I stretched upwards, leaning back over the highest bar of the little wooden bridge and enjoying the heat of the sunshine, the breeze on my skin. Staying there, bent half backwards with my arms over my head, I enjoyed the peaceful background noise of the park: the ducks quacking and splashing, small children hitting each other far enough away for their raucous squeals to blend into a pleasant sort of murmur. I felt my brain start to switch off; my muscles grow loose and relaxed.
I had been lulled into such a soporific state that when I heard footsteps crunching towards me on the gravel, it barely occurred to me to open my eyes until I felt the planks of the bridge ring under the confident tread of a tall young man. My eyes snapped open, but it would have seemed silly to suddenly spring to attention, so I stayed there, all stretched out, my breasts thrust forward by my posture and positively begging for attention, with my nipples hardened by the cool breeze.
He smiled at me openly with that lovely dimple people get when they really mean a smile and I grinned in response, I couldn’t help it, he was the most beautiful man I’d seen for a long long time. About an inch over six foot tall, he was lean, but muscled – not that awful scrawny lankiness of teenage boys – with lightly tanned skin, dark chocolate-coloured hair and the most spectacularly green eyes. His chin and cheeks were shadowed with dark stubble and his eyes had feathery smile lines around them.
Barely out of my teens, I admit that I have only just started to get over my fondness for rather effeminate, teenaged boys. No longer do I lust over rounded cheeks and a smooth chest, now I find myself turned on by hard angles and wiry hair, an elegantly sculptured muscle and a confidence bordering on arrogance. I smiled politely at that gorgeous man, but inwardly my mouth was hanging open and my heart danced the Tarantella on my stomach as my body flashed with desire.
“Careful you don’t do yourself a mischief,” his tone was light and teasing as he walked past me, “bending double like that.” His eyes lingered on my breasts as he looked at me and reluctantly I brought my arms down from over my head, lest I looked too ‘posed.’
“I won’t.” I said. Then, as a flurry of wings startled him, “but you’d best watch out for low-flying pigeons.”
“Thanks for the advice!” He grinned, then wandered over towards a bench by the lake.
“Any time.” I muttered to his back. Watching him walk away from me, I measured every tense and release of his buttocks and thighs inside the thin denim of his jeans.
My face flushed as the adrenalin of my desire kicked in, I couldn’t believe what an intense response I had to him – I wanted him so desperately. I turned around and hung over the bridge, looking down into the water, imagining him coming back, moving towards me, putting his arms on the bar either side of me and leaning his body in towards me. I could almost feel the heat of his breath, the weight of his body, the hardness of his cock.
My breath came fast and shallow, my nipples throbbing through the lace of my bra and thin cotton top, my cunt clenching and relaxing as if his cock were pushing inside me and my knickers damp from my arousal. I swallowed hard and tried to stop thinking about him, that handsome and disturbing stranger, but I still had the surge of energy inside me that had been fired by my arousal. Thoughtlessly I broke into a run, my legs pounding the ground as I tried to outrun my own feelings. I ran the entire length of the lake before I grew too out of breath to continue, then I fell against a tree, panting. The bark was rough and warm against my cheek and I ran my fingers slowly up the trunk, trying to calm myself.
After a few minutes I moved away from the tree, wandering heedlessly from the waterside into the bracken that covered that area of the park. It was midsummer and the plants reached high up, almost to my shoulders. There were a few paths that have been broken in but, if you want, you can break away from those and clamber through the growth until you’re far away from any people.
I used to do this with my sister or my girlfriends when I was younger, if you trample round for a little while you can create a small clearing, like an alien crop circle, where you can lurk, completely unseen, for as long as you want. I did this now, marching as far away from the noise of people as possible, holding my skirt wrapped tight around my legs to stop the bracken from scratching the tender skin on my thighs. I made a small clearing and lay my cardigan, which had been tied round my waist, down on the ground to sit on.
