Kiss chase in a forest

Image by the fabuloua Stuart F Taylor

I dipped into Twitter occasionally when I was on leave last month, and one of the things I spotted was a tweet that made me riotously horny. It was from @19syllables, one of my favourite people on Twitter (her feed is so full of joy and beauty, I love her). She tweeted “Kiss chase, but you and me in a forest and if you catch me you can take me.” It gave me all the soft-yet-powerful horny feelings. So I wrote this.

He’s lying on his back on a blanket, vest top that shows off the delicious curve of his shoulder muscles and the dark patch of hair at his armpit. He’s lying like that and I am mirroring him – on my side on the picnic blanket, one hand tucked under my cheek so we’re eye-to-eye. My face six inches from his. Breathing the same air. Aching for him to kiss me.

And he’s looking at me. That shining, dark-dark look that someone gets when they want you so much they cannot find the words or the strength to tell you. I look deep and hard into his eyes which are like everything I’ve ever desired, and he says: “do you want to play a game?”

My cunt – no word of a lie – my cunt jumps. Just this… you know… throb… of raw, feral need.

His eyes are the pools my heart will drown in, and he asks me if I want to play a game.

Oh my love.

I would play with my own cunt on camera for total strangers who hated me… if you told me it would turn you on. I would love to play a game with you. I have never wanted anything more. What are we playing?

Quickly – like a spark that jumps from your fingers when you’ve built up static – he flips me onto my back so he’s lying on top. The full length of his body presses hard against mine and I’m pinned beneath the weight of him: muscle and bone and fat and heart and every single inch of his sweat-dampened skin. I squirm.

He takes one of those big, strong hands and places it around my throat. Pressing so so gently – not enough to ever be a risk, but just enough that I know he’s in control – he kisses me firmly on the lips. Possessively, like he’s trying to stamp the imprint of his onto mine.

Then he pulls away a bit – no more than a few millimetres – the gap between our mouths is so slim that I can feel him fluttering the next few words against the curve of my own lips as I crack a languid smile, he tells me:

“Let’s play kiss chase.”

That smile becomes a grin. Oh how I grin. I involuntarily fuck my hips up to meet him where his crotch is pinning me to the picnic blanket. And I swear to God I can feel the vibrations of the bass in his voice resonating where the seam of my jeans cuts into my crotch towards my clit. Never in my life have I wanted to play kiss chase more.

At thirteen, when I fancied the first boy I ever really fancied, you know what I mean? The boy who gave me the first ever twinges in places I did not yet realise were important… I wanted to play kiss chase. At nineteen when I pretended to a guy from uni that it was suitably ironic… I’d have committed crimes to get to play kiss chase. But never have I wanted to play it more than now.

At this moment, with this man that my body fully yearns for, I would die for the very concept of kiss chase.

“Fuck yes,” I tell him, while grinding myself upwards. He pins me harder with his hips.

Kisses me again.

This time it’s the softest kiss I have ever experienced in my entire life. It’s so gentle, so delicate, that I almost can’t be sure if it even is a kiss. He deals in such kiss-related precision that there are atoms in my skin which – at the quantum level – still aren’t really sure yet if they’re touching. This man kisses me so gently that I am simultaneously sated by the contact yet still utterly desperate for the kiss to begin.

And he tells me, “this time, though, we’re not playing for kisses.”

“No?” I ask, my cunt fully humming with utter need for him to put it in me.

“No,” he says, with a voice like a fucking Doxy. “This time, if I catch you: I take you.”

Good God holy fuck holy fuck. I breathe. And I breathe again. And then I need just one more breath to calm myself after hearing that. By this point, I am fully pulsing with desperation to be fucked by this man.

But he’s slammed an even better offer on the table… because if there is one thing better than being fucked by him, it’s being ravished by him. Claimed.


I put my own lips up against his, and give him one of those fluttery whisper-kisses in return as I tell him:

“Game on: try and catch me.”

I grind one last time up against his crotch before he sits up and straddles me. Pinning my shoulders down because he knows I’m getting ready to spring up and run. The sooner I start running, the sooner I’ll be caught. My heart is already thumping in anticipation of it.

Leaning forward so his palms crush my shoulders into the soft picnic blanket and the hard forest floor, grinning like he’s caught me already, this man for whom I would die five times over tells me he’ll give me a ten second head start.

“I’ll count to ten once you’ve gone, but I’m watching where you run to. And I’m fast, you know that. Even faster when I’m hot for you. Are you ready?”

I nod. Swallow. There are no words left for me now, just the rapid racing of my heart and the adrenaline that’s already started to tingle through my limbs. I crane my neck up to try and extract one final kiss before he gives chase, but he turns his head away.

“Uh uh,” he chides softly. Then begins the countdown.

“Five,” I wriggle against him.

“Four,” he relaxes his grip.

“Three,” I shift my weight, pressing my elbows into the ground and getting ready to spring up and go.

“Two,” he sits back on his heels, still straddling my legs but releasing my shoulders so I can put both my palms flat against the blanket. I am thrumming with energy, revving my engines at a junction before the light turns green. Burning up with power that I’m itching to release. But he never breaks the connection of our gaze – his grey eyes hold me in place just as effectively as his hands did a moment ago. There is no way I will leave until he gives the order.

An age passes between ‘two’ and ‘one’, and in that age I see every single beat of what comes next. My legs powering me through the forest, branches whipping at my arms and flicking behind me. Heart hammering, arms pumping, feet planted firmly on top of fallen trees to help me leap over them. I can hear the rustle and snap of twigs behind me, and note with gleeful horror the incoming rush of his swifter, longer strides. I can almost feel the sensation of his hand grabbing at my wrist, tugging me backwards and into his arms as he catches and claims me.

I can feel the rough bark of the tree against which he’ll pin me. Conjure the sensation of it brushing against my cheek as he presses me tight against it, both my wrists gripped in just one of his powerful hands, the other tugging down my jeans so he can press the warmth of his cock into the slit of my cunt.

He shifts again, a little more, now no longer straddling me but sitting by my side – one finger raised as if to say ‘wait for it’, wearing the smile I want to wake up to until I die.

My chest is now a drum solo of fear and excitement. My cunt beats a sympathetic rhythm. I am panting before I’ve even taken a step.

In the aeon I wait between ‘two’ and ‘one’ I picture everything that will happen, from the moment I start running through the way he will claim me in the forest right through to the panting, breathless way we will cling to each other afterwards. Spent and aching and high on the thrill of the chase.

Catch me, oh God please will you catch me.

When he whispers ‘one’, I run.

Oh how I run.


This piece is also available as audio porn, click ‘listen now’ above or head to the free audio porn page for more sexy stories read aloud. Or come read the much darker part 2 – predator and prey – here

Huge huge thanks to 19syllables for the inspiration, follow her if you’re on Twitter, she’s a gem. 

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