their kids shouted out to them and started running up the stairs.

"You'd better deal with that," she told him. "I'm having a shower."

***

The next morning she woke up especially horny. She was really hoping that today could be the day her husband was finally ready to jump her. So much so that she poked him awake.

Mark woke up in a daze, and was met with his wife's best bedroom eyes. Her hopes, however, were immediately dashed by a wince he gave her. She lay back on the pillow grumpily.

"Sorry babe," he told her.

"It's fine," she sighed.

"You really will have to tap up one of your big-dicked runner buddies at this rate."

She'd been waiting for him to bring this back up again.

"What is it with you and other men's penises at the moment?" she asked, turning on him.

He answered her with a question of her own. "It's just... what if we can't ever have sex again?"

She rolled her eyes. "Jeez, stop being such a drama king. It's a routine surgery, you'll be back to fucking me in no time."

"I know, I know. Just, hypothetically. What would you do?"

She paused. She really couldn't understand why he was pursuing this line of questioning. "Well, I assume in this scenario your tongue is still working?"

"You always say I have a small tongue!"

It was true. He did have a small tongue which struggled to reach anywhere useful. Meaning that having her pussy licked could only ever be foreplay. But what the hell did he want her to say? That she'd have to fuck someone else? She threw up her hands in annoyance.

"All I'm saying is that if I was out of action, permanently, I wouldn't mind you, you know, sampling a bigger dick."

She narrowed her eyes. A frisson of excitement ran through her, unbidden, which she tried to avoid examining in too much detail. "Why does it have to be bigger? Surely the same size would do?"

"Well you might as well take the opportunity for an upgrade," he laughed.

She couldn't believe they were talking about this, even if it was hypothetical. If he was trying to make some kind of point, she wasn't getting it. "Great, thanks. I'll bear it in mind," she said sarcastically. "Now can we please get out of bed?"

***

Technically, it was meant to be a rest day. But she was so amped up from their conversation that morning that she felt she didn't need it. So there she was, back out running.

Her mind wandered back to the discussion she'd had with her husband. What if something really had gone wrong with the surgery, and her husband would never be able to fuck her again? Would he really want her to sleep with someone else? Would she want to?

She realised with horror that a small, but by no means insignificant, part of her wanted that eventuality to come true. What she didn't yet understand was why. The novelty of another man? The fact it would just be so out of character for her? Or did she want to experience what a bigger dick would feel like? She was reluctant to examine these new urges too closely. Instead, she used her nervous energy to speed up.

She had been so distracted by her thoughts that she hadn't noticed the runner approaching, the same one who had sped past her yesterday. Instead of appearing behind her, this time he was running in the opposite direction.

When she noticed him, they were practically passing already. In the circumstances, there was only time to either look at his face or his crotch. She chose the latter. But what was meant to be a quick glance turned into a stare. Oh, he fit the black guy stereotype alright. She could see it, bouncing about in there, making its presence known by tenting the fabric of his shorts into different shapes.

And then he was gone, breezing past her effortlessly, leaving her feeling oddly demotivated. She couldn't quite place her finger on why. If she was honest with herself, for whatever reason, she had developed a bit of a crush on him.

And because of that, she wanted to impress him. It was ridiculous to compare herself to an obviously very fit black man, but her competitive side did at least wish she could put in a better showing for herself.

As it was, he probably hadn't even noticed her. And if he had, he would have just dismissed her as a slow, puffing white woman. Or a pervert, if her looking at his crotch hadn't been as surreptitious as she intended. She groaned. Pull yourself together Liv.

***

A few days later Olivia and Mark had the house to themselves, their kids being looked after by grandparents. The plan was to go out and do something together, but first she wanted to get a run in. After getting dressed in her running gear, she walked into the living room and was stunned to see her husband sitting on the sofa, his dick in one hand and his phone in the other.

"Oh my God," she shouted, "are you kidding me?"

Mark practically jumped out of his skin. He'd got a little too wrapped up in his porn and hadn't heard her coming in.

"I'm here waiting desperately for your dick to work again," Olivia continued, "and you're here wanking it to porn!"

"N-no, it's not what you think. I just wanted to check if everything was, you know, working."

"Really?" Olivia softened slightly. She supposed that made sense. "And is it?"

"Seems that way," said Mark sheepishly. He rose from the sofa, taking a few steps towards her. It was clear from his eyes what he wanted.

Part of her wanted to jump his bones right there and then. But she was still pissed at him.

"Nuh-uh, run first," she insisted. "And I'll be confiscating that until I'm back," she said, reaching out and taking his phone. "Don't want you unable to keep it up because you've been watching too much porn."

"Fine, fine. But why are you so eager to run right now anyway?"

She wasn't about to tell him it was because this was the time of day she'd previously encountered the mystery runner and she rather hoped she'd run into him again.

"Because I like running," she said simply, grabbing her ear buds off the shelf.

