12-11-2017, 12:07 PM
Neglected the story a little. Work's been crazy.
Pg. 3:
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The park had always been so soothing to my nerves. The sun was always mercifully peeled apart by the tangles of leaves above the public space, branches interlocked like two lovers' hands on a dinner date.
Even today, after my wallowing, I was beginning to feel better. I’d sat down on a bench, a good few meters away from anything but the latrines and the jungle gym surrounded by gravel. The blouse I wore was a little more undone, and my jeans had torn sometime last night on the inside of my right thigh. My heels rested on the ground by the bench, and bare feet swung playfully as I chewed my food. What a time to be thoughtful.
There was a gaggle of children squealing with joy as they played and a smattering of bored adults supervising them, most distracted by their phones and the social media they use to fill that craving emptiness in their lives.
A jogger passed me, a brief look of confusion as they locked eyes with me before straying. A sandwich bag sat beside, the tape securing the entrance picked at and split, plastic sandwich bag crumpled inside. I took another bite, ham and cheese.
A soccer ball materialized to the right of me, loudly making contact with the concrete and bounding near me before rolling squarely between my feet. It had belonged to a few of the kids messing around, I recalled, but I made no move, scanning the little people.
Boy. Looking at me, tugging at his father’s sleeve. I could imagine him saying that his ball fell by the scary lady over there, too afraid to come get it. The father looked up from his child and at me, a twang of concern on his face. He put his phone in his pocket and stood, boy in tow, and began to walk toward me.
I took one final bite, chewing exaggeratedly as the man neared. Handsome guy. Parted brown hair, dad glasses, yellow polo, expensive watch… tan cargo shorts. I was staring.
He took the initiative, a good two feet away, “Excuse me, um.. ma’am. Would you mind passing my son his ball? He was too nervous to come ask you for it so…”
I didn’t wait for him to finish, reaching with both hands under my seat, feeling the toy. The father’s eyes had drifted to my chest, upper arms pressing both of my breasts together. I swallowed my embarrassment, and tossed the ball to the boy.
“Go play, kiddo,” he said. The boy ran off without question, happy to be away from the scary lady. The dad was a little more intrigued. I leaned forward on the seat and glared. I knew what he wanted, but I wanted to hear him say it this time. Impulse control.
He spoke again, pushing his glasses back as he said, “You here by yourself? You look it,” I nodded, completely aware of what I looked like, “Rough night?”
I coughed into my fist, clearing my throat, replying, “Busy night.”
His eyes widened for a second, “Oh, you’re a..,” Oh, fuck, does he think I’m a-, “lady of the night?” He finished, almost whispering, as if anyone was close enough to hear.
I shook my head quickly, holding up my hands in defense, “No, no, god, no! I’m..,” I lowered my tone, “I’m not, alright? I’m just a little hungover.. and I was hungry so I grabbed some food and decided to eat it here..”
The dad nodded, hands in his pocket, trying to seem understanding, a look I’m positive he’s had a lot of practice with. He chuckled to himself before asking, “I’m going to guess you didn’t see the wet paint sign?”
Son of a bitch. There it was right beside me. A white sign on a white bench. I stood in disgust and made a sound appropriate to it, almost backing up into the man.
He looked me up and down as I had to him. We were similar heights, five seven, five ten, and he smelled like a clean shower. I honestly closed my eyes and took a savoring breath for the split second I was beside him. I’m sure he noticed. I don’t care. He tilted his head to the side, examining my back and.. my ass, nodding.
“It was a little dry already, I suppose. You’ve got smudges. That’s it.” Hands still in his pocket, smug bastard. God, I felt like an idiot again. This entire day was one big clusterfuck already and I hadn’t even gotten to my apartment. I grabbed my purse and prepared to leave, crumpling the leftovers in the sandwich bag.
I wiped any crumbs off my blouse, then looked at the dad. Awkward little movement he made every second, eyes looking up and down, hands shuffling in the pants. I said, “I gotta go. Thanks for the talk.”
That got him into gear. He spattered out before I could even turn, “Whoa, hey, I could give you a ride. Even let ya borrow a shirt if you want,” I was processing his words, “Better than walking, no?” Another head tilt, this time expecting an answer.
It wasn’t a difficult decision. I muttered, “Sure,” and he led me to his SUV. Black. Shiny. Spacious. The vehicle beeped electronically and the trunk popped open as we approached.
