Afternoon in the Sun

The car was parked up a slope, underneath the bridge abutment and shielded on both sides by high weeds and underbrush. From its vantage one could see the narrow gravel road below winding along the floodplain of the summer-shrunken river. The area had an unkempt look with piles of broken concrete dropped here and there among the unruly patches of high weeds and scrubby, stunted trees.

High above the floor of the valley the Bloor Street viaduct carried the mid-day traffic on whining tires that protested the afternoon heat. Slung just below the roadway and nestled in the superstructure, the east-west subway rattled its way along the great belly of the bridge.

It was a sultry day and the sun rode high overhead shrinking the shadows to tiny inkblots below the gnarled trees and painting a dark slash beneath the bridge where they were secluded. Up the embankment behind them and hidden by the footings of the bridge they could hear the constant swish of traffic on the Don Valley Parkway.

Far below them near the riverbed, two teenage boys took turns winding a dirt bike through its paces. The protestations of the small engine seemed removed from the darting of the vehicle as the distant sounds hung muted in the heaviness of the air.

The windows of the car were down to catch whatever breeze could be coaxed inside. But neither the heat nor the distant vehicle noises distracted their attention from one another.

His fingers trailed lightly along her cheek and neck flushed pink with the heat and her excitement. He felt the dampness at her nape as he nuzzled close inhaling the lingering sweetness of her perfume. His mouth pulled gently at her covering her lips, sucking at them one at a time, tracing them with the tip of his tongue.

Slowly, he released her buttons, allowing the fabric of her blouse to glide off her shoulders, nudging the cloth to ease it down her arms and watching silently as it gaped in the middle, exposing full shapely breasts, alabaster tipped with brown aureoles and pinkish buds that stiffened under his examination.

She shuddered slightly and tried to move in closer to him shielding her breasts from the boldness of his gaze as tiny fingers of guilt mixed with the forbidden excitement that tightened her belly. She thought fleetingly of her husband and her young son but the sensations plucking at her loins were irresistible.

He cupped her breast lightly, lifting it up and then letting it bob back against her chest as if testing its weight or checking its fullness. She wanted him to hold them firmly in his strong hands, capture her breasts, kneading and squeezing them with ardor. But his fingers kept grazing her skin, tracing the fullness of her orbs then softly pressing the nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

She shuddered again as his hands skimmed over the bareness of her sides, moving up to lift her arms and drape them on his shoulders. Her eyes closed as his head dipped to nuzzle her cleavage, nibbling and licking the smooth skin of her breasts.

His tongue fluttered against her as it moved patiently over the roundness, stopping intermittently while he sucked fleetingly at her white skin. All too briefly his lips closed on her nipple wetting her and nibbling the bud to hardness.

She cradled his head in her arms pressing the nipple to his lips, trying to make him suckle while he alternately licked the nipple keeping it wet then blew on it tenderly to cool it.

Slipping his hand under her skirt he softly caressed her smooth skin, easing his hand between her thighs and nudging them ajar.

She lay back against the seat and relaxed a little as his fingers continued to explore the sensitive skin beneath the cloth. She badly wanted to be touched but she fought her eagerness lest she appear anxious and thereby slutty.

He loved that reluctance in her and reveled in the color that sprang to her cheeks when her modesty clashed with her deeper needs. It was what he enjoyed most about married women - coaxing them to levels of depravity they'd never even contemplated.

"I love the feel of your naked legs," he mused, uttering the first words spoken between them in almost thirty minutes.

Her acknowledgement was but a preoccupied wisp of a smile as she snuggled down further with her back braced against the passenger door.

He lifted her left leg closer to the seatback while subtly leaning forward a little so his right arm blocked her from moving it back. His left hand found the top of her leg cupping the back of her thigh firmly while the tips of his fingers grazed the slope of her buttocks where they left the confines of her panties.

Her skirt was pulled right up now as she laid back submissively, eyes closed and face flushed. She did not resist when he shifted his position, unbuttoned the waistband on her skirt and eased it down as far as it would go.

"Lift up," he commanded when the white linen garment lodged on her hips. She raised her bottom off the seat and he whisked the fabric down her legs and off, tossing it onto the back seat with her blouse.

