I make her run. In the basement of the holiday home there are the dregs of a gym: a treadmill, a stationary bike, a rack with no weights. The space is cool and dimly lit – one of the bulbs in the ceiling has gone. There’s a fine layer of dust on everything.

She didn’t bring a sports bra, so I help her wrap her breasts with vetwrap. Bright blue. Blue socks. Plain black panties. Nothing else. She’s cold and obviously self-conscious at first. She watches me as she starts walking, arms folded. I lean on the side of the treadmill, watching her watching me. After a minute or two I reach across her and punch up the speed. She breaks into a jog.

She’s not a runner. She has no noticeable form. Within five minutes she’s panting and pink in the face. The blush spreads down her neck to her shoulders. Pink all over. I stop the treadmill and help her step down from it, then down onto her knees. I free myself from my jeans and, reflexively, she rises on her knees to take my cock in her mouth.

It’s different. Her breath is hot. Her face is hot, radiating heat. Her palms are slick already with sweat. She takes me in her mouth, struggling to breathe through her nose alone. With one hand she clutches the leg of my jeans, pulling herself in closer. She sucks sloppily, gasping for breath around the obstruction in her mouth.

I keep her there until her breathing settles, then lift her to her feet and put her back on the treadmill. Another five minutes. A little faster than before. She grunts at the speed, but doesn’t protest. I watch her run. She’s focussed solely on that, breath narrow, eyes fixed on the wall ahead.

While she runs, I shed the rest of my clothes. I’m ready for her when the five minutes are up.

Again, I help her down. Push her onto her knees. Her legs are shaking this time. And again, that blood hot breath. Sweat on her face wet and slick against my abdomen. She takes me too deep, gags. Presses one hand against the floor and doubles over to retch, still grasping my cock as she does. I put a hand on her shoulder. Moist and hot. She lunges back to me, ungainly, and takes me in her mouth again. She sucks messily, her whole body swaying, lacking all her usual slutty grace.

Five minutes on the treadmill. Then on her knees again. Then the treadmill. Then her knees. And each time she becomes more desperate, more messy. Drool and sweat collects on her neck. Her legs shake when she kneels. She whimpers and moans around my cock. Stumbles when she’s on the treadmill. Her face is blushed and her breath is hotter than blood, now. So hot it feels almost feverish, her exhales bathing my balls in wet, urgent bodily heat.

She has to stop before I finish. She stumbles as she’s getting off the treadmill on her fifth round, and then cannot stand again. I let her lie down on the floor, starfished, panting, eyes wild. I stop the treadmill. Turn off the lights. Still erect, I lie beside her and listen to her breath. Panting and gulping. I put a hand on her stomach, below the band of the vetwrap. Wet with sweat. Hot to the touch.

As her breathing steadies, a calm settles over us. A quiet, hazy feeling. I keep my hand on her stomach. I can smell her sweat. I can hear the quiet. After some time I feel almost certain I can hear a heartbeat. A bounding, quickened one. Hers or mine I cannot entirely tell.

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