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I post a response to ImNotCrazy about his attitude to you, Surferboy13, and this morning i get a response from Ibda1 that begins with the noun, "Actuality" as a declaration. His response to me is as though he thought I asked to his picture. Sigh, just not interested, really -insert unhappy frowny face icon here. Are INC Ibda1 the same carbon unit? It just seems odd. Even if they aren't the same one, Ibda1 is a totally batshit crazy lunatic stalker who has morphed from more handles than I care to re his handles always include some form of 'one.' I only responded to his nonsense once early-on last year when he first showed up around here with his incredibly pathetic stories about the illegal antics with renters in his Section-8 unit who dealt. Why do I say illegal? Because Section-8 federal law forbids sub-letting. Why do I say all of this? Because anyone who would waste as much time as this poorly educated dolt to spew meaningless rants which contributes zero to the discourse is evidently batshit crazy. AND, he hasn't absorbed any of this. Why? Because he keeps trying by responding to me. on, I'm having fun. *for entertainment purposes only* You had to know this was coming. You have felt my presence before as you jogged this trail, my eyes Beautiful adult searching sex Paradise Nevada on you. You have looked around, then felt silly for doing so. Tonight you feel it again, that feeling I am watching you. The evening is fading as you press on through the trees, setting an pace. You tell yourself it's nothing, that I would never really do it, and you lose yourself in your music and the rhythm of your strides. Suddenly I grab you from behind, and you in one motion off the path. You struggle but are easily overpowered. You can't my face, but you feel my breath hot on your neck as I hold you up against a tree, your cheek pressed roughly into the bark. My body pins you to the tree and you feel my cock straining against your running shorts, between the cheeks of your ass. Suddenly you feel the breeze on your backside as your shorts are whisked down. A few sharp slaps to your ass and my breath again on the back of your neck. Your heart races, you want to struggle as you feel my cock push through the moist folds of your pussy. The ease of this betrays your, even as you curse me and demand I release you. My rough thrusts force you into the tree, and a fistfull of your hair insures you stay pinned. The other hand coarsely finds its way past the thin material of your shirt and mauls your breast, kneeding its soft flesh. Your shirt is lifted, and your skin chafes against the rough bark of the tree. You feel my thrusts quicken, and a grunt signals my release. As my rhythm slows I pin you hard against the tree and sink my teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder, tasting your sweat through soaked cloth. Placing a hand firmly on the small of your back I slide out and am gone, leaving you to pull up your shorts and adjust your clothes. The jog home be more challenging that you expected.