Only the soft yellow bikini panties remained of her clothing. He smiled to himself as he leaned down toward her belly blowing soft tickling breaths on her exposed navel and hips and flicking his tongue teasingly along the elastic waistband.

Moving his head lower, he was aware of the tiny wisps of blond hair that peaked out of the leg bands of the flimsy garment. He drew his breath in the heady musk of her scent. The thin isthmus of fabric between her legs had darkened slightly from the growing dampness behind.

She was fidgeting, moving her hips toward him imploringly as he blew his warm breath on her secret place. She wanted him badly and the lust in her belly drove any shred of guilt from the immediacy of her need.

He laid his cheek on her taut stomach while his fingers dipped under the leg bands of her panties, touching all around her mons but avoiding the moist and pouting lips of her sex.

She shifted her position frequently now as he purposely held back what she badly wanted. He was teasing her blatantly. Her breath was irregular and she seemed to whisper half words, little moans and sighs as she rolled her head from side-to-side.

He drew back a little from her enjoying her frustration momentarily and using it to increase her need. Waiting until her eyes fluttered open and met his he instructed her harshly, "Take off your panties."

Without hesitation she hooked her thumbs in the garment, skimming it down over her legs and off her feet, tossing it in the back seat with the rest of her discarded things.

Pressing his palms against her thighs, he eased them apart and pushed them up toward her hips. She squirmed her naked buttocks further down on the seat in anticipation, thus giving him complete access to her most private places.

Once again, he lowered his head, this time immediately nuzzling the blond hair between her thighs feeling the springy coarseness against his mouth. With the tip of his tongue her parted her nether lips and tasted the woman of her, reveling in her abundant wetness.

She jerked spasmodically as his tongue flicked the tiny nub just inside. Her hands grasped the side of his head trying to draw him deeper while grinding her mons against his mouth.

She was perspiring freely and her mouth was drawn in a tiny grimace of determination. Short little gasps of breath that finished in a whimper accompanied each pulse of her hips. As the sensations in her belly grew stronger, her moans and whimpers increased and her head flopped from fitfully side-to-side. Close to orgasm, her need overpowered any belated caution from her latent modesty.

She was very wet and the scent of her sex filled the car. The turgid bud of her clitoris had eased from its protective hood and glistened like a pink pearl above the petals of her sex. She was more aroused than she'd ever been in her life and his teasing touch made her fretful and anxious.

Frequently he eased back keeping her hovering close but not letting her cum. Raising his head, he quickly replaced his tongue with a gentle strumming of her clit with the side of his thumb. With his right hand he probed inside her with two fingers. Then, as his hand became soaked with her juices, he slipped his index finger between the clasping cheeks of her buttocks until it pressed against her anus.

Her eyes fluttered open momentarily as she realized what was happening but a word of protest was still in her throat as his finger slipped past her sphincter and wormed deep inside of her.

The sensation was strange. It didn't hurt but it made her feel sluttish because she felt such pleasure from it. She could hear herself whimpering, imploring him to let her cum as his thumb strummed rhythmically on her clit and his finger probed deep inside her bottom.

He smiled to himself at how tight she was back there. He knew having her bum touched was embarrassing her and that made it even more fun.

She was aware of him speaking softly to her, crooning sexual images, using street language and telling her what to do, how she looked, how exposed she was, outdoors, stripped naked...legs spread and in heat.

"You're a horny little cunt, aren't you?" he mocked.

No one had ever used such vile language to her. The crudeness of his words demeaned her, numbing her sensibilities and sending emotional tremors rattling through her core.

"Aren't you?" he continued. "Tell me what a horny little cunt you are."

Her eyes flickered open again and his gaze riveted them as he pressed her. Her marital experiences now seemed so tepid, so antiseptic, as a second finger pushed deep into her bowels.

"Go ahead. Say it!" he bullied

"Yes ... I am, she whispered in a tiny voice not wanting to say those words but afraid he may stop the pleasure she was feeling in her loins if she didn't.

"You're what?" he demanded mockingly. "Say it. Say I'm a horny little cunt."

She was frustratingly close again, inured to the humiliation he espoused, caring only for the orgasm that was eluding her.

