Sunrise Fantasy

**I had been watching a strikingly good looking man running the same time I was every morning as described in Sunrise Fantasy - Ch. 01**​​

Josh Striker interrupted his morning workout, kindly helping me back to my car, my ankle in obvious distress due to a severe sprain from planting on uneven ground. It was a good 1/2 mile back and it took 15 minutes with him under my right arm. He waved off a couple people offering assistance, and I noticed he smelled amazing, under my arm helping me back to the trail head where I was parked.

"You should see someone at urgent care," Josh said lowering me into the driver's seat, and then reached into the lining of his running pants and pulled out a business card. "Here, call me after you getting it looked at, I assume you're training for something and I'd like to help you get going again."

It read - "Josh Striker - Athletes in Action Physical Therapy" and had all the pertinent information.

"If they don't recommend physical therapy, stop by regardless as I can get a referral in through our office," Josh said.

I went on to explain the IMT 1/2 Marathon and when it was, he was very familiar with the race and again promoted his therapy sessions.

"You're out here every day, are you training for something?" I had asked him previously while he helped me hobble to my car.

"I do triathlons now, gave up totally road racing five years ago," Josh said, my driver's door now closed. "My wife and I are on a team, I train in the morning and she trains in the evening."

I was now looking up at him through the open door, the sun was so high now, the beautiful sunrise heating the 40 degree day perfectly. His eyes were perfection, skin around his short beard, tan from being outside, lips full, his teeth pure white.

We both adorned wedding bands, and were now bidding each other goodbye and I concluded with, "I'll be in touch for sure."

He held my glance and gave me a smile and thumbs up, I saw an outline of his penis in his pants before his body turned and he jogged off down the path. My cock bristled in my shorts, the image of being on my knees before him came back.

I had ignored my experiences with men for so long, cast them aside as "kinks" or "had too much to drink" thoughts. I can honestly say after my 1st college experience - taking my roommate Jamis Justice's cock in my mouth one night late spring my freshman year - I hadn't given it a thought with anyone else.

When you think about it, when else in life are you randomly paired with another man to live together than college or maybe military (well short of going to jail).

We bored, drinking and were talking in late April, everyone else we knew gone for the weekend and sex came up. We were talking blow jobs and he admitted, without hesitation, that he felt a man gave better head than a woman.

"It doesn't hurt that mines, well, bigger," Jamis said.

"I'm pretty average," I said and he quickly asked if I wanted to compare.

My reply was "sure."

My cock was swelling in our dorm room, adorned with music and sports posters, talking sex, it exploded to full erectness when Jamis undid his shorts and pulled them down. It was a good 8 inches plus and visibly thick. I pulled my shorts down showing my 6", averageness to him.

He gestured down to it, still growing, and without hesitation I was on my knees in front of it, placing my fingers around the shaft. I slide it back and forth as he moved to me, I looked up to see his smile wide.

I had chatted online so many times about this experience, my lips around his head then mimicking what my girlfriend at the time loved to do and trace her tongue around the edge. It didn't fit well and I had no experience pushing it further into my throat, though I tried to an uncomfortable level.

I began to stroke him and play with his balls, back then hairy as fuck, large in my hand, my fingers playing with them. I looked up to see his eyes closed, my mouth straining to fit him inside.

He eased down onto the bed, sitting there as I crawled to his lap. "Swallow it please" he asked and his hand began stroking, my mouth stayed on the upper part of his cock. He stroked faster and faster, my mouth sucked and slid clumsily until he let go and with both hands forced me down on it as far as he could push me.

I felt the rush of cum and I closed my lips around the shaft. It shot up into my throat before running down his length, coating my tongue and everything inside. I struggled to keep it all in, trying to collect it all, pulling up and gulping down what was in my cheeks. Some had spilled out on my lip and I looked down to see some drizzling white against his dark flesh.

"Get the rest," he commanded and I bobbed down slurping once, twice, three more times as it rose from his thick head at the tip. "Very good."

I took his cock in my mouth that night and a couple times a week after that until we went our separate ways in May, him transferring out of state before the start of the next year. He never took mine in his mouth, though I took some pride in being his "mouth".

He would call from the bars and ask, "Is my mouth ready?"

I would end up just jacking it as he cleaned up and got ready for bed, smiling as I moaned with each orgasm.

After my Freshman year, and that brief offramp into cock sucking, I went back to my heterosexual bubble, met Melanie, was married, had kids and began my career.

Now, 57 years old, nearing retirement, still active, our kids out of the house in school, I'd began to frequent bicurious blogs, chat rooms, read and write erotic stories. My mind began playing these fantasy scenarios out into real life, projecting a lot of "what ifs" from my every day into my writing. I also began to look for opportunities day to day.

I was hoping my runner fantasy, which was still just in my head and not written, was about to take me to the next level of writing while enacting.

I finally made it to urgent care, my ankle swelling and telling me it hurt each time I hit the gas or the brake while I drove there. They examined me and sure as shit I had a 2nd degree sprain on my right ankle. Lucky it was a lower sprain or my goal to run the IMT would have ended on that path, Josh Striker or no Josh Striker.

I told the physician working on me my intention to do PT and when I showed them Striker's card they confirmed "he's one of the best if you want to get back running faster." He then gave me some general things to do for the swelling, ice, Ibuprofen and to stay off it as much as I could.