I tried to just concentrate on my breathing, but all I could think of was how good it would feel to be kissed by him, to have his stubble grazing my face, my throat, my breasts, my thighs. I started stroking my breast, feeling the nipple harden again as I teased and pinched it. I put my hand inside my top and pulled the cup of my bra down under my tit, so I could feel the soft skin against my fingertips, then I started tracing small circles on my stomach with my other hand, moving my fingers down lower and lower till I was touching myself – even through my skirt I could feel the heat and the moistness of my pussy.
I was so turned on I couldn’t think of anything else. Lying back on the ground I watched the clouds move across the sky as I pinched and squeezed my breast and rubbed my clit with my fingers, the fabric of my skirt sweeping my thighs and adding their caress to the overwhelming sensations I was experiencing.
I was entirely unaware of being watched until I heard someone saying something to me. I shot upright and pulled my hands away, but my face was aflame and my whole body was tingling from the orgasm I had been so close to having.
“What?” I snapped the word out, my face turned to one side, unable to look this intrusive stranger in the face.
“I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to just, um, you know… interrupt. I was just asking if you were OK.” The voice was deep and male, with a tone of embarrassment and the hint of amusement.
It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t believe fate would be so cruel as to send the man I had been fantasising about. I looked up and, seeing that it is him, my entire body folded in on itself with shame and humiliation. Automatically seeing myself through his eyes, I felt so foolish and dirty – getting myself off in a public place like some shameless whore.
“Oh God.” I muttered the words to myself. Though I’m not in the least bit religious, blasphemy seemed to be appropriate. “Oh God, oh no.” I couldn’t even be coherent.
“I’m so sorry.” He sounded as if he was trying to make amends, but I still couldn't look at him.
“I saw you running off and I wondered if you were OK, so I came after you. It was really hard finding you in all this bracken even though I’d seen where you went. I really didn’t mean to embarrass you, I’ll go away and leave you, um, alone.” I could still hear that trace of amusement in his voice, but there was something else, too, something that sounded almost like reluctance.
“You don’t have to go.” I offered this without thinking, sitting up and trying to re-arrange my clothes to make sure I was decent. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“Well, I’d like to stay, if you really don’t mind. You see, I brought you an ice cream.”
I looked at him again and sure enough he was holding a white chocolate coated ice cream out to me in one hand, whilst a similar ice cream drips slowly over his other hand.
“Oh. Thank you.” I reached forward to take it from him, smiling shyly in thanks. “Would you like to sit down?”
I moved over to one side to make room opposite me for him to sit, which he did, elegantly folding his long legs underneath him and resting his elbows on his knees. He sucked the liquid ice cream off his hand, then started to lick the ice cream still on the stick.
I tried to concentrate on removing the wrapper from mine and biting through the chocolate to the creamy vanilla underneath, but even when I wasn't looking at him I could see the deft caress of his tongue against the stick as he licks the ice cream off and couldn’t help but imagine it doing the same to my body.
Maybe he had the same thought at that moment, because his cheeks flushed, his eyes glittered and he made sure to hold my glance when he made his next assault on the ice cream.
“Why did you bring me an ice-cream?” The peaceful silence had stretched out too long – become something tangible between us – and I needed to break it before it took me over.
“Oh, I thought perhaps you were upset at something and that was why you'd run off. Ice cream always cheers me up, so I hoped it'd cheer you up too.” He thought for a second then grinned. “Not that you actually needed much cheering up as it happened.” He winked at me, so briefly that was almost a twitch, then went back to licking.
He finished his ice cream long before I did and sat, watching me, as I ate mine. Something about his gaze on me as I ate it mades me long to tease him, I start sucking the creamy length of the ice cream in a distinctly sexual way, twirling my tongue around the end, before inserting the whole into my mouth again.
I know it’s crude and unsubtle, not to mention undignified, but my whole mind and body were focused on the thought of sex and satisfaction and, when presented with such a phallic object, I couldn’t help but fellate it.
