You can't resist a chase

One look at her wobbling rump as she jogs away and your decision is made. You leap after Monica, hearing her squeak in happy alarm as she lengthens her stride. She pulls away from you, sprinting, and you redouble your efforts to close the gap between you.

She runs very well, her movements lithe and smooth, and were you not as quick and fit as you are she would soon be out of sight. As it is, you wonder if you can catch her before she reaches open ground. You're not sure how much of her playfulness is a serious invitation and how much is just teasing, but you intend to catch her, not least because you couldn't abide being outrun by a woman.

As you close the distance, she glances back and gasps, her face expressing both excitement and alarm. You're now more than five yards behind when she turns a corner in the trail and stumbles, falling into a nest of ferns. Squeaking, she tries to scramble to her feet, but you pounce on her, dragging her back to the ground.

"Is this what you feared?" you ask her, your voice hoarse with lust as you pull her closer.

"Oh God! Help! Oh Help!" she squeals, giggling and wriggling in your arms.