I rushed home and then online to his website, pausing to check out his profile pics on his "A & A website," and booked a session for Thursday at 9:30 a.m. I put all the information into my phone and went about the rest of the week, not thinking a lot about the appointment. He called me Tuesday, a day after I made my booking, his office number popping up and I was delighted to hear his voice directly to give me pre-visit instructions.

"Listen, it's very important you put weight on it and try. Let me emphasize 'try' to push upwards and I'll send you the routine." Josh led in without much of a 'hello'. "Do it to a pain tolerance of 6 or 7, if you have a high pain threshold or a 10 is you have a low tolerance. It's important you start now and knock off the pain killers and ice. Let it heal itself and it's going to hurt."

"Yes Sir!" I said eagerly, this flying in the face of all conventional rehab that I had ever experienced.

"Very good!" Josh said excitedly. "See you Thursday and dress to move."

The workout was in my phone, Josh sending it instantly after hanging up, and before I could set my phone down and my mind was churning with the anticipation of him working me out.

In the past I'd always hesitated with "impossible" fantasies, I knew the one thing I would need would be the relationship, the getting to know Dr. Striker, finding out who he was, and he getting to know who I am.

I had gotten home and Mel, my wife, would be home in an hour or so after running errands. I called her to let her know I had a misstep while running and turned an ankle. She wasn't the most sympathetic, teasing me about my own misdiagnosed knee issue last year. I snapped, "That's why I'm consulting a professional, Mel!"

Limping to our workout area, I pulled up the exercises on my phone and in shorts and a T-shirt began the series of 10 reps on each leg. I "tried" to push upwards to raise my body on one leg. The pain was immense and I did not get off the ground with my bad foot. I considered my pain tolerance high and pushed it trying to please my fantasy trainer. I went through raises on the ground, on a step, lowering myself on a step and two legged raises in the same series.

I repeated the very painful series three more times, getting the number of reps on the phone listed. Each push up off the floor I was straining to please him, the pain in my body a bit of a turn on.

I sat down on the padded floor, it's coolness caused me to sprawl my body out, extending my legs, arms, until I maximum felt the relief. I soon drifted off to sleep, a stressful morning catching up to me, my mind took me to a pleasant dream as the light of the late morning streamed in to provide contrasting warmth.

Jamis would usually appeared in my cock sucking dreams, his long thick cock, pushing into my mouth, gently, though with purpose. Asleep on the floor this dream was different, there was sunshine, I was kneeling in public but no one could see, and the substantive cock didn't have the dark flesh of my African-American lover, it was milky white.

No face, just hips and hands guiding it into my mouth, penetrating to my inner space, my breath erratic, struggling through the impalement. People passed by, didn't see me, hear the coughing, gagging noises from my body as he entered my throat.

"Donnie!" I heard a woman walking her dog say. "Donnie!"

I woke, my cock hard poking up through my shorts, my wife Melanie standing over me with a scared look as my consciousness came back to reality, leaving my sunrise fantasy.

"Oh thank God!" my wife Mel said. "I thought you were dead on the floor."

She then looked down the erect cock poking in my shorts, "Jesus, what were you doing before I woke you? Dreaming? About what?"

"You of course," I said lying quickly. "We were, well, intertwined, like when we're 69ing on vacation."

"Well, there will be none of that," she fired back and got the dog a treat for his walk. Then indicating she had gotten her period."It's 'that time'."

"Well, we can pause the '9' and you can do the '6'" I quipped coyly.

"Nice try, but no." she replied, hating my coyness and she went on with her day. It's a wonder I was dreaming of my roommates substantive cock with my new crushes body. Deflated and frustrated I finished with a workout.

I did my assigned PT each day, and began hitting the chat rooms, "Cock 2 Cock" was my favorite, and spent sometime getting a few men off with some fun role play. I got off with one with a lovely gentleman about him being my physician helping me with physical therapy.

Thursday came, and I "dressed for moving" as instructed. Driving there I remembered how he looked, how I desired him, how the sunlight was so bright as he helped me to my car. I got to his office, a moderately sized space in a strip mall, his secretary helped get me checked in and got all of my information.

"Donnie," his voice echoed into the waiting room, a couple others were sitting there and there were PT assistants I'm sure were there to assist them. He greeted me and asked, "Have you been doing the exercises I sent you?"

"I have," I said and then took it a step further. "I was able to lift it an inch the past couple days.

"Good, good," he said, writing as we walked to a workout area in the back. "Let's build on that today."

I won't go through all of the things he ran me through, but he did a series of lifts with the bad leg and jumps with the good. He had me move laterally, forwards and back, each time making me rate the pain. He then opened the door and asked me to limp-jog to the end of the block and back, again asking my pain ratings.

"All your ratings were between 6 and 8," he said, then put the clip board down and his beautiful eyes met mine. "I can tell you have a high tolerance for pain and that most people would be sitting on their arse, not pushing themselves."

"Thank you, I've just always..." I started to ramble when he cut me off.

"Would you be interested in a study, let me help you reach your goal of running in the IMT 1/2 marathon," he said. "You'll just have to meet me on the trail every morning for the next two weeks, possibly three, let me work you out, and get some data I've been wanting to collect for sometime."

"Sign me up," I said, then inflicted some intent. "I'm all yours."