My friend Johan’s family is rich. They own a crazy amount of land in the middle of Oregon.

A lot of it is hilly and covered in pine trees, which makes it a great place to ramble around.

Johan’s parents go to Europe for a few weeks every summer, so they ask Johan to house-sit and invite whoever he wants for an extended house party. We’re all in our thirties, so we don’t have crazy keggers, but we do have a lot of fun. There’s drinking, of course, along with a lot of outdoor activities such as archery and hiking. But the best part of the trip is an epic game of Capture the Flag played over many acres of forest. We’re all fit, outdoorsy types, so we run for miles over the course of an entire day, covering almost all the ground his parents own. I never sleep as deeply as I do on the nights after a game, when my body is completely wrung out. The only thing that would be better would be following the running and booze with sex.

Last summer, I joined the gang for a week. There were sixteen of us, which was the perfect amount for an epic game. Johan split us into teams, and I was disappointed when he put us on opposite sides. We’ve always been close friends with an undercurrent of flirtation, and I had been looking forward to spending more time with him. In the days leading up to the game, we’d been flashing a few hot glances at each other, and he’d sat next to me in the hot tub every night. Just having him that close made my nipples stiff — something I was pretty sure he noticed.

But if we couldn’t be teammates, being antagonists was at least interesting. I took note of which way he headed into the woods so I could also be on that area of the property.

I didn’t encounter him in the first few hours we played. With so much territory to cover, most of that time was spent scoping out enemy positions and finding the actual flag. It was tied to a tree at the top of a hill, much like ours was on the opposite side of the property.

I’m small, stealthy, and quick, so I like playing offense. Men often discount me as a threat and focus on stopping the big, brawny guys, which means I’m often the one to get the enemy’s flag.

Johan, though, knows my strategy. I was creeping through the woods a mere twenty feet away from the flag when I heard the snap of twigs to my right. He was there, way too close for comfort. I froze, but he spotted me immediately and started sprinting toward me.

If he caught me, I’d have to go to the enemy’s jail until someone could break me out. I bolted back in the direction of the center line, hoping to get to safety before he caught me.

The pursuit was exhilarating. I sprinted until my lungs felt like they would give out, leaping over downed logs and making tight turns to try to throw him off my trail. But he was getting closer with every second, his long legs eating up the distance between us.

At the thought of him catching me, something strange happened. I got wet. Totally, completely aroused. All I could think about was him catching me and tackling me to the ground, then fucking me in the dirt like an animal.

Of course, that wasn’t going to happen. He’d tag me and take me back to jail, then go his merry way, but the fantasy was undeniably hot. I ran as fast as I could, wanting to make this capture as difficult for him as possible. His feet pounded just behind me — I wasn’t going to make it.

His hand connected with my arm, and that was it. I tripped and fell forward, banging my knee on a root and abrading the skin off one palm. He fell with me, his hands coming down on either side of me, his stomach and chest pressing against my back. His body weight pressed me fully into the dirt, and I couldn’t help but roll my hips at coming so close to my fantasy. My butt rubbed against his crotch, and I realized he was hard.

“I caught you,” he whispered in my ear. “That means you’re mine.” He rocked forward, rubbing that erection against my ass.

This wasn’t how Capture the Flag was played, but I didn’t care. We moved together, our bodies sliding erotically against each other. My pussy quivered with the need to be touched.

His weight lifted a little, and then he slid a hand under me and popped my hips up just enough to start tugging at the waistband of my athletic pants. “Yes,” I gasped. My palm stung, and I was face-down in dirt and pine needles, but I wanted him to fuck me right there.

He tugged the pants down enough to reveal my ass, and then his fingers slid beneath me again to rub my clit. My hips twitched, sending me rocking back against his erection. He pressed it against me, forcing me against his hand. Those clever fingers worked me over, slipping past my clit to my wet slit. He thrust two fingers into me and grunted.

“You’re so wet,” he said.

“I’ve been wet since you started chasing me,” I told him.

