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Cheating sex



At 30 years old, Bob starts to find himself putting on weight and developing a beer belly. To remedy this, he decides to take up jogging in the early morning hours. He soon finds that his attractive neighbor favors running at this time as well. She takes him under her wing to show him the ropes and, before long, a strong sexual attraction begins to develop between the two married runners.


It happened when I turned 30 years old, seemingly on the very day my twenties were left behind. My metabolism, once my staunchest ally, turned suddenly and cruelly against me. All my previous life I had been able to eat anything I wanted and in as large of quantities as I wanted without any measurable effect on my weight or health. I could drink beer every weekend, spend every spare moment of my life luxuriating on the couch, never do anything more strenuous than walking from the airport parking lot to the control tower where I worked, and my waistline remained a steady and predictable 34 inches. And then suddenly and without warning, my pants started getting tighter and tighter on me. At first I thought my wife was washing them incorrectly, causing shrinkage, but eventually I was forced to admit the truth. I was gaining weight. After nearly twelve years of hovering within 5 pounds of 180, I was creeping up towards 190 and then finally towards the dreaded 200.

In addition to the tight pants, the ever-increasing scale readings, and the beginnings of a beer belly, my blood pressure started to creep up on me as well. Once confined to the nice safe ground of 130/80 or so, readings of 160/90 began to appear at my regular check-ups. My doctor told me it wasn't high enough that medication needed to be prescribed, but it had to come down. The secret to getting it down, I was told, was to reverse what was making it go up in the first place: my weight.

Dieting didn't seem to help; it would merely slow down the advance a little. And in all honesty, I wasn't all that great at dieting anyway. I loved my carbohydrates and my fats too much. Pizza and beer and greasy tacos were my best friends. I was told however that there was a way to defeat the weight gain, to reduce my girth back to normal and to still enjoy the food that I loved. In addition, this miracle method would also reduce my blood pressure in and of itself, and possibly even add years to my life. This simple solution was exercise.

"Exercise?" I asked. "You mean like lifting some weights or something like that?"

Hardly. The easy solution was not quite that easy. What I needed, I was told, was some moderate aerobic exercise at least four times a week. I needed to get my heart rate up to around 160 and maintain it that way for thirty minutes. If I could do that, I was assured, my weight would drop off like magic in a matter of weeks and my blood pressure would return to normal.

Now there were several suggestions on how I could go about obtaining this much needed exertion. An aerobic exercise class was the most common suggestion. But I could hardly see myself donning spandex so I could stretch and dance with a bunch of overweight women. I could get a treadmill or a stationary bike and get my heart pumping that way. But such things were expensive and with a recent re-finance and second mortgage of the house my wife and I lived in, money was a little too tight for that. There was one suggestion however that was appealing in its simplicity. I could jog. Running would provide the boost and maintenance of my heart rate while not costing me any more than price of a new pair of shoes and a pair of sweats.

The only problem with this method of exercise was its availability. I worked Monday through Friday, 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM as an air traffic controller at Heritage County Airport. During the summer months, which was when I started this running regime, the afternoon heat and air quality in the late afternoon hours is unbearable. Temperatures of 105 degrees are not at all uncommon. At the very best, you're talking mid-90's. Not being a big fan of heat stroke I elected not to utilize this particular time slot for my routine. Nor were the evening hours that much better. Though cooler, the nights are still quite muggy and the air is still quite bad. Plus my motivation was not really there for this particular period of the day. After dinner all I wanted to do was relax, not drag myself out into the night and run up and down the suburban streets.

So that left the early morning hours before work. A natural early riser, this was actually somewhat appealing to me. I could get up at 5:30 AM, do my business out on the streets while it was still the coolest part of the day, and still have time to shower and eat breakfast before leaving for work. My wife and my kids were not even awake at this time of the morning so I would not even be missing out on any time spent with them. Thus, with such logic, it was decided. Dawn would be my scheduled jogging period.

The first day of this regime was in early June. I stepped out of the house at 5:45 AM dressed in a pair of black running shorts and a white t-shirt. My new running shoes were tied tightly to my feet, ready to carry me on this first journey to better health. In my hand I carried a bottle of water to help keep me hydrated.

The sun had yet to make its appearance above the horizon but its light was starting to touch the sky, imparting a vague pink glow off to the east and just enough light to allow me to see. I went through a series of stretches I had read about on the Internet, limbering up my calves, my thighs, my groin, my hamstrings. All of these muscles protested this by sending burning pains up and down whatever limb they were attached to. Finally, when I was as limber as I thought I could make myself, I took a few deep breaths and set off on my run.

In my car the previous day I had used the odometer to measure off the distance to various landmarks. Out to the end of my street and then down Willow Creek Road - the main route of travel through our section of the suburb - to Carmichael Drive was exactly one half mile. The intersection of Willow Creek Road and Cypress Avenue was exactly one mile. My plan on that first day was to start slow and only put in two miles. I would run down to Cypress and Willow Creek and then turn around and come back. This, I figured, would take me about twenty minutes or so, including the cool down period. Sure, I knew I was supposed to put in a full thirty minutes but I'd have to give my body a little time to adjust wouldn't I?

Well, as it turned out, my estimations of my initial stamina were a bit of an overestimation. I started out at a pretty good pace, my legs pumping up and down, my feet pounding on the pavement of the bike lane, but I was only able to maintain it for about five minutes before a sharp pain started in my side and my breath was tearing in and out of my lungs like fire. Sweat was pouring down my face and my heart was pounding alarmingly fast, at close to 190 beats per minute. Before making it even a half mile, I was forced to a slow walk to keep from keeling over with an exertion produced coronary. I ended up walking more than three quarters of the two-mile route that day and it ended up taking me well over the thirty minutes I'd allotted.

The next day the muscles of my legs, groin, and feet ached so badly when I got up I didn't even bother trying the run. I was hurting in places I hadn't even known I'd had. It took a twenty-minute shower under scalding water and a double dose of over the counter anti-inflammatory pills before I could even loosen up enough to drag myself to work.