He took the lead as he rummaged through a bag of clothes. Strange. “Maybe this’ll fit?”
A black shirt, shitty band, looked tight. I took it from him and began to undo my blouse. There was no one else, and he was polite enough to turn his head at the sight of my breasts popping out. I pulled the shirt over my head swiftly, definitely tight, and I tapped him to let him know I was done.
He was surprised at the sight of how different the shirt had fitted me, most of its slack being used to slide over my chest, stomach half exposed and jeans slightly slacking, “Fits well then? There’s some pants in here, too.” I held my tongue, looking over his bent shoulder at the jungle gym.
I had my first kiss at the one in my hometown. Seven years old. Six years later I’d lose my virginity at that same one. Different boy. Similar feeling. The uncomfortable feeling of gravel under my knees, the clueless shock I felt as my boyfriend fumbled with the condom, I almost laughed there by the dad, but he broke me out my trance.
“These might fit. Maybe,” Jeans. Worse condition than mine, but at least they were clean and one color. I took them from him but he forced an interruption, “Whoa, hey, not here,” there was a chuckle, “You can change in the backseat. Just.. try not to get paint on the seats.”
There was a short moment of blood rushing to my head as I followed him to the side of the car, and he opened the door, and I climbed in. Surrealism, I like to call it. The kind of reaction your mind gives off when you realize that this is real, not just some sick fantasy you’re living vicariously, like watching a car crash in person or walking in on your mom being spitroasted by two men, neither being your father. My legs felt weak, and my mind blanked.
The door was closing, but I pressed my hand against it, still standing, half bent over. The dad looked inside, concerned, “Oh, shit, did I close it on your ha-“ I put a finger to his mouth, and he shut up, good boy that he was. I tugged at his collar and gestured to get in. He hesitated, but as I slid my jeans downwards, eternally careful to put the painted side on top, the father gave in and jumped into the car. Checkmate.
I felt the rumble of the door closing even as his mouth freely smooched and licked the side of my neck, and we were horizontal on that leather seat in seconds, hands exploring the feeling of a new partner.
I closed my eyes, blissfully empty mind exploding with adrenaline as his mouth found itself on my belly, kisses planted at every hungry corner, inching upwards, my shirt lifting to precede its travel. His hands muscled their way to my back and expertly undid my bra before yanking it off. I winced at the hook slightly scraping against my side when he pulled, but his mouth around my nipple was more than enough to throw me back into that abyss.
The other hand fondled at my lonely breast before grabbing the side of my moaning head. I took his thumb in my mouth and playfully suckled, licking it tenderly, teasing at his fate should he find the courage to put my lips to his member. There was silence beside the muffled moans and sharp gasps of breath, and I wondered for a split second of that bag of clothes.
He sat up on the seat, leaving me wanting, and began to pull his polo off. I followed his scent, my own hands drawn to the button and zipper holding his cargo shorts together. He quickly assisted me, and began to kick away at his shorts and underwear. His erect member, stiff as it was, bounded up and down as he kicked, a trance of lust and hunger bearing down on my head. No hesitation. I didn’t want a repeat of the elevator.
I lowered my head to it and maneuvered his girthy length upwards by the rod, exposing that soft underbelly. He shivered at the thought, and I obliged his fantasy, pressing my wet tongue against the base between the start of his cock and the two delightful spheres underneath. Without a hitch I began to drag my tongue up, up to the tip of his stiff member, and he moaned loudly and suddenly. When I reached the top, I started from the bottom again, repeating the same motion. Thrice, four times, eliciting a similar moan every time.
I sensed his uncomfortableness from the way his hands supported his seated position against the door, and I pulled at his thighs to lie down and relax, never ceasing my tender handle of him. My hand delicately stroked his cock as I planted soft kisses and teasing licks on his balls. I looked forward at him, and him at me, his glasses had fallen and he was already sweating in the heat of the car. Time was of the essence before we were too tired out to continue in the sweltering musk, even though outside was a cool seventy-something degrees.
I wrapped my lips around that swollen end, leaking, and began to swirl the tip of my tongue around it. The groans of my prey aroused me, and I wanted more. His cock slid just a little more inside my warm and loving mouth, tongue on that same softness from before. God, those moans.
All of it was in my mouth then, the length had begun to curve slightly as it reached my throat. I looked at him, his hands gripping tightly at the headrest of either seat beside him as he watched me engulf his deliciousness. I gagged slightly, and pulled away in recoil, but there was nary a second before I thrust my mouth around it again.
