Month 4A

Twenty-One

"Do ya wanna run the 5K or the 10K, buddy boy?" Jenny asked as the sun rose casting its morning light across the running track. "I don't think high schools run the 8K, at least that's what I figured from checking out record running times for high school track and field events on the Internet last night."

"What are the records?" I asked.

Jenny checked her notebook. "13 minutes 44 seconds for the 5K and 28 minutes 32.7 seconds for the 10K. Those are the best times for all the high schools everywhere — I think."

"Why don't I run the 5K, check the time, and then keep going for the 10K?" I suggested.

"Sounds like a plan. I believe one time around this track is 400 meters, which means you'll need to run around the track 12 1⁄2 times for the 5K. Double that for the 10K, or 25 full circuits."

"Okay. Where do I start?"

She shrugged. "Here's as good a place as any. I'll need to do a little guessing about the half circuit for the 5K, but I don't think that's a big deal. Okay?"

"Fine with me."

"I'll call out your time for each 400 meters. I'll also give you the total time elapsed and calculate your projected time for the 5K first and then the 10K - if you keep goin'. The 10K is about 6 1⁄4 miles. Have you run that far before?"

"I don't know, Jenny girl. I just run. I roughly estimate the distances based on 8 blocks to the mile. You've got me curious now. Let's just do it and find out how fast I am."

"Okay. Are you ready?" She held a stopwatch in her hand.

"Yeah."

"Ready — set — go!"

As I ran, I did the math, which wasn't easy because seconds had to be changed into a percentage of a minute, and I had to do the calculations in my head. The high-school record for the 5K averaged somewhere around one minute six seconds per 400 meters. I remembered a mile was close to 1600 meters, so I figured the record holder for the 5K averaged 4-minute 24-second miles. The 10K record holder averaged roughly 1 minute 9 seconds per 400 meters, or 4-minute 36-second miles.

Fuck! They were sprinting, not jogging!

My mood sunk until I remembered that I started running to shape my growing body. I ran until running became a habit. Now, if I missed a day, my body complained. Running made my body feel good like a well-maintained machine.

When Jenny girl suggested I could become a jock, I was elated. I imagined my fellow students in the bleachers cheering me on as I crossed the finish line in record time. With a grimace, I realized I'd not only been a lovesick sap but also harbored delusions of grandeur.

Ten strides later I remembered today was an anniversary of sorts. Three months ago (figuring 4 weeks to the month), my growth spurt started. I'd grown like gangbusters the first two months, so much so that I feared I'd change from a short, scrawny nerd into a freaky giant. When my growth rate started to slow I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd grown nearly 4 inches taller the first two months, but I'd added only another inch and a bit in the third. At 6'1" I weighed in at 176 pounds, mostly muscle, and my dick now stretched out to 8 inches, my proudest accomplishment. Would Eve appreciate its size this afternoon? Or was I reading her wrong?

"1 minute 12 seconds," Jenny huffed as she started to run along with me. "That translates into a 15-minute 5K and a 30-minute 10K, buddy boy. Lookin' good."

The time surprised me. I figured I'd run a 1-minute 20-second 400. How about that! But could I maintain this pace through 10,000 meters? With a little extra effort, I thought I could break the 15-minute mark for the 5K, but...

There was only one way to know. I ran, picking up my pace a little.

I'd told Jenny girl that she didn't hold me back while she ran with me, but she did, not much but a little, and I did increase my pace after she dropped off, mostly to take myself close to failure as soon as possible, failure for me being the point in time while running when my body told me to stop.

I'd read about the physiology of running. All of the work done by running muscles is supplied from the chemical breakdown of adenosine triphosphate, or ATP. During exercise, food takes a metabolic journey until the body is presented a sort of fork in the road. One direction produces ATP aerobically, the other anaerobically. The aerobic path produces glucose much better than the other path, plus the anearobic system has the disadvantage of producing the by-product lactic acid. Jenny girl dropped out when lactic acid overcame her, in other words, when she reached her lactate threshold. I did the same but remained aerobic longer than she before reaching my threshold. I also figured that my growth spurt included my heart, and an enlarged heart helped runners by increasing the time spent on the aerobic pathway.

