The Boston Marathon

Sarina watched the people hurrying to find a vantage spot near the finish line, as she sat by the window of the Palm Tree Restaurant in the plush Westin Hotel. The normally busy Copley Plaza was practically deserted except for the groups of young and restless who were rushing towards the tent erected in the square to welcome the marathoners, as the Annual Boston Marathon was about to get under way. Sarina sat idly, toying with her grilled chicken sandwich, her mind wandering aimlessly. She had come to Boston to see the Marathon, but being new to the city, was rather intimidated by the whole ambiance generated by this annual event. She intended to go find a good spot to watch the runners come in, but she felt she needed some native Bostonian along to help her feel at ease.

She watched the people walking past the large window where she sat. From the corner of her eye, she caught a sudden, sweeping movement as a sleek, teal green Crown Victoria slid to a graceful stop at the curb, and a nattily dressed policeman got out. He quickly looked around; taking her in his glance as their eyes momentarily met for a brief second, and began walking towards the Square to join his fellow officers. Sarina felt a flutter in her belly as she watched the tall and lean man, her eyes taking in his athletic build, and the provocative swing of his sculpted butt.

She was surprised when she suddenly became aware of a tingling feeling in her crotch, as if the handsome officer had caressed her body with his penetrating glance. She smiled ruefully as the pleasurable feeling spread to her body, hardening her nipples and causing her to breathe a little faster. She realized how long it had been since she had enjoyed deep, penetrating and blissful sex.

She quickly looked down at her breasts, encased in the tight-fitting turtleneck, and sighed as she watched with a hint of dismay her nipples hardening against the taut fabric of her silky soft dress. She suddenly felt the urge to fondle herself, but knew it would not be possible in a restaurant full of people. She quickly looked around. There were a few people, scattered across the dining hall, either talking to one another or watching the outside traffic. Nobody was paying any attention to her. Had she turned her head slightly to her left, she would have noticed the handsome waiter eyeing her provocative profile. Sarina shifted in her chair, turning slightly away from the window.

She folded her arms across her chest, and cupped her breasts. With slow and deliberate movements, she rubbed the palms against the hard nipples, and gently squeezed the firm flesh. At 30, she was in the prime of her youth, and kept reasonably fit. There was no sag at all to her succulent flesh. She was justifiably proud of her body, and especially her size 36 breasts. Moaning softly, she bit her lips and squeezed her breasts, pinching the nipples. She could feel the electrifying ripples from her aroused nipples striking between her legs at lightning speed, and she involuntarily clutched her thighs together. She could feel the moistness between her legs, and knew that, if she kept up her foreplay, she would be panting for a release in no time. She had to get out of there before anyone noticed her aroused state.

She turned her head, and seeing the waiter, motioned to him. He smiled and nodded, walking slowly and deliberately towards her with the bill in his hand. She signed off, noting her room number on the bill, and quickly got up. The waiter quickly pulled her chair back and helped her, giving her a dazzling smile. She was too preoccupied with the erotic feeling building in her loins to notice that he was openly staring at her breasts. She thanked him absent-mindedly, and began walking away.

The waiter cleared his throat, and asked politely, "Are you here for the marathon?"

Startled, she quickly looked at him, and nodded.

"You are not from around here," the waiter continued.

"No. I am from Chicago. I have wanted to see the marathon for a long time. But I don't know anybody here. This is my first time to Boston."

"Oh, really. Welcome to Boston. If you want to find a good spot, you will have to get there in the next half an hour."

"Okay," Sarina said with hesitation. "Can you suggest a good location?"

"If you like, I can do better than that. I go off duty in about fifteen minutes. I would be delighted to go with you. I know a few good spots along the final lap. You get a good view of the final stretch from there. I can take you there, if you would like me to."

Sarina paused, and took a good look at him. She noticed that he was quite tall, at least a full head above her. He had the same athletic build she had noticed in that policeman earlier. She looked at him again, and found him smiling slightly at her, patiently waiting for her to regain her composure. She suddenly realized that there was a striking resemblance between the waiter and the policeman she had found so attractive. She quickly looked in the direction of the car parked at the curb outside, and turned back to look at the waiter. She noted that his name was Patrick.

