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Pussy Run

Pussy Run

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There she was!

I watched the woman with the dark hair pass me on the wilderness trail, where I regularly went running. She moved with the lithe speed of a gazelle. Her tight butt flexed enticingly under her snug running shorts, and the sight made my mouth water and my pussy flutter.

I wanted her. I’d been out there watching especially for her, having seen her several times already that day. But she was so speedy, she’d gone right past me again, disappearing up the winding paths and in among the towering trees.

Just before she vanished, though, she looked back my way. I couldn’t read her expression, but the tilt of her head told me she was aware of my presence behind her and didn’t mind.

I put on more speed myself. I was in good shape, and on some days, I thought I owned this trail, as I passed dilettante joggers and panting amateur hikers. On those days I felt the energy coursing through my toned body, like some kind of hypnotic drug. I liked the bounce of my tits under my sports bra and the pistoning of my strong legs. Running got the sweat flowing and the heart thumping.

It also got me aroused. Sometimes I would reach the top of the hill, where there was a huge grassy meadow, and find my pussy dripping and my nipples achingly stiff with desire.

I knew that was an associational reaction, linked to memories from when I’d been on the track team in college. There had been lots of hot ladies on the squad, and after our runs many of us would fool around in the locker room and showers. I remembered those dreamy, steamy days of getting fingered and sucked by those hot women — and doing the same back to them.

The big state park was, I’d found, a good place for chasing hot women. I’d picked up enough tasty tail on this very trail, in fact, that I thought of it as the Pussy Run. If a woman could climb this hill all the way at full speed, then she would have lots of stamina in bed. I liked going pussy to pussy with someone who had some real sexual endurance. It made the experience a physically challenging — and satisfying — one.

But this dark-haired woman was becoming my obsession. I’d caught only glimpses of her face, but it was enough to tell she was damn pretty. And I’d feasted on the sight of her body from behind, staring longingly every time she’d put some distance between us. She was fine.

But now she’d done it again, blown by me! Frustration made my legs pump harder. I was going up the slope fast, but she was faster. Still, what about that look back she’d given me before she’d disappeared around a bend in the winding path? That look meant she wanted me, I told myself with a grin.

I decided to try something sneaky. I couldn’t stomach the thought of running this trail all day without catching up to her. I knew this park well. There were lots of mostly unused side trails, some just deer paths. I ducked off the main track and went tearing into the trees.

The narrow path went straight up, none of the winding back and forth of the big trail. But the steepness was brutal. I attacked the footpath, low branches slapping at my head as I ran. My footing slipped, but I kept going, really pouring it on.

The exertion had me sweating profusely and my blood pumping fiercely. But deep excitement touched me again. I recalled those all-girl college orgies after a strenuous run. My pussy dampened, and sexual energy crackled over my skin. I thought of the dark-haired woman, somewhere ahead. She would be switchbacking her way up the hill. If I could keep up this pace, I might be able to overtake her.

I let myself indulge in lascivious fantasies about her. I imagined that sprightly body spread naked before me. I wanted to squeeze her perky tits, grope that tight ass. I wanted to jam my tongue deep into her pussy and lick her until she came, gushing into my mouth.

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