I just want you guys to know a few things. 1: I don't have this all written yet, so the updates might be a bit sporadic. 2: I have read all your responses, and deeply appreciate each and every one, even if I don't respond. 3: Eve is on the pill. There will be no pregnancies in this story.
*****
Michael:
I didn't follow her. I was at the track for my own workout. I'd never seen her there before, at least, not after we were out of junior high. I watched her running slow and steady around the track, and got hard remembering our sexual encounter. I didn't understand why she could affect me like she did. But ever since that night two weeks ago I wanted to make her mine. Make her obey and understand that I owned her body, that what she thought about me made no difference in the way I could make her feel.
It made no sense. I didn't even like her: too damn smart and stuck-up about it. But she wasn't too smart to get taken over by hormones like the rest of us mortals.
When the sprinklers on the field came on, I expected her to bolt, cover up her hair, something typical of girls. Instead, she laughed and just stood under the arches of water, getting soaked, her face up and her arms open to the sky.
I watched the water mold her clothes to her body, not difficult considering she wasn't wearing much; a sports bra and shorts. Her hair was up in a bouncy ponytail, making me think of holding onto it as I entered her from behind. She would take all of me, would whimper for more.
I wanted her, and I was going to take her.
After a few minutes standing in the water, she began to make her way back towards her car. The way the place was set up, you had to walk through the playground to get from the parking lot to the track. I stood hidden by one of the few trees in the playground, waiting for her to approach me.
As she moved closer, I saw her nipples were hard against the bra. She gasped and stopped in her tracks when she spotted me, but recovered quickly.
"Hello, Mike," she said, mock sweetly, sneering at me. She was dripping wet and beginning to shiver as night fell. And despite her appearance, I wanted to make her my property, to brand her somehow.
She stepped back as I moved forward. Something in my expression must have given away my intentions, because she kept retreating until she backed into the monkey bars, the structure towering over her head and to both sides. Her eyes finally broke our gaze to glance around. I caged her in, and could hear her breath coming fast.
I lowered my mouth to hers for a wet, hungry kiss. She groaned slightly, struggled briefly in protest, but was soon kissing me back, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I pulled away, caught her hands and brought them over her head. I held both her wrists in one hand while I fumbled with her workout shorts with the other. I finally got the drawstring out, and I set to work tying her up properly.
"You're kinky," she said, smirking, then protested when I drew one hand down her back until her elbow pointed straight up and her back was arched. She tried to pull her other arm away, but I simply overpowered her and finished.
Satisfied that she was completely at my mercy, I stepped back, taking in the whole picture: her panting breaths did interesting things to her breasts, and water droplets glistened on her exposed stomach. Her head rolled back and forth, looking for anyone who might be around.
I moved closer until I could reach her bra. "Hmm," I said conversationally. "I've never seen a sports bra with a front clasp before."
She gasped as I freed the first two hooks. "You're...you're not going to..." she stammered, then trailed off as I flipped the last catches open and spread the material wide, exposing her breasts to the world. "Wait, Mike," she said, biting her lip and searching the growing darkness for voyeurs.
I leaned down until I could reach her mouth again, prying her bottom lip from between her teeth. "Michael," I said, then bit her myself, delving into her mouth to kiss her deeply. While she groaned and kissed me back, I rubbed my hands together, warming them with the friction. When they were hot, I placed them over her damp, chilled breasts.