Me? How to describe myself -- I'm in my early twenties, reasonable looking, intelligent, tall and fit. I like running and women. They're fascinating creatures.
Her? She was tall, pretty, athletic and in her early twenties. And sexy. Really sexy. I came across her while out jogging early one morning and, as far as I was concerned, it was lust at first sight.
I had gone down to the local park early. Hadn't even had breakfast yet, deciding to get my run in first. There is quite a nice park near me. It has a tanned running track that is just under a mile for the full circuit, which makes it easy to check on how far you've gone. It's not a flat track, being built with some upgrades which really test your legs after a few circuits. There are also a couple of wooded areas where you're trotting along through bushes and trees and can imagine that you're out in the country.
I was heading out of one of the wooded areas when she came running along, heading towards me. Beautiful, bountiful, boobs bouncing. A sports bra can only do so much for a girl and hers seemed to be resigned to the fact that it was trying an impossible job.
I enjoyed watching her come towards me, the look of her going straight to my groin. As she passed I smiled and nodded and was ignored. Not worrying about that I turned and started running along a few paces behind her, admiring her bottom. A very nice bottom it was, designed to be comfortably held in a man's hands while he pulled her towards him.
She had noticed that I'd started following her and increased her speed, but that didn't worry me. I adjusted and carried on, maintaining the same distance behind her. She slowed again once we left the woods, giving me the chance to pass her, a chance I lamentably failed to take. Shortly after we were approaching the other wooded section. This one quite a bit larger than the first.
Her nerve broke at this stage and she pulled up by the side of the track, glaring at me. I also pulled up and stood there, looking at her and admiring her.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
I blinked, looking startled. "Running," I said helpfully. "I frequently run here. The track's good and I enjoy the scenery," I added, looking pointedly at the bushes and trees of the woods just ahead of us.
"You're following me," she stated, accusation plain in her voice.
"Well, yes," I said, innocence oozing out of my voice. "I like to have someone run in front of me. It gives me a chance to set a steady pace. By myself I tend to run too fast and burn myself out."
"Follow someone else," she told me firmly. "I don't want a stranger running along following me."
"I'm not a stranger," I told her. "I'm John. I run here every day. I live over that-away a couple of blocks."
"You're a stranger to me," she insisted. "I prefer you not follow me."
"OK," I said, puzzlement creeping into my voice.
I moved back out onto the track, preparing to continue my run, when comprehension dawned.
"Ah. I understand," I said, turning back to her. "You're afraid that I might be a pervert or something and would try to jump you in the woods."
It was obvious from the look on her face that that was precisely what she thought (understandable) but that she didn't like me mentioning it.
I laughed. "Don't worry," I told her. "I wouldn't dream of jumping you."
She didn't like that either. She looked quite insulted. Who can tell with women? I explained.
"Look, if I wanted to jump someone, I'd be looking for a victim. Not a healthy, athletic woman like you. Also, muggers get caught, especially if they have scratches all over their face." At that point I looked significantly at her hands and her long nails.
"On top of that, I like my partners to be willing and enthusiastic. I really can't see myself getting much pleasure from trying to educate a reluctant virgin."
She was really indignant now. "What do you mean, a reluctant virgin?" she demanded. "How would you know if I'm a virgin or not?"
"Hey, it's OK," I said. "I think it's commendable that you can still be a virgin at your age."
"At my age?" she almost shouted at me, hitting on the more offensive part of my comment. "Just how old do you think I am?"
She asked, so it was only polite to give her an honest answer. I pointedly looked her over as though considering the answer.
"You'd be just over twenty," I said thoughtfully. "You probably go jogging in the mornings to sublimate your sex drive. Don't worry about it so much. You'll eventually meet a nice man and can have some fun."
"I am not running to sublimate my sex drive," she said coldly. "And by a nice man I suppose you mean someone like you?"
"Oh, no. Not someone like me," I told her. "I'm not really a very nice man where women are concerned. If it wasn't for that virgin thing I'd be trying to coax you into the woods for a little fun."