The day after however, though still quite sore, I was determined to try again. I knew I needed to establish myself in the routine quickly and irretrievably or I would more than likely end up abandoning this quest before I had a chance to see any results. I set out once again from my driveway, running a little slower this time, vowing that I would finish the complete two miles even if it killed me.

Well, it didn't kill me but neither did I finish the complete two miles either. I'd made it about eight minutes into the run that day, just a bit over the three-quarter mile mark, before the pain in my side and my pounding heart beat forced me to slow back to a walk again. Aching, drenched in perspiration, breathing in ragged gulps, I trodded forward to the end of the course I'd set off and then turned around and walked back. Twice I tried to run a little bit, just to say I had, and both times I made it less than a hundred yards before the exhaustion forced me back to the slower pace.

The next day, though my muscles were now screaming at me for the abuse I was inflicting upon them, I tried again. And once again I made it just over three-quarters of a mile - at an even slower pace than previously used - before I slumped back to a walk, hurting and out of breath. I was very frustrated with myself, with my body, with the physics that made this so difficult. That might very well have been my last attempt if Kimberly Bates had not come running up behind me at that particular instance.

Kimberly, or Kim as she liked to be called, was one of my neighbors. She and her husband lived just around the corner from us and until that day I knew her only in passing. Friendly waves when she drove by on her way somewhere and some idle chitchat at the annual Independence Day block party were the extent of our contact with each other. She was a tall blonde woman in her late twenties, fairly attractive in an innocent, woman-next-door sort of way. I knew her husband was some sort of accountant or something and she herself was employed in some capacity somewhere since she drove by the house at regular intervals. I did not know that she was into running or exercise, although, in retrospect, I suppose it should have been fairly obvious since her body had always had that toned look about it.

"Bob?" she said carefully as she slowed her pace to match mine. "What are you doing out here?" Her voice had neighborly concern in it. She was dressed in a pair of black spandex shorts and a black running bra. Despite my fatigue and misery I could not help but take in her shapely legs and the smooth expanse of her bare belly. A light sheen of perspiration was clinging to her skin, giving it a bit of a shine in the early morning light. Her moderate sized breasts moved softly up and down with her respiration.

"Hi," I panted. "I was just out jogging."

"I didn't know you ran," she said. "I thought I was the only one crazy enough to come out here this time of morning."

"Well," I said, "I'm kinda new to this. So far I'm not really doing all that well."

"Is this as far as you made it?" she asked me. "This is not even a mile from your house."

"I know," I grunted, watching almost transfixed as a bead of sweat trickled down her neck and across the front of her chest to dribble into her cleavage. I tore my eyes away from this sight before she caught me gawking at it. "I uh... like I said. I'm pretty new to this. Trying to get some exercise and lose a little weight you know."

"Oh I know," she said. "I plump up something awful if I don't do my run at least three times a week. But you've got to run more than a mile if you want it to do any good."

"I'm trying," I told her. "Believe me, I'm trying."

"How long have you been at it?" she wanted to know.

I took a drink from my water bottle, refreshing my parched mouth and then stole another quick look at her smooth belly. My god she was an attractive woman. Strange I'd never really noticed that before. She generally dressed in loose clothing. Maybe that was it. "Uh... this is my third day," I finally answered. "I hear it'll start to get easier soon."

"Well it will if you apply yourself a little better," she said. "It sounds like you're not pacing yourself real well. You have to start slowly. Just kind of trot along at first so that you can keep going for thirty minutes. I bet you're coming out here and hauling ass and burning out in a few minutes, aren't you?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that I was hauling ass," I said. "But yes, I do seem to be burning out fairly quick. How far do you go? Uh... on your run that is."

I thought she might be offended at my unintended sexual innuendo. This was, after all, the era of out of control political correctness and sexual harassment lawsuits. Instead she just smiled a little. "On my runs," she said, "I do three miles. Up to the corner of Willow Creek and Brannigan. In the other departments, you'll just have to wait until you know me better to find that one out."

I laughed, feeling a warm flush at her semi-flirtatious remark. It seemed wildly out of character for her, or at least it seemed wildly out of character for what my perception of her was, which was of a somewhat naïve, almost schoolgirlish persona.

"Anyway," she told me, turning serious, "I can help you pace yourself up if you want. Do you come out here every morning?"

"I'm trying to work my way up to four times a week," I said.

"I run Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday," she said. "Go home, rest up until Friday and then meet me in front of your house at 5:30. I've been running for years. I'll get you up to speed in no time."

"Really?" I asked, pleased at the thought of having a mentor at this, especially one who was as attractive as she and would teach the lessons while wearing a sports bra and spandex shorts.

"It would be my pleasure," she said. "It'll be nice to have someone to run with out here. As much as I've tried to get him to, Rick will never join me. He says he hates getting up early if he doesn't have to."

I did as she suggested and turned myself around to go home. She gave me one last wave and then headed off in the other direction, quickly establishing what looked like a near run to me. Though I was a bit frightened at her pace, which was considerably faster than I'd been traveling while I'd been at burnout speed, the view of her tight butt and the backs of her smooth legs was well worth it.

-------

As promised, she was there waiting for me when I emerged from my house at 5:30 AM on Friday. She was wearing fluorescent blue spandex this time, and a sports bra that matched. She had a smile on her face as she saw me standing there in my shorts and T-shirt, water bottle in hand.

"Ready for some serious running?" she asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied.

"Good," she said. "Let's get stretched out."

The first lesson she taught me was how to stretch out. Apparently I'd been doing it all wrong, leaving out entire groups of muscles. She had me bend this way and that, lift my legs up and down, stretch back and forth in several different ways, all of them mildly painful. But the pain was offset by the fact that she performed the stretches with me, from a position directly in front of me. Watching her tight legs become even tighter, seeing her thighs spread wide apart as she limbered up her inner groin muscles, was as inspiring a sight as I ever hoped to see. I simply could not get over the fact that this was the same woman who walked around most of the time in ankle-length skirts, loose fitting blouses, and with her hair tied up in a tight bun.

