Fiction by M Teresa Clayton
I found myself running late for the bus, so I decided to slow down the pace and catch the next one. Granted, this would mean standing at the bus stop alone for another forty five minutes to an hour, alone; I somehow found the apprehension a bit exhilarating, at the same time I reached into my purse and my hand quickly connected with the pepper-spray I had convinced myself would be enough to defend myself if I ever felt threatened. As I walked, I could hear the reverberation of each step echoing through the abandoned streets. I was never one of those girls who changed into running shoes at the end of the day, I felt far more comfortable in the three-inch heels that have come to define me as a woman – but so much more – a woman of power, unafraid, unmoved in a world of high-rollers; men in silk suits and ties, freshly pressed crisp white tailored shirts, their skin, hair and manicures as perfectly groomed – perhaps even better groomed – as most of the heavy-hitting females in the group. My name is unimportant, as is the name of the man whose destiny collided with mine that night. Though brief, the encounter stills leaves me breathless if I linger too long within the memory… He didn’t seem to pay any notice to my approach, heels clicking slower as I assumed a more predatory pace – longer strides, well-placed footing that shifted my hips enough to emphasize the thoroughbred I so often played down… the strength of the legs accentuating their soft yet capable muscular sinews with each step, the tightening of the buttocks as the skirt seemed to skim enough to show the power behind the hips as they calculated each movement with deft precision. I stood tall and assured as I made my approach, and yet he appeared uninterested, unimpressed, affected. I could smell the sweat that clearly clung to his shirt and there was a rather erotic ruggedness to his face, along with a shadow of beard that signaled a long day, a hard day – the smell of his manhood filled my nostrils with the scent of prey, the animal/man, a worthy adversary in what was now being played and I had the element of surprise – or so I thought. Let the minutes tick off – it made the game more interesting, urgent, and intense. I realized my breathing had quickened and, I too was perspiring more and my breath was shallow and quick, the heat was emanating from between my thighs, surely he could sense the fire … my nipples, now fully erect, were in full display beneath the wetness soaking my delicate cotton blouse causing it to cling like a second skin, exposing my vulnerability for the first time.
I watched his every move as I approached the plexi-enclosure that stood as shelter for poor souls awaiting their rides under torrents of rain or pellets of ice and snow… there was no shelter from the full sun that created a sauna-like feel inside the three-sided box where we were both now facing one another.
He looked up from his phone and caught me staring at him, his face, his torso ... And met my look with an expression of questioning. I smiled, then lowered my eyes and giggled but returned to the original posturing of looking deeply into his deep blue eyes surrounded by thick long lashes any woman would die for… He focused on my eyes without a word as I moved to take in the lips, the mouth – he instantly smiled and a small dimple appeared to the right side of his mouth. Such full and perfectly formed lips, the kind of lips that beg to be kissed, sucked, and nibbled upon. His bottom lip began to tremble, but not from fear, no – it was more like anticipation and trying to remain in control. “You have beautiful eyes…the kind of eyes that should see beautiful things, witness passion raw and unadulterated, and be filled with images that will visit you often in your dreams,” I said to him. He smiled a nervous smile and looked back at me responding, “You are a beautiful woman and I’m not sure what you’re trying to say… or do…” “Shhhhh,” I placed my finger over his lips and leaned in to whisper into his ear. “You look like a god standing here, your smell is intoxicating and seductive, I would like to…. No…I NEED TO… touch you. Would you give me a moment or two to explore further?” He said nothing and nodded his head and closed his eyes. I unbuttoned his shirt and took my hands and wrapped them around the smooth softness of his back, raising them up and down, measuring the length of his muscles and then across his ample shoulders before bringing them forward to his chest. He was lean, solid, and muscular. He felt taut yet soft, supple yet rugged, muscular and virile. I was losing myself in the lustiness of his presence before me. I knew I must regain self-control, but my mouth was grazing his, the taste of his lips - sweet, his soft breath warm and even, I released my tongue and tasted him, pulled his lower lip slightly into my mouth and bit down gently the quickly offering a suckle before fully engaging him in a sensual kiss.
