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(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by Huang Suave...)

You and your girlfriend are sitting in the woods, hiding in the alcove of remarkably large tree. Rachel is ecstatic and you, a lot more sane that both time and your lust have passed, are trying to find the courage to call it off.

“T-this is illegal, we can’t-”

“Monica won’t tell anyone, she always wanted to be raped. She wants it just as much as me.”

As dumb as a reason as that is, you still can’t bring yourself to leave. Small beads of perspiration have built up on both you and Rachel, despite the cool weather. You’re nervous and can’t seem to convince yourself that things wouldn’t be so much better if you left.

Rachel has already started pleasuring herself and is really putting some gusto into it. You watch with an almost detached fascination as she in the middle of the woods, repeatedly shoves most of her hand up her dripping pussy. With each thrust her bust jiggles and muffled moans make their way through her closed mouth.

It pains you to admit, but pretty soon you find yourself with your hand in your pants as well. But you stop cold when you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Making her way towards your hideout, coming in at what feels like slow motion, is Rachel’s friend Monica. Her coppery red hair, held up in a sloppy bun, is barely kept out of her cute face. Much as your girlfriend described them, her tits, which are incredibly bouncy, seem to want to burst out of her small fitness shirt. Not that her shorts are faring any better. Her ass, which is indeed big and fat, stretches the elastic fabric to the point it seems more like a second skin than a pair of pants.

If you were a man who’s prone to saying insane shit from time to time, you might say something along the lines of, “Man, she is just asking for this upcoming rape.”

Your girlfriend notices her too, her already eager eyes light up to full blown delirious joy. “There she is!” she whispers. You both retreat into the alcove before you’re spotted and wait a half minute to make sure Monica has passed.

“Alright give it a minute and then chase after!”

Rachel was very insistent about the chasing part — part of the fantasy is the hunt. This became very apparent when she orgasmed talking about it. You count for sixty agonizing seconds, before taking off. Up ahead you spot Monica — it is kind of hard to miss her black clad ass. The reasonable part of your brain returns again saying this could be your chance to get out, to stop before things get worse. And you do consider it — you haven’t listened to him in a while and look at you now. But in the end you listen to your base part again. Whose argument is mostly based around, “Damn, look at that ass!”

Monica is fast, but you’re faster. Before you met your girlfriend, you spent a lot of time running away from even more insane women than her. Hell you even spent a year in solitude hiding from Apocalyptia, who had a rack like a pair of bowling balls made of marshmallows. In retrospect if you had listened to the reasonable part of your brain more, then these things might not happen so much, but you don’t, so they do.

It takes Monica a while to pick up on the fact that there’s someone chasing her. She doesn’t know it’s you, because you’re wearing a sweet Phantom of the Opera mask. Rachel said it was stupid because it only covers half your face, but no one recognized Erik did they?

When Monica finally does realize she leaves the trail and shoots off into the woods. You’re right behind her, though. This isn’t your first chase through the woods, although it is the first where you’re not the one being chased. Monica throws you several wild-eyed glances, but no screams. You close in and tackle her. She struggles under you but it’s useless — during your time in solitude you spent most of it preparing for the off-chance that Apocalyptia did find you. A normal girl like Monica is more than easy to subdue.

You’re on her back, your impressively-erect cock is buried in between the two massive cushions that make her ass. She whimpers and her wide blue eyes search your mostly-masked face, searching for some clue as to what you’re gonna do.