After the stretch we started our run. She served as the pace setter for me and jogged along at a clip that was hardly better than a walk.

"Are you sure we're going fast enough?" I asked her as we reached a quarter mile and my pulse was still hovering around the 100 mark.

"Trust me," she said. "This is the proper pacing for a beginner. You'll warm up slow but you'll be able to make it the entire two miles this way. You'll start to feel it soon."

And of course she was right. By the time we reached the half-mile mark I had broken a nice sweat and my heart was pumping along at 130. I was feeling the exertion, but not so much that I had to stop. Instead of burning out in five minutes, I was chugging along and able to maintain the pace. We passed three quarters of a mile and then a mile and I was still going.

"How are you doing?" she asked me as we turned around and started heading back. I noticed that, unlike myself, she had hardly a glint of perspiration on her face and her tone of voice was still conversational instead of breathless.

"Good," I panted. "I think we found my pace." I took a moment to catch my breath and then said, "But you're not getting very good exercise today. I'm making you go slower than you're used to."

"Don't you worry about me," she said. "We'll go a little faster every day and then start to extend how far we go. You'll be running three miles in twenty-four minutes with me in no time."

I was forced to slow down a little towards the end of the run, but I did indeed make it the entire two miles. After we returned to the front of my house she insisted that we walk for another quarter mile so we could cool off and let our muscles gradually wind down. This walk took us past her house and back out to Willow Creek Road. We then turned around and came back.

"Good job," she told me, her hand patting me companionably on the shoulder. "You worked up a good sweat today and you didn't kill yourself in the process."

"Thank you," I told her. "I was about to give up yesterday. I'm glad you happened along when you did."

"I'm glad I did too," she said, offering me another of her smiles. "Like I said, its nice to have a companion. It's so friggin boring doing it by myself."

"Yes," I said, before I could stop myself. "It's really no fun doing it by yourself, is it?"

I blushed furiously as I realized what I'd just said to her. After all, she wasn't one of my co-workers in the airport control tower where the talk, even between males and females, was notoriously risqué at times. She was a middle-class suburban wife whom I'd really only met two days before. I opened my mouth to apologize for my remark, but before I could, she opened hers first.

"It does work all the wrong muscles doing it that way," she said with feigned sadness.

I looked at her with my mouth agape for a moment and then both of us burst out laughing.

"Oh my god," she said. "I'd better go in now and wash my mouth out with soap. I'll see you on Sunday morning?"

"Same time, same place," I promised.

"That's the spirit," she told me. With that she turned and walked to her front door.

I took one last look at her gorgeous legs, at the tightness of her ass, and then walked home. The house was still dark, my wife and kids still asleep when I arrived there. I took a shower and went to work in a good mood that day.

-------

Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday after that, Kim and I met on my driveway at 5:30 AM. As the morning sun first brightened the sky and then poked up over the horizon to warm it, we would stretch out in my driveway and then run along Willow Creek Road at whatever pace I happened to have advanced to.

She proved a diligent taskmaster, goading me along so I would go a little bit faster each day, so I would go a little bit further. She gently chided me when I claimed I couldn't keep up, compelling me to push my body much harder than I would have done had I been left to my own devices. Within two weeks I was running two miles in twenty minutes. Within three I was running three miles in 34 minutes. After six weeks with her I was able, as promised, to maintain an eight-minute mile right alongside of her and complete the full three mile circuit in just under 25 minutes. Not marathon running fitness perhaps, but more than enough for my purposes.

And as the weeks went by, as my pace and speed continued to climb, I saw very favorable results in my body. It was nothing terribly dramatic of course. The weight did not just fall off of me (in fact, I actually gained a few pounds at first as some of my fat was turned into muscle), but gradually the beer belly that I'd been starting to sprout disappeared, inch by inch. My waistline, which had gone up to just a hair over 36 inches, returned to the 34 inches I was accustomed to. My legs, which had always been kind of plain looking, not fat, not skinny, gradually began to bulge with runner's muscle in the calves and the thighs. The soreness that had been my constant companion through the first few weeks of the regiment disappeared as well. The most telling consequence of the exercise however was in how I felt. My body just seemed more efficient. I no longer got winded if I had to walk up the steps to the control tower at work. I had more energy during the day and I slept like a rock at night. My blood pressure came down little by little until it stabilized at around the 120/70 range and my resting heart rate kicked along at about 64 beats a minute. And all this despite the fact that I still quaffed down pizza and beer whenever I could get my hands on it, despite the fact that I never turned down seconds at the dinner table, despite the fact that I ate every high cholesterol, high fat, and high carb meal that I could get my teeth around.

The most pleasant result of this period however was the fact that Kim and I became close friends. As we ran through the early morning hours next to each other, we would talk about our lives, our hopes, our dreams. Something between the two of seemed to click and we found each other very companionable, gradually working our way up to the point where we were telling each other almost anything. She told me about her job as a part-time real estate agent for one of the local firms. It was a job that she really didn't need as far as family income went, a job that her husband, a tax accountant for the county, was always nagging her to give up.

"I have to get out of that house a couple times a week though," she told me. "I love Rick to death and all but I go stir crazy if I stay in there too long. I'm just not cut out to be a housewife I guess."

I in turn told her about my job, which my wife, who was very status oriented, was always nagging me to give up.

"I have a bachelor's degree in business," I said, "but I've never used it. I started working ATC on a whim in my last year of college and I've never left it. It's not a very glamorous job I'll admit, but I like it a lot. I can't see myself being a CPA now and working in some office building, or going to law school like my wife is always hounding me to do."

"We should do what we like to do," she'd agreed, taking a sip from her water bottle. "That's always been my motto."

"Yes," I'd answered, watching her bouncing breasts beneath her sports bra, "that's a very good motto."

That of course earned a flirtatious laugh from her as she saw where my eyes were focused. By this point in our relationship we were well beyond the blushing stage at such innuendo.

