Favorite Blog: MR CAMELTOE MRCAMELTOE.COM followed, pausing to check that there was no one to witness our naked dash. By the time I set off she was well ahead, sprinting along the narrow strip that edged the water, her bare feet leaving deep prints in the soft sand.
'Three times round, remember!' I shouted after her, adopting a steady jog, my flaccid member flapping with each step - proof, if I needed it, why jock-straps were invented .
The lake was small, a former sand quarry by the look of it; though why so far from any town was a mystery. Being about two hundred yards across, three times round would be approximately a mile; quite far enough for me - I never was a runner, more of a games player. Include bed games in that!
She acknowledged with a wave, continuing to draw away. At the end of the first circuit she led by a fifty yards but was beginning to labour. By the end of the second lap my steady pace had brought me level though I was finding it tough in the soft going. I could hear her heavy breathing as she strove to stop me getting ahead, but she was paying the price for her early pace and still had forty yards to go when I reached the end. Hands on my knees, lungs bursting, I watched her finish, beautiful boobs bouncing with every stride.
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