I finished the 5K in 15 minutes 9 seconds. Jenny girl was so excited that she squealed happily and jumped up and down, an interesting sight that made me wonder again what she'd look like naked. Still, her excitement confused me. I was off the record by a minute and a half.

At 7,000 meters, I figured my ADT was being produced simultaneously by both aerobic and anearobic systems. At 8,000 meters I knew I'd reached and moved beyond my lactate threshold, and if I'd been merely running for exercise, I'd have slowly stopped.

I pressed on.

Visions blurred my vision. Incredible legs. Eve's? A tiny, red rose. A different rose, a feminine flower, red, too. Puffy. Damp.

Other senses intruded. My nostrils flared with the imagined scent of pheromones. My mouth watered. My tongue waggled, then dangled.

Slap, slap went my feet. Muscles screamed. My heart beat alarmingly fast. I sucked in oxygen and pressed on.

"Paul!"

Jenny girl? Big. Healthy. A different flower. Not dainty. Not svelte. She'd never be svelte. A svelte Jenny would look silly. She'd be big and sexy, all curvy, all woman. An earthy fragrance. Spicy flavors.

"Paul, you're finished. You can stop now."

I staggered, nearly tripping over my running shoes, staggered onto the winter grass and collapsed. I rolled to my back gasping, gazing up at a clear blue sky. Would my heart beat out of my chest?

"The 10K is a bitch!" I muttered to myself, and then smiled when I recognized the female reference. Yep, the 10K produced about the same amount of pain as an unscrupulous girl.

Laughing gaily, Jenny cuddled on the grass next to me, hugging me, a joyful embrace of appreciation. Her breasts pressed against me, feeling like large, soft pillows. I wanted to burrow my head between them and blissfully fall away into a regenerating nap. I didn't. I didn't have the strength to burrow.

"You're amazing!" she gushed and kissed me, just a peck, but I think the kiss surprised both of us, mostly Jenny. She rolled off me onto her back.

"33 minutes flat, buddy boy. Congratulations!"

"Why? I'd need to take off more than four minutes to approach the record."

"Doesn't matter. Mark my words. You'll still run the local yocals into the ground. Too bad ya missed the New Times 10K in November. Your time today would a put you in the top 20. I think you oughta register for the Desert Classic 10K, which takes place between Christmas and New Year's Day. You need some serious competition ta keep your head from gettin' too big. I'll help ya train for it."

I groaned. Like the 10K, Jenny was a bitch. I'd do as she suggested, though. I wouldn't disappoint my Jenny girl for the world.

She laughed. "No pain, no gain."

"Easy for you to say."

Twenty-Two

Eve opened the door wearing a bikini. I whistled my appreciation and handed her a single red rose.

She laughed, which did marvelous things to the perky breasts barely covered by a dusty-yellow bikini top.

"I can see where your mind is," she teased.

I blushed, dammit, which produced another happy laugh from Eve.

I gotta tell ya, as small as her bikini was, I couldn't see how anything but her pussy could be just below the bikini line. In my calculations, a small area for a pubic patch occupied the only possible location for the rose. Did the tattoo occupy that space?

She guided me to a half-bath. "Change into your suit in here, Paul, and join me outside by the hot tub. Would you like something to drink?"

When I called Eve earlier, she told me the date was on and asked me to bring a bathing suit to wear in the hot tub. I happily complied with her request. Hot tubs brought to mind exciting erotic overtones, not to mention old fantasies with new participants, well one new participant, if I didn't count myself. I almost always took top billing in my fantasies.

"Water with lots of ice would be good." I was still dehydrated from the 10K run that morning.

She was lying on a chaise lounge when I stepped out onto the patio. With a lazy wave of her hand, she motioned toward a tall plastic glass on a patio table. I picked it up, gulped half its icy contents and set the glass back on the table. I wanted my hands free of any encumbrance.

"Good water," I quipped inanely and sat on the lounge chair next to her. Now what? I couldn't just ask her to show me her tattoo, could I? "I ran a 10K this morning, a first for me, ran it in 33 minutes flat."

"10K?"

"Yes, 10,000 meters, equivalent to around 6.2 miles."

"Is 33 minutes a good time?"

"Fair."

"Who timed you?"

"Jenny Hall, my running partner. She's helping me train and wants me to run in the Desert Classic 10K at Scottsdale Community College after Christmas."

"Jenny runs with you?"

