Slut Son Ch. 10 - Rucksacks

Disclaimer

All characters are 18 years of age or older, of sound mind, and able to consent. Any characters, or situations, depicting real-life people or events are purely coincidental. This story contains strong sexual themes, including: unrealistic anatomy, fellatio, cunnilingus, exaggerated volumes of male ejaculate, slight vaginal penetration, and public sex. This literary work is for entertainment purposes only and should not be used as justification for the pursuit of acting out any fantasies or fetishes reflected in this story. Most importantly...enjoy yourself.

******

♫ Previously on Slut Son ♫

A love of prostate stimulation has been awakened in Simon, and that new found fetish was taken full advantage of by his loving mother. To both of their enjoyment, his p-spot seems to be the magic button that quickly replenishes his semen supply. After a "light" milking session in Simon's room, he and Candice head off to a nearby gym for a quick workout before Simon has his rucksack race. Exhausted, and muscles burning with fatigue, Simon wants to head home and collapse. However, Candice decides to service her son's masculine body and recharge his vigor by servicing him in the shower, and then stress-testing a double-ended dildo. While it may not have prepared Simon for his race, he had never felt so soothed and relaxed in his life.

Chapter 10 - Rucksacks and Public Sex

Although it was early on a Saturday morning, the infamous East Coast summer heat quickly baked the beach sands. A long stretch of coast was sectioned off for an athletic event, and the bright blue sky above and warm winds from the surf offered no respite from the impending heat for the participants. For the most serious of HIIT athletes, the uncomfortable conditions hardly phased them. Among all the participants, the most dedicated Olympian, and co-organizer of the event and festivities, was the resort's very own Shipping and Properties manager, Kelli Colonel.

CrossFit games, rucksack races, triathlons, those were Kelli's worlds where she dominated. The places she felt most at home. Kelli was not a particularly tall woman, standing at 5'5", but even in her mid-thirties she had trained and sculpted her body to physical perfection. Her full-body dark tan accentuated every subtle curve and over-defined muscle in her physique. Her calves and quads were thick and strong. No flexing required to show deep trenches between her abs. A fine onion-like pattern rippled under her shoulders and thick pecs, and rounded triceps made her arms look all the bigger when coupled with a thick vein running down her bicep. Her attitude was as tough as her exterior. She spoke her mind without restraint, or fear of reprisal. Her sharp tongue earned her respect and success when it came to the professional side of her life, but often cost her close friendships with women and romantic prospects with men.

Kelli wandered the starting area of the race and touched base with the other organizers and volunteers of the event. Several months worth of work had finally come to fruition and the festivities were set to begin in a mere two hours. In any other circumstance, her attire would have been considered risque, tiny tight athletic bikini bottoms and a very short sports bra--her modest bust were more pecs than breasts--but all the other participants were equally minimally covered. Her brown hair, which was normally pulled back into a tight pony-tail, was wrapped in a tight bun on top of her head (save for a few wispy bangs that had escaped).

"Aaaaa." Kelli exhaled. 'A beautiful day for this. Not a cloud in the sky and the wind is surprisingly not too strong. Looks like optimal conditions to set a PR.' Kelli thought as she waved to the workers in the booths and tents. She stopped to take a few pictures with the staff to post on her social media later. 'Looks like everyone is just about set up. Registration is ready to go. Food and refreshments. Emergency services.' She smiled to herself as she surveyed a successful turn out. 'Mmmm, my favorite part. Surrounded by a bunch of other fit runners. Men's sweaty bodies bumping against mine. And the ladies, fuck! Nothing left to the imagination. Now, I just need that loser to show up.'

Shortly after, Kelli's phone buzzed, alerting her of a new text message.

Simon: Just arrived, looking for parking.

'Speak of the devil.'

Kelli: Great! Meet me by the red tent.

Kelli stood by the large red tent near the entrance to the beach, but luckily she did not have to wait long. She soon saw the familiar face of her rather agreeable employee, but with a much thicker figure poorly hidden beneath board shorts and a tight tee.

"Morning, sunshine." Kelli called out.

"Yawn. Morning." Simon replied.

"You ready for this?" Kelli asked with a hint of teasing in her voice.

Simon didn't reply, he was busy stifling another yawn and simply shrugged.

