Runners' High

Phil focused on his breathing and the reliable "thud, thud, thud" of his shoes on the tarmac. He welcomed the whip of the wind on his cheeks, keeping him cool. With a flash of blonde, Amy pulled ahead of him slightly, ponytail swinging. He let her take the lead a while.

Phil was tall and lean, perfectly built for running and far faster than Amy but he liked to let her overtake him from time to time for a number of reasons.

For the most part it was genuine encouragement. He was quietly proud of her. Amy had had a tough childhood. The two had met in school as teenagers, and had grown apart as they matured at different rates. After a chance encounter on a bus one night, they had entered a race together and had been running partners for the past two years. She had made a striking recovery from an eating disorder and when he looked at her now, struggling but always determined, she seemed worlds away from the pallid waif, reeking of vomit, that he had known in his youth. She had grown strong, her skin was bright and tanned. Her hair and nails were no longer brittle and dull and behind her eyes there was now a spark of determination. He wanted her to feel good, because she deserved to. He didn't mind the view from behind her, either.

He was attracted to her, naturally. She was a very striking girl and there was no avoiding it. However, he was content to let it be. She was his partner first and foremost, and although he might have been faster alone, he doubted he would have gone out so regularly at all without her holding him accountable. it would be a shame to risk something so symbiotic.

He was content to simply watch her, even as she sweated and spat into the hedge, and to listen to her laboured breaths on uphill stretches with a little imagination. Somehow the indignity of exercise is intimate, especially when shared. She drew him to her, even at her least beautiful.

They alternated routes, sometimes finishing at her house, sometimes at his, and took turns providing water and rest. Today, it was Phil's turn. They rounded the corner onto his road and he overtook her for the final stretch. She sped up to match him but he reached the door first. She burst into the porch behind him, kicking her shoes off and bending over, panting with exertion. Her cheeks glowed and a strand of hair clung to her forehead with glistening sweat. She caught her breath and smiled at him. Her smile was warm and wide, and made her eyes wrinkle kindly. He passed her one of the prepared water bottles from the fridge and they threw themselves down at the kitchen table, stretching their tired limbs.

Neither of them spoke for a while, but silently gulped down their water and got their breath back.

She smiled at him again and eventually said "I think I pushed a little too far at the end. I'm exhausted!"

"Me too," he only half lied. He was pretty tired, after all.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, breathing steadily.

Phil took the first shower, threw on an old t-shirt and some shorts and tossed a towel at Amy on his way to the fridge. She disappeared into the bathroom and as Phil sat cradling a protein shake he let his mind wander to how she must look, water flowing down her naked back and collecting in drops on her capped shoulders. He pictured racing drops down her tummy, like he had as a child on the car windows on long trips. He imagined collecting the winner with his tongue, and tracing the contours of her abdomen down - at this point he had to pause to conceal his erection.

She stepped out, wrapped in a towel, her hair wet on her shoulders. She had left her rucksack in the hall with her fresh clothes, but she didn't seem phased by his seeing her like this. After all, hadn't they grown up together? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as she raided his fridge and he eyed her up and down while her back was turned. Her forearms and upper back were covered in downy-soft, golden hair from when her body couldn't keep itself warm. It was prominent now, with the sudden cold air on her wet skin raising goosebumps. He quietly admired how it formed a sort of halo in the light. The instinct to rest his cheek on the back of her neck was overwhelming.

She turned around and caught him looking. For a moment she looked startled, then she cracked a smile and her cheeks flushed rosy. She shut the fridge door and crossed the room to stand in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't think of anything, so he just stared stupidly.

"Phil Madison, what ARE you staring at?" she giggled, her beaming smile was now a shy smirk. At least she didn't seem angry, or upset.

"I just.." he began, and trailed off as her gaze landed on the tent in his shorts. Her eyes widened, then narrowed and met his once again. She placed a hand under his chin, tilting his head up towards her and ran her thumb slowly along his bottom lip. Hunger burned in his eyes and he stood up abruptly, pulling her in for a kiss.

Their lips met once, softly, and pulled apart, eyes locked. Then they kissed again, feverishly, deeply, palpable heat between their bodies.

"Are we...?" he glanced towards his open bedroom door.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Now, please."

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her, laying her down on the bed beneath him, lips locked. Her arms wrapped around him, tracing his spine up under his t-shirt. He arched into her touch, his erection brushing tantalizingly against her thigh. He sighed softly and she pulled his t-shirt over his head, pushing him away from her momentarily. When he sat up, his eyes fell on the fastening of her towel.

"May I?"

"Please do."

He unwrapped her like a present, pausing to take her all in. Her body was lean and strong, tanned and firm. Spread out below him he admired her soft breasts and erect pink nipples.

He dipped his head and kissed her neck, feeling her arch upwards towards him. His hands wrapped around her ribcage as he worked his lips down between her breasts, to her belly button and further. He made momentary eye contact as she stared back intently before he buried his face in her, soft and pink and warm. She drew a sharp breath and her eyes closed, her hands gripped his duvet.

He devoured her, lapping up every drop of viscous, clear fluid as it flooded his mouth. She panted and rolled her hips into him, shameless and wanting.

Phil pulled back for a moment to look at her, spread out before him. A feast. He pictured her running, from behind. The months he had spent imagining how it would feel to bury his nose in her ass. He pushed her legs together and up, folding her double to display her tight hole, and licked all around. She half-laughed, but it came out as a moan as he pushed his tongue against her anus. He tonguefucked her ass, savouring the musky smell of her arousal and the occasional whimper.

She managed to reach a hand down to the top of his head and tentatively grab a handful of his hair, guiding him back up to her lips. She tasted herself on him and kissed him deeply, positioning herself under him, open and ready. Her eyes were locked on his, silently begging him. He didn't hesitate, plunging into her, watching her eyes roll back and her lips part in a low groan.

"Phil..." she breathed, and his name on her lips like this made his cheeks flush. He pulled back and sank into her once more, savouring her expressions as she pulsed around him.

He pulled back again and began to jackhammer in earnest, leaning his head on her shoulder, listening to her pant and moan. She sank her teeth into his earlobe and her fingernails began to dig into his back as she approached climax. He sped up, relishing the warmth as it flooded around him. Hand on her waist, he felt her stomach tremble and tense as she came, whimpering his name into his chest.

He barely managed to stop himself cumming inside her, pulling out against every impulse. In a moment her lips were on him, planting wet, feverish kisses along his shaft. He sighed gently, letting her pull him to a sitting position on the bed. She could have lead him anywhere at that point and he would have been powerless to resist.

She wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, and swirled her tongue indulgently, looking up to watch his reaction. For his part, Phil instinctively closed his eyes as a wave of pleasure rocked through him, then forced them open just to watch her. He wanted this image burned onto his brain forever, her wet hair spilling over her shoulders, soft lips on his cock, eyes on fire.

She went down to the hilt, taking him right into her throat, never losing eye contact. He murmured something, absolutely gibberish, and clenched his feet and stomach hard. She ran a hand over his abdomen before wrapping it around him, bobbing up and down and stroking. Her other hand cupped his balls gently, and stroked his thighs. He couldn't hold in a cry of "oh fuck," when she paused to press her tongue firmly on his frenulum. Her hand sped up on his shaft and she began planting little wet kisses all over the head of his cock. He curled his toes and let out several successive gasps as he came in her mouth. She swallowed every drop and then kissed her way up his belly to rest her blonde head on his chest.

He ran a hand through her hair and kissed the top of her head, wondering what would happen between them now. She beamed up at him, so presumably that meant they were still partners. He smiled back. "So, 12k, Friday at 8?"