Someone's taking the car, follow the redhead!
From Create Your Own Story
You start to say something witty to Willie, but then you realize that, for the Author, it's late, and the Author is tired and can't be bothered to have you say anything at this juncture. So you shrug helplessly at her and dash after the redhead.
"Dammit! Daphne's tree-dodging derriere!" exclaims Willie; and in a quick glance back you see her coming after you, grabbing her coveralls from the ground, naked except for the gauzy wrap pushed up from her tits, which are bouncing in a knee-weakening way that hardly tolerates literary description. You stumble a little. You run on. You are just behind the redhead, limping as fast as she can, which is pretty fast, and then draw abreast of her.
Yes, I did just say "abreast". That's very observant of you, Dear Reader. Actually you are more interested in her ass, which is why you have only drawn abreast of her, so you can keep watching it run. Trés ironique, mais non?
"Get her!" she shouts, "Stop her! Hurry! Ow!" The last clearly in reference to her ankle.
"Her who?" you pant, your cock's bounce tightening beside the redhead's hip. You consider grabbing it -- your cock, that is -- as the crazy bouncing puts in mind the relief of a more deliberate, straightforward motion.
Of course, if you grabbed her hip, the said relief from the crazy runbouncing might be realized (after a moment or three of foreplay, naturally) in the very way suggested by its ideal -- merely ideal -- state, whereas you maintain this relief in its again mere ideality by grabbing rather the item the bouncey-bounce of which puts the realization of this ideation in mind, that is, into your ideal character.
Grammatical vagueries and such resultant internal debates are why you dislike jogging.
"It must be Seth! She's taking the car!" says the redhead.
"Allow me!"
That wasn't you. You are startled to realize it's Willie talking, running right there behind you. "Hold these, please?" she says, and tosses her coveralls over her shoulder as she scoots by. You get a full view of her naked rump and those thighs pumping ahead like a wide receiver's before the denim garment lands over your head like a steamy hood. But even blind, you could retrace those contours -- the twang of her gluteus bows, the tapering cylinders of her camberous thighs, the backs of her knees which can only be described as uncommonly arousing, cupping between the cords of her hamstrings that tighten so serenely -- burned into your vision like a blueprint of sex, a braille fingerpainting belacking only of your kit of colors and your brush.
Yes, I did just use "brush" in a suggestively metaphorical manner. Bravo, reader. Bravo.
- Trust your feelings and leave Willie's pants on as you run.
- Trip accidentally and tackle one of the ladies.
- Trace Willie's thighs and calves on something.
| Status | ||
| Health | Horny | Location: |
| MP | 0 | |
| Level | 1 | |