He held back for a second more before returning his mouth to mine and filled my senses with a flood of desire that at once wanted to consume every inch of him in a fury of decadent pleasuring one only reads about in books. I must stop, I told myself. I am losing myself here… At once we parted, panting and gleaming with sweat and the flush of warm blood. He smiled knowing. He smiled like a man possessed. I looked away trying to catch my breath and my thoughts… and I looked between his legs… “What am I doing here?” I whispered. “Preparing to seduce me and we will become drunk with abandonment and satisfy this ravenous craving” – he answered. I could not take my eyes away from the six pack of muscles that led down to the cut just above his penis. The cut was the pathway to his manhood and my satisfaction. My hand was shaking nervously as I slowly reached over and unbuttoned the top of his jeans. The only thing between my hand and his penis … a metal zipper. The hesitation was palpable. He gently placed his hands on my upper arms and pulled me in to him. “Another taste of you, let’s take this slow”, he whispered to me. …Under the streetlamp on a deserted street, behind a window for all to see… I was losing control, losing my resolve, and losing my mind… to a man who was simply someone waiting for the next bus… until I pushed my way into a….. another world… His world?
I withdrew my hands with a jerk, as if they were scalded. He grabbed my wrists and for a moment I could feel the scream building deep inside of my throat, but again his eyes captivated me and returned me to the edge of complete abandonment. “Slow”, he whispered before brushing his lips against mine. “Don’t think about it too much, you’ll only lessen the pleasure and miss the moment of ecstasy that awaits you.”
“What is happening here?” I asked. I was sure that I was the seductress and he, the prey. Now I was his puppet, his pawn and it was clearly his move.
“Shhhh”, his voice barely audible, lips connecting harder; his mouth open and suckling. I opened my mouth to receive him as he teased with his tongue, alternating with more of the hungry intensity of his kisses.
I wanted more; I needed more. The desire felt more like addiction and I needed him like a drug to sate the intensity, the insanity, of this craving. His hand caressed the nape of my neck for an instant before grasping my hair and pulling my head back. Before I could define the moment and react, his warm breath found the area just beneath my jawline and he began to lick the length and contours of my exposed throat. My flesh responded instantly with goose-bumps and again I felt my breasts fill with anticipation as he carefully guided me back into his free arm where I relaxed and threw my head further back, willing him to continue.
We were positioned like two seductive dancers, his body over mine as I lay trustingly in his arm in a low dip. His other hand had now left my nape, releasing my hair to flow softly over his arm as he now looked into my eyes with the intensity of a master in his finest hour. With his free hand he stroked my hair, my face, and drew the back of his hand against my neck down to my clavicle.
Not a word. He drew his eyes to my mouth, my neck, and finally the opening of my blouse where I sensed he could feel the beating of my heart beneath the heaving of my breaths… please, I thought to myself, please… …take me here, in this place, now! His hand was warm as it gently caressed my breast, nipple standing at attention, awaiting his charity; his gratification. Instead, he lifted me into his arms and laid me down upon the bench where dozens have sat before, awaiting their bus, desperate to reach their destination. Here I lay before him, vulnerable and waiting for his bidding, to give me instruction, tell me, show me, take me to my destination… He stood stripped of his shirt and every ripple of his muscular torso seemed to possess some magnetism. I could feel the force of the drawing energy that emanated from his body to mine and mine to his. He just stood there looking at me; watching, waiting… for what?
I unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it back, draping it over my shoulders enough to fully expose my breasts, now moist and warm from a combination of this heat, of this night, but more from his touch, the anticipation… breast full and nipples tingling, begging for his tongue to tease and suckle.
