With all this attention coming from his mouth, I almost forgot about his damned fingers rubbing my inner pleasure. Perhaps he had removed them some time before, but I hadn’t noticed. All I knew was he had his pussy juice-soaked fingers gripping my nipple tightly, rubbing it between his thumb as my back arched in disbelief that any man, regardless of previous experience, could elevate my primal sexual world to such heights.
I tightened my muscles to stop the unavoidable result. The first orgasm rolled through my hips and along my spine. A small rivulet rolled from my cunt and across my ass. The panting turned to deep breaths and heaving chests. The wave of orgasm settled into a comfortable resolution of satisfaction and cold chills.
But the bastard didn’t stop. The continued stimulus kept my body on the edge of sanity only with me bucking my hips wildly and uncontrolled laughter. Only after the ticklish waves subsided did I realize just how turned on I still was. I wanted to feel his fingers dancing across my pussy. I needed to feel his fingers pinching my nipples. I wanted it all.
On any other clear night, I would have stared at the stars in hopes of finding some meaning in nature, but this night, I couldn’t focus on anything but my natural carnal instincts.
The smell of my own juices hung in the stubble on his face. The sweet taste of my own juice rolled around my taste buds as he forced his tongue back in my mouth. I had never tasted my own liquid sex, nor had I wanted to. He never asked what I wanted. He knew what I needed and forced it on me. But I tasted sweet.
I wanted to taste him. Slowly, I lowered my hand to his waist, waiting for some sign he wanted me to stop. He didn’t interfere. The strain to force my hand past his waistband and belt slowed my progress. Breaking away from his kiss to remove his pants, the overwhelming desire to hold his cock in my mouth gave me the strength I needed to pull away from his grip.
The acrid smell of his loins hit me when his pants rolled to his knees. Clamoring through the thick cover of male hormones brought my senses into focus. Encouraged by the salty brine dripping down hi dick, I slid his manhood down my throat.
The saline taste hung in my throat like his musky smell hung in the air. It caught me by surprise. His girth filled by mouth and stretched my jaws to their limit.
The dark circles of his eyes fixated on my lips when he plunged his dick into my throat. He didn’t moan. He didn’t react. The man was a stone statue accepting all that I could give him without a whimper. The only indication he knew I was with him was his rock hard erection.
When my ration of cock sucking was over, he again forced my breasts into the gravel on the concrete. The coolness kept my nipples pressing into the slab while he kissed and licked my back down to my hips. With my face to the ground, the quiet vibrations caused by the cars traveling above us tickled my nose.
I lost myself in the wonder of the evening. Had I taken the counselor’s advice and committed myself to a place of rest I would have missed the greatest experience of my life. Had I moved back with my parents, I would have spent my shortened life under their control, a living hell. Choosing to end my life on a bridge at some random moment was the most compelling choice I had to rid my life of all trappings of human society, debt, hatred, pain and fear. I couldn’t have cared less for their world anymore.
Good or bad, the feel of his dick sliding gently into my pussy again focused my attention on more carnal activities. Just as my mouth had been filled with his manhood, my pussy gaped wide as he carefully impaled himself in my body. My hips pressed harder on the concrete, so much so that I felt the grinding in my clit. I never considered my nipples any use during sex, but the gritty massage I was getting from the gravel sent an electric shock wave coursing through my chest.
Again, I was caught by surprise at the subtle genius of his talent. Never had I been able to derive such pleasure from a dick in my pussy. Each stroke pulled at my stretched cunt lips, rubbing my clit in such a wonderful manner.
Without missing a stroke, he pulled me to my knees, thrusting deeper into me. I felt impaled, ravaged by some monstrous weapon bent on destroying my old, cute way of life, replacing that useless existence with a battle hardened brazen existence whose only requirement is to enjoy ones body.
In this new position, my body accepted his dick until his balls hit my lips. The thrusting motions rocked me back and forth, pumping my desire and my passion with each stroke. I knew I couldn’t stop the orgasm he was building in my loins.
Deep pressure gave way to hard pounding. Again, a sigh escaped my lips. Pelvic grinding made me feel his bones rubbing my lips. His balls pummeled my clit with a vengeance. I struggled to catch a small breath between each stroke. His grip on my hips kept his cock planted deep in my pussy.
