The Half Marathon

I've always had a very low opinion of those who cheat, both male and female. Examples of men who cheat, I only know by hearsay but when during my gap year and three years at university, there were times when I seemed surrounded by girls who treated lack of loyalty as a virtue. The fact of having a long term steady boyfriend seemed no bar to a girl opening her legs on a one night stand and more than once a friend has said to me in justification, "What harm does it do? I'm certainly not missing out on a good shag just because he happens to be away for the week and anyway, what he doesn't know can't hurt him."

I just couldn't be like that. Even when it looked certain that a relationship was in its final stages I wouldn't go out with someone new until it was officially over. Yet most other girls seemed to grab every opportunity to play around. Three different times I have been a bridesmaid and watched a friend walk down the isle on the arm of a doting husband, knowing in each case, that she had been fucked by at least one other man during the course of their courtship. One of the three was actually pregnant and I hope her hubby never sits down and actually works out the maths. I don't really think I was a prude but I certainly wasn't promiscuous. I had full sex with only three different men before I met Jim and the first of those doesn't really count. Both of the others were fairly steady relationships and I only went to bed with them after we'd been together for a couple of months. There were quite a few other guys where we had a few dates and there was a degree of mutual groping but even that fell well short of any kind of oral.

When I was eighteen, a girlfriend was throwing an all night part while her parents were away. During the early evening I was having a marvellous time dancing and drinking but I gradually realised that other girls were only partially dressed and there were couples doing more than just make out on the different items of furniture around the room. Suddenly there seemed to be boy's hands pawing at me from all directions and, even though I was pretty drunk, I knew I didn't want to be there. I found my friend to say I wanted to go home but I hadn't any taxi fare and she was unsympathetic. One cue her older brother offered to run me home. He had been drinking but was far more sober than I was so I accepted gratefully. I admit that I had a bit of a crush on him but it was of long standing and he had never shown the slightest interest in me. He helped me into the rear seat and I think I just lay there semi-comatose.

Part way to my home he pulled into a patch of woods and climbed into the back seat with me saying, "Right you little tart, you've been asking for it all night and now you're going to get it." With that he planted a few slobbering kisses round my mouth and the next moment I felt an excruciating pain between my legs. The next bit is a blur but know I screamed, he must have paused, looked down, saw the blood and panicked. I remember him saying, "Oh shit." Then he kind of shook me and swore, "Stupid cunt, why the fuck didn't you say you were a virgin?" I didn't answer and he switched to being conciliatory and trying to clean me up but all the time insisting that I had really wanted it. It ended when he made a kind of bargain, "Tell me you wanted it and I'll take you home." I just wanted to be safe in my own bed so I said what he wanted to hear. I've never told a soul about this until now – not even Jim but you can possibly understand why I couldn't be free and easy with the opposite sex after that.

I reaped the reward for my restrained lifestyle when I met Jim. Ironically, I had just decided that I was missing out and had gone to a party with the intention of getting laid when he happened to be the first guy to ask me to dance. We stayed together all evening and, although indulging in some very passionate kissing, he never pushed for more. It was almost three months before we first had full sex and by then we were firmly on the path to marriage.

Jim is 5'10", average build and although not conventionally handsome, I think he is very attractive. It was actually his character rather than his looks that appealed so strongly to me. He's very intelligent with a quick sense of humour and I think he is the kindest man alive apart from possibly my dad. Jim is also an intensely loving man. He was perfect and I was so glad that I had saved myself for him, more or less. We had met when we were both in the final year of teacher training, got married after graduation and last year celebrated our twelfth wedding anniversary. There are three primary objectives in life – excitement, pleasure and happiness. Many people, especially the young, go for one of the first pair or a combination of the two but right from the start I was set on finding happiness, following the example set by my parents long, devoted monogamous marriage.

Those twelve years had produced two children, Steven 7 and Aimee 5 but a combination of child bearing and total contentment meant that I was now carrying more than a few pounds too much.

