The Runners (Taboo)

A run through the park is her time to relax her mind and refresh her spirit. When she meets another runner on the path it's just a regular encounter, or so she thinks.

She recalled the first time they’d passed each other, it was some months ago now, and she hadn’t taken any notice of him at all, other than to ensure she left enough room for him to pass her on the gravel path. She’d been running the same track every afternoon since the beginning of the year, and she’d been feeling fitter, healthier and happier once she had overcome the first few weeks of pain getting started.

The second time she saw him was a week or so later, and she had noticed how as they approached each other he lifted his head and seemed to grow a little. She’d laughed inside to herself at how vain men could be, assuming he had done so to appear more relaxed and able. She noticed he did the same thing both times that she saw him over the following week too, but she also saw that he was sweating and breathing hard. After those first few times, she had fallen into the habit of smiling as he approached, and he had done the same, and soon enough there was a nod of familiarity. After two months he seemed to not be struggling so much, as he managed a nod, a smile, and a raising of the hand. It was around three weeks ago that he first spoke, managing a cheerful ‘good afternoon’ between his heavy breaths.

Despite never having spoken to the man, she felt a certain affinity with him; they must both live nearby, they both took their health seriously enough to run almost every day, and they were both creatures of habit, sticking to the same route again and again.

Over the past couple of months she had started to notice other things about him in the moments between him coming in to view and then passing. She had noticed he was looking slimmer in his shorts and t-shirt. She had noticed that his hair had been cut recently, and that he kept his beard well trimmed. She had also noticed that he wore a gold ring on the ring finger of his left hand, signifying that he was married. Why this had flagged in her mind she wasn’t sure. He was clearly quite a few years older than her, and whilst not being unattractive, was not her usual ‘type’. She normally found herself attracted to guys younger than her, guys who could keep up with her professional lifestyle and active social life. Family men, married men, and particularly older men, had never interested her, so why was this guy’s wedding ring resting so prominently in her mind?

Two weeks ago he had stopped running as he came into view, and had walked, and made a gesture to slow her as she passed him. She hadn’t understood and had run on past, glancing back to see him standing watching her. The following day he had done the same, and she had stopped. He said a few words, introduced himself as Nathaniel, made a poor joke about keeping fit, but she had been a bit rude to him and, acknowledging his pleasantries, had run on after only a few moments, keen to stick to her routine.

She had been cautious not to tell him her name, and had been suddenly mindful that this man was a stranger she knew nothing about.

That evening though, while out with a friend in the village, she had found her thoughts invaded by short visions, visions that gave her a little thrill as she caught herself imagining what he might look like under his clothes, whether he might be a good kisser, or more. She had caught herself, but not before she had realized she was flushed in the cheeks and feeling a little aroused.

The next couple of days he hadn’t been there, and she wondered why that was, whether he had been busy, maybe even ill? She had wondered if maybe she was missing him, but dismissed such a silly notion almost out of hand.

Last week, he had returned, and was back on his usual route. As they passed each other he had given a wave and a smile, but seemed a little less friendly. She had smiled and said ‘hello’.

Two days passed like that, and then on the third day, Wednesday, he had stopped again. This time she stopped too, and spent a few moments exchanging pleasantries. She didn’t tell him her name, but she did congratulate him on being committed to his running, and for looking so much fitter than when she had first seen him.

Thursday had brought another chat, which hadn’t finished so well, as he had asked her if she wanted to meet him for a drink some time. She’s said ‘no’, but had tried to be kind about it. Not so much because she didn’t want to meet him, but more because he just wasn’t her usual type, and she didn’t feel meeting up with a guy she barely knew was a particularly good idea.

That night though, she had had invasive thoughts throughout the evening, and when she had gone to bed she found herself daydreaming of a date with him.. where they might go, what they might do. She had got carried away and imagined them kissing, and feeling his hands on her. Her thoughts had given her sufficient inspiration to feel like touching herself, and she had given herself a quiet orgasm in bed before drifting off to sleep.

That was Thursday. Friday, yesterday, had been and gone, and she hadn’t gone out for a run. It was the first day she had missed since the beginning of the year, and she had missed it for the worst reason of all - shame. She couldn’t get over her thoughts from Thursday night, and what she had done, and she didn’t want to come across him and have to talk to him. She knew she would blush and there would be an awkward moment, and she knew that she would feel something else, and that wouldn’t help her to run at all.

Instead she had gone out with friends, and had spent the late afternoon and early evening having a few relaxing drinks at the pub beside the river, and a bit of banter with her girl friends. She told them about her mystery man, Nathaniel, and they teased her, until she burst into tears, crying at the fact that she’d not had a partner in almost a year, and she felt that thinking about this guy made her feel desperate and ashamed.

That was yesterday. Today was Saturday, and the world had looked grey and misty in the morning. She’d decided to go out for her run in the afternoon after all, and now she was sitting in her bath tub, soothing her aching muscles and washing away the dirt and grime from her skin.

The mist had clung around, and it had been a cooler day. She’d got ready as usual, pulling her tight Lycra shorts up her legs and over her thong, fitting herself into her sports bra, tucking her feet into trainer socks and pulling on her trainers. She’d tied her dark brown hair up in a long pony tail, and after a few stretches she had set off at a light pace.

After only a short distance, a familiar voice called ‘hello’, and she heard footsteps striding up from beside her. In a moment, Nathaniel was running alongside her, apologizing for having been so crass as to ask her out, and in the cross talk she must have said something, because having just apologized, he had gone on to ask her if she’d like to go somewhere quiet for a drink instead of running.