In fact, by this point in our relationship, we were dangerously flirty with each other for two people who were married to others. Dangerously flirty, and there was an undeniable sexual attraction that should have warned us where the flirtations would eventually lead.

The attraction started with me of course. Day after day of running next to Kim while she was dressed in a variety of skimpy jogging outfits fixed her image in my mind as a desirable woman. I think the contrast between her normal manner of dress and the way she looked in the early morning hours was a big part of the stimulation. During the daytime hours she wore conservative business dresses or loose fitting slacks and billowy blouses. She was always clean and neat and proper looking when she presented her face to the awakened world. But I saw her with her stomach bare, her legs on display, her spandex clinging to her shapely ass. I saw her with a fine sheen of perspiration covering her skin, her face flushed with exertion, her breasts molded to her bra and heaving with her respiration. I became obsessed with the sight of those legs pumping up and down, with those lovely ass cheeks flexing and releasing as she moved down the road. I loved the sight of those breasts bouncing in the sweaty sports bra with the rhythm of her stride. I loved the damp look of her blonde hair as we really hit our mark about two miles in. She looked fit and very healthy when I was with her, and my lust for her grew with each morning we were together. Soon it was her image that I invoked on those rare occasions when my wife would consent to a little after hours sexual entertainment. It was her sweating, scantily clad body that I thought of on the more frequent occasions when I jerked off in the shower prior to getting ready for work.

The flirtations we shared were gentle ones at first, simple innuendo such as we exchanged during those beginning runs. We each discovered that the other had a rather raunchy sense of humor in regards to sexual puns and double meanings. But it wasn't long before we were openly discussing various aspects of our sex lives. I think it was the discovery that both of us were somewhat frustrated in the marital relations aspect of our lives that was the catalyst for what was to come.

"Rick just isn't into sex all that much," she confided to me one morning. "Even when we were dating, we never really did it more than twice a week or so. Now and days, if I can get it once a month I count myself lucky."

"Wow," I'd replied, shaking my head a little at that. "That's pretty bad. Most men complain that they're not getting enough. Like me for instance."

"Oh?" she said, casting her teasing gaze upon me. "Carrie doesn't give it up much either huh?"

"Two, maybe three times a month," I admitted. "And its like pulling teeth every time. I don't like to brag or anything, but I happened to think I'm pretty good in the bedroom..."

"Oh are you?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

"That's my opinion," I assured her. "I'm a very oral person, if you know what I mean."

"Oooh," she said. "That's what we women call a good man."

"I'm definitely a good man then. But Carrie doesn't like it when I... you know... do that sort of thing to her. She's kind of repressed about her vagina I think. Doesn't like me to look at it, touch it, smell it, and especially not taste it. Not even after she's just got out of the bathtub."

"Her and Rick should've gotten married," Kim told me. "He won't put his mouth within two feet of my crotch. When he does decide he wants some he just climbs on top of me under the covers and goes to town. Five minutes later, he's sound asleep."

"You're right," I said. "He would be Carrie's dream man."

"Maybe we should trade off for a bit?" she asked. "I'll come over to your house and boff you for a month and she can come over to my place."

I laughed, feeling a semi-erection trying to spring to life at the very thought. "Sounds like a good idea to me," I said.

"But somehow I don't think our spouses would be too keen on it."

"Nope," I sadly agreed. "That's always where it all falls apart."

The weeks went on and our talks seemed to grow more risqué by the day. We expanded upon the various shortcomings of our respective spouses sexual technique. We related past sexual experiences from before marriage with different partners, each of us telling of the best we'd had, the worst we'd had, and the strangest place we'd had it. And then one day we found ourselves discussing our masturbation habits. I told of my practice of jerking off in the shower before work. She then told me she had ordered a seven inch vibrating dildo from an adult internet site and that she was partial to lying naked on her bed during the afternoon hours and frigging herself to a wet, sticky orgasm with it. It was during that particular discussion that our talk was moved onto a higher plain.

"Are you okay?" she asked me softly. "You have a funny look on your face. Did I embarrass you finally?"

"No," I said, "it's just that..."

"Just that what?"

"I was just imagining you lying on your bed, naked, with your dildo," I told her. "Sorry, couldn't help it."

"And does that image disturb you?"

"No," I said. "To tell you the truth, it's actually quite arousing."

"So is the thought of you doing it in the shower," she confessed.

We ran on in silence for a moment, each of us pondering this new development. This was the first time, despite all of the innuendo and flirtation, that we had actually admitted a sexual attraction of any kind for each other. True, we had both known it was there, but we had never articulated it. It now seemed a slightly dangerous thing hanging between us.

"What do you think about?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Think about?" I responded, although I had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about.

"While you're in the shower?"

I hesitated, feeling on very shaky ground all of a sudden.

"Do you ever think about me?" she asked.

"Yes," I told her. "Lately that's all that I've been thinking about."

She gave a nervous smile. "That turns me on to think that you're imagining me while you do that," she told me. "That turns me on a lot."

"Really?"

"Really," she confirmed. She hesitated for a second, her face looking wonderfully shy and innocent, as if she was debating whether to say something or not. And then she said, "And I have to tell you that when I'm playing with my little toy in my bed, it's been you that I've been thinking about lately."

Another silence descended. My stride was thrown off more than a little by the fact that my cock was filling with blood inside my shorts. Nor was I the only one with a hardening problem. I could plainly see the points of Kim's nipples protruding from beneath her sports bra.

"It's really a shame we're both married," she almost whispered. "If we weren't, I think I'd have you back at my place about now."

"Yes," I agreed, breathing a little harder than necessary. "It really is a shame."

We ended our run a few minutes later and began walking along the sidewalk, cooling off. Our pace was a little slower than normal, and our faces were a little more flushed as well. We both knew that some fundamental line had been crossed in our relationship and that there was no stepping back across it. Neither of us knew just what to make of this however, or how it would affect us in the future.