I am 5' 6" tall and was always slim with a lithe athletic figure which unfortunately included a bust rather on the small side. I was pretty then and still am but apart from that my sex appeal had definitely deteriorated. As a teenager my strong points used to be very shapely legs and a bottom that was nicely rounded but compact – when going out it was always hard to decide whether I should wear a nice short skirt or my tight jeans. Passage of time resulted in heavier thighs, a bum that I was sure was too big and a certain bulge round my middle. When your tits are too small, a nice concave stomach can accentuate what you have but when your tummy instead bulges the opposite way then it's a disaster for self esteem. During the two pregnancies my breasts swelled up nicely, to Jim's great delight, but sadly my bust is the only part of my body that did return to normal.

When Aimee started school I returned to full time employment. I had done some part time teaching during the previous two years but now I started full time at the local junior school. Throughout the marriage Jim had been teaching at a senior school in the city and was now head of a department. My fellow staff members were almost all female and they split into two distinct groups with some half a dozen early twenties with the rest being more matronly ladies aged in their late forties. At thirty-three, I fitted neatly into the middle but couldn't decide which group to gravitate towards. Figure wise I belonged with the older women but spiritually I felt far more on the younger wavelength. In my teens I'd been the adventurous type. At different times I done both mountaineering and potholing, thoroughly enjoying both and I also tried bungee jumping and para-gliding but only to get the T-shirt.

The conversation attracted me to the probationers group but the contrast between my figure and theirs was a great incentive to get myself back in shape. I started jogging round the streets for half an hour every evening and it was gratifying the way the surplus weight started to disappear. By the return to school after the following Easter I was nicely back in shape, just when the conversation was all about a fun run in aid of charity that was set to take place in the autumn. I was full of enthusiasm but after studying the leaflet, in my current fit state, I was more attracted by the challenge of the proper half marathon run on the same day. After talking it over with Jim I put my name down for the more serious event and started planning a more intense training schedule.

My new svelte shape had the side benefit of causing my husband to become a degree more frisky. I always considered myself to have a fairly low sex drive. Jim's drive was only slightly stronger but this did ensure that he almost invariably took the initiative. Even in the beginning, making love was never our overwhelming preoccupation but in the early years we still managed to average a healthy three times a week. Unfortunately, by the time I started working full time again our sex life had deteriorated to a once a week Saturday night ritual but having got back in trim, just looking sexier made me feel sexier so I welcomed Jim's renewed interest.

While maintaining my evening jogs I decided to rise an hour early on weekend mornings to get in a much longer run and still be back in time to do breakfasts for the kids. With the long summer break coming up I planned to train most mornings and bring myself to peak condition just right for the event. We live right on the edge of town and within minutes of the house there is a countryside track that skirts the base of a large hill. I calculated that to the other side of the hill and back would nicely fill the hour I had allocated.

Stepping out into the early sunlight and fresh morning air was unexpectedly invigorating and I found real pleasure in the sense of solitude and the feeling that the world was empty apart from me. So after twenty minutes it came as a shock to see a male figure in the distance, heading towards me along the track. There was some reassurance in the fact that he was also a runner but also a reason for worry as well. When out during the dark evenings I had run defensively but my main peace of mind had come from knowing that I could almost certainly outrun anyone who tried to accost me. Now from the easy way this tall stranger was moving I knew he could give a 100yards start and still catch me with ease and I suddenly wished there were other people around.

As he grew nearer I was studying the runner intensely. Incongruously, even at a distance I was struck by the fact that he had very nice knees. Compared to a female, men's legs completely lack a rounded shape yet this particular pair cried out to be displayed in a kilt. On a more ominous note, the man sharing my early morning was unusually tall, at least 6' 4", and that fact alone almost prompted me to hide in the ditch until he had gone past. I didn't and a moment later I could see that he had a definitely handsome, good natured humorous face, topped by fair, medium length but rather wind swept hair. In age I guessed that he was mid to late twenties. He gave me a nod and a very pleasant smile. I managed to smile back before he ran quickly past.

