August MacGregor

Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over

Morning Run

4 Comments

Story time again! Not as explicit as my other stories. Hope you enjoy 🙂

* * * * *

Morning Run

The air that was sucked into Peter’s nose and mouth was crisp and chilly and fresh. He’d come to appreciate mornings, and he was pleased with himself by keeping up with the schedule of running.

His New Year’s resolutions were still holding strong. Morning runs. Doughnuts had changed to oatmeal. Soda to water. Transitions that were exciting in the first flush, then challenging once that initial rush faded. But he’d come to embrace the challenge. Peter figured that he’d given in for years, and now it was time to stop. Stop all that, and become strong in mind and body.

His legs were certainly feeling stronger. Reminisces of running track in high school. He wondered again, for the thousandth time, how he’d gotten off track. A joke that still made him wince. Wince for how corny the pun was, and for how it had happened.

“Life happened.” That’s what Sheila had said when he expressed bitterness about the years of not challenging himself.

But that wasn’t right. Not totally. He had challenged himself in other ways. And those challenges had carried a great deal of stress.

Yeah, life did happen. But it was still happening. Happening all around him, and he could see it even more so now. In these morning runs around their neighborhood, seeing all the other suburban houses and lawns and cars and thinking about the people inside. Life was happening everywhere. It was easier to see that at foot-speed rather than at car-speed. Of course, he wasn’t rushing off to work on the weekends, but he was often rushing off to somewhere else.

Peter was back on track now. On track with one foot in front of the other. Each foot clasped snugly in a running shoe. Each foot touching the sidewalk, and then pushing off, pushing forward, before launching up like it was jumping for joy, then descending and touching the sidewalk again. Cycles and cycles of this, his legs pistoning, muscles working, the feeling of motion exhilarating.

Also exhilarating was the chilly, crisp air he sucked in, then forced out in clouds of steam. Like he was a locomotive, a machine of hard iron with a blazing furnace in the center propeling it forward.

Mornings used to be a thing to be dreaded. Bleary-eyed and groaning to rise out of bed. But now, he eagerly anticipated the alarm clock’s buzz and swiftly hitting the off button so Sheila wouldn’t wake up fully, and hopefully she’d fall back asleep as Peter tiptoed out of the bedroom. His mind was still foggy, but all it had to do was focus on one purpose: getting ready for running. After he drank water, pissed, dressed, and stretched, he was all set. During the run, the fog in his head cleared away with the crisp air, and his thoughts became much more organized. And at a calmer pace than when he used to guzzle too much coffee to wake up.

Arriving back home, Peter turned on the coffee maker, stretched again to cool down and threw back a glass of water. Still trying to be as quiet as possible, he tossed his sweaty clothes in the laundry bin and took a short shower. Enough to wash away the sweat.

Sheila, as usual, was watching as he—now towel-dried—left the bathroom and entered the bedroom. Her expression was another reason for holding strong onto his New Year’s Resolutions. Her expression that mixed together surprise, gratitude, and desire. He had asked her why she was still surprised, after these several months of him running and eating more healthy foods.

“Because you keep changing,” she had said.

He had to give her that. That reflection in the mirror was changing.

Sheila’s face brightened as he approached the bed and pulled down the blankets. She was naked.

“I have a confession,” she said.

“Oh?”

“I got off thinking of you coming home. So no need to use your hand or mouth, and you can get right to it.”

Frowning, he said, “But that’s my job.”

She laughed. “It is your job. And you can do it tonight. But right now, I need you inside me.”

Her face said that she wasn’t just playing nice. Other mornings, she had certainly enjoyed his efforts to bring her to climax. But here and there, she beat him to it.

“Got it, boss,” he said and climbed on top of her.

Her eyes widened, and she spanked him. “Boss, huh?”

He couldn’t help but smile. From their fun and from the feeling of entering her. “Just telling it like it is.”

“Well, you better please the boss, then.”

“Yes, ma’am. How am I doing so far?”

Her face was less playful and held more warmth, more love. “So far, so good.”

He lowered and kissed her, moving his cock in her. His second workout of the morning. One also exhilarating, but in a much different way than the run. Afterwards, he’d take a longer shower and eat breakfast and practically skip out the front door on the way to work.

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Author: augustmacgregor

I'm a writer of erotica and romantic fiction.

4 thoughts on “Morning Run

  1. Now that’s what I call a ‘Good Morning!’ 🙂

    Like

  2. Fun story. I like the way she takes charge!

    Like

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