Our parting that morning was a little awkward. We didn't talk further about what had just been revealed, we just went our separate ways as we passed her house after the cool down. I was a little worried that she wouldn't be there the following Wednesday, that we had taken things just a little too far. I obsessed about it in fact, spending the next forty-seven hours with her constantly on my mind. Was she regretful of what we'd said? Was she embarrassed? Or was she maybe as turned on by the not-so-innocent sexual talk as I was? I felt a little like a teenager who has met a girl for the first time. I also felt a strong current of guilt at the fact that I was a married man and engaging in what seemed a very dangerous pursuit. True I had not so much as laid a hand on her, but I was pretty sure my wife would not approve of the direction this association was heading.

I considered severing the relationship with her, knowing that doing so would be the wisest course of action. I didn't really need her to instruct me anymore anyway. I could just change the time I did my running, force myself to do it in the evenings, or even to take up the opposite days that she ran. Though my mind was screaming at me that this was the safest, most moral thing to do, I couldn't quite bring myself to do it.

It came down to the fact that I wanted to see her, wanted to be with her. It was sexual infatuation at its finest, a drug more powerful than any narcotic, more addictive than nicotine or cocaine. When Wednesday morning came around I was out at the front of my driveway. And there she was as well, just like normal, no doubt having gone through a bout of moralistic soul searching of her own and coming off the loser.

Conversation was a little slow that morning, and stayed confined to fairly neutral topics for most of the run. But as I said, the line had been crossed and once that occurred, there was no turning back. By the end of mile number two, just as the endorphins were surging through our bodies, making us a little giddy, we were able to stand it no more.

"Did you have a good shower the other morning?" she asked me, just a hint of teasing in her tone.

I looked over at her to see her smile on her face. "Yes," I told her. "It was one of the best showers I've ever had, if I do say so."

"I had a nice long bath after I went in that day," she said.

"Did you?"

"I couldn't wait until the afternoon. I put bubble bath in the water and rubbed myself off right there while Rick was shaving for work. He didn't even notice."

Once again a surge of blood went rushing to my cock, throwing me just a hair off stride.

"You like that thought, do you?" she asked me, her eyes dropping down to take in the bulge that had formed in my shorts.

"That's really hot," I admitted.

"I thought of you stroking yourself in the shower while I did it," she said. "Of what you were imagining that you were doing to me."

I swallowed audibly, my mouth suddenly dry.

"Tell me what you thought of while you were in the shower?" she asked. "Did you think of me again?"

"Yes," I said.

"What did we do?" she asked, a hunger in her voice. "Were we nasty together?"

"Very," I said. "I imagined you hot and sweaty, just like you are now."

"Hot and sweaty?" she said, obviously intrigued. "You like the thought of me like that?"

"Yes," I said. "I thought of pulling your shorts off and putting my face right between your legs. Eating you out while you were all hot from your run."

Now it was her turn to shudder in arousal as she heard these words. "That is nasty," she said.

"Too nasty?"

"No," she said with a firm shake of the head. "Not at all. In fact, you've made me a bit wet between the legs."

"Just a bit?"

"Maybe a little more than a bit," she admitted.

We ran on a little longer, both of us glowing a little more than the exertion could account for. Soon we reached the intersection of my street and Willow Creek, the end of our three-mile circuit. We slowed down to a walk. My shirt was soaked on the front and back with sweat, it was running freely down my face and neck. And of course my cock was still at half-staff as I replayed the conversation we had just had. A glance to my left showed that Kim was feeling the same. She was wearing the black sports bra today and her nipples were prominently sticking out. Rivulets of sweat were running down her neck.

"Kim?" I said at last.

"Yes?"

"You told me once that you've never cheated on your husband."

She looked at me, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. "That's right," she said. "And you've never cheated on your wife either, right?"

"Right," I said, "but I was wondering..."

"What?"

"Oh, never mind," I said, losing my nerve.

"You were wondering if there were any circumstance where I would cheat, weren't you?" she asked.

I flushed again, looking at her cleavage for a moment, and then down at her belly button, almost tasting that sweat-slick flesh, wanting to put my hands on it, but scared to ask. Scared because she might tell me no and slap my face. But also scared because she might say yes. I wanted her so badly. She was all I ever thought about sexually now, all that I wanted in a woman. I longed to take her in my arms and sink my cock into her body. But I was a married man, and despite my admittedly lackluster sex-life with Carrie, I wasn't sure that I wanted to betray the wedding vows.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asked me.

"Sorry," I said. "Yes, that is kind of what I was thinking. Never mind though. I shouldn't have asked."

"I wouldn't cheat lightly," she said. "And I don't imagine you would either, would you?"

"No," I replied. "Not lightly."

"But under the right circumstances... you would, wouldn't you?"

Our pace had now slowed to almost a standstill. We were just past my house, right on the corner of her street and mine. "The circumstances would have to be really right," I told her. "I would only do it if I knew that no one would ever find out. And only if there was an understanding that I would never leave my wife."

"I see," she said, nodding a little. "It's funny, because I was just thinking the same thing."

"Oh?"

"If I had a chance for some good sexual release, some good hard, fulfilling, no-strings-attached sex, and if I knew that the man who gave it to me would keep his mouth shut about it, and understood that I would never leave my husband either, than I would probably do it too."

Our eyes were now locked together, our feet completely stationary as we stood on the corner. I knew I should turn around and walk back to my house. I knew that this was leading me nowhere good. But I didn't move.

"Maybe we should stop beating around the bush," I suggested.

"Maybe we should," she said.

"I want you very badly," I told her. "I love my wife but I want you like I want air. If you gave me the chance... I wouldn't be able to resist you."

"Guess what?" she said softly, her voice trembling just a bit.

"What?"

"It's budget season for the county. Rick's gone into work early every day this week."

"Has he?" I said, my own voice cracking.

"He's already gone," she said. "Why don't we stop at my house on the way back? I'll get you a drink of water or something so you can cool down."

This was my last chance to back out. The last chance to put a stop to this before it went too far. I didn't take it. She turned and started walking again, heading for her house three doors down. I looked at that tight ass, at those smooth legs, at the layer of sweat on her skin, and I followed behind her.