He dropped to one knee and slipped his hand beneath my shoulders, then leaned in to kiss me once more, this time with emotion, passion, and purpose. Our mouths explored each other and then he began his descent down my neck once more and as one hand cupped my breast his mouth found the other and did not disappoint. My body was experience pleasure it had never known and the pleasure was now manifesting itself deep inside of me. I could feel the moisture between my legs as I moaned and whispered yes after yes after yes. I was in a state of euphoria and, though I wanted desperately to please him, I was locked in the trance he had me in, unable to move. “Slowly”, he spoke out, as if he were reading my mind. “Memorize this moment, the feeling of the air against your exposed breasts, my adoration of you and let yourself indulge this moment of pure sensuality.” “Yes”, I barely spoke, “please, please... me”. “Yes, I will fulfill your fantasy and leave you with so much more. Are you prepared to give yourself fully to me? Do you trust me? I closed my eyes and let my head fall back down, moaning for him to continue; a sound my throat and body made without effort or forethought from me. Finally the answer he was waiting to hear… “Yes”.
“Not another word”, he instructed. “Explore the freedom of this moment, unbridled, unrestricted, and feel the electricity that feeds this chance encounter both from the outside and the inside… nothing will stop us now.”
I understood in a way that beguiled me yet made perfect sense on some primal level. Fear and hesitation were replaced with trust in this unknown man and the heightened sense of expectation that at once brought me to perfect measured anticipation. The moments were flowing on their own volition and I was caught in the vortex being pulled to the perfect center, the perfect crescendo, a perfect completion. He kissed my breasts, each with lingering intensity, and then stood up tall beside me. His eyes were always moving from my face, to my throat, to my breasts and then back again as if he were scanning for something beneath the façade. He smiled knowingly and let out a slight chuckle as if he could read my thoughts and knew exactly how this would change me.
He lifted each foot and removed my heels, stopping to buss each toe and lick the curve of my instep before using his hands to caress and massage my legs from my calves to my upper thigh – no further – and back down – over and over again. Each time he came closer to reaching the elastic band of my black satin thong embellished with a bright red bow at the top front.
The tease was becoming unbearable. I wanted to reach down and pull my skirt up and rip the thong from my own hips. Again, he felt my urging and laced a finger through both sides of the thong, pulled them slowly and seductively down my thigh while watching my face change from knowing to no longer caring. I watched his face smile in the pleasure of being the pleasurer, and felt he was as captivated with me as I was with him. He snapped the last hold of the thong away from my foot and tossed them aside. His hands returned to my skirt and he proceeded to fold my skirt up until it revealed the delicate labyrinth doorway to the realm of my female sexuality – the perfect machine to bring one to perfect lift and flight through heights of unimaginable release. He did not open my legs. Instead, he stepped back, studying my body in its entirety, memorizing every mound and valley, the sinuous curves and the paradise that he was about to enter upon. I watched his hands as they found his opened button and moved quickly to the zipper that stopped me earlier. Down with the zipper and he grasped the top of his jeans and moved them off of his body in one easy movement. He whisked them aside like a matador whipping his cape in the face of the bull. He stood tall and svelte, arrogant and self-assured, he had somehow removed shoes and sock, underwear, and anything else that obscured his body without my ever taking note of it. The illusion broadened.
No words. I trembled with anticipation and with complete exposure to the night and anyone who might pass by, but I did not dwell on those possibilities. I was still enraptured here and awaiting the connection that was sure to define the petit morte’ I had read so much about but had never fully experienced.
He stood gleaming in the light from the street behind him, his skin even and without blemish, muscles taut and his breathing audible. He would need no assistance from me in preparing for the moment of connection. He was fully erect with the most beautiful member I had ever seen. A god stood before me and would soon take me. The hour was golden. He walked steadily toward me and with one leg between mine and one still supporting him from the ground beside the bench, he gently opened my thighs until my knees were bent and turned out to accept him. He paused once again to study the objet d’art that was his; the spoils of the game.
I looked away, embarrassed by his intense obsession with my sexuality there. He leaned over, kissed my mouth deeply, and then looked intently into my eyes and said, “Do not look away – be pleasured by the pleasure I receive from devouring you with my eyes before I devour you with my lust.” I nodded with understanding and never took my eyes off of him again.
He parted the outer lips and bent to kiss the organ of his affection. Then he parted the inner lips and moved to focus on the smallest mound of sensitivity with acute dexterity and control. My thighs shook from the measure of his abilities and at once I thought the moment of my death had come… when he reduced the pressure and quickness of his tongue and returned me to a slower burn.
