A jogger approaches

Lost in your thoughts, you hardly notice the quiet pitter patter of light steps approaching from behind you.

A young woman jogs past you on the trail, passing you, her long dyed-blonde hair free and bouncing with every step. The first thing you notice is the smell, her smell, a kind of bodily scent of fresh fruit that invades your nose, a flash of something pink and inviting across your brain, for just a moment and is gone just as fast.

You reel a step backwards, blinking at the unfamiliar sensation.

The woman stumbles forwards past you for a few steps and then stops, her breath caught in her throat mid-stride, her eyes wide. Her whole body was just hit by a terrible case of vertigo as she passed you, her head filled with a musky smell of something noxiously sweet and musky making it hard to think straight. Something stirs inside her, she feels her insides pulse, suddenly hot and needy.

She turns to face you, her eyebrows knitted into a look of confusion and focus as she sizes you up, eyes flicking all over you.

Her face is bright red, little puffs of breath rising through the morning air around her. Her thermals are sweat-soaked and cling tight to her body, showing off her curves from her calves up to her neck but hiding every inch of skin. She’s probably around five seven or five eight tall, with dyed-blonde hair and a considerable tan from being out in the sun. You notice a pair of hard nips starting to poke through her fabric on her chest and raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, are you alright?” you say and her gaze finally meets yours. She blinks several times, seeming to snap out of her daze.

“Yeah,” she replies, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head, trying to clear it, “just tripped over myself a little.”

You and her stand there for a long, totally not awkward, moment staring at each other, trying to figure one another out.

“Hey,” she finally says, “do you mind if I walk with you? At least until I get my feet under me again.”

“Sure,” you say, and start walking again, side by side with her.

“I’m not usually this clumsy,” she says, voice still slightly breathless, walking beside you.

“It happens,” you reply, glancing over at her, “even to the best of us, right?”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, stretching her arms back over her head. Whether she meant for it or not, you can clearly see her hardening nips poking through the fabric of her thermal now and feel a stirring in your loins.

The two of you continue walking in silence for a while, taking in the sights and sounds of the morning. As you walk, you can't help but notice that the woman seems to be leaning in towards you slightly, persistently curving in towards your side, her body language open and inviting.

“Actually, um,” she finally says, “do you think you could help me stretch real quick?”

“I mean,” you start, then stop as she takes your hand in hers.

“There’s a park bench just off the trail that I know of,” she says, walking noticeably faster now, “come on.”

“Ok,” you reply, suddenly feeling your heart beat faster, as she puts those long legs to use and pulls you along for the ride. She leads you further up the multi-use trail, then takes a turn off of it, down a little dirt walking trail into the municipal park and into a small clearing centered around a rusted out metal fire ring and a concrete picnic bench.

“Here we are,” she says, letting go of your hand and walking over to the bench, stretching her arms up over her head, to the left, and then to the right. She casually lifts a foot up to rest on the bench, toe pointed, and stretches. You can see her chest rising and falling with each breath, her nipples clearly visible through her thermal.

“Hey,” she smiles, catching you plainly staring at her chest, “do you like what you see?” she teases.

“Yeah,” you reply, feeling a heat rising in your cheeks.

“Good, now here and help me stretch first,” she adds, sitting down on the bench and putting her arms behind her head. You approach her slowly, trying your best not to seem too over-eager, but also helpless to resist her temptation.

She instructs you through the motions, helping her first stretch out her back side to side, flexing and stretching her lumbar muscles. You can smell her clearly this close to her, a sweet bodily mix of sweat and vanilla. She leans down, her head mere inches from your crotch as she has you put your hands on her warm back and press her down into a deep forwards reach, her hands flat on the ground. There’s another moment where you smell fresh fruit, maybe strawberries, and the flash of inviting pink across your brain.

Then she lays down on the concrete bench, tensing momentarily at the cold and instructing you on how to stretch out her legs.

The muscles of her calf are tight in your hands as you help stretch out her thighs with a crossover and cross-sweep stretch. It’s clear that she clearly needed this as she lets out soft little gasps and moans with each stretch. You notice the fabric of her tight thermal shirt riding up her stomach and the waistband of her leggings riding lower on her hip.

“Here,” she says, then walks you through stretching her hamstrings, one of your hands on her ankle, the other on her upper thigh, and spreading her legs wide like a pair of scissors. You look down, meeting her gaze.

“How does that feel?” you ask, her eyes locked on yours as you stretch out her strong hamstring muscles.

“It feels good,” she groans, “you have a nice touch,” she adds with a touch of a grin on her lips.

“Thanks,” you reply, “and you’re really flexible.”

“Well I do lots of yoga,” she chuckles husky, then groans, “helps with my balance and flexibility a lot.” She sucks in a breath.

“I can see that,” you say and nod in agreement, still holding her leg, “you’re really strong too.” She lets out a low moan as you stretch her hamstring out further, the fabric of her leggings riding lower on her hips now.

“Thanks” she smiles, “I try my best to keep in shape.” She tilts her head slightly, her eyes locked on yours. “You know?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Other leg now,” she sighs and then you repeat the process with her other leg, your hand a little further down her firm thigh then the first time, testing her comfort as you stretch her out again. You notice her relaxing more into the stretch, her breathing deeper and heavier as she lays back on the concrete bench.

“Does that feel good?” you ask.

She lets out a soft moan and then closes her eyes, sighing, “yeah, it feels good,” then she pauses, before adding, “but it’s not all about being flexible, you know?”

“Oh?” you ask.

"Yeah," she sighs, "I mean, sure, it's fun to show off sometimes, but I do yoga because it helps me relax, you know? Clear my head." She shrugs lightly, "and sometimes, when I'm feeling really horny, it just feels so damn good to stretch out like this,” she whines as you stretch her hamstrings just a little bit more.

“Oh,” you laugh, your cock suddenly throbbing at half-mast with excitement.

“Yeah,” she says with a mischievous smile, “it also helps when I have someone like you here, you know, stretching me out like this,” her eyes narrow slightly with a glint of lust in them, “like, don’t get me wrong, I love yoga and all,” she giggles softly, “but there’s something about getting, you know, stretched out outdoors that just does it for me.” She raises an eyebrow suggestively.

"Wow," you say, your heart racing, "that's quite a turn-on, huh?"

She nods, her hair falling forward slightly as she leans into your touch. "Yeah," she whispers, her voice low and husky. "It really is."