“Please stop that. I don’t think I can bear to watch you any longer and not do something.” I looked at him, amazed, the ice cream still half in my mouth.
“What do you mean?” Pulling the ice cream out so fast that a smear of creamy liquid got left on my face I asked him with a straight face, my heart pounding against my ribs with the hope of it.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Leaning across he ran his thumb up my cheek to wipe off the mess. He held it out to me, his eyes locked on mine and I opened my lips obediently, bending my head to take it in my mouth.
The warm, salt taste of his thumb and the texture of his skin formed such a contrast to the silky blandness of the ice cream that I lingered on it longer than I would have otherwise. He groaned as I ran my tongue across the tip and release his thumb back to him, then looked quizzically at me as he slowly ran his thumb across my lips, and, receiving no rebuff, stroked his hand down the side of my face. I savoured the warm roughness of his palm, pressing my face against it.
Moving to sit beside me, he started kissing my temple with small, dry kisses. I held my breath, every nerve alive to his touch. Moaning as he kept kissing me with those tender little kisses, my head was supported by his hand and his fingers were tangled in my long hair. I leant back, longing to lie down and surrender myself to this blissful seduction.
Lowering my head to the ground and putting his free arm across my belly, his hand was on my bare waist where my top and skirt had parted. Running his thumb in little circles on the sensitive skin just above my hip he kissed his way down my throat, his stubble grazing my skin just as I had imagined.
I sighed and moaned again, arching my back to push my breasts towards him as I put my hand on his head and pulled him to me. I could smell the slightly citrus smell of the shampoo he’d used, all mixed up with some delicious cologne and that incredibly sexy, sweet-musky smell men get when they’re hot.
I tried to push him onto my breasts, but he wouldn’t let me and pulled himself up onto his elbows. Slowly he leant across me until his weight was on my chest, then lowered his face to mine. We both had our eyes wide open as our lips got closer, our breath mingling, then his mouth touched mine and a static shock jumped between us. His lips were hot and dry against mine, which were still cool and moist from the ice cream now melting, half-eaten and forgotten, on the ground at my side.
We kissed with closed mouths for the longest time, getting a sense of each other, carefully shifting until his entire body was laid alongside mine, one of his thighs thrust between my legs. I could feel his cock hardening so I rolled my hips to rub against him, feeling his thigh rub my pussy at the same time. Slowly he slid his tongue between my lips, then we were kissing hard and passionately, his lips firm and dry against mine as his tongue swirled around my mouth, penetrating me as thoroughly as his cock could.
We writhed against each other on the ground, dry humping like randy teenagers, enjoying the bizarre sensuality of being this intimate with a complete stranger in a public place in the middle of the day. The risk and the newness heightened the experience until we were both pinching and squeezing and scratching at each other’s bodies, desperately trying to get our fill of the other.
Roughly he pulled up my top so he could see my breasts, the black lace curving sexily around the full, pale flesh, the pinkness of the aureole visible, nipples straining through the fabric. He exclaimed when he saw them, then took a handful of flesh and kneaded it as he pressed his mouth against mine again.
I half sat up and struggled to remove my top, I was so aroused I didn’t care about the setting, I just want to be naked for him, so he could touch me wherever he wanted. He reached round and tugged my bra undone, my breasts lying plumply against my chest like silk cushions as I lay down again.
I watched as he removed his polo shirt in one, swift motion, his stomach muscles tense as he held himself reared up. When he lay back on top of me I almost cried out, the feeling of his skin and the wiry hairs on his chest rubbing against my bare and sensitive breasts was so extreme.
We stayed still for a moment, savouring that first sensation of naked skin on naked skin, before resuming our caresses with even greater fervour than before. He was rough and hasty with me then, but I was so deeply aroused that it caused only pleasure when he pinched, then sucked and bit my nipples, or crushed my entire breast in his strong hand. His other hand was creeping up my leg as we kissed and I was only partly aware of it until he got to my underwear and started sliding his finger under the elastic round my hip.