It was so goddamn hot now. Not just the fact that this man was a complete and total stranger to me and I was bouncing my head up and down on his probably married cock within minutes of meeting, but the temperature was rising significantly in the vehicle with each second.
“Oh, my god… Fuck…,” he groaned, grabbing the back of my head and taking a dominant handful of my hair. “This is fucking.. Oh, fuck… You’re so good..”
Talk about a turn-on.
I should’ve tied my hair back. Precious lapses in my concentration were spent pulling away strands of my hair with every wet suck of his cock. I had taken to rubbing his balls with my free hand, to his pleasure, gently massaging each one in contrast to the quick pace with which my head was under.
His groans started to become more animalistic, a surrendering gazelle in the throes of a tiger’s grasp. His legs started to stiffen, hips inching upwards slowly every few seconds, eyes closed in anticipation, and all the while the wet sound of my mouth permeated the agonal silence.
The dad began to whisper, “Oh, fuck, I’m cumming…”
Son of a bitch. He ruined the surprise.
“I’m cumming. Oh, fuck…,” he repeated, but I kept my pace, drawing him o-
“Ah, fuck!” He yelled suddenly, and in return I was rewarded but the filling sensation of his warm cum in my mouth. I instinctively began swallowing it, pace slowing down to accommodate his sensitive glans. He sighed in a positive and satisfied manner, eyes cringing every time my lips passed the tip of his cock. I stopped, and he lay there resting.
I wiped the saliva from my mouth on that shirt he gave me, and I asked, “You okay?”
There was a slight nod, his arm now covering his eyes, “Yeah.. Jesus, that was great. Not even my wife can do that.”
I shook my head and giggled, praise falling on my lap, “Is this shirt hers? You’ve got that bag back there and-“
“Yep. All hers. Stuff she wanted out the closet. I was gonna go donate it after the park…” He moved his arm, and looked at me. We were so sweaty, but damn, did I love the way he looked naked. His member was flaccid now, all tuckered out, “Sorry I came. I had no idea you’d be seeing that through. I was trying to warn you, after all.”
I nodded, “I know,” I wanted it, “Don’t worry about it. You can pay me back with a ride home, right?”
Pg. 3:
-----------------
The park had always been so soothing to my nerves. The sun was always mercifully peeled apart by the tangles of leaves above the public space, branches interlocked like two lovers' hands on a dinner date.
Even today, after my wallowing, I was beginning to feel better. I’d sat down on a bench, a good few meters away from anything but the latrines and the jungle gym surrounded by gravel. The blouse I wore was a little more undone, and my jeans had torn sometime last night on the inside of my right thigh. My heels rested on the ground by the bench, and bare feet swung playfully as I chewed my food. What a time to be thoughtful.
There was a gaggle of children squealing with joy as they played and a smattering of bored adults supervising them, most distracted by their phones and the social media they use to fill that craving emptiness in their lives.
A jogger passed me, a brief look of confusion as they locked eyes with me before straying. A sandwich bag sat beside, the tape securing the entrance picked at and split, plastic sandwich bag crumpled inside. I took another bite, ham and cheese.
A soccer ball materialized to the right of me, loudly making contact with the concrete and bounding near me before rolling squarely between my feet. It had belonged to a few of the kids messing around, I recalled, but I made no move, scanning the little people.
Boy. Looking at me, tugging at his father’s sleeve. I could imagine him saying that his ball fell by the scary lady over there, too afraid to come get it. The father looked up from his child and at me, a twang of concern on his face. He put his phone in his pocket and stood, boy in tow, and began to walk toward me.
I took one final bite, chewing exaggeratedly as the man neared. Handsome guy. Parted brown hair, dad glasses, yellow polo, expensive watch… tan cargo shorts. I was staring.
He took the initiative, a good two feet away, “Excuse me, um.. ma’am. Would you mind passing my son his ball? He was too nervous to come ask you for it so…”
I didn’t wait for him to finish, reaching with both hands under my seat, feeling the toy. The father’s eyes had drifted to my chest, upper arms pressing both of my breasts together. I swallowed my embarrassment, and tossed the ball to the boy.
“Go play, kiddo,” he said. The boy ran off without question, happy to be away from the scary lady. The dad was a little more intrigued. I leaned forward on the seat and glared. I knew what he wanted, but I wanted to hear him say it this time. Impulse control.
