All for one. One for all.

Let me think about this.

This was unbelievable! Maybe he wouldn’t pack her back to school so quickly.

This must have been what she’d intended to happen, though perhaps not so suddenly or unexpectedly without some preparation; some foreplay or discussion, however minimal, so serve her right. But his conscience still argued with him that this was wrong, and that it should not have happened even if it had been planned on her part.

He pushed hard into her a few more times, getting rid of the final drops of his sperm as he groaned with the sudden release, and relaxed upon her breasts. They were nice breasts; firm and pert, even impudent the way they poked at him, and substantially firm where he felt them against his chest. Everything about her was interesting. He freed his hands from under her and raised his upper body off her to touch them. They were unbelievable; proud, with a firm n****e (burning a hole in the palms of his hands) surmounting an upstanding areola, also standing out upon her breast. A sharp peak, upon a gentle mound, upon an impressive and exciting hill, upon a gorgeous body.

He took the time to look into her face. She was beautiful even with her eyes closed, red eyebrows, and with a head of red hair, still wet. She was one of the most strikingly beautiful women he’d ever seen; too beautiful to be doing this without consciousness of it or to have this done to her, and he had just violated her body. He had certainly done that! He began to have misgivings about this, but he couldn’t leave her. He wanted more. He wanted to do it again before backing out of her and leaving her.

Who the hell was she? Why had he never seen her before on his runs? He’d learned to recognize a certain small band of would-be followers, but he always timed it to be late enough in the evening that they could not dare risk doing anything about it.

He occasionally met a cyclist returning at a mad pace, skirt flying up about her, panties on display—though not always obvious (a constant, haunting thought), so she may not have had any on (there were always a few who pushed the boundaries that way)—not daring to slow down to correct it, to get back to school in time not to be locked out. They never said anything, just looking at him anxiously, afraid that he might try to stop them, but he was not interested in them and nor were they in him, other than from a threat perspective. Fortunately, they never reported him to put paid to his recreation. Their worlds barely touched, with his just beginning in the evening as theirs ended.

He thought about it and this woman beneath him, deciding what it was that he knew about her, little as that was. She’d definitely been a virgin before this if the sensation as he had gone into her was right. She was extremely tight on him and he must have hurt her. That was another thing that didn’t feel right. Those other girls that tried to interact with him were almost certainly not virgins and there would have been little resistance to him getting into them.

He must have taken her as much by surprise as she had him, but she still said nothing, gave no sign of having been hurt by what he’d done, nor complained as a virgin usually did the first time.

He opened his eyes again and looked at her, breathing his fiery breath over her face as he slowly came down from that peak with a few last quivers of his body, still pushing hard into her trying to savor the last delightful moments.

As he rested upon her magnificent body he studied everything he could see about her, helpless not to hold and fondle her breasts as he continued to push into her, never getting deep enough no matter how deep he already was, never having known this unimaginable sensation with any other woman of being exactly where he should be at last.

He would relax and soon have to leave her unless he could come again. She was exciting enough to keep him going forever. She was a complete stranger to him, but she would not be a stranger for long, not after they had done it a couple of more times as he ached to do already.

He changed his mind about her. She could stay the night, and they could continue this. He would see about getting her into the school first thing in the morning before anyone else was stirring after he’d had chance to calm her down, or to make arrangements with her to continue this. She was too beautiful to let her escape from his life so soon without him knowing more about her.

If he could persuade her to let this continue for as long as she was still in the school, and maybe even after she left at the end of the school year, which would be in another four weeks, he would consider himself in heaven. She already had that much of an effect on him, and he didn’t know the first thing about her; not her name, where she lived, how old she was; nothing. But with a body like this, she was old enough. And here he was, ball-deep into her with the strongest hard-on he could remember, caressing her breasts, kissing her; still f*****g her, and never wanting it to end.

Why was she not complaining and swearing at him? He must have hurt her driving into her so quickly and without warning like that. Even had it been her intention.

Her cheeks were flushed and she had a distinct mark on her forehead where their heads had collided as they had fallen. His own forehead felt tight and sore when he raised his hand to touch it, flinching at what he felt. Their heads had hit hard enough to leave those kinds of marks and feelings.

Had he knocked her out? He hoped not. If he had, she would have had no sense of this, and if she did have a sense of it she might complain at the violence and pain, even had she intended it. She might be hurt enough to be unreasoningly angry, spitting nails and not want this to continue as much as he did. Wanting to kill him.

She might not have planned to get this far quite so quickly if at all, but had just been intending to torment and tease him, to lay the groundwork for a future liaison, as most of those girls did, and then pretend to be shocked, hurt, somehow violated, when the real thing hit them, as it just had. Except if that was the case she would not have undressed as completely as she had.

He noticed her hands spread out at the side. She would have been either holding him close or pushing him off her had she been conscious. They were scraped, and bloody.

She’d not got that way following him!

He lifted himself from lying on her, still unable to leave her body, never wanting to leave her; still hard, still pushing, still getting rid of the last of his sperm.

For the first time, he saw bloody streaks on her wet body below her breasts. She’d got those injuries before she’d got here, and she hadn’t been running in the woods either behind him or ahead of him, and she was wet. She hadn’t undressed inside where it was dry, but outside.

It didn’t add up.

He could see her ankles and feet beside him where her legs had bent reflexively as she’d dropped under him, his body forcing her legs far apart as he’d unintentionally gone into her with them both being dazed.

