The Runner

At my age, one no longer hopes. The days of one's youth are long gone. Yet, desire remains as devouring as in one's youth. No, more devouring since one knows how little chance offers. All these years, and never to have found that one, that other, that part of oneself long lost.

It was a Sunday afternoon, nothing to do, a walk through the public gardens. Summer was closing. Autumn already turned the edges of the leaves from green to shades of yellow and burnt orange. Two dogs chased each other. Singles and couples strolled.

There was a bench. At its sides fading flowers. I sat.

Around the perimeter the runners and joggers flashed before me. Creamy fleshy blurs.

I no longer had the stamina or the desire. Middle age had cooled the impetus.

As I lulled in the autumn blur, my eye was taken by a distinct form at the edge of the runners' path. Deep blue jogging shorts banded a brilliant pink and white form. Legs thrust, chest heaved, arms pulsed. Such energy. Where were those days?

The droplets of sweat glimmered down and across his heat pink glowing skin. His eyes, clear and moist spoke of his exertion and his parted lips trembled in exhausted breaths.

Closer he came towards by bench. As he neared, the smell of him, of his sweat, of his heat, of his maleness entered my nose and throat and lungs.

My eyes caught his. His seemed to fix on mine. Suddenly, just before me, he stopped.

With a great moan he bent and grabbed at his ankles, held for a moment, straightened, lifted his arms above his head. The sinews of his torso, the outline of his ribs, the shallow of his stomach, the curve of his hips all flashed before me. He turned. 'Enough!.. That's enough. Enough for today's run'.

What to reply? The words slipped out without thought. 'You look exhausted,' I feebly managed.

'You said it!'

'You're soaked'. (Where did my words come from?)

My eyes devoured him. They flew across his athletic frame. They settled on the middle of his running shorts. Wet with his sweat the clung to and outlined even to the rim of the head, a firm and protruding, though still flaccid, cock and balls.

He saw where my eyes fell.

His hands reached to his crotch and grasped below his balls. He shoved them up.

'Puts a strain on them', he said, as the sweat dripped from his forehead to his lips.

'I know what you mean'., I muttered. 'I used to run, but not so much anymore.'

'You still look like you're in good shape.' ( Was he really talking to me?)

'I try. But, not what I used to be.'

'Oh, I don't know. You still look pretty good.'

'You think so?', I stammered.

'I wouldn't mind'. ( What was he saying? Was I hearing or just wishing?)

'Mind if I sit for a minute?'

I nodded.

'Don't mind the smell' he chuckled and patted my knee.

'Not at all.' My heart began to race to fast I thought it would stop.

He leaned back on the bench and stretched his arms out on the bench, the left one behind my back. He spread his legs and pulled up his shorts. The tip of his cock showed through the mesh lining that revealed itself.

'Need a shower and a rest,' he said. 'Live right over there. Say, why don't you join me. Join me for a drink. I'm new and don't know anyone at all. '

'you sure' I blustered.

'Yeh, why not? Come on. Follow me.'

I don't know what we said on the way to his apartment. Nonsense I am sure. But he had asked me to join him. He couldn't be more than thirty or so and I am fifty. Why would he want to be bothered with me?

There we were. In his apartment. In his hallway. His naked torso still pink and hot and moist. His smell driving me wild.

'Have a seat'. he said, indicating a small living room space. 'I'll be right out'.

I accommodated myself and he disappeared into what was the bathroom and shower.

I heard the water. I imagined. I hoped.

A few moments later the water stopped. I heard the bathroom door, then his voice.

'Here. Come around here,' he called.

I rose, crossed the hall to the opposite room: his bedroom.

There he stood, hair wet and still dripping, dark and sinuous around his ears and brow.

A blue towel encircled his waist.

'Would you dry my back?'

The words almost caused me to faint.

He turned. His broad shoulders filled me: the curves, the mounds, the gentle yet powerful arches. He unloosed the towel and reached it to me. The mound of his firm and massive hips thrust out before me. And, below them, the undulating masses of his thighs and calves.

I took the towel and began to move it across those shoulders, then down to the narrow waist then to the arch of the hips. I could not resist. It was too strong. I dropped the towel and fell to my knees. My hands ran forward and clutch his hair, his cock, his balls, My lips and tongue fell deeply into his ass. Madly I sought his hole. Wildly I seized his sack.

'Yes, yes,' he screamed, 'fuck me with your tongue!'

Suddenly he bent over my hands left his cock to part his ass cheeks

and heatedly I found the mark. My tongue was thrusting and pulsing,

Then, without warning he turned and pulled me to my feet. Wildly he ripped away at my cloths. My cock, already hard and ready to come, lunged upward against my stomach. In an instant he pulled it down and on his knees before me he thrust his mouth around my manhood up to the hair of my crotch. I felt his lips against them and looked down to see his nose crushed into their dark curls. My hips began to heave. Harder and deeper into his mouth. He retreated and lowered himself to my balls. One side, then the other, then both tossed and turned against his tongue. My hands grasped his head and forced him tightly against my inner crotch. Then again he shifted and his tongue found the entrance to my hole. The sensation was maddening. My hands moved from his head to my cock.

Deeper and deeper he thrust his tongue, harder and tighter I beat my own dick.

'I'm going to come.' I yelled.

'No, No. Not yet'

Quickly he rose and threw me to the floor.

Leaning over me, he fell to my face and kissed me again and again deeper and deeper. The scent of his skin, the touch of his hair, the warmth of his skin sent me into ecstasy.

Then, his hands around my head, clutching my hair and with his lips just above mine he said ' Now, I want you in me now'.

And with that, he reached behind him to grasp my cock and hold it upright.

In a second his ass was upon me and again in a second he had impaled himself upon my throbbing dick.

The heat was intense. The wet was explosive. He yelled in delight and I quivered in oblivion. Again and again he thrust himself down upon me. His upright cock and throbbing tightened balls rose and fell before me between the masses of his outstretched thighs.

I could bear no more. Now I thrust against his plunging. Together we heaved, faster, deeper, hotter. Until.

'Yes, Yes, he screamed!'

The cum flew from my cock. I pressed tight against him. He pressed deeply against me.

My legs locked around him.

He tumbled, my dick still inside him, against my face. His lips met mine. Our tongues continued the pulsing thrusts.

Then, all was still.

Hot, and wet, and wonderful and still.

His hands caressed my face. My fingers outlined his eyes.

'Will you stay?' he whispered.