Sara likes to run. I prefer bicycling, running hurts my knees. Cycling covers more ground in less time, and the only thing that ends up hurting is my butt. Runners have loose-fitting suplex outfits. Bikers get padded spandex shorts and gloves. I'll concede air cushioned shoes, but that doesn't compare to Gel seats and 18 gear ratios. I'm considerably faster than dogs. Sara's got a spray, but usually forgets to take it along, relying on her charm I guess.
Speaking of charms; I got to admit, watching her run can certainly be erotic. All that flesh moving in different directions. The guy that came up with jog-bras; I think should be shot, deporting him to Malaysia obviously wasn't good enough. They still import those things, and they certainly do suppress the movement of some of the good parts. Not to mention how hard it is to peel one of those things off someone when they've got five or six miles of sweat in them.
It's nearly impossible to peel a jog bra off a woman, who's not in the mood to cooperate. Sara's got this reoccurring fantasy, and it's sort of the opposite of mine. Mine is two women pampering me. Massage, lots of smooth, soft, warm, ample feminine flesh doing every nice thing they can think of to ME.
Jack and Jill (no nursery rhyme jokes please) were almost instantly our friends when we moved into the state. We've done lots of things together over the past three years, but last Saturday was incredible. Better still, Jill made a video of it so I can re-live the experience anytime (within reason) I want. Pay-backs for this are going to be hell.
I don't have any experience at this, well at least most of this. I feel stupid for a number of reasons. This - this is kidnaping. I'm not even sure I can run fast enough to catch her, if I can't catch her within the first hundred yards this won't work. Plus taking my sex life out into public is scary, not the mention the possibility of meeting a Good Samaritan; or worse, a Professional Samaritan (a.k.a. police officer) would take this beyond the realm of stupid into criminal. Good God the things we do for love, or at least lust.
I'm sure she's going to take this path. Every time the wind is from the east; like today, she 'does' the forest preserve. Maybe she's just going slower today. I hope not, she'll be more rested, therefore possibly faster . . .
"There she is, right on time," says Jill. "Tape is rolling studs." I see the red light come on her camera from all the way across the path where she is hiding by a couple trees.
"It's show time. Go get her you guys!"
Easier said than done. Jack moves onto the path; bends over and grabs his calf, and the red food color squeezes out between his fingers and starts running down toward his ankle. Now the 'ham' starts limping toward the camera, and has his head turned away from the approaching runner. She's maybe ten yards away and looks like she's going to pass him to my side. Now she seems to have noticed the crimson color on his leg and is slowing down. Five yards and still slowing. Two yards and she's made him; too late, her momentum is going to carry her forward. I step out my hiding place ready to tackle her and I can see her accelerating.
I've certainly been hit harder, but not since my college days. It's amazing how quickly I'd forgotten how much it hurt to tackle someone, especially without pads. (Mental note: take rugby off the list of leisure activities to try in the future.)
"Hang on Ted! Help him Jack!" Screams fearless leader from behind the shrubbery.
Jack grabs her around the waist, and I've still got one of her legs. Within seconds we form a pile of knees and elbows writhing on the ground. I'm digging in my back pocket for handcuffs and trying to find one of her wrists. Finally I get one of the cuffs around a wrist and start searching for the remaining one.
Jack has his knee between her shoulder blades and is trying to pry the remaining arm out from under her chest. Her head and legs are still flailing about, but eventually we get her hands cuffed behind her back. Jack continues to keep her pinned down to the ground with his knee, while I go looking for our little bag of tricks.
It's not really much of a collection. Actually it's a roll of duct tape and red rubber ball in a gallon size plastic freezer bag. Returning to our victim, I sit on her legs and begin taping her ankles together. More squirming and threshing about at this time, but it's obvious who's going to win this contest now. After I turn around, Jack takes his knee out of her back, grabs her elbows and pulls them together for me to tape up.
"Okay, roll her over and finish the job. We've got to get moving." Says our director with the camcorder, and we obey. I lift my butt off her legs, rotate her hips, and sit back down on her upper thighs. We're now face to face and I don't think she knows who I am. Must be the ski mask, what a great invention.
I can see fear in her eyes now. She opens her mouth and begins screaming for all she 's worth. Jack grabs a handful of her hair and pulls her head back so I can shove the ball into her mouth. She's still yelling her fool head off, but it's not nearly as loud. I take the plastic bag and slip it over her head. Her eyes are now twice as big, and her head shaking is more violent. I take the roll of duct tape; pull off about 3 feet of the sticky stuff and begin closing the opening of the bag to the base of her neck. Not really tight, but there isn't any air moving into the bag either. Suddenly she becomes very quiet and still, her eyes following me very carefully.
"Don't forget to blindfold her." That woman is relentless, but she's correct, we can't have her pleading eyes ruin whatever resolve we have left. So it's back to the duct tape, and now I apply wrap after wrap around her head at the eyes and mouth.
"Want to keep on breathing dearie?" Says Jack. She nods her head and grunts now for all she's worth.
"All rightie then, hold very still while I open some holes under your nose."
Once again she calms herself, as Jack takes a pen knife from his pocket and punctures the plastic. I can hear wind whistling in and out of the bag, and her posture relaxes a bit.
"Pick her up. Come on. Come on! We're wasting daylight guys." Jill turns off the camera after we've moved her into the woods. Some five minutes later we reach the clearing Jill scouted out yesterday.
"Okay guys, the ropes' are already attached to the tent stakes." Jill has turned the camcorder back on and is documenting our adventure once again.
"No guys, face her to the tree; not too close, bend her over at the waist, pull her arms up and to the tree. Now tape her arms to the tree." Jack and I turn her around as per the directors' instructions. I remove the handcuffs and wrap tape around her wrists three times, holding them tightly together. I continue using the duct tape to fasten her wrists to the tree.
Jack and I each grab a leg. Jack uses his pocket knife to separate her ankles. We pull her legs wide apart and wrap rope around each ankle. We might have gotten a bit carried away, because she looks really uncomfortable. I start to loosen up the rope when: she who must be obeyed says . . .
"Leave that the way it is. She can take it." And she's probably right, I'm just too soft for my own good. Besides; this is Sara's fantasy, not mine.