I couldn’t fight it any longer. I desperately wanted my body to explode. Twisting and heaving in any direction that would put more contact on my sensitized places, I strained to grab every ounce of pleasure from this fuck.
Through the fog, I hadn’t realized that I was rubbing my clitoris, unashamed and notorious. My other hand was busy squeezing my tit harder with each pumping action my hand delivered.
And it hit. Cascades of electric waves of absolute pleasure rolled through my groin and flooded my entire body with sheer ecstacy. I screamed with pleasure while the shockwaves bounced from my groin to my spine and back. I hated the sensation of fluids dripping from my cunt, but there was no stopping any of this.
I was aware of his newly excited pounding of my pussy. That rock hard cock hit all the best spots. More screams covered the bottom of the bridge as I released myself from all the inhibitions I had been trying to hide all evening. I lost all caring whether he found my responses appropriate or not. All I wanted was to cum.
He didn’t stop when the orgasm began to subside. I found myself more ticklish than before, but the bastard was relentless in his quest to destroy any bit of modesty I had left. I giggled. I laughed. I begged for mercy, but he wouldn’t stop his train-like obsession to drive me completely insane.
We allknow the signs, though, the pulsating dick, the moans, and the frequent curses. He was about to cum. The man who lorded his prowess over me was about to succumb to my worldly possessions and feminine guile.
I needed him to cum. I needed him to feel what I felt. My life depended on my ability to control him as he controlled me. I was nothing if I couldn’t make him scream with pleasure.
I reached under my belly and grasped his balls, rubbing them against my dripping lips. I thought I could survive the tender feelings surrounding my clit as I rubbed and thereby give him an unselfish orgasm, but my clit, swollen and sensitive from the earlier play, wouldn’t have it.
Without warning, I was ripped from pussy to spine by rushes of pleasure and waves of infinite lust. I pushed his balls harder against my clit until I could feel the pressure deep inside of me. And the wave of delight broke over my back.
That bastard is at it again, I thought as he continued to press his cock on my g-spot, rubbing the inside of my wet sheath. Hard, raspy gasps were not enough for me to catch my breath before the second round of waves rolled over me. The black spots before my eyes blocked the view of the weeds growing between the cracks of the concrete making my plan to concentrate on something besides this guy’s handiwork impossible.
“Shit!” The muscles contorted under the strain of my next orgasm. Leg spasms, debilitating beyond belief, rumbled through my calves before I was overcome with the last wave of pleasure.
Sweating profusely, I collapsed on the elevated slab, exhausted from the ordeal. I felt him rubbing his dick between my ass cheeks, stroking the rod back and forth as he huffed and cursed his way through ejaculations that left my back covered with semen. Running my hand around, I dipped my finger into his pool and tasted his seed.
I knew nothing else on earth would be like this. I knew I found my true joy in life at the edge of a bridge, by the river, in the arms of a man whose name I didn’t know.
Leaving it all behind, I walked hand in hand wi
th my deliverer, a bum naked from the waist down. My life was completed in my final hours. I truly found happiness, lost to me at birth. Nothing in the world of harsh realities became so clear as to why I had to die at that moment. It was my first master’s will to end my life in the midst of this lonely place. For my new master, it was his will that I die in the midst of this world his slave, but the world he holds me in is full of pleasure, my pleasure.
For in my last moments, I found the meaning of it all. First there is life, then sex, and finally the last walk across the bridge to death. There is no more.
For a brief second, I felt a pain, the sharp contrast from life on earth to the freed fulfillment of the lasting years without my master. The cold metal must have burned as I plunged the knife in his chest one last time. I loved him. I couldn’t let him suffer, anymore. I chose to live without him rather than let him finish life without his slave. I am his greatest love.
About the Author
Allistar Parker lives in Virginia with his wife and one son. His interests include hunting, fishing and most outdoor events. He has a love of the humorous side of life. Often you can find him sitting in the woods, laughing at the most inane things.
Author’s Note
If you like this story, try one of my previous offerings, The Preacher’s Wife, a story about a woman’s her struggle to save her marriage and rid her family of a most evil demon, all with the help of a kindly fallen angel. Or perhaps a book filled with stories about regular-sized women in Hot Comfortable Women.
The Bridge Page 2