Late-Night Jogging

I am jogging through the streets. It is dark out and late evening.

My shirt is soaked, plastered against my chest and abs. The rain is warm.

It’s a humid, summer evening, and I’m running through the suburbs. The wet feels good against my skin.

There are lights on in the windows of the houses as I run. I am preparing every day—and without fail—for a 50K marathon.

I like running in the night, when no one is around. I like running in the night, to feel that overwhelming sense of freedom and release.

Hit my stride and turn a corner onto a leafy cul-de-sac.

I am about to make my way around, when suddenly my breathing changes, becomes heavy and I stop.

My hands are on my knees. I’m hunched over, my chest is heaving.

I’m dehydrated, sweat sliding off my face. when I hear a voice… a stranger’s voice coming from across the street.

Your voice is sweet and sing-song, husky in the dark.

I clear my eyes and look around to see you sit on an unlit porch, your feet up on a table as you sit in a wicker chair, a wine glass in your hands.

You call out once again and ask if everything’s alright, if I need a drink of water.

Under normal circumstances, I’d decline such a kind gesture, and run onwards unimpeded, but tonight I am parched. I can barely speak or breathe.

You leave the porch and go inside… and return some seconds later with a glass of water that I guzzle down.

As I drink, I look at you discreetly and admire your physique. You’re wearing shorts in this humid weather. You’ve got nice calves and ample thighs. The cotton shorts hug your shapely bottom, cling to your great ass. Your nipples are pointy and erect through your oversized shirt.

Despite my sudden exhaustion, I’m incredibly aroused.

I’m quick to finish the water and hand you back the glass. Your hair is swept up and away from your face.

Your eyes look up and into mine, all soft and tender. I know that look. And bashfully, I look away.

“Are you okay?” you ask again, taking the empty glass from my hand. “There’s plenty more…”

“I could use another glass,” I pant. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You lead me to the porch. The fabric of your little shorts, rising between your legs as we ascend the stairs.

“Wait right here,”you instruct, and catch my gaze before I look away.

I do as I am told. The front porch is long and wide, supported by white columns. A porch swing hangs on the right-hand side, and two wicker chairs and a table are positioned adjacent near a large window.

When you return, I glance at my watch, knowing I’ve got to make my way back home…

“You’re up late,” I say. It’s just past 10pm.

You tell me you couldn’t sleep. It’s been too hot, and instead of tossing and turning, you’d rather be out, just sitting in the warm stillness, just watching the world go by.

I ease myself into the porch swing and take your second glass of water. You sit somewhat close and my heartbeat races even more.

You tell me that every night around this time you see me jogging by.

“You’re so athletic. I’ve been admiring your build, your dedication. Look at these muscles,” you say. “May I?”

I nod, amused and turned on by your energy.

You’ve turned to face me now, one arm rests on the back of the swing while one of your smooth legs is propped up on the seat.

You squeeze firmly on my bicep, your face alight in glee. Then silently, you move your hand, just up and down my arm… my body pulsing, now coming back to life.

I reach over slowly, and take your face into my hands.

I kiss you, deeply, my tongue penetrating your open mouth. Your lips taste sweet from the wine, and when I move away you lick your lips and proclaim that they taste salty from my sweat.

You take my hand in yours, and bring them to your lips, kissing each and every finger as you stare into my eyes, and then you slip them into your mouth, one by one and sucking slowly, wriggling your tongue against my pointer finger, sucking feverishly two at a time, as you stare down at my dick, hard now and straining through my shorts.

You take my wet fingers and glide them down your lips, and down your chin, and past your collar bones, down further to your breasts… which I grab with my hands, and squeeze, massaging with my fingers, your nipples tempting me through your shirt.

I grab each one with my fingers, pinch them softly then release. I pluck again now with some pressure, until you suck your teeth, and close your eyes, your body sliding closer, your legs spreading wider, to wrap around my waist. as we rock against the swing.

You seize my hands and slide them down your stomach, down to the elastic band of your cotton shorts.

You lean in now to kiss me… press and rub your breasts against my chest.

I run my tongue along the outside of your lips, as you guide my hands past the threshold of your shorts. I thrust them into your panties and the subterranean heat of your pussy feels so good.

I pull away from your mouth, press my lips along your neck, licking gently from the chin, down to the clavicle as my fingers explore your wetness.

You are silky and soaking up my hands, the softness of your labia lips rubbing up against my fingers.

You are rocking back and forth as I play with your pussy, the swing moving along with the tempo of your body.

The porch is cloaked in darkness. No one can see us from the windows of their homes.

The night smell of trees and rain and wet grass is intoxicating.

I push deeper and deeper inside of you, sweeping and caressing the length of my fingers, along the clenching walls of your vagina, your head nestled in the crook of my neck in pleasure.

I use my other hand, which steadies your hips, and reach behind you, entering your shorts from the back, and feeling the curvature of your delicious ass. I hoist you up just a little, so that you’re sitting on my hand, as the other hand plays and tickles your hard clit.

I’m circling around and around, the hand at your bottom reaching up to enter deep inside of you.

You’re babbling sheer nonsense into my ear, as I continue to open you up with my fingers, my other hand massaging and then tapping at your clit.

Slowly, very slowly, I pull out both my hands.

I lean you back against the backrest of the swing. Your legs hang down. I get down on my knees, frantically pulling off your shorts and panties in one swift go.

Your thighs tremble against the seat as I spread open your legs, your labia lips beckoning me to suck on them.

I check my surroundings, I look out onto the street, and through the dark windows, to make sure no one is watching, and then I dive in, tasting the deep, dark folds of your labia… tickling the opening of your vagina with my tongue… lapping up all your sweet secretions, then sliding the full length of my tongue across your clit, over and over and over again, licking and tickling and lightly sucking on your clit… your whole pussy sliding and rubbing against my face, coating me in pussy juice, the deep, dark stench of you as I eat you out, your powerful thighs clenched either side of my head as the swing rocks noisily back and forth.

Your moaning and groaning crescendos as I slither my tongue from your clit to the opening of your wet pussy. Your thighs quake. You clasp and dig your fingers into my shoulders.

My tongue and mouth and all my fingers rub and play with you… until you cum, your whole body rippling on the seat, your pussy slapping up and down against my face, your mouth spilled open…

A light is switched on abruptly in a window adjacent to the house. I watch as fingers and eyes rustle at the blinds, trying to find the source of all the noise.

You see me staring up and above, then push us onto the ground, away from the swing, away from the neighbor’s window. We stifle more laughter and embarrassment.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” you say.

I clean my mouth with the back of my hand and press it to my nose, inhaling the sharp and musky scent of our adventures.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” you say. “Next time, drink plenty of water… or maybe don’t.”