What would he do next? This tease was becoming torturous and unbearable. He took one knee into his arm and lifted it out even further and entered upon me with such precision that there was no fumbling, no momentary search for the sweetest spot, no awkward movements to prepare for the coitus that never seemed to go well and usually ended in both lovers heaped across the bed and tangled together. No, he was smooth; he knew his art and had perfected the entry into his woman’s soul without any such blunder or miscalculation.
I could feel him throbbing inside of me just as I was sure he could feel the involuntary contractions from the walls within. He began to move slowly, still holding one leg up and out and with the other hand steading the other leg open and down. My hips wanted to meet his in some synchronicity but I did not take my eyes off of his and awaited his command to begin.
As he began to move harder and faster, his hand slid down to caress my buttock as I pointed my toes and wrapped my upper leg around him as if I could hold him there and never let go. His hand softly rubbed the contours of my buttock and suddenly, without warning, his faced changed from peaceful and content to determined and on the edge of insanity as his hips thrust forward harder and faster, his passion consuming both of us, and I could not look away. His eyes were fixed on mine as if his only fear was missing the moment of my release. On and on we fucked, his penis angled to reach my clitoris with each thrust and the tension mounted into a fevered pitch… eyes never leaving each other as I fought to keep my head upright as the surge of electrical current filled my stomach and down into my loins, the rush removed my breath and I was falling, falling, falling….
At the same time, he came closer and covered my mouth with his and breathed life back into my soul and then he turned a reddish-brown with sweat wringing from his face and upper torso, his moment had come and I could feel him fill me with his life force in a cluster of convulsive explosions.
He did not collapse onto me. He sturdied himself and kept his eyes on mine, heaving breath after breath and smiling down at me.
His milk was now running out of me and onto the bench, then onto the concrete below. It had felt like a magnum in force and in content.
It was at that moment I heard it, the bus! I could hear it braking a few blocks away and knew that soon it would be turning the corner two blocks up before stopping here.
He heard it as well and offered me his hand to help me up from my prone position. He helped me to stand and while I buttoned my blouse he found my thong and had pulled it up perfectly and then rolled my skirt back down into place. I looked around for my heels and could hear him moving about, assuming he was busily putting himself back together as I saw the bus turn the corner and watched as the headlights frame this small enclosure. I felt him from behind, lift one foot and place the shoe on, then the other; I stepped down into each shoe to distribute my foot evenly inside each before stepping forward to meet the door.
The door opened with a clang, the driver didn’t seem to notice anything and I let out a sigh of relief and a bit of a devilish grin as I turned to reach for his hand.
“Ma’am, I have other stops, are you going to board?”
I was frozen in disbelief, unable to speak or move; shocked.
“Lady?” the driver offered, “Are you okay? Do you need some help?”
I stood looking to the back of the enclosure where I had just experienced something… unexplainable. I didn’t understand.
At this point the driver locked the brakes and came down the steps to where I was standing, “Do you need a ride or can I call someone for you? You don’t look so good.”
I turned to face the driver and replied, “No. I… I’m okay. I think. Can you help me up the step?” I kept looking behind me in disbelief and confusion. What the hell just happened here? I took my seat at the very back of the bus and watched out the window as we pulled away. There on the side of the plexi-glass was an advertisement for a cell phone and that man… that man, there… with the intense blue eyes that were looking into mine just moments ago… he was looking down at his phone totally unaware, uninterested and unreal.
Not real. How could he not be real? I reached under my skirt and felt the residue left from our chance encounter…. It was real. I remember his smell, his taste, everything. I memorized it just like he told me to.
As the bus moved further and further away, I began to wonder and question everything that had just happened. The only real evidence was the moisture that still emanated from … there.
I brought my moistened fingers up to my nose and smelled the aroma – it was mine… my smell, my fluid that was still moistening me there. There was no residual essence of him anywhere on me, no smell, no sweat, no excrement from this chance encounter.
I looked behind me once more as the image of the man on the cell phone fell out of view.
What just happened, I thought to myself.
I caught a glimpse of the driver watching me in his rear-view mirror. He was laughing and shaking his head. Laughing and just shaking his head.
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