“Not yet.” I ordered him in a whisper, pushing upwards so he rolled onto his back and I could lean over on top of him.
I held him there for a minute, my hands pressed on his chest, his mouth half open, lips red and swollen from our frantic kissing. His chest rose and fell, fast and shallow with his panting, his stomach hollowing out under his ribcage, his hips holding his trousers away from his stomach, concave as he lay on his back, the trail of dark hair from his belly button leading the eye down towards his crotch and the enticing gap between flesh and fabric.
I ran my hand softly down over his stomach, a brief caress over his hip, then back to the centre, where I dipped my hand slowly, teasingly into the top of his trousers, inside the broad elastic of his boxers – taut across his lower belly – then I could feel the course, springy hair under my fingers, the heat of his groin, the groan he uttered which started in his belly...
He caught my wrist in his hand and pulled it roughly away, holding it gripped as he forced me onto my back again. I sighed with pleasure, I have always enjoyed being slightly submissive. In all my fantasies I am controlled, coerced, forced into pleasure, but I had never experienced it in real life. All the boys I’d bedded have been pleasurable, but none of them had the confidence to hold me down like that; to push me about a little, dominate me and then, when it was happening, I found it as exciting and enjoyable as I always thought I would.
I gave all control up to him then, no longer trying to explore his body or to stop him when he pushed my skirt up to my waist and pulled my legs apart so he could run his fingers lightly up and down my inner thighs, slowly moving closer and closer to that hot, throbbing point I was longing for him to touch. He carefully slid one finger inside the elastic and started stroking the outer lip of my pussy, that was too much! I wriggled and squirmed like a fish on a line, trying to move his finger closer to where I wanted it, but he wouldn’t let me.
He had his free hand flat on my belly, holding my hips to the ground and I had to stay still and let him caress me as he would. As my moans and whispers became more and more frustrated, he moved his finger away and pulled my underwear right down, pushing them off my legs till they hung loosely on one ankle.
Naked from the waist down and the waist up, my skirt was pushed up over my hips and my legs were pulled apart, leaving me exposed to his voracious gaze like an erotic exhibit. I found this almost unbearably arousing, being looked at, observed, desired. I desperately wanted him to touch me, to fill up the aching, empty feeling in my belly, to mould my body against his, but at the same time I wanted to be watched like this, until my whole being became sexual and sensualised.
I was so glad when he started pulling at my skirt. I wanted to be naked, to feel the sun and air on my skin as he began caressing me again. Watching as he unbuttoned his jeans, I admired his thick, hard cock straining against the tight cotton of his pants. Then he pulled those off as well and his dick slipped free to hang, suspended in the dark thatch of curls between his legs, pale and swollen with a darker tip, skin stretched absolutely taught across it, veins swelling through to the surface, the tip glistening. I stared at it as, moments ago, he was staring at my pussy, pink and wet, open to him like some exotic flower, moisture trickling down from my cunt and over my thighs.
I licked my lips nervously, his cock so magnificent it was almost threatening. He saw this and a thought seemed to occur to him, I watched as his pupils dilated with excitement and he smiled. Leaning over me, kissing me roughly on the lips, his cock bobbed against my belly, leaving a smear of moisture there. Carefully, watching it, he trailed it up my body, bumping lightly over each rib, pausing to caress each breast, each erect nipple, marking me with his scent like an animal.
I knew what he was going to do to me and my whole body trembled with anticipation as his cock got closer and closer to my face. He reached his hand between his legs and steadied his cock so he could guide it carefully into my mouth. There was nowhere I could go, he had me pinned between his thighs against the ground, all I could do was open my mouth and accept his huge, throbbing cock. The skin felt burning hot and silken as it slid between my wet lips, I was utterly aware of him: his weight, his rich, musky smell, the gap between my legs where I wanted his cock to be penetrating me, the pressure at the back of my throat where it really was penetrating me.
