We ran a sub-3 marathon together. Later, she showed up at my hotel room wearing only her medal

Last week, I ran the Valencia Marathon in Spain, one of the world’s fastest courses. I’d trained for months to break the 3-hour barrier, and was deep in the pain cave by mile 22 when I noticed her.

She was a few strides ahead. Slim, athletic, in matching shorts and a sports bra. But it was her ponytail that caught me, the way it bounced, tied with a pink ribbon, hypnotizing. She looked strong, but something in her stride told me she was fading.

I caught up and said softly, “You’re doing great. Stick with me.”

She gave a tired nod, totally spent. But she stayed. For the next 4 miles, we gritted it out together, step by step, lungs burning, legs screaming.

We both crossed the finish line under 3 hours.

At the finish, she hugged me tight, medal swinging against my chest.

“Thank you,” she said, breathless. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I wish I had a way to return the favor.”

We smiled, exhausted, and like so many race-day connections, drifted apart in the crowd.

Hours later, I limped back to my hotel. Medal still around my neck, legs dead, heart full. I collapsed on the bed, towel around my waist after a quick shower.

Then came a knock at the door.

I opened it, shirtless, still dazed.

It was her.

Still in her race kit, medal glinting on her chest, cheeks flushed, hair a little messy.

“Hey,” she said with a smirk. “You looked strong out there. Congrats on the PB.”

“Thanks… How did you find me?”

“I saw your story and figured out your hotel. Hope you don’t mind,” she grinned. “I brought snacks.”

I let her in. She handed me a water bottle and walked to the minibar, eyes playful.

“You want a shower?” I asked. “Might help after the race.”

“Sure,” she said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she stepped out completely naked, except for the medal still hanging around her neck.

It rested perfectly between her breasts. Her body was everything I remembered from mid-race and more. Tight, toned, flushed from the heat. Her pussy was already glistening, and her eyes were locked on mine.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Want to take a closer look?”

I pulled her close, my hand sliding around her waist, the other cupping her breast. It was warm, soft, perfect. I kissed her chest, tracing her nipples with my tongue until she gasped and tugged at my hair.

Then she pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top, peeling the towel off with a grin.

“Not bad for an old man,” she teased, eyes on my cock.

“Looks like someone’s ready.”

I flipped her onto her back, kneeling between her legs.

“Let me take care of you first.”

I kissed her thighs, teasing her, then licked her slow and deep. She moaned instantly, her body reacting to every flick of my tongue. I used my fingers and tongue together, circling her clit, stroking her just right. She cried out, gripping the sheets, trembling through a hard orgasm.

When she came down, she looked at me, breathless.

“That was impressive. Guys my age always rush. You’ve got old-timer class.”

I laughed. “There are perks to experience.”

She pulled me on top of her.

“Now let’s see if your fucking is as good as your running.”

I slid into her in one long, deep thrust. She was so tight, so warm, her body wrapped around me like it was meant to be there. We moved together slowly, grinding, kissing, gasping.

Then I flipped her onto her belly, pulling her hips back and thrusting harder. She gasped into the pillow, her ass perfect beneath me, medal clinking faintly against her chest. The sound only made it hotter.

My orgasm started building.

“Where do you want me to cum?” I asked, breath ragged.

She looked back, flushed and smiling.

“Use my tits.”

I flipped her over, slid my cock between her slick, perfect breasts. She pressed them together and licked the head each time it neared her mouth. A few strokes later, I groaned and came hard, thick ropes landing across her chest, some catching on the medal still swinging between her breasts.

She smiled, rubbing it into her skin.

“Told you I’d thank you,” she whispered.

And yeah, it was the best post-race recovery I’ve ever had.