"Oh, that would be so kind of you, but I don't want to impose on you. You must have made other plans, with your.... er, girl friend, or..."

Patrick smiled broadly, and said, "Don't worry about that. I am not married. And I don't have a girl friend either. It's no trouble at all. I would really enjoy your company, if you like."

Sarina smiled, and nodded. She felt relieved. Then she suddenly remembered her arousal at the sight of the tall policeman, and the fact that Patrick seemed to resemble the officer. She cocked her head in the direction of the tent, and said, "Did you see the policeman who got out of that car a few minutes ago? I just noticed that you look a lot like him."

Patrick laughed and said, "I know. I was watching you when you saw him and then suddenly shifted in your chair. He is my older brother. He is on duty today at the finish line, to keep the crowd from getting out of hand."

Sarina blushed a deep shade of red, realizing that Patrick had perhaps noticed her amorous reaction to the policeman. She glanced at him. His face was calm, with no hint of any secret knowledge about her aroused condition. He smiled and said, "Would you like me to be your guide this afternoon?"

She nodded wordlessly, and looked at him again with a deliberate gaze. Patrick stood still, aware that she was studying him. He also looked her over, allowing himself a lingering pause at her voluptuous breasts, before taking in her slender waist and the long legs. She was almost a foot shorter than he was, but he noted with pleasure that she was quite well endowed. He had sensed her state of mild arousal earlier, and had caught a hint of fragrance from her body when he brought her the bill. He had recognized the smell of the woman in arousal. He knew he had an opportunity to score with her if he handled himself properly and cautiously.

Sarina stole a quick glance at her tight-fitting slacks, assuring herself that no telltale signs of arousal or wetness showed between her legs. She told him to give her a buzz when he went off duty, and left the restaurant. She went up to her room, and locked the door behind her. She leaned against it, and let out a deep sigh. Her heart was beating rapidly. It has taken all her will power to control her growing arousal at the thought of being in the company of the handsome waiter, and the fact that he was the brother of the policeman who had lit a burning fire in her loins.

She quickly stripped, and stood before the full-length mirror. She could see the pink nipples, standing at guard, her curvaceous body glistening in the light filtering through the drapes. She opened her legs slightly and reached between them. With trembling fingers, she tentatively felt the soft pubic hair covering her womanhood. She felt the wetness that had seeped into the hair from her secret passage. She took a deep breath, and caught the exotic aroma of her passion, inhaling the fragrance of her wet fingers. She was so tempted to touch herself deeply, and to massage the aroused lips of her vulva. She remembered the handsome policeman and his younger brother, and what they would look like naked. Her eyes widened in disbelief, as she became suddenly aware of the wicked fantasy building in her mind to make love to the waiter and his policeman brother. Try as she might, she could not shake the rousing feeling of sexual desire building in her.

Trembling with bewilderment and arousal, Sarina threw herself on the bed, her naked body spread out in all its voluptuousness. The moist lips of her womanhood slowly parted as she spread her legs. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She could see the young policeman before her eyes, smiling at her with his penetrating eyes. Recalling his earlier glance, she again felt the flutter in her belly, and involuntarily her hands crawled like a stealthy serpent towards the apex of her rousing passion. She gasped loudly as her fingers brushed her sensitive flesh, and she clutched her legs together, trapping her hand between her trembling thighs. The handsome officer stood before her mind's eye, his strong body hovering over her naked form. She could see his muscular body, and her mind began to construct a mental fantasy of her virile lover. Sarina could see him standing over her. Her eyes slowly but impatiently fluttered downward, taking in his flat stomach, the thick bush of dark pubic

hair, and at last, his beautiful manhood in full bloom, greeting her with a rhythmic throbbing of its glistening, purple head as the stiff shaft extended outward from his crotch. Sarina closed her eyes tightly, not wanting her fantasy to end, as her fingers probed her depth, forcing her legs to open, as if to greet her virile lover. She imagined herself being approached by the naked man, and her heart began to beat faster. In her mind's eye, she could see him standing over her, and slowly reaching out with both hands to cup her firm breast. Sarina shivered, as her own hand caressed her flesh, squeezing it with increasing pleasure, as she watched her imaginary lover reach for her other hand.