He spoke again, pushing his glasses back as he said, “You here by yourself? You look it,” I nodded, completely aware of what I looked like, “Rough night?”
I coughed into my fist, clearing my throat, replying, “Busy night.”
His eyes widened for a second, “Oh, you’re a..,” Oh, fuck, does he think I’m a-, “lady of the night?” He finished, almost whispering, as if anyone was close enough to hear.
I shook my head quickly, holding up my hands in defense, “No, no, god, no! I’m..,” I lowered my tone, “I’m not, alright? I’m just a little hungover.. and I was hungry so I grabbed some food and decided to eat it here..”
The dad nodded, hands in his pocket, trying to seem understanding, a look I’m positive he’s had a lot of practice with. He chuckled to himself before asking, “I’m going to guess you didn’t see the wet paint sign?”
Son of a bitch. There it was right beside me. A white sign on a white bench. I stood in disgust and made a sound appropriate to it, almost backing up into the man.
He looked me up and down as I had to him. We were similar heights, five seven, five ten, and he smelled like a clean shower. I honestly closed my eyes and took a savoring breath for the split second I was beside him. I’m sure he noticed. I don’t care. He tilted his head to the side, examining my back and.. my ass, nodding.
“It was a little dry already, I suppose. You’ve got smudges. That’s it.” Hands still in his pocket, smug bastard. God, I felt like an idiot again. This entire day was one big clusterfuck already and I hadn’t even gotten to my apartment. I grabbed my purse and prepared to leave, crumpling the leftovers in the sandwich bag.
I wiped any crumbs off my blouse, then looked at the dad. Awkward little movement he made every second, eyes looking up and down, hands shuffling in the pants. I said, “I gotta go. Thanks for the talk.”
That got him into gear. He spattered out before I could even turn, “Whoa, hey, I could give you a ride. Even let ya borrow a shirt if you want,” I was processing his words, “Better than walking, no?” Another head tilt, this time expecting an answer.
It wasn’t a difficult decision. I muttered, “Sure,” and he led me to his SUV. Black. Shiny. Spacious. The vehicle beeped electronically and the trunk popped open as we approached.
He took the lead as he rummaged through a bag of clothes. Strange. “Maybe this’ll fit?”
A black shirt, shitty band, looked tight. I took it from him and began to undo my blouse. There was no one else, and he was polite enough to turn his head at the sight of my breasts popping out. I pulled the shirt over my head swiftly, definitely tight, and I tapped him to let him know I was done.
He was surprised at the sight of how different the shirt had fitted me, most of its slack being used to slide over my chest, stomach half exposed and jeans slightly slacking, “Fits well then? There’s some pants in here, too.” I held my tongue, looking over his bent shoulder at the jungle gym.
I had my first kiss at the one in my hometown. Seven years old. Six years later I’d lose my virginity at that same one. Different boy. Similar feeling. The uncomfortable feeling of gravel under my knees, the clueless shock I felt as my boyfriend fumbled with the condom, I almost laughed there by the dad, but he broke me out my trance.
“These might fit. Maybe,” Jeans. Worse condition than mine, but at least they were clean and one color. I took them from him but he forced an interruption, “Whoa, hey, not here,” there was a chuckle, “You can change in the backseat. Just.. try not to get paint on the seats.”
There was a short moment of blood rushing to my head as I followed him to the side of the car, and he opened the door, and I climbed in. Surrealism, I like to call it. The kind of reaction your mind gives off when you realize that this is real, not just some sick fantasy you’re living vicariously, like watching a car crash in person or walking in on your mom being spitroasted by two men, neither being your father. My legs felt weak, and my mind blanked.
The door was closing, but I pressed my hand against it, still standing, half bent over. The dad looked inside, concerned, “Oh, shit, did I close it on your ha-“ I put a finger to his mouth, and he shut up, good boy that he was. I tugged at his collar and gestured to get in. He hesitated, but as I slid my jeans downwards, eternally careful to put the painted side on top, the father gave in and jumped into the car. Checkmate.
I felt the rumble of the door closing even as his mouth freely smooched and licked the side of my neck, and we were horizontal on that leather seat in seconds, hands exploring the feeling of a new partner.
I closed my eyes, blissfully empty mind exploding with adrenaline as his mouth found itself on my belly, kisses planted at every hungry corner, inching upwards, my shirt lifting to precede its travel. His hands muscled their way to my back and expertly undid my bra before yanking it off. I winced at the hook slightly scraping against my side when he pulled, but his mouth around my nipple was more than enough to throw me back into that abyss.
