Head to the park.
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You're shocked to find four African-American boys in their late teens to early twenties sitting around a cooler with beers in their hands, all staring at you with smirks on their lips. How long have they been oogling you? | You're shocked to find four African-American boys in their late teens to early twenties sitting around a cooler with beers in their hands, all staring at you with smirks on their lips. How long have they been oogling you? | ||
- | [[Life as a good little girl-At the park|You don't like this. | + | [[Life as a good little girl-At the park|You don't like this. Head home now.]] |
+ | |||
+ | [[Lifa as a good little girl-At the park|Take them up on their offer.]] |
Current revision as of 16:25, 18 September 2015
There's a park not far from here that has a decent track to run on. Plus the city just built a new park not ten blocks away (which seemed a bit unnecessary to you) which is larger and more well-kept. It's usually pretty quiet at the old park, and you wouldn't mind a bit more running without the occasional ass grab.
You pick up your step, and get to the park in under five minutes. As you expected, it's empty. This park is out of the way, and most parents won't take their kids here as the overgrowth of the grass and trees has gotten slightly out of control. It appeared that while the town had enough money to build two parks, it didn't have enough to keep both well-maintained.
You hit the track, which is roughly a fourth of a mile long and is made in a large circle. Not having to worry about your tits and ass here, you allow yourself to just focus on the run. Though you do think it may be time to buy a new sports bra; this one is squishing your huge boobs pretty tightly, and each step you take causes them to jiggle in a manner that your not the sports bra can contain.
You get in a solid five mile run in, which is pretty damn good in your mind. You forgot to bring a watch, so you're not sure how much time has passed, but now's a good of time to stop as any. You're not out of shape, not by a long shot, but your chest is heaving pretty heavily and you're sweating so much your skin has an almost sheen look to it.
You curse softly as you slow to a walk. You forgot to bring a water bottle, and your throat is incredibly dry. That's when you hear that cat calls.
"Awww, don't stop now."
"Keep up the hustle."
"If you're thirsty we have drinks!"
You're shocked to find four African-American boys in their late teens to early twenties sitting around a cooler with beers in their hands, all staring at you with smirks on their lips. How long have they been oogling you?