She led me up the walkway to her front door. When she bent over to get the house key she had stashed under the doormat, her spandex shorts rode up considerably on her legs, giving me a view of the bottom swell of her ass cheeks. It was a view that had been presented to me quite deliberately I was sure, and it was also held much longer than was necessary. Unable to resist, I reached out and touched the back of her leg, just below that ass cheek. The skin was hot and very smooth. My cock took another lurch in my shorts at the sensation.

She pulled quickly away from me once I touched her, standing back up. "Not out here," she hissed, looking around. "The neighbors might see."

"Sorry," I mumbled, cursing myself for forgetting about that. We were standing in front of no less than four different houses, all of which contained people who knew both of us and who would be ecstatic to spread around what they had witnessed. True, all of them were probably still in bed. But what if there were some early risers? What if one of them just happened to have been looking out their window at that particular moment?

She opened the door and nearly pulled me inside, shutting it quickly behind us. As in all of the houses of this particular development, the front door led directly into the formal living room, that portion of the house that was more wasted space than anything. Kim's had been decorated with some really nice antique furniture, a few paintings, and an antique sewing machine. A grandfather clock, probably an antique as well, ticked away in one of the corners. We paused in this room, both of us turning to look at each other, both of us with nervousness and trepidation on our sweaty faces.

"I think we're making a big mistake," Kim whispered, her teeth chewing at her lip.

"Yes," I agreed. "This is a really bad idea."

Neither one of us moved. We continued to stare at each other.

"Should I leave?" I finally asked her.

"Do you want to leave?" she replied.

I swallowed. "No," I told her. "What I want to do is to put my hands on you."

She trembled a little at my words, gave her lip one more chew, but held my gaze. "I really think I'd like that," she almost whispered.

She held her arms out to me and I stepped forward, embracing her, my hands going around her waist, touching the moist skin there. The moment we touched it was electric, as if a charge that had been building was allowed to ground. We pulled against each other, our bodies pressing together. I felt her heat, the wetness of her sweat against me. I smelled the odor of her fresh perspiration in my nose. I felt the swell of her breasts pushing into my chest. My hands slid around to the skin of her lower back, and our mouths came together in a desperate, lustful kiss. Her lips were soft against mine, her tongue hot as it slipped into my mouth and began to dance with my tongue.

As we kissed I slid my hands up and down her back, onto her shoulders, down to her tight ass, touching her everywhere that I could reach. My fingers probed upwards for a moment, sliding under the back of her shorts, caressing the swell of her ass. Her hands were moving in similar motions, sliding under my shirt, her fingertips and nails scratching up my back and then down to my ass. She pushed into my shorts from the top, grabbing my bare ass cheeks, squeezing them for a second and then pulling me harder against her, so that my hard-on pushed forcefully into her lower stomach.

She moaned into my mouth at this contact, her tongue pushing further inward, swirling hungrily against mine. Our kiss broke, a string of our mixed saliva stretching between us for an instant, and then I was kissing her cheeks, her chin, and then down onto her neck. Her skin here was red and flushed and very wet with sweat. I licked at the flesh, giving her small bites as I moved towards her ear. Her damp hair tickled my forehead.

"Oh god," she nearly panted as my tongue slid into her ear, as my teeth nipped at the lobe.

"You are so hot Kim," I whispered in her ear, blowing my breath across it. "I want you baby. I want you."

"I'm yours," she said. "Take me. Take me right here. Take me hard!"

I gave an almost animalistic growl, her words stirring me on almost as much as her touch. I brought my hands upward on her body, to her breasts, my fingers clawing at the sports bra. In a quick motion I pulled upward on it, baring those tits, causing them to bounce free. They were visions of loveliness, firm globes the size of ripe grapefruits, pale in contrast to the surrounding skin, capped with small pink nipples that were hard and ready.

She lifted her arms, allowing me to pull the bra free and drop it to the floor behind her. Before it even hit the carpet my head was bending down, my mouth aiming for the right nipple. I sucked it between my lips, not gently, tonguing and sucking on the erect nubbin. She moaned again at the contact, her hands going to the back of my head to pull me harder against her.

"Oh yes," she told me breathlessly. "Suck my titties. Suck them hard. Do everything hard!"

"Mmmm hmmm," I responded from around my mouthful of titflesh. I switched the other tit and sucked that nipple into my mouth too, licking it, battering it with my tongue.

As I sucked on her luscious tits, and as my hands continued to explore her sweaty flesh from her neck to her thighs, she reached down and grabbed the bottom of my shirt. She tugged on it, pulling it upward. I had to break contact with her for the briefest of instances while it slid over my head and off, leaving me naked from the waist up, like her. The moment it was free, my mouth re-attached itself to her nipple.

Finally, having slaked my appetite for those breasts I'd seen jiggling beneath her bras, I moved on. Dropping to my knees before her, I found myself looking directly at her bare belly, just above the waistband of her running shorts. Like everywhere else on her, the skin here was moist with sweat and glistened in the light. I put my fingers to her hips, grabbing the band of her shorts. In one quick motion I pulled them down, along with her yellow cotton panties, baring her sex to me.

Her pussy was, quite simply, a beautiful, appetizing sight, both in its allure and in its forbiddeness. The hair covering it was light brown, the color of coffee with heavy cream, very thin, and well trimmed. The curls of this hair were matted down with sweat and juices. Her pussy was swollen and ready, the lips an angry red, slightly parted, her clit sticking out expectantly. The odor that came from her was powerful, almost eye watering, the sharp tang of aroused musk mixed with fresh sweat.

I pulled the shorts and panties off of her legs right over the top of her shoes, never taking my eyes from the feast before me. Once they were free I pushed her thighs apart with my hands, opening her to me even more. I slid my hands around to her ass, giving the cheeks a rough squeeze, and then pulled her towards me, angling my head down at the same time and planting my face right atop her slippery wetness.

