Let me sketch an image for you.
And I invite you, as always, to bring your own brush to the drawing and paint in what you'd like alongside me. Do let me know how you find this.
Wind rushing all around you, plants smacking at your bracing arms, you run from me. I've given you a head start. I've counted at the top of my lungs and you're far away enough now that you hear my voice on the very wind that drums on your ears.
Your heart is in your throat, your blood is thunderous in your ears.
And the forest betrays you. The trees watch your every move, marking your footprints in the mud, reaching out and clawing at your skin so that I may find the faintest trace of your blood on their fingertips.
Can you feel my heart racing? You must. We're linked, you and I. Some strand of symbiosis. Like the goosebumps from the wind hitting our sweat-coated bodies, we feel each other through the shivers. I sense you as you sense me. I catch your scent on the wind and follow as you run from mine.
I do enjoy your panting on the wind.
Of your footsteps splashing in fresh rainwater puddles.
I've hooked my fingers around the straps of your dress just as you spot me. You tear from me -- in a display of strength I admit catches me off guard -- and though I've loosened the lace around your dress and your tits threaten to spill out, you giggle and run from me, further into the thicket. My growl reverberates after you. It catches up with you before I can even give chase. Are you soaked, I wonder? How badly do you want to be claimed? I'd ask you but you're not going to make this easy for me are you?