"Uh-huh. She says she wants to be svelte."

Eve chuckled, which I didn't think was very nice of her, but then I'd recently discovered that girls weren't truly nice. Still, I couldn't let Eve make fun of my running partner and friend with impunity. "Careful, Eve. Jenny's down about 30 pounds. She might not become svelte, but in a month or two after losing an additional 20 pounds, she'll reach her weight goal, and like she says, after peeling off a few layers some pretty curves will shine through." I paused and grinned. "I'm proud of her."

Eve blushed and said, "Sorry. It's strange. Before last night, when I pictured you in my mind, I envisioned you as short and skinny, intensely shy, too. When I think of Jenny Hall, I see a really big girl. You're neither short nor skinny and far from shy, so I should be able to envision Jenny... well, svelte, but I can't. Sorry."

"I understand. I can't see her svelte either, but I've watched her put forth a monumental effort to do something about her weight problem, and I've become her greatest fan and a cheering section of one." After a short pause, I continued, "I admit that lately I've wondered what she looks like under all those baggy clothes she wears, even at school." It was my turn to chuckle, but not at Jenny's expense. "I think she's planning a grand unveiling."

Eve grinned. "That answers a question I had."

"What question?"

"Whether you and Jenny..."

I didn't understand until her sentence tapered off. "Oh, no, Jenny is a friend - just a friend."

Eve raised an eyebrow, expressing doubt, but remained silent. She also raised a knee, the one closest to me, and let it fall toward me a little. My eyes naturally wandered to her barely-covered pussy. I knew she'd noticed where my mind was, so I grinned, raised my eyes to hers, and said, "Roses."

She laughed gaily. "Talk about a one-track mind. Bring your drink, and we'll hop in the hot tub."

I helped her to her feet and pulled her into my arms. She didn't move back, so I kissed her, a soft romantic kiss, not passionate like the night before. I wasn't ready for passion, but I did want to hold her, touch her. I didn't get a hard-on.

"May I refill my glass first?" I asked.

"I'll do it. Go ahead, hop in."

I was settled in the frothing, massaging water when she stepped back out onto the patio. When she bent over to hand me the glass of water, her bikini fell away from her breasts, giving me a clear view of one turgid nipple, larger than I expected and dark brown in color. The areola was small, barely containing the nipple.

I guess I must have been staring because Eve chortled and said, "Well, you've seen them. Would you think me brazen if I removed my top?"

"Hah! Bold yes, brazen no, and definitely a sweetheart." I took the glass she was offering me and gazed over the rim as I slugged down some more water. I gazed because I refused to miss watching her take off the bikini top. I smacked my lips, appreciating the chilled water and the view. "Nice."

"Thanks. They're small."

"But proportional and perfectly formed - perky and proud. You'll probably label me untruthful, but I actually prefer nicely shaped, small breasts like yours to huge, sagging hooters out of proportion with the rest of a girl's body."

"Oh, my, you are a surprise, Paul. My last boyfriend thought I should have them augmented."

"Don't you dare!" I exclaimed.

She laughed, a trilling, pleasant sound.

Cuddling next to me, she placed her hand on my thigh and pressed her naked breast against my arm. I set my glass of water on the cool deck and put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to me. Her lips nibbled my neck where it met my shoulder as she moved her fingers up and grasped my hard-on over my swimming trunks.

Using my fingers under her chin, I raised her face to mine and kissed her, softly, romantically at first, but the kiss quickly escalated with passion. She had her fingers around my cock. Surely she wouldn't object if my fingers explored her pussy. She didn't, unless a passionate moan could be considered an objection.

My touch discovered something strange — two, hard, little objects in her crease. Curious, I inserted my fingers under her bikini and moved them around until they encountered the bumps.

My God! She's had her pussy pierced! I thought, and then blurted, "Damn! That had to hurt!"

Eve laughed. "Not as much as you'd think, and it has its advantages. You can't believe how stimulating it can be."

I removed my hand from under her suit and lifted her so she sat on the lip of the hot tub. "This I've gotta see," I stated and, without asking, started to pull off her bikini bottom. She helped.

The small, red rose came into view. My assumption had been correct. The tattoo occupied the area normally reserved for a pubic patch. Eve obviously shaved her pussy — all of it. I couldn't see even one stray strand of hair.

