Serial · Story

The Runner’s Return – two

Gordon Lister was just as embarrassed. Maybe more so. He’d not only been caught somewhere he’d been under strict instructions not to go, but he was naked and getting obviously more aroused as she stood and stared at him. She briefly wondered if he was finding her attractive as she wasn’t exactly fully-dressed, or whether it more likely that his erection was the result of whatever it was that Jenny had been doing to him before passing out.

Karen Hughes shook her head, and sat down beside Gordon staring at his erect penis. She’d not seen a naked man since her husband left her for that tramp-of-a-secretary-of-his a year ago and was in no rush to do anything. Jenny was too drunk to move, and Gordon, well Gordon couldn’t move or speak at all.

“Do you find me attractive Gordon?” she asked, wondering what sort of reply she could get from a gagged man, but not really considering what the reply might mean for the situation they were now in. He nodded; both eyes wide with what looked to Karen like fear, but was surely only the uncertainty of what might happen if he’d shook his head because all women like compliments don’t they?

She smiled in response, dropped her jogging top on the floor, and moved towards one of his wrist restraints to untie it. “This is one of my silk scarves!” she shouted, unable to contain her disgust. “You’ve been in my cupboards!”

Gordon nodded and then jerked his head towards his girlfriend as if to blame her. “And this is mine as well!” exclaimed Karen looking at the scarf binding his other wrist. She moved down the bed to examine whatever was around his ankles and carefully slid Jenny Lowe to the bedroom floor. “Also mine! So as soon as I go out you two start emptying my party bottles and going thru my stuff! How dare you both do that!?!”

Gordon’s eyes opened wider. He could see that she was seething, and his vulnerability was beginning to make him feel ever-so-slightly afraid. Mrs Hughes could do whatever she wanted, and he was completely unable to do anything to stop her.

It wasn’t just anger that Gordon could see, but he didn’t know that at the time. In with her rage was an ever-increasing sensation of excitement. She was in her house, in her bedroom, with an aroused, naked man and she liked it.

She’d spent most of the last two hours pounding the streets and thinking about Gordon. Wondering what it would be like to get him into bed. Wondering how it would feel to caress someone so lithe and so muscular. Wondering how it would feel to have him inside her. And now here he was. In her bed: naked. It was like a fantasy had come true. Not the sort of fantasy she’d had over the last two hours running in the rain, not even close. This was far, far better.

She was wet from the rain, wet from the sweat, wet from the fantasy, and as she stood over him; wet from desire and wet from the power. This was her bedroom. This was her bed. They were her scarves. And right at that moment, right then, right there, Gordon Lister was most definitely hers.

In less time than it had taken to remove her footwear and climb the stairs, Karen Hughes’s embarrassment and uncertainty had completely disappeared. Not making the most of the opportunity laid out there in front of her wasn’t even an option. Saying nothing, she unclipped her sports bra and allowed it to fall to the floor, slid off her jogging bottoms and running pants, climbed up on top of Gordon Lister and pushed his erection deep inside her.


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