The next morning, at about the same point I spotted him approaching again but this time with no sense of fear. As he drew close I again received a very charming smile but with the added remark, "You're dedicated."

"I'm in training for a half marathon," I told him proudly.

"Good for you," he said running past.

The following Saturday morning I was watching out for him and was left with a vague sense of disappointment when he failed to appear. However, the next morning hearing footfalls approaching from behind I turned to find him running in the same direction as myself. "Late start," he explained with a grin.

I was pleased when, instead of running past, he slowed and fell into step beside me. We introduced ourselves, amusingly making a clumsy attempt to shake hands while continuing to run. "I'm Michael but I prefer Mike," he said. I told him more about my half marathon but to my surprise he revealed that he wasn't a serious runner and only ran to keep his mind and body right. That first time, on the return leg he ran on leaving me but the following morning I found him waiting for me at the start of the track.

This time we stayed together until the end. Tentatively at first he started giving me tips on running, at times jogging backwards in front of me to assess my style. He advised to run slightly faster and change the jogging style into a more fluid motion on the basis that it actually conserved energy. Another tip was to periodically let my arms dangle and shake my hands to aid circulation in the upper body.

The next week I arrived on the track first. It was my turn to wait and sure enough he arrived a few minutes later. This time at the turn round point we perched on a fence and chatted for a few minutes.

I told him about Jim and the kids and in return he said that he was engaged and would be getting married when his fiancé returned from America where she was doing a year's post graduate research.

Sex was not top of my priorities but the thought of going a whole year without still horrified me so I found myself asking if he could last that long without a woman. "I've got a lot of resolve and I take care to make it as easy as possible," he told me. "I don't really need people so I avoid temptation by cutting out all socialising and I run night and morning to ensure that I'm both mentally and physically tired."

"But what about your fiancé?"

Mike gave this a long moments thought and then said carefully, "Claire is a passionate girl and she's also very gregarious. I think she will have strayed before I see her again but I'm confident that another man will not have stolen her heart. When she returns I shan't ask. I'll just assume her fidelity; we'll get married and spend the rest of our lives together. In the final analysis, if she still loves me, does it really matter if she has cheated a bit?"

I didn't answer that because I knew I would be incandescent if I found that Jim had been playing around. As I was trying to conjure up a change of subject, Mike asked if I was happily married. I told him blissfully so, going on to extol Jim's virtues as the perfect husband and a wonderful father. I said I had a perfect life and fervently hoped that nothing would ever change that.

On the next four opportunities, we met every morning at the start of the track and spent ten to fifteen minutes chatting at the turn round point. In all that time I made no mention of my morning companion to Jim and feel no guilt about that even in retrospect. At the time I believed those morning trysts to be completely innocent but knew that if I described Mike my husband was bound to feel some degree of unease. I can less easily excuse the fact that I purchased some briefer tighter running shorts and started to wax my legs more religiously.

The next Saturday, after only running a short way, Mike paused and pointing to a stile asked if I had ever thought of running uphill to the top of the small crag. "It's a real energy burn but coming down you feel as if you're flying. I go that way whenever I'm a bit short on time," he said.

My answer was to cross the stile. I had expected him to go ahead but instead he immediately dropped behind. Scrambling up the steep slope ahead of him I admit wondering if he was appreciating my new shorts. Nearing the top, I was growing desperately short of breath but felt unable to stop running so it was a great relief when Mike shouted that a certain large rock was our target. Gratefully I threw myself down on the bank of soft moss at the foot of the rock and allowed my lungs to suck in the badly needed oxygen. We stayed chatting far longer than usual before heading back down and it was idyllic gazing at the blue sky and luxuriating in the early morning sunshine.

