Chapter 2: The Phone Number
Days turned into a week, and the memory of Brooke's body pressed against his, her soft moans, became a relentless obsession for Chad. Every time he looked out his office window, he saw her jogging down the street, her long brown hair bouncing, her athletic body glistening with sweat. His cock would harden, his heart would race, and he'd be forced to turn away, hiding his growing erection.
One morning as Chad was checking his mail, he noticed something tucked into his mailbox. A small slip of paper, folded neatly.
No name, no address, just a phone number scrawled in elegant, looping handwriting. Confused, he walked back into his house and up to his office.
He sat down at his desk, staring at the phone number. Who would have left their number in his mailbox? His mind tried to recall a conversation or interaction with someone, but he wasn't coming up with any ideas. He decided to send a text message to the number to see who it was.
He typed out a simple message: "Who is this?"
The response came quickly, a single word that sent a jolt of electricity through him: "Brooke. Who is this?"
Chad tried to remember whether he knew a Brooke when suddenly his mind returned to the jogging girl. Could her name be Brooke?
"Chad. I found your number in my mailbox."
The dots appeared on the screen, indicating she was typing. Then they disappeared. He waited, his heart in his throat. Finally, the response came. "Oh, hey Chad. I hope you don't mind me leaving my number. I just wanted to thank you again for helping me out the other day when I hurt my ankle."
He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.
"Not at all, Brooke. I'm glad I could help." He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "How's the ankle been?"
"Much better, thanks. I've been resting it like you said. It's almost back to normal." She sent a smiling emoji, and Chad found himself grinning like a fool.
"Glad to hear it's healing well," he replied, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Another pause, another moment of hesitation. Then, "I've seen you jogging in our neighborhood a lot. How far do you run each day?" Chad asked, trying to keep his voice casual. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his cock stirring in his pants at the thought of her running, her body sweaty and glistening.
"Usually about five miles," Brooke replied, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. "It helps clear my head."
Chad could imagine her, her long brown hair bouncing, her athletic body moving with grace and power. He could almost feel her sweat, could almost taste it on his tongue.
"Maybe I could join you sometime," he suggested, his voice gritty with desire.
"I could use a good run, and some company wouldn't hurt either."
There was a pause before Brooke responded, "Sure, that would be nice. Once my ankle is back to 100%"
"Sounds good! Make sure to let me know if you need anything! I work from home, so I'm always around."
Chad's fingers hovered over the keyboard, waiting for her response. He couldn't believe he was suggesting this, but fuck, he needed to see her again.
"Okay, that sounds good," Brooke replied, and Chad could picture her blushing, her big brown eyes looking down at her phone. "I'll let you know when I'm ready."
Over the next few days, Chad found himself constantly checking his phone, waiting for Brooke's message. He jacked off to thoughts of her every night, his hand working his cock furiously as he imagined her body, her moans, her taste.
Finally, the message came.
"Hey Chad, it's Brooke. My ankle feels great, ready for that run?"
Chad's heart pounded as he read the message. He looked out the window, seeing her stretched, ready to start. He quickly threw on some running gear and joined her outside.
"Morning, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and gritty. Brooke blushed, looking down at her feet. "Morning," she mumbled.
They started at a slow pace, Chad matching her stride. He couldn't help but steal glances at her, her breasts bouncing slightly with each step, her skin glistening with sweat.
He could feel his cock stirring in his shorts, aching to be touched. He adjusted himself discreetly, hoping she didn't notice.
As they ran, they fell into an easy conversation. She told him about her life, her dreams, her strict religious upbringing. He listened, enraptured, his desire for her growing with each word. He wanted to know everything about her, to understand her, to possess her.
After a few miles, they slowed to a walk, both of them breathing heavily. Brooke looked up at him, her big brown eyes filled with something he couldn't quite place. Desire?
Hunger? Need? Chad couldn't tell, but whatever it was, it made his cock throb painfully in his shorts. He stopped walking, turning to face her. She looked up at him, her breath coming in quick gasps, her cheeks flushed. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, tracing the line of her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.
When their run was finished, they said goodbye and each went home. Chad was so worked up, he knew he needed to take care of himself before he could concentrate on anything else. He walked into his house, kicked off his shoes, and immediately started stripping off his sweat-soaked clothes. His cock was rock hard, tenting his shorts, and he couldn't wait to wrap his hand around it.
He sat down on the edge of his bed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could still smell Brooke on him, her sweat, her perfume, her unique scent. He closed his eyes, imagining her running beside him, her breasts bouncing, her body glistening with sweat.
He could almost feel her, the heat of her body, the softness of her skin. He wrapped his hand around his cock, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he began to stroke himself.
He could still see Brooke in his mind's eye, her body glistening with sweat, her breasts heaving with each breath. He imagined her hands on him, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, her nails digging into his skin.
"Fuck, Brooke," he groaned, his hand moving faster, tighter.
He could feel his orgasm building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing.
He wanted to come, needed to come, but he also wanted to draw out this moment, to savor the feeling of Brooke's body against his, her hands on him, her breath hot on his neck.
"Brooke," he gasped, his voice ragged. "I'm gonna come, baby. I'm gonna come all over you."
She moaned, her fingers digging into his back, her hips grinding against him. "Yes, Chad. Yes, come for me. Come all over me."
Her words pushed him over the edge.