I licked upward from the bottom of her slit, dragging my tongue slowly but firmly between her lips, gathering her juices on my tongue, tasting the acid bite of them. She moaned loudly at the contact, her hands dropping to my hair and pulling on it, urging me on.

"Yes!" she panted. "Oh yes! Eat my sweaty pussy out! Eat me!"

"Mmmm hmmm," I repeated, plunging my tongue all the way inside.

"You like me all sweaty do you?" she asked me. "You like to stick that tongue in my hot cunt?"

I pulled her even harder against me, driving my tongue in as far as it would go. She was unable to stand any longer under this treatment and let herself fall backwards to the carpet. I kept my face firmly planted in her crotch as she went down. Once she was on her back I pushed her legs even further apart, opening her up as wide as possible. I ate her like a man possessed, sucking her juices into my mouth, tonguing her lips, her slit, her clit. Her pelvis began to buck up and down and she continued to articulate the filthiest, most sexy remarks to me.

"Eat that sweaty cunt," she encouraged. "Oh god. Make me come all over your mouth!"

I put my fingers into her pussy while I ate her and began to lash at her clit while I pumped them in and out. This made extremely short work of her. Soon she was bucking up and down as if in seizure, her guttural words becoming incoherent moans and cries. She pulled harder on my hair and her legs went around my back, tightening there almost painfully. When she came she yelled loud enough that I feared someone might hear and call the police. I put my hand up to her mouth to mute her a little but this only seemed to excite her more. She bit down on my hand as she reached her peak. I kept up my tongue and finger action as she seemed to hold at a high plateau of pleasure and then finally, after what seemed like a full minute, pushed over the other side.

Before the tension even left her body she pulled away from me, my mouth coming off of her drenched pussy with an audible slurp. She got up on her knees, her breasts bouncing sexily, her face still flushed, an insanely lustful expression on her face. She pushed me over onto my back and then positioned herself near my feet.

"I want your cock," she told me, looking me in the eye.

Before I could answer she reached down and grabbed my waistband, nearly ripping my shorts and underwear free of my body. She pulled them down my legs and off, simply forcing them over my running shoes as I had done to her. My cock sprang into the air, free from its confines at long last. It was turgid with blood, nearly purple in color, and ready for action. She looked at it hungrily.

In one quick motion she leaned down and slurped me into her mouth, her wet tongue and lips surrounding my hot flesh. It felt absolutely pagan as she deep throated me, her lips sinking all the way down to my balls in one stroke. Now it was my turn to put hands in hair. I took her sweaty blonde strands in my fist to guide her but apparently it wasn't quite what she was looking for.

She raised her head up for a moment and looked at me. "Rougher," she said. "Pull my hair! Pull me down on your cock! Be rough with me."

I did as she asked, feeling tingles of lust coursing through me as I yanked at her hair and forced her head down onto my cock. She gave a happy moan as her lips engulfed me once more and sucked me all the way to the base. I continued to pull on her hair and force her head up and down, feeling a little strange doing so - I really am a gentle guy at heart - but getting off on it quite nicely at the same time. She kept this up for the better part of five minutes, sucking every last molecule of sweat from my member, leaving it shining with her saliva and feeling the first vestiges of approaching orgasm.

Seeming to sense this she pulled herself free from me. She was panting, her hair mussed up, her body still glistening with moisture.

"You have a beautiful cock," she told me.

"Thank you," I responded, unsure what else I was supposed to say.

"Throw me down on the floor and fuck me with it," she said.

That was certainly a motivating command. I rose up and took her by the shoulders, preparing to push her down to the carpet. Again, I thought I was being rough with her and again I wasn't being rough enough.

"Harder," she said, shrugging out of my grip, offering me a teasing smile. "Don't fuck around with me. Throw me down on that floor hard and fuck the shit out of me."

This time I grabbed her roughly by the upper arms, squeezing hard enough to leave finger marks on her. It seemed to me I might have gone just a bit too far but it didn't seem so to Kim. Her eyes took on a radiant shine and instead of crying out in pain, she moaned in pleasure.

"Yes, like that," she said. "Throw my ass down and take me!"

I wrestled her roughly downward. She feigned resistance, but only a little bit. In a few seconds I had her sweating, panting body down on her back, my hands holding her there by the shoulders.

"You want me to fuck you now?" I asked her, putting myself atop of her, pushing my knee between her closed legs.

"Yeah," she panted, leaning up and licking at my neck. "Do it hard baby. I never get it hard. I want you to fucking pound me!"

I roughly pushed her legs apart with my knees and squirmed my body downward. I felt my cock move across her pubis and then through her pubic hair, until it finally was trailing through the hot wetness of her pussy lips.

"Do it baby," she told me, almost begged me. "Oh god, do it!"

I moved my hips until I felt the head of my cock pushing between those slippery lips. And then, with one hard thrust, I sank inside of her. She was tight, oh so very tight, but wet enough so that I was able to sink to the balls in one stroke. I felt her chasm gripping at me, pulling on me, like I had driven into a breathing thing with a life of its own.

"Oh yes!" she yelled, her hands gripping my ass to pull me tighter against her.

I began to fuck roughly in and out of her, pushing and pulling and letting my cock come almost all the way out before I drove it back all the way in. I felt myself slamming into her cervix on each down stroke. I felt the cool air on my balls on each upstroke. She was so much tighter than my wife, probably from her frequent exercise, and the sensation was exquisite. Coupled with this was the undercurrent of lustful guilt at the fact that I was cheating on my wife, that I was lying on another woman's carpet and fucking her like an animal.

"Oh yes, you feel so good," Kim told me. "Harder. Give it to me harder."

I gave it to her harder, driving myself in and out at a furious pace. Soon I was panting as hard as I did mid-run, my heart hammering in my chest. This was a pace that I simply would have been incapable of before starting my exercise regiment, but I basked in it now, watching as my sweat dripped from my forehead and onto Kim's face.