“You wanted me to hunt you down and fuck you?” When I nodded, he groaned. “I wanted it, too. I’ve been fantasizing about it all week.”

Was that why he’d put us on opposite teams? The thought of him planning this flooded my pussy with new moisture. “Then do it,” I said.

He smacked my ass, making me jump. “When I’m ready.”

His fingers slid in and out of me with slick sounds. The only other sounds were the birds in the trees, the distant shouts of other players, and the rasping of our hectic breaths. I rocked against his hand, dragging my clit across the heel of his palm with every movement.

When my pussy quivered around his fingers and I was right on the brink of orgasm, he took those fingers away. I protested, ripping at the earth and leaves beneath my hands in frustration. Then he pulled me onto my hands and knees. A thrill went through me when I heard the sound of his zipper going down, followed by the crinkle of a condom wrapper.

He tugged my pants down to my knees but left them there so I couldn’t open my legs all the way. Then I felt the hot, thick head of his cock against me.

“You want it like this?” he asked, and I appreciated him double-checking. Consent was always an ongoing conversation, but in this case, I was beyond ready to have his cock in me.

“Yes, fuck me,” I said, rocking back so the tip of his erection breached me.

He groaned and pushed forward, filling me in one long stroke. He was long and thick, and with my legs constrained by the pants, I was even more aware of his girth sliding into me. He gripped my hips and started pumping.

God, he was good. Slow and steady, but firm enough that I truly felt like I was being fucked. He’d chased me down and captured me, and my body was his prize. More wetness rushed out of me at the idea, easing his way. He gripped my hair at the roots and tugged my head back as he fucked. It was animalistic in its intensity, and I begged for more as he kept up that slow, punishing rhythm.

“You’re mine,” he said, spouting one of those lines I would have rolled my eyes at in any other contexts but that turned me on in this situation. “I decide what you get.”

Apparently what I was getting was slow torture. He kept up the steady thrusts, tugging my hair just enough to sting. I needed harder and faster, but he wouldn’t oblige. When I reached back to rub my clitoris, he allowed me for a few seconds before moving my hand away.

“You don’t get to come fast,” he said. “Not until I’m done with you.”

I’d had no idea Johan was this commanding in the bedroom. Now that I knew, I was never going to be satisfied until he was doing this to me every day.

He pulled out, making me whimper, and then, to my shock, his mouth covered my wet pussy from behind. It couldn’t have tasted that good after the condom, but he didn’t seem to care. He licked from my clit to my ass, running his fingers over me with consummate skill. I moaned and pillowed my head in my arms, embracing the torturous pleasure.

My orgasm came upon me suddenly. One moment his tongue was dancing over my clit, and the next all the tension in my body ratcheted up to unbearable levels before exploding. I shook as pleasure rocketed through me, moaning into the dirt.

He waited until I was done, then turned me over on my back. For the first time, I could fully see his face. His cheeks were flushed, and dirt stained the knees of his pants, which, like mine, had only been shoved to his knees. “You came without permission,” he said.

I stretched, luxuriating in the feeling. “And I’d do it again.”

“For that, you get fucked hard.”

Finally. He yanked my pants, socks, and shoes off, leaving me bare from the waist down. Then he settled between my legs. As his cock pushed into my dripping vagina, he kissed me.

Our first kiss. How absurd was that? But it was absolutely perfect. I sucked his tongue and nipped at his lips as he thrusted inside me. My knees came up to open my cunt for him even more, and he responded by increasing the speed and force of his thrusts. Soon he was hammering into me, his hips rolling in a primal rhythm. Our skin smacked together, and our breaths tangled. I was heading toward another orgasm, one that was going to burn my world down.

He stiffened and came, and once the shaking was done, he reached between us and rubbed my clit hard. It sent me over the edge, and I had to clap a hand over my mouth to muffle the scream as I orgasmed. I twitched and shuddered, hardly able to breathe past the pleasure.

We stared at each other in the aftermath. “Are you going to take me to jail now?” I asked, giggling with post-orgasm bliss.