As he lowered his weight onto my face I started sucking at him, I couldn’t believe how erotic it was to be pinned under him like that, swallowing his dick. I’ve always loved giving head, but usually it was me that was in control, kneeling over the boy as he lay trembling and grateful for this amazing thing I was doing. Now I was the one trembling, desperately swallowing his flesh, trying to take a breath. The world slowed down as I sucked him, all I knew was that huge mouthful, his hair against my nose, his buttocks tensing as he thrusted, my hands pulling at him, pulling him deeper into me. It was terrifying and tantalising at the same time.
His hairy, muscled legs were clamped either side of my body, my face covered by his pelvis and belly, my chest weighted by his thrusting arse, but my belly and thighs and the hot, aching places between them were utterly naked, exposed to the air and whoever might walk past. That vulnerability built on the urge to be touched until I had to take my hand away from his backside and forced it down under his thigh to my pussy. I slid a tentative finger into the slick wetness of my cunt, but before I could do more than wet my finger, before I even sensed its presence in me, he was pulling my hand away, pinning my arm above my head as he pounded his cock into my throat faster and faster.
He came with the strange, negative silence that men create when they try to be quiet during orgasm: a huge shuddering breath, his entire body reverberating to the pleasure in his loins, then just the gush of hot liquid into my mouth. I couldn’t believe the amount, it seems endless, wave after wave of bitter saltiness being forced into my mouth and when it overflowed, my nose as well. I coughed and gasped and when, he was empty, he pulled away from me and wiped away the excess. I looked up at him gratefully as he bent to kiss me with a tenderness that seemed so strange considering how little we knew each other, yet so inevitable considering what we’d just done. Amazingly he didn’t seem to mind tasting himself in my mouth, and we kissed deeply and thoroughly.
Now he’ll touch me, I longed for it, now.
And yes, his hands were moving down to my pussy, brushing flat-handed across the damp curls, briefly catching my clit and making me gasp and shudder. Then he was sliding a finger between my lips, finding the pool of hot liquid, pushing his finger inside me, then another. I was so tight that every movement made me pulse with pleasure, but so wet that one finger just wasn’t enough.
He slid his fingers back up so he could lubricate my clit and started lightly running his fingers over it. I could never have imagined such mastery from the inexpert fumbles I’d experienced till then, every motion caused a reaction and he was gentle and firm in just the right amounts. I didn’t know whether to thrust my breasts or my hips towards him. I arched my back and tried to do both.
He seemed to understand my desire, because he bent forward to take my nipple in his mouth and started sucking and biting at it while he stroked my clit. I wanted his fingers inside me so I tried to tell him, but I was completely incoherent with need. Eventually he seemed to understand and pushed his two fingers back inside me. They were crooked just the right amount, and he beckoned them inside me, tugging at that magical place where pleasure intensifies ten-fold, all the while rubbing at my clit with his thumb.
The muscles in my body started tensing and I went completely rigid. Noises emerged from me – urgent, eager noises that I couldn’t control. Moans and whimpers, part-coherent words and cries. Quickly he clamped his free hand across my mouth and nose, not stopping his sucking or his rubbing or his frantic penetration.
I came with a flash of light behind my eyelids, every nerve twanging and buzzing with the release of tension. My back arched up violently, my arms flung above my head, my breasts thrust forwards – it was an exact re-enactment of the pose I was in when I first saw him, but this didn’t strike me as I came and came and came in waves of pleasure, gasping desperately for breath and an end to the pleasure which was almost painful in its intensity. Slowly I felt the world slipping away as I lost consciousness in the grip of orgasm. When I came to, he was next to me still, his fingers inside me, his hand cupping my head, supporting it, his mouth on mine. It feels like I’m still coming.
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