***

The weather was terrible, pouring rain leaving the trail a mess of mud. She'd need something good to listen to to help motivate her. She opened up her husband's phone to pair with her ear buds (naturally she knew his password), and was about to navigate to her usual mainstay of true crime podcasts when she realised he hadn't managed to close the website she had found him on.

"Hotwife fucks hung black stranger behind oblivious husband's back". That's what he had been watching. Her stomach lurched. Seriously? Did he actually want her to fuck another man? All the pieces fit. The black guy she had told her husband about. Him, the oblivious husband. Which left her as the "hotwife", whatever that was.

Her heart was beating fast. She didn't know what was coming over her, but she decided that this seemed as good a thing to listen to as any right now. She pressed play on the video and shoved the phone into her armband, making sure the screen was facing inwards so no one would know what filth she was listening to.

As it played, she couldn't help but giggle at the cheesy American porn acting she was listening to. The scenario was that the wife was home alone, and had invited their pool boy in for a drink. Olivia was so wrapped up in trying to understand what she was hearing that she forgot she was watching porn, something that she had always previously insisted was beneath her.

It's just learning material, she told herself, to help understand her husband. But as the video kept playing, Olivia was finding it harder and harder to claim that her interest was merely scholarly.

"Oh my god, look how big it is! Once this is done stretching me out, I'm not sure I'll even be able to feel my husband's little thing any more..."

Jesus. Why was her husband fantasising about this kind of thing? Because he was embarrassed about the size of his penis? And he thought having sex with a better endowed man would make up for it in some way?

She scoffed. Would sex with someone with a big dick even really be that different? Knowing that her husband was not exactly packing, she had always subscribed to the notion that it was all about the motion of the ocean, that how you used it was the more important factor than its size. But was that really true?

"Fuck, this big black cock is amazing. If I blow my husband, he's cumming in seconds. Then he can't even get that little white dick hard enough again to fuck me." Her words were punctuated with the sloppy sounds of the blowjob. "But I know this dick can take it. That's why you deserve a blowjob and he doesn't."

Olivia couldn't deny that she was finding this taboo scene oddly compelling. She couldn't help but imagine herself in the place of the woman in her ears. And there were no prizes for guessing whose black dick she was imagining herself sucking. Would he like her to say all those humiliating things about her husband to him? Would she?

"I need it. I need your big black cock in my tight white cunt. A-aah... Slowly, slowly..."

Olivia imagined how the moment of first penetration would be. Surely it would hurt? But she could also envisage how good the stretching would potentially feel--at least once the pain had worn off. A pang of jealousy flashed through her.

Then a figure came into view ahead of her. It was him, running towards her again. He hadn't surprised her this time, and she had an opportunity to study him for once. He seemed handsome, from a distance at least. The sounds of sex were pounding in her ears. Her eyes dropped once again to his crotch.

Then, her foot plunged into a deceptively deep puddle, twisting her ankle. She plunged face-first into a morass of muddy water.

She hoped he wouldn't notice her. That he'd leave her to face her humiliation alone. No such luck.

"Are you alright there?" said a voice.

"Yeah I'm fine, I just wasn't looking where I was going," she insisted, waving off his offered hand of assistance.

As she scrambled to her feet, however, it became obvious she wasn't fine. She couldn't put any weight on her left ankle. She tried again just to make sure and lost her balance. Luckily, the stranger was on hand to catch her.

"Let's get out of the rain, assess the damage, yeah?" he said, taking control of the situation.

She acquiesced, allowing him to prop her up and lead her to the edge of the path. Even under the relatively thicker tree covering, the rain was still coming down in buckets.

They both spotted it at the same time. A crude shelter made from branches and logs and leaves, likely built by kids. It was pretty small, but it seemed like it would just about fit the two of them.

They would have to crawl to get in. Fortunately, that was a range of motion still available to her. He beckoned her to go first and lowered her down onto her hands and knees. She couldn't help but wonder if he was enjoying the view as he followed her in.

Much to her relief, the inside of the shelter was mostly dry, apart from the odd drips. She shuffled over to one corner and stuck her injured ankle out in front of her while he assumed a crouching position over it.

For the first time, she was able to study his face. He was perhaps 30 years old, handsome, with a short fade. He reached out a hand to her ankle. As he made contact, she couldn't help but shiver. She hoped he didn't notice.

He moved it from side to side. Already a bruise was developing.

"Doesn't look broken," he told her. "Think you've just got a sprain."

"Well, that's a relief. But how do you know? Are you a doctor?"

"Ha, I wish. I've just seen a few sprained ankles in my time. But for you I could be."

Her brain ran through all the ways she could interpret that. Surely he wasn't flirting with her? He looked like the kind of man who could get any woman he wanted.

"Oh my god," she said, changing the subject. She was looking at her clothes. Even with the rain trying its best to wash her, her running gear was covered in mud. "I'm filthy."