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Wanting a woman who could physically keep up was nice, if she liked the challenge.
But a woman who provided the challenge had his full attention.
Every inch of her was like a preview of desirable flawlessness. She had the longest legs and these thick contoured thighs and a butt to die for.
In the shiny black compression tights she most often favoured over shorts or baggy sweats, her tight curves shimmered invitingly.
There was no measuring the agony endured just to learn to walk straight again, on his own two feet, and at a confidently regular pace.
Now with the determination to overcome, to defy the damage done, and the crippling pain he'd been left with, he didn't resign to bitterness. That driver had never been caught, and so all that was left to punish was the machine that drove Carl to get on with his life.
Though the physical memory of the torture that was his survival was now faded, the experience had changed him. Handled with care, this is not a lightning-speed fantasy, but a work of emotional investment and chemistry.Back out now if you want wall-to-wall porno-style fucking.By next summer he would be back out there, a finely-tuned machine of solid, defined muscle and dripping salty sweat.He would be back to his healthy tanned old self, soaring on the wind and eating up the miles, racing the devil himself; where he was happiest.
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In that fake environment of uniformly placed machines, sterile fluorescent overhead lights, headbutt-inducing dance music, and poor air conditioning, there was no substitute.