I could see what looked like two diamonds connected with a half-ring, a smaller gem at the top and a larger one directly below. I discovered later that the half-ring pierced her clitoral hood, not her clitoris, a procedure referred to as a vertical clitoral hood piercing, which was evidently the easiest, least painful, most stimulating and quickest healing female genital piercing there is. The jewelry is inserted into the hood tissue just above the clitoris and rests easily on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Because it runs parallel with the natural contour of a woman's shape, it yields to normal movements with little or no twisting or binding.

Strange, I'd daydreamed about seeing Eve's rose tattoo. With it finally in view, I ignored it. My eyes and complete attention were captured by the genital jewelry.

"Are those diamonds?" I asked.

"No, cubic zirconium. The facets aren't sharp. They won't cut. Lick me and find out."

Ah, a test I could wrap my mind... no, my tongue around. I leaned forward and licked between the jewels. Eve gasped passionately, so I rolled my tongue around to test the validity of her statement. My tongue remained unharmed, but I decided I still preferred the soft, swampy feel of just plain pussy. My mind rejected the jewelry as if it was a organ transplant, which in a sense it was. I kept my preference to myself.

Eve's flavors were stronger than Claire's and a little less pungent than Mrs. Jensen's. She had large inner lips, soft and pliable flaps that gave me pleasure when I sucked them into my mouth. Her clitoral hood retracted, exposing a large clit, not as hard as the gems above and below, but still stiff and excited. I licked and sucked on it while pushing first one finger and then another into her cunt until she climaxed under my assault.

I stood and pulled off my trucks, my stiff shaft waving in the sunshine, begging to be surrounded by wet, throbbing girl heat.

"Oh, my!" Eve gushed when her eyes fixed on my hard-on.

I knelt on the seat in the frothing water, and draped her legs each side of my hips while aiming my shaft at her bald, disfigured pussy. She helped by reaching for my cock with a dainty hand and guiding it to her center, inserting it at just the right place. She hunched forward, seating the head firmly inside her, and I ratcheted forward, burying myself fully with the first lunge. Her cunt was large and loose and very wet...

Fuck! I'd forgotten the rubber!

When I pulled out of her and started to stand, she asked, "What... ?"

"I have a condom in my suit."

"No need. I'm on the pill." Her hands pulled at my hips and my throbbing stalk slipped back inside her large, grasping pussy. "Besides, I hate those things. I adore semen. I want to feel it inside me, and later I'll taste it, swallow it when I go down on you. Come on, Paul. Fuck me, dammit!"

Sorry, Dad, I apologized silently.

I soon discovered an inward thrust met little resistance, but when I pulled back so I could thrust into her again, her talented glove tightened around my shaft sending thrills up and down my spine. I appreciated what was happening because the loose inward thrust delayed my orgasm while the gripping sensation when I pulled back slowly increased my excited state. She'd intimated that she'd fucked around, and the control she exhibited over the interior muscles of her cunt indicated she'd told the truth. Eve knew what she was doing. She fucked me but still made me believe I was fucking her. She was multi-orgasmic, climaxed quickly and often. Did the genital jewelry help?

She also offered a strange dichotomy of submissiveness and aggressiveness that delighted me. I discovered that she'd do anything I asked of her, but she rarely made any suggestions herself. Oh, she'd asked me to lick her and insisted that I fuck her without protection, but then it was if she turned her body over for my use and pleasure.

After coming inside her, I suggested that we find a more comfortable location to continue our sexual odyssey. She took me to her bed where we talked while she made love to my cock with her mouth and lips and tongue and fingers. I say make love as opposed to going down on me because she appeared to love it, expressing her adoration not only with words but also by her actions. "The perfect size for me," she gushed a few times.

She gulped down my semen as if it was honey and she was a she-bear. A little later, I managed to get hard again, and she rode me like a cowgirl, bouncing and expressing happiness and passion with moans and words. I toyed with and mauled her perky breasts, and we kissed and cuddled a lot.

I brought the afternoon bacchanalia to a close, not her. She expressed her disappointment, telling me that her parents wouldn't be home for at least another hour, but I had another date that night with a lively, pretty blonde, Jenny referred to as a snot.

At the door with me fully dressed and Eve still stark naked, she said, "My parents will be gone tomorrow afternoon for a while."