You took up running recently. You told me about how secluded it was along your jogging route. And how no one would hear you scream. We both knew what that meant. [31M/27F] [CNC] [Mask] [Rough] [Deepthroat] [Groping] [Spanking] [Immersive POV] [Aftercare]

You always went to the same place.

The nature preserve off Sandy Lane. It was a single lane gravel road that terminated in a dense, spiraling forest. A dirt parking lot just big enough for a handful of cars--and never full.

You always got here just before sunset. 6:30. Sometimes 7. Early enough for it to still be light out when you started but late enough that the sky was normally a darkened orange hue when you finished.

You would alter your path every time, but you had a system. Left on Mondays. Right on Tuesdays. Center on Wednesdays. Repeat or reverse.

I liked timing you. Sitting in my dusty off-white pickup while you disappeared into the tree cover. Listening to an audiobook while I waited. It was usually 45-ish minutes later that you'd reemerge. Much sweatier. Panting. Red in the face. Hair slick. But looking satisfied.

Every time you came out--I couldn't help but imagine you looking that way after I got my hands on you.

So, today, I didn't wait in the parking lot.

I followed you.

Just like you wanted.

We discussed. Made an arrangement.

Still, an exact appointment didn't quite carry the excitement you were looking for. We found a visual way to communicate without explicitly setting a date. Anytime you wore the bright pink matching set--the skin tight yoga shorts and complementary sports bra barely containing your tits--meant you were ready to be hunted.

Today was one of those days.

Along with the matching set, you had your hair up in a high ponytail. It swayed like a pendulum--as if it was counting down the seconds until I reached you--while you disappeared into the preserve. Your ass bounced with each lilting step. Blood rushed south.

This was going to be fun.

I got out of the truck, my Danners leaving distinct prints in the dusty earth as I followed after you. But I didn't run; I knew I didn't have to. I saw just enough of you to know that you were taking the left-hand path today and I knew exactly where I could cut you off. It meant straying from the path, walking through the brush, and crossing a narrow stream.

While stepping over a dead log, I could see you through the swaying pine trees, rounding a bend, AirPods in. You wouldn't hear my boots crunching over fallen twigs. Probably wouldn't even notice me pulling down the mask--ghostly, black and white, classic. It matched the rest of my outfit: the dark jeans and long-sleeve black and grey flannel. Black gloves too, with rubber on the fingertips--perfect for grabbing you.

I got into position, sidling up to the path--still hidden by the foliage--as you came jogging towards me. It was overcast today. Dark, wavy clouds hung low in the sky. They threatened rain, but, for now, gave me more cover as dusk sank towards night.

You passed. Didn't even notice me despite being a mere arms-length from you. I stepped onto the path, lunged forward, wrapped my arm around your waist, my other hand snapping shut over your mouth. Your brain must have immediately went into fight mode. You struggled against me, but I heaved you up easily, dragging you into the brush. I shoved you against a tree, the branches rattling over our heads.

"Shut up." Muffled but gruff from behind my mask. I was pressed against you, staring into your eyes, your back against the tree while my palm still covered your mouth. "This can be easy. If you keep quiet."

Your eyes wide, but knowing. I wanted this fast and rough. My free hand shot under your sports bra, thumb and forefinger twisting your nipples--hard--as you pleaded against my palm.

"I said 'shut up'," I twisted harder, eliciting a little yelp of pain. Still teasing your nipple, I pushed my index finger into your mouth, making you taste the slick leather and rough rubber. "There it is, gag like a good little slut. This is nothing."

Then I was pulling your top up, grabbing both tits, rolling your nipples before shoving you to your knees. You fell into the crumpled leaves with only a modicum of resistance. I already had my cock out--thick and fucking throbbing--barely giving you the time to register it before I was shoving it into your mouth. I kept one hand pressed firmly onto your crown while the other grasped your neck, holding you tight while I fucked your mouth.

Drool pooled along the underside of my shaft, eventually pouring over your bottom lip, pouring thickly down your chin. You looked up at me, eyes wet, blinking, all you saw was the mask looking back. You tried pushing back against my thighs, but I only held you tighter, made you take it further, my balls starting to slap wetly against your chin.

It was fortunate that no one was walking past. They might have seen us through the brush: you with your tits out, on your knees, swallowing my cock and me above you, holding you, making you fucking take it.

Satisfied with the saliva coating my shaft, I gave you a break, pulled out as you exhaled and gasped. I thumped my cock against your cheeks. Your forehead. Spit and precum smearing across your reddened, pretty face.

"Get up," but I didn't give you the choice. I grasped you under your armpits and hoisted you back to your feet, spun you around, snatched the stretchy hem of your tight yoga shorts and yanked them down. There it was--your perfect fucking ass. Round and peachy. And no thong? How convenient.

SMACK

Gloved hand against your ass. The sound echoed. Loud.

I left the shorts around your knees to constrict your movement.

SMACK

Again. You tried to stifle a whine.

Even in the approaching dark, I could see your pussy glistening between your thighs.

And it was going to be mine.

SMACK

Ass bouncing as I positioned my spit-slick shaft against your dripping slit. Felt you moan and press against me. You weren't even pretending to hide your need now. I leaned forward, grasping one of your nipples with my hand as I plunged inside of you. Deep and fast. All the way. Balls against your labia.

Again.

Again.

Over and over. Plunging inside of you. Pounding your pussy as you grasped onto the bark of the tree. Nails digging in.

Again.

Again.

One hand teasing your nipple, the other grasping your ass like I fucking owned it.

Pounding. That noise. My cock stretching your pussy. Wet slapping. Flesh against flesh. Your legs held tightly together, your pussy clenching me. You were going to cum. I knew it. Going to cum all fucking over my cock.

I kept going. Pushing you there. You let out a small cry as your body flexed against my hands. Shivering. Shaking. I held you up. Kept going. Came as yours slowed down. Pumping it inside of you. Hot, sticky cum. Rope after rope. Filling your pussy. Couldn't stop. Kept fucking it inside of you even when there was nothing left. Kept going as my cock began to soften.

Finally. Flaccid. Falling out. Watched as cum dripped into the leaves. Red hand marks on your ass.

I left you like that--shorts still halfway down, sports bra pulled up--and disappeared back into the brush.

I gave it some time, ditched my costume, and returned to you after you had pulled yourself back together as much as possible. I could still a wet spot on your shorts now--from either my cum or your pussy or both. You looked up at me and smiled dreamily. Hug. Kiss on the forehead.

"You did so good."

I wrapped my arm around your waist and walked you back.

Rubbed your shoulders. Held you tight in the parking lot.

Looking down at you, no more mask. "Is that the way you wanted it?"

"It was perfect."

It was dark now. We would meet back at your apartment. I was still turned on. "Maybe we should do it again at your place?"

You grinned, "Take me like you need me."

Will do.