Day One, Monday, June 10, 2013
Notes: Takes place during Chapter 10.
It was six AM when I slipped out of the house for my morning jog, alone. My husband was still asleep, snoring like a lumberjack sawing wood. I wish Stan would join me, I would bug him to go jogging, to stay in shape, and he would, for a few days. And then his excuse would crop up. "I didn't get a good night sleep," Stan would say. Or, "Sorry, Ana, my knee's hurting." And for a few weeks I would drop the subject, and then start nagging him all over again and we'd start the cycle all over. It wasn't fair. Stan expect me to keep in good shape, the least he could do was return the favor.
Age was starting to catch up to Stan. He just turned thirty-one, and his metabolism was losing the war against the junk food I know he eats at work. He didn't get any junk food at home, only all natural, organic food was allowed in the house, but I knew he was cheating on my wholesome cooking with junk food behind my back. He lied, but Stan was such a bad liar I could see right through him. Particularly, when his lips tasted of Cheetos.
Well, it was better that he cheated on me with food than with one of those hussies at his work.
Which is why I was out jogging in my pink, Lycra tanktop and my black leggings. My Babushka always told me, "My little kotyonok, men are dogs, always sniffing at asses. So make sure your ass is better than any woman around your husband. Then, he will never stray." My mom would always frown at my Babushka, but me and my cousins would just giggle at her earthy wisdom. And my ass looked very nice in my tight leggings I was proud to say.
My earbuds in, and my iPod loaded with Taylor Swift and Sharon Crow, Beyonce and Rihanna, I jogged down Mountain View Court, the street our house was on, out onto Shaw Road, and turned left. From here I would jog up to 39th Avenue, cross Shaw Road and jog down to Pierce College. I would circle the campus and head for home.
The sun was rising beautifully over Mount Rainier as I made my return, jogging on 39th Avenue as I approached Shaw Road. I reached the intersection, hitting the crosswalk button and waited for the light to change. I could hear cars honking as they drove by over the soulful dulcet of Rihanna's Unfaithful. The light turned green and got halfway across the road when I saw what they were honking at.
I froze in the middle of Shaw Road. I couldn't be seeing that?
There, jogging down Shaw Road was a naked man.
He was about my age, late twenties, a little overweight, his fat jiggling as he jogged, and there, flopping between his legs, was a half-hard cock and a pair of balls. Bouncing up and down, side to side, like the trunk of an elephant. There was a naked man jogging down the road, I thought in disbelief. What is going on? I caught a hungry look in his blue eyes as he grew closer and closer. He was staring at me, his eyes running up and down my body. Fear shivered through me, ice water filled my veins.
What do I do? Panic gripped my mind. What do you do when a man is jogging naked at you? I reached for my phone, patting the non-existent pockets of my legging. Panic shivered across my skin, my hairs standing up. I didn't have my phone. My jogging outfit was too tight for a phone. And it was such a nice neighborhood, I never felt in danger jogging. Until now. Idiot!
He was closer, reaching the light. A car honked. The light had turned red while I stood frozen in the crosswalk, holding up traffic. He was getting closer and closer, reaching the crosswalk, his blue eyes fixed on me. Oh God, what do I do? He started crossing the road, maybe ten feet away. My feet started moving on their own as I saw his mouth open, yelling something. I couldn't hear what he said over the pulsing beat of Rihanna.
I had to get away. My black hair whipping behind me as I ran.
I glanced back and he was chasing after me, crossing Shaw Road, his cock bouncing about. Oh God, it was harder, poking straight at me, straight at my sex. He was getting excited. I could see his mouth opening, he was yelling something at me, but I still couldn't hear him over my iPod, over Rihanna. My heart pounded, adrenaline was coursing through my body as I stretched out my legs and really started to run.
The song ended.
"Stop!" A single word, barely heard, in the brief silence between songs.
And I stopped, nearly falling over from my sudden halt, the rubber soles of my shoes squeaking as they slid on the sidewalk. What the hell? Don't stop, stupid legs! Move! Get Moving! I glanced behind me and he was closer, breathing hard, his fleshy body flushed with exertion. His cock was hard, the head red and angry, rising out out of a forest of brown hair. More hair covered his flabby chest and stomach. Lust shined in his blue eyes. Run! Oh, please legs! Run! My heart was hammering in my chest. He was going to hurt me, rape me! God, he was going to rape me!