She had smiled but told him ‘no’, again, and so they had run along for a while beside each other. And then he’d said something that surprised her.

‘You’re a cock-tease, aren’t you?’

She had thought she’d misheard, and asked him to repeat himself.

‘You’re a cock-tease, aren’t you?’ He said again, ‘I mean, you flash a smile, you give me the eye, you wear this tight gear and show off your body, but when a guy succumbs and asks you out you turn him down, you’re a cock-tease.’

She had stopped abruptly.

‘What the FUCK?’ she had asked, suddenly understanding that it was no accident he had caught up with her and changed his route to run alongside her.

‘You women are all the same’, he had said, ‘you lead a guy on, you want to display how beautiful you are, you make us feel special, and then you don’t respond when we make a move.’

She’d tried to be polite, though, in the face of the accusation he leveled. ‘Listen, Nathaniel, we smiled and exchanged pleasantries each day, and I felt like you were a nice guy, but I saw you were married and I don’t date married men, and I’m not normally attracted to older guys, so when you asked me out I said ‘no’. It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just not what I need right now.’

She had felt like she was letting him down with a cushion, but while she was talking she had realized that she was flattered, and she recalled the thoughts she had had on Thursday night, the cause of her feeling so shameful just yesterday.

‘Not what you need?’ He’d said. She remembered vividly the words he had used. ‘I know what you need.’

That was when he had pushed her. His palms had hit her shoulders so hard that she had stepped backwards, tumbled into the high hedge beside the gravel path and fallen right through to the other side, laying on her backside in a thick layer of prickly plants and vegetation. She had struggled to bring her vision to focus has as he had stepped through the hedge, pushed the branches back together behind him and stood over her, unfastening the tied lace at the waist and of his shorts. He’d leant down and grabbed her by her pony tail, lifted her head up at the same time as tugging down the front of his shorts, and grunted roughly, ‘this is all a woman like you needs.’ At that moment his long, thick cock had sprung out of his shorts right in front of her face. Still shocked, she didn’t have the wherewithal to fight when he gripped her jaw and forced her mouth open, pushing the bulbous head past her lips and into the back of her throat. She had just started to raise her hands to try to push him away when she had started to gag, her throat convulsing against his thickening cock. With one hand on her pony tail and the other on her jaw, he had held her head like a vice and had started fucking her mouth. From her position on the ground she had had no way to push him away, his body had dominated her and other than trying to use her legs to get some grip in the undergrowth she hadn’t been able to struggle effectively.

In that moment, having realized she had no way to get away, she saw herself in that state, and felt a surge of shame and disgust. Nathaniel, however, had not been interested in how she felt, and had kept grinding his thickness in to her mouth, gripping her hair tight in his fist.

She had heard his voice from above her, ‘You’re just like all the rest, look. Playing the innocent and pretending you don’t want it, but when you know you need it. You know that every time we’ve seen each other for the last three months you’ve been aching for this day. The day that you feel my cock. The day that we fuck. I’ve seen it in your eyes and that coquettish smile.’

He had been right. She had felt his thick cock sliding down her throat, she had felt his heavy balls swinging against her chin, and she had felt his rough hands in her hair and on her face, and she had to admit she had wanted him. Her daydreams just two nights before had been all about him, and she had been thinking about him. Not that she fantasized about an encounter like this, but she had wondered what his cock would feel like while she had stroked herself to orgasm on Thursday. And so she had let it happen. She had heard his words and allowed them to expose her deepest desires. She had relaxed her throat and allowed him to fuck it until his cock was as hard as it would get. She had opened her legs and allowed him to push his foot beneath her ass, to grind his shin against the slim veneer of Lycra between her thighs. When he had pulled out of her mouth she had let him claw at her sports bra, stretching it and grabbing it, tugging it up to reveal her breasts, and then she had let him, actually, she had enjoyed him, grasp and grip her bare flesh, pinch, and dig his nails into her soft mounds. She had started to grind her pelvis against his shin until he knelt down and tore her shorts down her thighs and off at her ankles. She had laid back into the spiky undergrowth, feeling the sharp pricks of thorns and briars against her skin, and opened her thighs for him to push his thick bulb up inside her wet pussy. She had wrapped her arms around his shoulder and lifted herself to give him deeper strokes into her core. She had kissed him, and bitten his shoulder as he forced himself inside her and stretched her wide.

His words had been hurtful, calling her names and making her feel like dirt, but in her mind she had been lost in the dark carnal pleasure her as she experienced sensory overload. Her body had shaken and convulsed as he forced her to orgasm with the stroke of his shaft inside her tight wet vagina. And when he stiffened, and gripped her tight in his big hands, when his face had contorted and his mouth had opened wide, and she had felt the pulsing of his cock and the jets of thick cream being emptied inside her, she felt a warmth, a protective warmth, right before he had stood up, wiped his cock on her shorts, threw them at her, pulled his own shorts up and pushed himself back through the hedge. She had heard him mutter ‘fucking whores’, as his footsteps had disappeared down the path. And then she had felt it. The shame. The darkness. The self-loathing that comes from weakness of the mind. Why didn’t she fight? Why wasn’t she stronger? How could she have given in so easily to those base desires? Those questions without rational answers had made her cry as she had pulled on her cum stained shorts, realigned her sports bra and pushed her way back through the hedge to the pathway. She had continued to cry all the way home, and when she got in to her flat she had run straight to the bathroom, and had run a bath. Now, as she lay feeling the warm water and soft scented suds soothe her scratched and tender skin, she melted in to the bath tub and closed her eyes. The tears dried, and she felt a familiar tingle begin to rise in her core..