The Runner - Sex Stories

The Runner

The city glimmered in a sunrise that picked out the tallest tower and flooded its penthouse with golden light. The space looked empty but for a pair of bare knees, visible either side of the black pod of an armchair. Nadia twirled the chair around until her naked thighs were spread to the entire city. Her fingers dug between them, too feverish in her desire to care if anyone could see her. In fact, she hoped someone was watching, and getting off on her athletic body spread on the black leather, naked but for the clip in her platinum bob. Two fingers slid quickly in and out of her. The other hand patted her clitoris, tickled it, rubbed it and begged it to cum for her. “Motherfucker,” she burst. But in frustration. Folding her arms and swinging the chair side to side, she glared at the uncaring dawn. How she hated Sundays. The day of the dead. She licked wet fingers and decided to defer her ritual ‘city-fuck’. Perhaps a run would scratch her itch. It was a cool and quiet autumnal morning. As soon as her feet hit the pavement, Nadia was glad to be running, letting her lungs, heart and unresolved sexual tension propel her toward the park. A personal trainer told her, once that a good long-distance runner: “Runs like a Rolls-Royce, never a Ferrari.” But at times like this, alone in the park, she was all sports car. She powered along, heady with the sensation of firing on all cylinders, of being well made and perfectly tuned. Nadia didn’t see them until it was too late. Three ...

... large guys, still high from their Saturday night. Hooded, grizzled and stale. One ran toward her, eyes all-white with crazed lust, his tongue curled out and waggling. She swerved to avoid him and ran straight into the arms of the other two, wrapping strong limbs around her and dragging her into a bush. Nadia was not a helpless female. She swung her head back and cracked it on the nose of one man, let out a series of quick screams for help, and rammed her foot into the crotch of the fast approaching crazy-eye. But one lone woman cannot defeat three chemically fuelled, fully-grown men. They laughed off their pain, and gripped her tighter. The two smothered her again and grappled her to the ground, lying on top of her, while the third clawed at her leggings. Then he disappeared. Suddenly yanked backwards, the clawing man flew off Nadia’s legs as if tied to a bungee cord. A huge shadow blurred over them, and the other two disappeared as well. The shadow loomed over her. A hand appeared. “Are you ok?” Deep and earthy. Like a tree talking. Nadia jerked away. He was the largest man she’d ever seen, another jogger. He apologised and pulled his hood off his head, revealing what looked ridiculously like an action hero. All strong chin, broken nose and slanted sparkling eyes. He offered Nadia his hand again and smiled. He had a sad smile, worn for gentleness not for happiness. It comforted her. She took his hand and stood up. “Assholes!” she shouted at the men, who were still skulking off, ...