One night, on a scarcely lit path, when there were no other promenaders about, my boyfriend stopped me. He started grinning, and then said, “Run.” I realized at once what he was about, and started running.
He gave me a headstart because he knew he was the faster runner and would catch me eventually. Then he chased after me as I ran on the dark gravel path, listening to both our footfalls, yipping, screaming and giggling from excitement.
He was gaining on me, and, as he got closer, he started grunting behind me, knowing that that would serve to excite and turn me on even more. My heart was thumping, and although it was just a game and a fantasy it felt so real. So. Deliciously. Real. I really did panick a bit with someone chasing me, huffing and grunting behind me, trying to “rape” me.
I ran – on purpose – off the path to this little mound the light didn’t reach. I ran over the mound into a little depression to which no one walking on the path would see into. There he finally caught me, thumped into me, and dragged me down on the ground. He didn’t stop to fiddle with my coat (it was autumn) and just yanked my pants down to my ankles and rolled me onto my stomach.
He held me down as he lowered his own trousers enough to get his cock out and then, without warning, without preparing me for it, entered me roughly from behind. We fucked there, on the damp grass in the dark, him grunting quietly into my ear, holding his hand over my mouth, whispering to me all the lines from my fantasies, “Oh, what a tight little cunt. Be still and I won’t hurt you. You like it, don’t you? You wanted this. You were asking for this. Good girl.”
It hurt a bit, but I like it that way. And after that, every time we’re on a walk and he starts grinning and tells me to run, I run!