She became aware of another fantasy building up at the same time. She saw the policeman caressing her aroused breasts, and kissing the hardened nipples. At the same time, she felt another man gently covering her hand and pulling it away from her crotch, replacing it with his own. She looked down, only to find Patrick, the waiter, kneeling between her legs, his mouth inches away from her trembling womanhood. Pressing her finger deeper into her passage, Sarina moaned aloud as she fantasized. Her lover gently touched her wetness, his tongue brushing roughly against the aroused sentinel of her secret passage. Sarina thrust her hips up against her fingers, as her imaginary lover parted her passage with his relentless tongue. She ran her tongue over her lips, moaning with heightened pleasure. She wanted him so much, she could not stand the agony of her arousal. With tears streaming down her cheeks, Sarina began thrusting her hips in repeated movements against her hand, her fingers buried deep inside her streaming, slippery passage. She could feel the torture of the rising pleasure peak, and began to sob as the mind-blowing orgasm began building up deep in her womb.

Sarina rolled over on her stomach, her hand still buried in her passage. With a desperate cry, she began to pound her hips against her fist, thrusting her middle finger deep inside her passage. Curving it a little, she found the rough spot on the inside front wall of her opening. She gave out a muffled screamed as a powerful surge of orgasm shook her body as she thrust her hips against the buried hand. Burying her face into the soft pillow and moaning repeatedly, she continued to assault her fist, her frenzy first building to a heart-stopping climax, and then as suddenly, dissipating in a gut-wrenching shudder.

Breathless, Sarina lay on the bed, her whole body drenched in perspiration. When she tried to pull her hand away, she almost screamed in sweet agony, realizing that her skin had become agonizingly sensitized to even the slightest motion.She remained in that position for a long time, crying with pleasure and unable to comprehend why she felt so sad. After several minutes, she slowly extricated her hand from between her legs, gasping as the fingers brushed against the still vibrating flesh of her vulva. Rolling over, she stretched her body, breathing deeply. Finally, she smiled as the sense of deep fulfillment permeated through her body and senses. She threw a passionate and loving kiss to her imaginary lover, and whispered, "Next time, I want you deep inside me."

Finally, she got up and walked naked into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, and stood under the caressing stream, humming to herself. A plan was developing in her head to find that young policeman and to bring him to her room for a mind-blowing afternoon of primitive, wild sex. She scrubbed herself clean, and then stepped out. Drying herself quickly, she splashed her favorite rose perfume all over her body, paying particular attention to her breasts, nipples, her silken soft pubis and the inner thighs. She put on a deeply cut bikini brief, which barely covered her passion-laden crotch, and wore a miniskirt. Finally, she pulled on her favorite turtleneck, crooning as the soft, silk fabric caressed her breasts and clung to every other curve of her body. She stepped in front of the mirror, and found herself looking at a sexy, beautiful woman, clad in invitingly sexy clothes, tantalizing at the same time revealing the hidden beauty of her magnificent body.

Satisfied, she combed her hair and put on some jewelry. Then she put on the silk stockings that reached up to mid-thigh, the top edge barely concealed by the hem of her miniskirt. The phone rang just as she grabbed her purse and the light pink jacket. She picked up the receiver. It was Patrick.

She found him waiting at the front desk. He had changed into a white turtleneck and dark slacks. She took his hand, and walked out of the hotel, her spirits suddenly high. She clung to him as they pushed their way through the crowd. Patrick held her hand firmly as they strode purposefully across the wide street to a spot from where the final kilometer stretch of the festooned route could be seen with an unobstructed view. Already people who had claimed their territories with lawn chairs, blankets and other markers had taken up the best spots. Patrick stepped across the line, pulling Sarina along. They found a spot that gave them a relatively unobstructed view of the route.

Sarina turned to him, and said, "I can't thank you enough for your trouble. It is so nice of you."