Soon she was coming again, this time even more vocally than before. I leaned down and kissed her as her body tightened up against me, cramming my tongue into her mouth and cutting her off mid-scream. She sucked harshly back at my tongue while her pelvis mashed up and down into mine and we literally bounced around on the floor. The grip that her pussy was giving my cock became even tighter and I felt my own orgasm starting to push forth as well.

Kim rode out the rest of her orgasm and then pushed on my shoulders.

"No," she told me, shaking her head strenuously. "Don't come yet. Not yet."

"Huh?" I blurted, confused, wondering why I couldn't come. After all, I knew that she was on birth control pills, so pregnancy wouldn't be a problem.

She pushed me the rest of the way off and then sat up. "Coming in my pussy isn't nasty enough," she told me. "I want to be really nasty with you."

"Uh... ok," I said, unsure where she was heading with this. I soon found out.

She flipped herself over, onto her hands and knees, so that her tight ass was sticking up in the air towards me. "Take my ass," she said.

"Your ass?"

"I want to feel you come in my ass," she said. "Do it! Fuck me in the ass baby. Do it now!"

I nearly came right there just from her words. Anal sex was something that my wife had never allowed me to do. Nor had any of my previous girlfriends allowed it either. I looked at her puckered asshole, just above her swollen and dripping pussy and I growled again, unable to articulate coherently I was so turned on.

I moved forward, grabbing her by the waist and pushing my cock into the crack of her ass. It was already quite slippery from her juices. I slid one of my hands around and ran it through her crack, smearing some of the juices that had leaked down there around as well. I passed over her asshole several times, pushing on it and finally sliding my middle finger into it, to the first knuckle at first and then all the way inside.

"Oh yes baby," she said. "I can't wait. Stick it in there. Take my asssssss!"

I lined up my cock and put it up against her hole. I pushed forward slowly and millimeter by millimeter, my head penetrated that tight ring of flesh.

"Uhhhh, god," Kim grunted, obviously in pain.

I started to pull back out, alarmed at the fact that I was hurting her.

"No!" she barked. "Put it in there! I like the way it hurts baby. Put it in!"

I pushed forward again and soon the head was back within her, and then an inch of the shaft. I pulled out a little to help spread the lubrication around and then pushed back in, a little further this time. Kim grunted again but pushed back at me, encouraging me to go deeper. I pushed a littler further on the next stroke, and then a little further on the one after, and soon, my entire cock was buried in her asshole. Her ass was tight, tighter than anything I'd ever been in before, tighter than I even imagined was possible.

"So full," she said with a moan. "Oh god. Now fuck it! Fuck it hard and come in my ass!"

I did as requested, moving my cock rapidly in and out of her asshole. The friction was so intense that I could actually feel my lower back straining with the exertion. But the sensation on my cock was also quite intense as well. I could feel every square centimeter of her anal passage pushing against me, could feel her grip and relax as I moved in and out. My hands gripped roughly at her waist, pushing and pulling her in opposition to my thrusts, my balls slapping against her pussy.

It was only a minute or so under this treatment before I was well past the point of no return. The orgasm built slowly, starting in my groin and quickly spreading through my entire lower body, a wave of intense pleasure that tightened every muscle in my body, that made my hands grip onto her, that made my breathing almost stop.

"Yesssss," she cried, feeling this, reaching back with her hands to caress my balls. "Come up my ass!"

The peak came with an intensity I hadn't felt since I was a teenager. I groaned aloud with a final tightening of my muscles and began to shoot my load into her bowels, blast after blast, splashing deep within her. She too screamed in pleasure as she felt this, her finger going to her clit and rubbing frantically enough to bring herself off one last time.

At last, in a heap, we collapsed to the floor, my chest pushed against her back, my chin resting on her hair, my cock still imbedded in her ass. We lay like that for a moment, just catching our breath, before I finally pulled myself free with a squish of juices and rolled onto my back next to her. She took a few deep breaths and then pulled herself up onto my chest, snuggling up against me affectionately.

We lay like that for a moment, the sweat drying on our skin, cooling us. Finally she looked up at me.

"Are you sorry for what we did?" she asked, her green eyes probing into mine.

I tried to search my feelings for the guilt I expected to feel, and there was a little bit there, but not nearly as much as I would have thought. "No," I told her, leaning forward and giving her a little peck on the nose. "I'm really not. That was the most incredible sex that I've ever had."

She nodded, offering her smile to me. "I agree. That was intense. I don't usually... well... you know, ask for it rough like that. But with you... I just wanted it that way. I hope you don't think I'm twisted or anything."

"I don't think any such thing," I assured her. "You turned me on like I've never been before. And when you told me that last part..."

"To take my ass?"

"Yeah," I said with a grin. "That was... just hot. There's no other word for it. You're a very sexy woman Kim."

"Thank you," she said. "You're pretty sexy yourself."

We lay together in silence for a few more minutes, until I happened to look up at her grandfather clock and note that I was well past the time I normally returned home from my runs. In fact, my wife would be getting out of bed in about ten minutes or so. And she surely wouldn't appreciate my coming home smelling like the neighbor's sexual musk.

"I have to get going," I told her. "I need to get in the shower before my wife wakes up. And I'm working on being late to work as well."

"Okay," she said softly, slowly rolling off of me. She picked up my shorts and handed them to me. As I struggled to pull them on over my shoes she asked, "Will you be out to run with me day after tomorrow?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "I'll be there."

"Me too," she said. After a moment, "Will we do this again?"

I looked at her. "Do you want to?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I want to do it again and again and again. I think I'm becoming obsessed with you now."

"Really?" I asked, a little uncomfortably.

She caught my drift quite nicely however. "Don't worry," she said. "I remember the rules. I don't want you to leave your wife for me and I don't want to leave Rick. I just want to borrow your body a couple times a week if that's okay."

"That's more than okay," I assured her. "And I'll remember the rules too."

I was walking back to my house a few minutes later, my body sore and reeking of musk, but my mind strangely untroubled. My only worry was getting into the shower before my wife pulled herself from the bed. I was really glad that my body had decided to start putting on weight now. The doctors were right. Exercise was good for you.

Keys: cheat wife xxx.free

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