The other hand fondled at my lonely breast before grabbing the side of my moaning head. I took his thumb in my mouth and playfully suckled, licking it tenderly, teasing at his fate should he find the courage to put my lips to his member. There was silence beside the muffled moans and sharp gasps of breath, and I wondered for a split second of that bag of clothes.
He sat up on the seat, leaving me wanting, and began to pull his polo off. I followed his scent, my own hands drawn to the button and zipper holding his cargo shorts together. He quickly assisted me, and began to kick away at his shorts and underwear. His erect member, stiff as it was, bounded up and down as he kicked, a trance of lust and hunger bearing down on my head. No hesitation. I didn’t want a repeat of the elevator.
I lowered my head to it and maneuvered his girthy length upwards by the rod, exposing that soft underbelly. He shivered at the thought, and I obliged his fantasy, pressing my wet tongue against the base between the start of his cock and the two delightful spheres underneath. Without a hitch I began to drag my tongue up, up to the tip of his stiff member, and he moaned loudly and suddenly. When I reached the top, I started from the bottom again, repeating the same motion. Thrice, four times, eliciting a similar moan every time.
I sensed his uncomfortableness from the way his hands supported his seated position against the door, and I pulled at his thighs to lie down and relax, never ceasing my tender handle of him. My hand delicately stroked his cock as I planted soft kisses and teasing licks on his balls. I looked forward at him, and him at me, his glasses had fallen and he was already sweating in the heat of the car. Time was of the essence before we were too tired out to continue in the sweltering musk, even though outside was a cool seventy-something degrees.
I wrapped my lips around that swollen end, leaking, and began to swirl the tip of my tongue around it. The groans of my prey aroused me, and I wanted more. His cock slid just a little more inside my warm and loving mouth, tongue on that same softness from before. God, those moans.
All of it was in my mouth then, the length had begun to curve slightly as it reached my throat. I looked at him, his hands gripping tightly at the headrest of either seat beside him as he watched me engulf his deliciousness. I gagged slightly, and pulled away in recoil, but there was nary a second before I thrust my mouth around it again.
It was so goddamn hot now. Not just the fact that this man was a complete and total stranger to me and I was bouncing my head up and down on his probably married cock within minutes of meeting, but the temperature was rising significantly in the vehicle with each second.
“Oh, my god… Fuck…,” he groaned, grabbing the back of my head and taking a dominant handful of my hair. “This is fucking.. Oh, fuck… You’re so good..”
Talk about a turn-on.
I should’ve tied my hair back. Precious lapses in my concentration were spent pulling away strands of my hair with every wet suck of his cock. I had taken to rubbing his balls with my free hand, to his pleasure, gently massaging each one in contrast to the quick pace with which my head was under.
His groans started to become more animalistic, a surrendering gazelle in the throes of a tiger’s grasp. His legs started to stiffen, hips inching upwards slowly every few seconds, eyes closed in anticipation, and all the while the wet sound of my mouth permeated the agonal silence.
The dad began to whisper, “Oh, fuck, I’m cumming…”
Son of a bitch. He ruined the surprise.
“I’m cumming. Oh, fuck…,” he repeated, but I kept my pace, drawing him o-
“Ah, fuck!” He yelled suddenly, and in return I was rewarded but the filling sensation of his warm cum in my mouth. I instinctively began swallowing it, pace slowing down to accommodate his sensitive glans. He sighed in a positive and satisfied manner, eyes cringing every time my lips passed the tip of his cock. I stopped, and he lay there resting.
I wiped the saliva from my mouth on that shirt he gave me, and I asked, “You okay?”
There was a slight nod, his arm now covering his eyes, “Yeah.. Jesus, that was great. Not even my wife can do that.”
I shook my head and giggled, praise falling on my lap, “Is this shirt hers? You’ve got that bag back there and-“
“Yep. All hers. Stuff she wanted out the closet. I was gonna go donate it after the park…” He moved his arm, and looked at me. We were so sweaty, but damn, did I love the way he looked naked. His member was flaccid now, all tuckered out, “Sorry I came. I had no idea you’d be seeing that through. I was trying to warn you, after all.”
I nodded, “I know,” I wanted it, “Don’t worry about it. You can pay me back with a ride home, right?”