The next day I reached the stile first and vaulted over without checking if he wished to go that way. This time I paced myself better and reached the top with less distress but still flung myself down on the moss, looking back in time to see Mike hopping the last few feet, indicating that he had a loose shoelace. I expected him to crouch to fix it but instead he planted one foot near my elbow and cocked his other long leg up to rest the offending shoe high up on the rock. This caused the leg of his shorts to gape wide open and I found myself staring up at his genitals dangling only a short way above my face. My first reaction was one of amusement but this was quickly replaced by shock at how huge they seemed. Had the lace tied, I should have been afforded only a brief tantalising glimpse but I heard him curse as he tossed a broken lace end to the ground. Still holding the same position, he seemed to take an age patiently feeding the remaining lace through the holes to salvage a tie-able end.

I tried to politely look away but my eyes were compulsively drawn back to that magnificent organ and I was granted sufficient time to savour every tiny detail. For a start his testicles hung heavily and were each the size of nectarines. His fat penis shaft was completely soft but easily exceeded five inches in length and I was intrigued by the fact that the head seemed to be completely covered with loose skin. To complete the effect, his pubic hair was light coloured and seemed to cling to his skin rather than form the usual bush. It may be hard to believe but my initial was not an erotic one – rather I was entranced by the real beauty of what I was seeing. All the same, I was very aware of my heart pounding.

On completing his task, Mike glanced down and, seeing the fixated look on my face, immediately realised the situation. Quickly standing back down he began apologising profusely saying "I'm so sorry, that must have been embarrassing."

"Not embarrassing, I would say more educational," I told him dryly but then, more to ease his tension than to flatter, I added, "I'm impressed.

Mike smiled but then became flustered again saying,"Oh God, I hope you don't think I did that on purpose."

"It was you being so completely unaware that made it so nice," I said. My words were rewarded when he relaxed but then reanalysis of what I'd said caused me to become agitated in turn and I urgently qualified saying, "When I said 'so nice' I didn't mean......"

Mike grinned and told me, "Don't worry, I know what you meant." Then sitting down he thankfully changed the subject by producing a drink and offering it to me first. He explained that when planning real exertion he always carried the high energy drink that profession runners collect at feeding stations and for the remainder of our rest period we talked about running.

Although we had talked safely past the incident, I couldn't get the image of what I had seen out of my head. Up until that moment I had never really given male genitalia much consideration. I had viewed the cocks of those two previous boyfriends at close quarters but, apart from possibly being slightly larger, I couldn't remember them as any different from Jim's dick and, although there were memories of a couple of male organs I'd handled in darkened cinemas that seemed a bit more substantial, I always rather naively assumed that cocks came as fairly standard issue for any given height.

Whenever the phrase 'size matters' is used in mixed company, the females immediately assume a knowing smirk while the males become exceedingly jocular but still look uncomfortable. I joined in that sexes game with the rest but not on the basis of real experience. I really only had the years of close acquaintance with my husband's penis to go on and that was a bit of an enigma. Normally when limp it was a little over two inches in length and when cold it sometimes shrunk until all I could see was the head nestling in his pubes but it grew to a satisfactory six and a half inches when stiff. I rather admired the design, extending for use and then shrinking neatly out of the way. I had been content but now my mind felt inflamed by visions of Mike's fabulous phallus.

That night in bed, the moment that Jim slipped in beside me, I placed my hand in his groin, gently bouncing his testicles to assess weight and bulk, squeezing the shaft testing for thickness and trying to compare both to what I had seen that morning. My husband was startled if not displeased but still felt the need to enquire the reason for this sudden attention to his private parts. Thinking quickly I told him he'd seemed a bit larger down there recently so I was just checking. Jim seemed inordinately pleased by my lie, literally swelling with pride in my hand. Pretty quickly it developed into an amorous situation and I discovered that I was badly in need of the sexual servicing he was eager to provide.