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"5k's tomorrow, baby, better pick up the pace!" I said, concealing my shortness of breath. We were training at the high school track, and Barb was touching her side after only two laps. Barb said, "Fuck you," and sped up. I struggled to keep up, forcing out a couple chuckles. Psych warfare. She'd been a college track star and always had much better form. But I've got brute force. Strength. Competitiveness. Cock. "Gettin' kinda tired?" I said, a couple laps later. No answer. I tugged at her shirt sleeve. She yanked her arm away. Something about her body language really pissed me off. I pinched the skin over her tricep as hard as I could. "Fucking asshole!" she said, speeding up. I was pretty annoyed, but I pasted on a big smile and just tried to keep up. She edged me out by a couple strides. We were silent all the way home and through dinner. She wore the Juicy Couture baby tee to bed, exposing a dark purple welt where I'd pinched her. I said: "I'm sorry. I am an asshole." She turned away, but I held her. We made love slowly, tenderly, harkening back to our time upstate at the B&B. I sucked the back of her neck and cupped her right breast. She arched, lifting her haunches to me. I withdrew, wiped off my dick, and muscled it into her dry, clenching sphincter. She began to scream, but I shoved her face down into the pillow. What I can only imagine was her blood trickled down my balls. "Call that a handicap for the 5k, bitch." Strength. Competitiveness. Cock.
Date Written: August 22, 2007
Average Vote: 5