Patrick smiled, and said, "My pleasure, really. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to be an escort to such a lovely young lady. Besides, you are from out of town. This is my chance to show you our legendary Yankee hospitality."

Sarina laughed heartily, and said, "You have done quite well so far. I am truly flattered."

Patrick nodded, and began describing some of the landmarks to her. She listened attentively, watching his face earnestly as he told her about the historic events of the revolutionary war. She knew most of the history already, being a History major herself. But she paid attention to him, sensing his enthusiasm, and with the typical female instinct, his need to impress her with his wholesomeness. She occasionally glanced at his athletic body, and remembered her rousing orgasm earlier. She could feel the excitement rising in her again, as she boldly looked him over, her eyes wandering down from his muscular chest to the flat stomach and what she sensed correctly to be just a hint of arousal in his pants.

Sarina smiled to herself, and stared at his crotch without hiding her excitement. She knew he was also slightly aroused, and was trying to control himself. She made a mental note to find a way to let him know that she knew, and didn't mind his reaction at all.

They turned towards the street as the crowd in front of them began shifting. People were soon standing and rising on their toes, trying to catch the first of the runners coming around the bend. Sarina looked at her watch. It was almost 4 p.m. She tried to sneak a look past some of the taller men standing before her, but they kept shifting around, blocking her view. She stood on tiptoes, but that also didn't seem to work. Patrick was standing behind her. As the people behind him began to push forward, he found himself being pressed against her. Sarina's constant movements caused their bodies to rub against each other, and he found himself getting aroused as her butt pressed into him. He did no try to hide his excitement, knowing that soon she would become aware of it.

Sarina had already felt it. Her legs were trembling as his hardness pressed against her buttocks. She looked around. Everyone was craning to look towards the road, totally focused on the race. She reached between their bodies and ran her palm against his hardness. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at him, and gently squeezed his flesh. Patrick gasped and looked around himself. Realizing that no one was paying any attention to them, he became bold. He covered her hand with his, and pulled her into him with the other, wrapping his other arm around and over her chest. He squeezed her firm breast, and whispered, "You have one hot body."

"So do you," Sarina whispered back, rubbing her hand on his crotch. She lifted her skirt and guided his hand under it, to let him know she wanted him to touch her. Patrick felt her skin, and found that she was trembling. His hand slipped between her legs, and found her crotch. Sarina pushed back into his hardness as his fingered brushed her panty-covered mound.

He realized that she was wearing a thong underwear, and boldly pushed the fabric away to reach inside. Sarina shuddered as his fingers made contact with her wet mound, and moaned softly as he dipped his finger into her opening. Reaching between their pressed bodies, she groped his hardness, looking for the zipper. Patrick guided her hand as she pulled the zipper down and reached inside. To her surprise, she found that he was wearing nothing underneath, and her eager fingers immediately encircled the throbbing shaft. She moaned with pleasure as his expert fingers began to play with her inflamed mound, and his hot rod pressed between her buttocks. She wanted his throbbing maleness inside her oozing passage.

She raised herself on tiptoes, and looking over her shoulder, whispered to him, "Please lift me up. I can't see what is going on the road."

Patrick nodded, and picked her up by the waist. Sarina found her buttocks sliding past the throbbing male organ pressing between them, and she expertly parted her legs as the shaft slipped between the legs. Reaching under her skirt, she grabbed it and guided it to her opening. With quick finger work, she pushed the panel of her panty aside and leaning forward, impaled herself on his shaft, guiding the tip to her opening. Gently she lowered herself on to his rod as it pressed forward into her slippery passage.

Patrick clenched his teeth as the tight passage massaged his throbbing rod, trembling slightly as the warm tunnel completely engulfed him it its slippery embrace. Sarina straightened her clothes to hide any telltale signs of their copulation, and settled down happily on his powerful organ, watching over the shoulders of the people in front of her. Patrick quickly glanced down at their sexual union, satisfied that nothing unusual showed to a casual observer. He held on to her, supporting her weight on his shaft with his hands placed under her buttocks. Occasionally he allowed his fingers to brush against their union, making her jump in excitement.