I screamed as loud as I could, "Help! Rape!"
The naked man was so close now, walking the last few feet with a confident swagger. He reached out and pulled out my earbuds. "Damn iPods," he muttered, breathing heavily. "What's your ... name?" Then grabbed his knees, struggling to catch his breath. Sweat gleamed on his naked body, and I could smell his exertion.
"Anastasia Milburn," I answered. God, his voice was so intense. It seemed to reach into me, touching my soul. How could I resist such a voice. You couldn't. The voice just had to be obeyed.
"Well, Anastasia, I'm Mark and I'm the founder of the Naked Jogging Club." His blue eyes roamed my body, a leer on his face. He stretched his back, arms on his side and drew in a deep breath, his cock thrusting obscenely out at me, hard and angry. Oh, please don't rape me! "And you are the perfect candidate to be the first recruit. So, from now on, you're part of my club, okay."
"Sure," I said. How could I say no to the man. Relief flooded through me. He didn't want to rape me, he just wanted me to join his club. Then I realized what I agreed to and flushed. "Does that mean I have to..." I couldn't bring myself to say it.
His grin broadened, became almost like a boys. "Yep. So start stripping."
Before I even realized it, I was peeling my Lycra top off, exposing my white sports bra. Mark grabbed my top, freeing me to reach behind my back and find the clasps to my sports bra. I fumbled with the clasp, feeling nervous about exposing myself. Cars were driving by us, honking their horns, yelling obscene things. My breasts were free and to my horror, my nipples were hard as rocks. I moved to cover my small breasts, 32Bs, but Mark grabbed my arm.
"Hmm, those are some nice tits," he murmured, reaching out to touch me. I flinched away. "You want me to touch you," his words vibrated in my soul. "You want me to fuck you. You're getting wet just thinking about it. So, just let me do what I want to you. You want to be my jogging slut, right Anastasia?"
I could feel my panties getting damp with desire. I glanced down at his hard cock. Imaging how it would feel pushing into my cunt, filling me up. What's wrong with you, Ana. You're married. You shouldn't be thinking that, hoping for it. But God, it would feel amazing. He looked a little bigger than Stan. I knelt down, telling myself it was just to untie my shoes so I could get my leggings off. It was just a coincidence that I was getting a good eyeful of his cock and balls.
Up close, his cock was big and powerful, twitching with his heartbeat. I don't know why I had been so scared of you, I thought. His cock will feel amazing as he thrust it inside me. There was a drop of clear liquid beading at the tiny slit at the crown of his dick. I licked my lips, part of me wanting to stick out my tongue and taste Mark's pre-cum, to suck his dick into my mouth and bob my head. Get a grip, Ana, you're on a busy street. I finished untying my shoes and stood up.
I peeled off my tight leggings and my powder blue panties in one motion, exposing my naked body to the entire world. I bent down, making sure Mark could see my ass and pussy and my bush getting matted with my excitement. I wanted Mark's cock, God help me. I wanted it so bad. I wouldn't object if he took me right here.
"Your pussy hair's blonde," Mark blinked. "You dye your hair black?"
I nodded. "I don't like being blonde," I said. "Everyone thinks you're a bimbo."
Mark laughed. "So many women would kill to be blonde and you go and dye your hair."
I smiled, pulling on my shoes.
"All right," Mark said, staring lustfully at me as I retied my jogging shoes. "Head home, and I'll follow. I want to stare at the ass. It's so nice and tight."
I could feel his hungry eyes the entire jog back to my house. I put a roll to my ass, as sexy a sway as I could manage while jogging. My small breasts bounced uncomfortably and I missed wearing the sports bra clutched in my right hand. But Mark wanted me naked, and there was a certain freedom in showing my assets, especially my tight ass, off to the world.
My Babushka was right, men loved sniffing at another woman's ass. "Men will come sniffing at your ass, my little kotyonok, and that can be much fun." There had been such a wicked smile on her wrinkled, old face when she told my cousin's and I that and we all tittered at her naughty intimation. Well, Stan, you didn't want to come jogging, and now another man's come sniffing at my ass. And I was going to have some fun, I thought with a wicked smile.
.... There is more of this story ...