AncilMy eyes widened at the sight of Samantha naked. I had fantasized about it before but it looked way better in real life. Her curvy figure, plump breasts, and shaved genitalia were a thing of beauty. I was having a “freak” moment as my imagination went wild with all the things that I wanted to do to her. I felt an anxiety attack coming on as my heart began to palpitate and my lungs began to cave in but I calmed myself down by taking one long deep breath.
“This is all yours but under one condition,” Samantha said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You’re going to have to catch me first.”
It seemed like a weird deal but a fair one as well. I got up and ran after her and she darted off upstairs. She was really quick but also really sneaky because I lost her after I got upstairs. I walked into my room only to realize that the lights were off, which was weird because I couldn’t remember turning them off. It could have only been Samantha. I flicked the lights on but she was nowhere in the room. I looked in the cupboards and under the bed for her but I couldn’t find her anywhere in the room. Suddenly the lights flicked back off and I heard footsteps and loud giggling. I followed the sound and I saw Samantha running back downstairs. She then made her way to the door, opened it, and darted out into the cold in all her naked glory. I yelled at her, urging her to come back inside but she kept running.
“Come and get me,” Samantha shouted from afar.
I sighed, picked up her coat from the floor, and ran through the door after her.
It was late at night but there were still people on the streets and cars on the road. Everyone stared because it was incredibly hard not to stare at a 19-year-old girl running naked in the streets while another 19-year-old chased after her. I think most people suspected rape at first but the joyous expression on Samantha’s face proved otherwise. A naked girl running from a rapist wouldn’t be smiling.
I was embarrassed to death by the predicament I found myself in but I tried not to let it stop me from catching her. I was more concerned about just wrapping the coat around her and carrying her back inside as opposed to having sex with her. She kept turning back every so often to taunt me. She was fast and I actually couldn’t catch her.
She eventually stopped running and threw herself on the grassy floor of a nearby park. I jumped on her and wrapped the coat over her naked body.
“Are you crazy?” I shouted.
“You caught me,” she said, looking up at me from the grassy floor as she lay flat on her back gasping for breath and sweaty. I laid on top of her in an attempt to keep the coat over her naked body.
“What were you thinking? Do you know how many crazy people there are out here? Someone could have kidnapped you.”
“But no one did. That’s what matters. No one did. I…we took a risk and have lived to tell the tale. We can look back on this day as the day we lived. The day that we lived to tell the tale.”
I could smell the alcohol in her breath. “Running naked through the streets at night is less of a proponent of living and more of a proponent of wanting to die.”
“You’re a writer. I’m sure you can see the metaphor in this; stripping free and experiencing the world the way it should be experienced; naked, the way we came into this world. If you want to free your mind you have to first free yourself. Let loose. Live a little. All that writer mumbo jumbo.”
“What happened to just having sex?” I said.
“I’ve had sex before and I can tell you that sex is much more intense and satisfying after you free your mind and just let loose. My boyfriends before never really got that. They always just found that I was weird because I wanted to do something crazy and downright embarrassing before sex. They didn’t see that my weird fetish was beneficial to both of us.”
“I do agree with your ex-boyfriends. Your fetish is kind of weird.”
“Don’t you have any weird fetishes?”
“Not really. I do, however, like girls with vivid imaginations and with enough control of the English language to transcribe that imagination onto a page.”
“So you like writers. That’s not really much of a fetish. After tonight, I’m sure you are going to have a completely new fetish.”
“Really?” I cooed, sounding flirty.
I felt her hands against my crotch as she zipped down my pants while still lying on the grass.
“Not now,” I said. “Let’s go back to the house first.”
“Join me,” Samantha proclaimed “Let loose. Set yourself free and let the world know that you don’t care what they think. Whip your dick out and reveal to the world exactly who you are: A VAGABOND!!”
I had known Samantha for ages and I had no idea that she was so weird. I guess that’s what happens when you leave the dreaded friend zone; you learn things about that friend that you didn’t know while in the friend zone. But with this new-found knowledge, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to tackle what her exes didn’t want to; her weird fetish.
Within a couple of seconds, without me noticing, my pants were unzipped and unbuttoned. Samantha then slowly pushed them down and well — I let her. She literally stripped me down to my skivvies.
I stood up. Then, she stood up. Samantha was completely naked in the park which thankfully was empty while I was just in my underwear. The coldness overpowered my urge to just stand still as my entire body trembled.
“Take it off,” Samantha said.