"Well, you better be." Kelli shot back. "Take off that shirt," she playfully demanded, "let me see what you're working with."

Not at all in the mood, nor possessing the energy to fight, Simon lifted his shirt over his head and held it in his left hand. Kelli was astounded as she ogled her sleepy subordinate. His arms, his chest, and abs, everything rippled with thick body armor. Her eyes wandered all over the Greek demi-god still rubbing his eyes. And she salivated over the brazenly suggestive abdominal "V" that disappeared under his board shorts that rode dangerously low on his hips.

'FUCK! ME!' Kelli shouted in her head. "W...wow!" The fitness model stammered. "You look insane. You bulked up like crazy in just a couple of weeks. Impressive" Kelli placed her hands on her hips and nodded her head. "Although," she smiled, "I gotta admit, I kind of miss the lean Simon."

"Haha," Simon replied with a soft chuckle. "This is just for the race. After today, it's the couch and a bag of chips for me."

"Oh please," Kelli fired back as she stepped close to Simon. "You like looking hot. No way you're going to lose these." She said as she placed her right hand on his eight-pack abs.

'She thinks I'm hot? "Uh...thanks. You know Kelli, if I'm being honest, it's nice to see you...like this." Simon was hesitant to give his boss a compliment about her looks; a sure way to get fired. He completed his compliments in his head. 'This is probably the most fit, I've ever seen a woman. I mean, I can see...everything! God, I want to lick up and down her entire body. Sure, I wish her boobs were bigger, but still, fucking sexy!'

"Hmm," Kelli replied, barely listening. She drew her hand up to and started rubbing his chest. "Do you...not have any hair?"

"I hate body hair." Simon explained.

"All your body hair?" Kelli played coy as she quickly snuck both index fingers inside the waistband of his shorts.

"AH AH!" Simon shrieked as he jumped back. "I, uh...uh...just epilated. Still a little...tender." He lied.

"So if you weren't 'tender', you'd be okay with your boss trying to see if you have any pubic hair?" Kelli was just trying to trip up a clearly uncomfortable Simon.

"Uh, no. Wait...no. I think. Maybe?" Mission accomplished as Simon tripped over his answer.

"Haha, you're such a perv. Not every girl wants to see your dick." Kelli teased. 'I do want to see his dick though.' "On a serious note, are you wearing those," pointing at Simon's shorts, "during the race?"

"Yeah. Why? What's wrong? They're light, airy, and water resistant." Simon defended his choice of running attire.

"Loose fitting clothing is like...the worst choice for this. You want tight and flexible." Kelli explained. "Look around, do you see anyone wearing anything even slightly baggy?"

Simon looked at the sea of people that were rolling in for the event. The ones who were obvious participants were all wearing similar minimalist swimwear. The women sported short tight swim tops, and equally short bottoms. And none of the men wore anything longer than mid-thigh. And even if not every swimsuit was skin-tight, it could hardly be considered loose-fitting.

"Do you have anything you can change into? In your car?" Kelli inquired.

"No, but I'm not sure it's such a big deal. I mean, I'm not really expecting to do well." Simon tried to assuage Kelli's concerns.

"Trust me," Kelli spoke in an incredibly serious tone, "you do not want to wear those. Look, we still have time. Let's head over to JB's, it's a block and a half, I'll buy you something more appropriate for the race."

"Kelly, really. You don't have to do this." Simon complained in an annoyed voice.

"Hey! Who's the boss here?" Kelli shot back.

***

"How's it going in there?" Kelli called to her unprepared racer who was busy trying on a pair of athletic wear she had picked out. Kelli, a dark tanned muscle-bound beauty, paced back and forth by the changing rooms in 'JB's Sporting Goods' store as she kept an eye on the time.

"Umm...I don't think these are going to work." A faint voice answered Kelli.

"What are you talking about?" Kelli replied annoyed. "I know this brand. They're great for water sports and track."

"Yeah...but they don't...fit great." Simon replied.

"Ugh," Kelli rolled her eyes. "What does that mean? Too tight? Too loose?"

"Tight! Definitely too tight." Simon answered.

"Well, that's good actually. You don't want 'anything' moving around." Kelli explained with a slight chuckle.

"Oh trust me, 'nothing' is going to move. That's for sure." Simon commented. "Sigh, how do I say this? I'm on full display here! My uh, package...there's nothing left to the imagination."

