Dive into the bush after the jogger
From Create Your Own Story
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- | + | As you sail joyously through the air like a terrier, you take in the world around you. You seem to be moving in slow motion for the moment, so this is narratively possible. The sun shines in the sky like a giant pat of melting butter. The flowers are blooming, like bloomers. | |
- | + | You spring after the runner and sail joyously through the air like a terrier, the sun on your shoulders, the flowers springing abundantly, fertilely from the manicured earth along the path, little nuclear families ambling across the hilly grassy sward, doomed balloons in toddling little mitts, sticky with not-enough cotton candy. One or two of the nearer ones glance at your flight, hold their children closer as they spy your pink rocket popping free of its denim sheath. | |
- | + | ||
- | *[[ | + | The woman yelps as you come crashing into the bush. You thought you were on top of her, but you land on all fours on the ground. The bush is bigger than it looked, it seems. Lots of head room too. You consider the possibility of establishing a man-cave there. Maybe you could plug your man-pliances into the nearby streetlamp. |
- | *[[ | + | |
- | *[[ | + | That's odd, man-caves don't usually come with cut, slightly sweaty runners in tight halter-tops and naked from the waist down. Oh, it's the runner! Wasn't able to find her shorts, apparently. |
- | {{SexRompStatus|Location=''[[The Park]]''|Health=Horny|MP=0|Level= | + | |
+ | You jump up, ready to pounce. She makes a horrified face and points at your crotch. "What the hell is that?" | ||
+ | |||
+ | You stand, grin, look at your nails nonchalantly. "That's my Marvin. He's a big fan." | ||
+ | |||
+ | "No, no, what '''is''' that, on it?!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | You look down. Your cock is fine, rosy, robust and ready, Muhammad Ali pretty you think with a sinking feeling, and then the sole of the her running shoe contacts the crown of your skull. Stars explode across your brain. You experience a moment of delirium, droolingly, incandescently happy, at one with all things. Even with the pussy of the woman who just kicked you in the head. It's more spiritual, though, than what you're used to. Then you drop to your back like a bag of dirt, your erect cock waving like a spastic flag as you groan and roll. "Yeah, how you like me ''now'', bitchh," says the runner, drawing out her ''ch'' in a way clearly authentic street, dancing around you like a boxer. Calling on every lesson of judo that you've never had -- which is, incidentally, all of them -- and, incidentally, that is, like, a ''lot'' of judo lessons to call on -- you swing your legs at her ankles and topple her. | ||
+ | |||
+ | You blink. Maybe you should call on your non-existant secret judo more often. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Quickly, you tackle her. For several minutes you both grunt and groan and swear, tangling for a hold, your bodies sprawling over each other. "Girl, wouldja chill, just want to take you out for a steak dinner," you say, failing an attempted boob-hold. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "I'm a vegetarian," she says, elbowing you coolly in the ribs. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Like I didn't notice you not saying ''lesbian''," you say, grabbing her arm and flipping her onto her back. You jump up to throw yourself between her legs. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "I'm still man enough to kick ''your'' skinny ass," she says from beneath your knees. Then something unexpected happens. Your nose seems to be in contact with the dirt. Then you realize that the runner has just flipped you over on your face. Then you realize that just before that, a shrill shriek -- the kind that you don't notice because you're so busy with whatever caused you to shriek -- leaped from your lungs into the air in the park outside the bush. And then, last, you realize this is because the runner got a Tweak-Hold on your testicles. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "I wouldn't struggle," she says as you writhe in the rooty dirt. "Only make it worse, yo." She's crouching between your legs, behind you, out of reach, her fingers wrapped around your scrotum. She's made a fatal miscalculation, though. Too swiftly for her to react, you draw up one leg, twist onto your other side, and grab her clit with your toes. You squeeze like a chimpanzee peeling a banana, and now it's her turn to look a little green. (This is the best judo ''ever''.) There's a brief squeezing contest, with no one coming out the clear victor. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Okay, okay!" she gasps. "I have a suggestion. Hear me out for a second." | ||
+ | |||
+ | * [[Make your own suggestion]]. | ||
+ | * [[Listen to the runner's suggestion]]. | ||
+ | * [[Make the extreme move of removing your clothes by teleporting with the runner to Florida]]. | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{SexRompStatus|Location=''[[The Park]]''|Health=Horny|MP=0|Level=1}} | ||
[[Category: Smutty Sex Romp]] | [[Category: Smutty Sex Romp]] |
Revision as of 02:26, 8 November 2010
As you sail joyously through the air like a terrier, you take in the world around you. You seem to be moving in slow motion for the moment, so this is narratively possible. The sun shines in the sky like a giant pat of melting butter. The flowers are blooming, like bloomers.