She had nothing on her feet, no sneakers, no socks, and they were also bloodied with rust stains upon them, possibly from the ladders coming down from the school roof (it was the only thing he could think of); and parts of her body and legs were bruised! And now there was another more personal part, bruised and hurting for her to deal with; a bruised maidenhead, a ruptured hymen, and he’d caused those. This could not have been her intent with him. So what was she doing here and what could he do about it?

He was confused now. Confused, and concerned that she was not who or what he’d assumed.

He leaned in and moved his lips across her forehead to see if she would respond, wake up and provide some answers. She would have a big bruise there by morning, and he would likely have one too from where their heads had met, but that would be the least of her problems.

She was coming around slowly, groaning in discomfort, probably over what he was doing to her. It would be better if she didn’t immediately detect what that was.

Before she recovered and learned what he’d done to her without her help or permission, he stretched, putting his feet back to the floor as he pulled her close to him, holding himself in her, not wanting to leave her body until he absolutely had to, then clumsily moved both of their bodies around to rest upon the settee, with her in a semi-sitting position at the edge; him, between her legs as he slowly backed away and withdrew from her. The sparse hair down there on her was distinctly reddish too.

He hoped that she did not wake up too quickly.

He was bloody, and she was bloody; gaping, with his sperm leaking out of her. If she’d had a hymen before, she didn’t have one any more, but at least he hadn’t torn her anywhere else that he could see.

What would he tell her about this when she became aware of what he’d done to her, as she would when she woke up? What would he say to explain it when she felt a new and different tenderness in a vulnerable place on her body?

She would probably be as mad as blazes; strike out at him, swear at him, threaten him… and he would deserve it.

He was concerned. His conscience was now re-asserting itself, but several minutes too late. He picked up the wet towel he’d dropped when they had collided.

Before she became fully conscious, he gently cleaned where he’d just left her body, and wiped the blood off himself. Some things would be impossible to hide or to deny, so he’d deal with them when she tore into him as he tried to explain what had happened.

She would soon come around. She’d been unconscious for too long, perhaps sensing what he’d done to her, and feigning unconsciousness, not wanting to wake up without thinking about what her response to this assault would be.

He retreated to the bathroom, getting a couple of washcloths, wetting them under the hot water tap and went over her again, cleaning himself off her and out of her by inserting a finger, unobtrusively, against no resistance now that he had already opened her up, and gently went into where he’d just left, sweeping his sperm from her entrance onto that warm cloth, then wiping it under her buttocks to catch any that had run down over her, and into the crease between her soft cheeks. He ached to go back into her again. That might be the only way to make sure he’d got most of it out of her before she discovered it for herself, finding out what he’d done (but how would she not know?), displacing it and getting more of it onto himself. He was still hard enough but knew that he shouldn’t if she was about to wake up, but she wasn’t awake yet.

He slid into her openly-inviting space again, advancing steadily between her inner labia, going back into her open v****a, focusing, concentrating on not rushing anything. He was still breathlessly excited and eager, still as stiff as blazes, wanting to repeat everything again. He took about ten seconds to penetrate her this time where only a second had done it before, feeling her to be still snug around him, holding him in a firm embrace, maddeningly firm, and mind-shatteringly warm, moist, and comfortable on him. He was careful not to do much more than that, though doing even that to her was enough to make him breathless again and to want to continue and to come again. He was not pushing hard this time or going as deep as he would have liked; retreating and wiping himself off with a cloth each time he just as slowly left her. Each time he went into her, he leaned forward and kissed her on her lips to assess her level of consciousness and to gauge when she would begin to object to such another personal invasion of her intimate space, pausing for a few seconds each time. At this rate he would soon come again.

She was still tight upon him, but seemed to relax more around him, and to become easier each time he went into her.

This was too much. She was too stimulating to him and he was getting excited again. She was having a hell of an exciting effect on him. He wanted to do this to her forever, never let her go.

One moment he was rational, and then, when this part of his was engaged with her, his normal self had to take a back seat and this other alter ego came to the fore and began to rule his feelings.

Too late! He focused upon not pushing hard into her when he came again. It was comparatively gentle this time so soon after the last, but he was certainly well into her. He concentrated on being in control, moving as little as possible within her as he came, closing his eyes tightly in response to the light, and putting his head back, stiffening and pushing again—he couldn’t avoid it—groaning at the release. She might be able to feel that too. Sensations rippled across his body, causing spasmodic little jerks and movements. She must feel that and be able to hear his breathing and involuntary groans.

How had he been able to come again so soon? He’d never come twice before with such a brief span of time between those events. He didn’t have time to catch himself this time when he withdrew. She was certainly coming around now.

While he remembered that he was naked and still aroused, still coming, he quickly recovered his damp shorts and sweat-shirt from the floor by the stove and pulled on his shorts, almost falling over with the disorientation he still felt, fighting for breath after coming that second time.

He shouldn’t appear naked, as stiff as a flag-pole, and still coming when she woke up. After that, he could assess what she seemed to feel about what had occurred before he could relax. If things went as he would like, maybe he could take them off again when they continued this as he still wanted to, but with her compliance this time. He wanted a repeat of everything.

He began to wipe the other warm cloth over her body, gently lifting her breasts out of the way to get under them to see more detail about how she was bloody on her body, and why. He knew about that other bloody part of hers; hoping he’d not injured her too much by his accidental penetration the first time, and he’d not made it any better by what he’d done to her again after that.

She was scraped almost everywhere on her front that he could see, with many shallow scratches. Her breasts were enough to drive him crazy, and he wanted to reach out and to hold them again but knew that he shouldn’t.