"What? What do you mean? Come out, let me take a look." Kelli demanded.

"I can't come out like this. Fucking hell, if I ran naked I'd be on less display than this." Simon complained.

"Hmm, now who wouldn't like that," Kelli smirked, "but just come out and let me see. I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Sigh." Simon resolved himself to leave the privacy of the changing room and face his dictator boss. At the click of the door handle, Kelli stood there wide-eyed and ready.

It was an awful and hilarious sight. A seemingly embarrassed young man emerged from the cubicle wearing a pair of tight gray athletic shorts. The fit was fine, it molded like a second skin, the length a little short maybe, but the real problem was the clearly defined sausage and plums mashed underneath the stretchy fabric. The large shapes of his full testicles pushed his penis against the suit with such pressure that, even flaccid, the shape of his soldier's helmet was clearly visible.

"BUAH HA HA HA! You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Kelli cackled at what she thought was an obvious prank.

Simon shifted in his stance, and looked around hurriedly to see if anyone else witnessed his shame.

"There's no way that thing is fucking real. That's hilarious." Kelli continued to laugh. "Alright, jokes on me. What did you stuff with? You put your old suit in there?"

Simon's frustration and annoyance began to show on his face. He turned, quickly retrieved his old suit and held it up for Kelli to inspect. "Noooo, my shorts are right here."

Swipe! Kelli snatched the old trunks from Simon's hand. "So what then? I didn't see you grab anything else." Kelli was stuck in perpetual disbelief.

"That's what I'm telling you!" Simon yelled. "This is me. All me! I can't go out there like this."

"Oh, okay." Kelli responded by emulating a deep and dumb sounding voice. "Look, we gotta head back. I'm gonna go pay. You...figure something out."

There was nothing for Simon to "figure out." He returned to the changing room and tried to adjust his package a few times, but all efforts were in vain as no amount of repositioning or shifting would conceal revealing contours of his mammoth phallic instrument.

Simon had no choice. He left the protection of the changing room and rushed to the front of the store.

"Really?" Kelli scoffed at Simon. "Well, I'm impressed. You're committed to the bit."

"Sigh." Simon ashamedly hung his head. 'How the hell did I get myself into this?'

***

"Good morning!" A bubbly mature sun-tanned woman greeted Simon as he and Kelli walked up to the registration desk. "Are you registering for the event?"

"Hi Cheryl." Kelli greeted the woman. "He's already pre-registered. Under 'S. Memphis'. I just brought him over so we can mark him off and get him his time-tracking chip."

The woman smiled as her eyes did a few quick glances down to his bulging groin and then back up to his face. "Of course. Let's see. Memphis...Memphis...ah! Here you are, all ready to go." The woman checked off his name, then spun around in her chair to retrieve a bag with his assigned items. "If you'll step over here real quick, we'll get your measurements."

"Measurements?" Simon questioned loudly. Before the woman could even answer, Kelli had forcefully pushed Simon onto the scale next to the desk.

"Let's see. Six feet tall...and 220 pounds. Perfect." The woman read off. "That puts you in a higher class, so I just need to confirm that you will be using a 45 pound weight."

"What?" Simon exclaimed in shock. He turned to Kelli with a slight angered look. "You said 35 pounds. I've been training this whole time for a ruck with a 35 pound weight."

"Sorry, but male participants, six feet and over, weighing more than 200 pounds have to run the course with a 45 pound weight." The desk woman explained.

Simon's face reddened. He was ready to walk, but Kelli grabbed him by the bicep and halted his leave.

"Yeah, okay. Sorry. I didn't know you were going to pack on so much weight. But what's the big deal? It's ten more pounds." Kelli defended the rule. "Cheryl, I've got a 45 pound plate in my car. I'll make sure he's ready."

"Thanks Kelli." The older woman beamed a smile at Simon and wished him, "good luck!"

Making sure he had turned away, Simon simply rolled his eyes and huffed.

***

A mass of impossibly fit sexy people crowded the sands and eagerly awaited the starting alarm for the race. Simon tucked his thumbs inside the shoulder straps of his pack and looked straight up towards the sky. He could feel the eyes of strangers roaming over his embarrassing display. Undoubtedly, smirking and making gestures of both envy and ridicule alike. He paid no heed to such unsubstantiated suspicions and simply rocked side-to-side on the balls of his feet.