You spring after the runner and sail joyously through the air like a terrier, the sun on your shoulders, the flowers springing abundantly, fertilely from the manicured earth along the path, little nuclear families ambling across the hilly grassy sward, doomed balloons in toddling little mitts, sticky with not-enough cotton candy. One or two of the nearer ones glance at your flight, hold their children closer as they spy your pink rocket popping free of its denim sheath.
The woman yelps as you come crashing into the bush. You thought you were on top of her, but you land on all fours on the ground. The bush is bigger than it looked, it seems. Lots of head room too. You consider the possibility of establishing a man-cave there. Maybe you could plug your man-pliances into the nearby streetlamp.
That's odd, man-caves don't usually come with cut, slightly sweaty runners in tight halter-tops and naked from the waist down. Oh, it's the runner! Wasn't able to find her shorts, apparently.
You jump up, ready to pounce. She makes a horrified face and points at your crotch. "What the hell is that?"
You stand, grin, look at your nails nonchalantly. "That's my Marvin. He's a big fan."
"No, no, what is that, on it?!"
You look down. Your cock is fine, rosy, robust and ready, Muhammad Ali pretty you think with a sinking feeling, and then the sole of the her running shoe contacts the crown of your skull. Stars explode across your brain. You experience a moment of delirium, droolingly, incandescently happy, at one with all things. Even with the pussy of the woman who just kicked you in the head. It's more spiritual, though, than what you're used to. Then you drop to your back like a bag of dirt, your erect cock waving like a spastic flag as you groan and roll. "Yeah, how you like me now, bitchh," says the runner, drawing out her ch in a way clearly authentic street, dancing around you like a boxer. Calling on every lesson of judo that you've never had -- which is, incidentally, all of them -- and, incidentally, that is, like, a lot of judo lessons to call on -- you swing your legs at her ankles and topple her.
You blink. Maybe you should call on your non-existant secret judo more often.
Quickly, you tackle her. For several minutes you both grunt and groan and swear, tangling for a hold, your bodies sprawling over each other. "Girl, wouldja chill, just want to take you out for a steak dinner," you say, failing an attempted boob-hold.
"I'm a vegetarian," she says, elbowing you coolly in the ribs.
"Like I didn't notice you not saying lesbian," you say, grabbing her arm and flipping her onto her back. You jump up to throw yourself between her legs.
"I'm still man enough to kick your skinny ass," she says from beneath your knees. Then something unexpected happens. Your nose seems to be in contact with the dirt. Then you realize that the runner has just flipped you over on your face. Then you realize that just before that, a shrill shriek -- the kind that you don't notice because you're so busy with whatever caused you to shriek -- leaped from your lungs into the air in the park outside the bush. And then, last, you realize this is because the runner got a Tweak-Hold on your testicles.
"I wouldn't struggle," she says as you writhe in the rooty dirt. "Only make it worse, yo." She's crouching between your legs, behind you, out of reach, her fingers wrapped around your scrotum. She's made a fatal miscalculation, though. Too swiftly for her to react, you draw up one leg, twist onto your other side, and grab her clit with your toes. You squeeze like a chimpanzee peeling a banana, and now it's her turn to look a little green. (This is the best judo ever.) There's a brief squeezing contest, with no one coming out the clear victor.
"Okay, okay!" she gasps. "I have a suggestion. Hear me out for a second."
- Make your own suggestion.
- Listen to the runner's suggestion.
- Make the extreme move of removing your clothes by teleporting with the runner to Florida.
Status | ||
Health | Horny | Location: |
MP | 0 | |
Level | 1 |