Yep, Karishma tackles you

You enjoy running in gym class well enough, especially with carrots like Jillian's or Mia's ass jogging along in front of you. But you're not an athlete, and you're certainly can't sprint well without shoes and with no underwear under your shorts.

Rebecca is an athlete, though. She is easily outpacing you, even while wearing baggy clothes and dragging heavy keys as an anchor.

And so is Karishma. She overtakes you easily and lunges at your legs, tackling you to the ground. You crash painfully into the grass, hurting your shoulder and banging your knee. You roll onto your back and bend your leg to massage your throbbing knee, and you notice Amanda and Leslie catching up to you as well.

The devil that attaches your brain to your penis forces your eyes to stare at the bouncing boobs of the girls running toward you. So you don't notice Karishma lunging for you until it's too late.

It's obvious that your knee is hurt, and she pounds you right in the sore spot. A bolt of pain flashes, and you cry out, completely distracted. Karishma takes the opportunity to latch her fingers around the elastic strap of your gym shorts and pull. You're confused and in pain, and as she jostles your leg, she only makes your situation worse. Without much energy to protest, you lose your shorts again to the only girl who's ever successfully pantsed you.

"Ha," Karishma says drily. "No tightie whities this time."

You're still lying on the ground, and you bend your leg again to nurse your throbbing knee. But as Amanda and Leslie arrive, you realize you're giving them an astonishingly intimate view of your penis, ballsack, and ass.

You sit up, intending to rise and get away, but as soon as you do, Karishma is on you again. She swings around behind you, grabs your shirt, and pulls. You can't just tug a guy's shirt off, but Karishma seems to know what she's doing. She yanks one side, nearly ripping the fabric, and pushes your right arm through the arm hole. You reach for her with your left arm, but that actually gives her precisely the angle she needs to whip the shirt over your head and down your left arm in one fell swoop. Before you know it, you're naked again, this time on the grass and in pain, and Karishma seems to be in charge.

"Shit, Karishma, you're not messing around," says Leslie. "Not that I'm complaining, of course." She eyes your package hungrily and smiles.

"This perverted fucking cum-splasher needs a taste of his own goddamn medicine," Karishma says. "Tying that slutty cunt up and pushing her outside...

"Come on, fucker," she says, roughly grabbing you by the elbow and pulling you to your feet. She smacks you--hard--on your ass and orders you, "Get moving."