'Fuck. All of a sudden I'm getting nervous. I don't even care about the results. I just want to finish this.' "Sigh," Simon huffed. 'So many serious athletes here. I'm going to get destroyed.'

BUUUUUZZZZZZ!!

The alarm signaling the start of the race sounded off, and the racers pushed off from the loose sands. For the runners towards the front, they were able to more quickly get out ahead and set a comfortable pace. However, for those more towards the middle of the pack, like Simon, they were forced to walk slowly until the crowd thinned.

It was several minutes before Simon felt comfortable running. And once he started, he immediately regretted his participation in the event. His body was heavier, his pack was heavier, and it finally sunk in...

'Fuck! I never trained on loose sand.' Simon chastised himself.

A realization, and a lesson learned all too late as the sands slipped beneath Simon's feet. 'I...I, can't get any traction, he panicked as he pumped his legs and thrusted his body forward with little forward momentum. 'My legs...they're...already burning.'

Whether by the sun's heat, or Simon's frantic exertion, sweat was already running down his broad back and it quickly dripped from his face. "Haaah. Haaah. Haaah." His loud breathing pounded in his ears. He cursed loudly at himself. His anger quickly swelled as every step, every launch, every attempt at a wider gait took twice as much energy and three times as much oxygen.

"1-2-3...haaah haaah...2-2-3. 1-2-3...haaah haaah...2-2-3." Simon repeated the chant to himself over and over again. Finding a manageable rhythm was his best chance at completing the weighted race. He would breathe in and trot for a count of 3, then release his breath for another three paces.

That pace, that rhythm, Simon had kept up for three miles, which was the designated 'first leg' of the race. A three-mile stretch of beach heading north was Simon's worst running experience in his life. That would have been enough for him, that should have satisfied his promise to his boss, but he soon came upon a pylon directing runners into the surf.

'This...this...could be enough. I could quit right here. Just walk back. And tell Kelli it was too much too soon.' The closer Simon got to the marker, the more he tried to talk himself into quitting. 'I'm not a runner. I'm not built for this. I just want to fuck and eat pussy.' Even reminding himself of what he was really after had no positive effect on his mood. Yet, when the time came to decide, his pride got the better of him and he rounded the turn and continued on the path towards the surf.

Carefully observing the athletes in front of him, he learned that participants had to unbuckle their pack, lift it above their head, and then wade through the water until it came above their belly button. Once at the proper depth, they had to trudge back down the beach--without dropping their pack into the water--until they arrived at the next marker.

'This is ridiculous!' Simon thought as he slowly made his way through the water. 'What insane person thought up this event anyway?' It took Simon less than a second to realize. 'Oh yeah, the woman I work for.'

Had Simon been paying attention, he would have discovered that he made up quite a bit of ground in the water. Being taller, he could afford to head out further into the water, which allowed him to escape the surge in undertow that some of the shorter racers were battling. Focusing on his footing, and swift movements, he quickly had a mile of shallows behind him and the marker to return to shore was just a few paces ahead.

'Thank god. My arms are burning! I can't possibly hold this up anymore.'

Once Simon was back on the beach, he was instructed by volunteers to re-secure his pack and then get into a crawling position.

'Are they serious? Am I supposed to fucking crawl my way back? What the fuck? Oh I'm definitely pissed at Kelli now!'

Easily the most unnecessary part of the event, but runners were still required to Army-crawl on the wet sands for a half a mile.

'Everything Kelli asks me to do, I'm gonna take my sweet time doing.' Simon declared to himself when he thought about seeing Kelli at work.

If Simon had stopped to chat with the other racers forced on their hands and knees, he would have learned that they shared his sentiments. No one, regardless of physical fitness or experience, excelled at this portion of the race. The awkwardness of such a movement caused everyone's pack to swing greatly from side-to-side, despite their attempts to tighten the straps. Each twist, each lunge, and frog-like movement, threw the racers off balance and forced them to readjust the weight on their back.

"Rrrrrr! Haah! Haah!" Simon grunted. "Hey Simon, can you participate in a race I'm coordinating?" Simon recalled, poorly imitating his superior's voice. "Next time she needs a favor...haah haah...who am I kidding? There won't be a next time." Simon assured himself.