"I'm ... a horny little cunt," she repeated. "I'm a horny cunt and I want you to do it to me."

He grinned at her capitulation and enjoyed her obvious unfulfilled need. For an instant he broke the rhythm and when she drew her breath in sharply he pushed her again.

"You're a horny little married cunt aren't you? Tell me that and tell me what you want."

Beside herself with need and frustrated by his gamesmanship she blurted "Yes...I'm a horny married cunt and I ... I want you to fuck me!"

The words tumbled out at the same time she felt a powerful orgasm sweeping her loins. "Fuck me...fuck me now," she pleaded as her legs spread wider and she pumped up at him with the urgency of abandon he so wanted to see. She wasn't even aware at first that he'd replaced his stroking thumb with her own fingers and was now poised between her thighs watching as she masturbated to a thrashing noisy climax.

She slumped back against the door now, oblivious to her own nakedness. The pangs of modesty that she had felt thirty minutes before had been swept away in the torrent of her pleasure.

He moved in close to her again and eased her head forward until her cheek rested on his chest. His hand stroked the pouting wetness of her sex, tracing the cleft and causing her to draw small, sharp breaths as his fingers repeatedly nudged her enervated clitoris. He amused himself in her wetness and listened with satisfaction to the wet clicking noises his fingers made as they played in the sodden patch between her legs. Her clit was so sensitive she shuddered when he'd touch it but the insistent deep probing of his fingers felt so good she didn't want that to stop.

He especially enjoyed watching her giving in to her pleasure. She was a woman who was usually aloof and gave the impression of being unattainable. it was a huge bonus That she was married. He liked that a lot and would find subtle ways to remind her that she was cheating just to see her struggle emotionally with the guilt.

A typical school teacher, she liked being in control and had an attitude of superiority that was often misunderstood. The remnants of a British accent made her seem snobbish and detached. Other women envied her good looks but even more than that they disliked the prissy detachment she exuded.

Those same women would love to see her now, stripped of her clothes and her composure, touching herself and talking dirty - indeed, acting like a common slut.

He wished he was getting it all on video. But that could come later.

The moments after a woman cums were always especially arousing to him. A strong orgasm usually made the clitoris overly sensitive and he liked playing with their discomfort, eliciting little whimpers and sighs as his fingers toyed with the tender areas.

Deliberately, he worked his fingers close to Janet's clit enjoying the evasive movements of her hips as she tried to keep him from contacting the enervated bud. His knee, draped over hers, kept her from closing her legs and he could feel her thighs jump as she tried to avoid his persistent fingering.

He kept her close to him where he could suck on the tender skin of her neck and around her earlobes. He could see a spot of darkening skin at the bend of her neck, the start of a hickey she'd have to hide from her husband and he resolved to go back to it ensuring its prominence before he let her dress.

For long moments, he held her tightly, pressing her face to his chest and incanting sexually to her. All the while his hands worked teasingly at her genitals, stroking and tugging gently on the lips and then sliding two fingers deep into her wetness.

Gradually the fatigue of her first orgasm left her and her body began to move in a rhythmic response.

"I love to see you this horny," he smirked. "Your cunt is soaking."

"Does that excite you?" she asked.

His reply was another command. "Tell me where it feels good."

"Right where your fingers are," she evaded.

"Say it!" he demanded. "Say the word. Don't pretend you don't know what I want you to say."

"My cunt," she said quietly. "It feels good in my cunt."

"And what about your bum? You liked that didn't you."

It was a statement, not a question and she felt a little tinge of shame as she whispered "yes."

She was always so neat and so controlled. Hearing her say it brought a smile to his lips and seeing her cheeks flush at her own vulgarity made it even sweeter.

It gave him a rush to manipulate her this way, pushing her beyond her comfort zone by simply holding her pleasure for ransom. It was fun to see how close he could bring her and then tantalizingly back off a little before she could cum.

Each time she was close she'd try a little harder to get there. Each time she missed, it peeled away a little more of her inhibition.

"Your husband must have a needle for a dick." he taunted. "Your bum is so tight it's like it's never had a cock."

He watched, amused, as she tried to avoid commenting.

"It makes me feel good when you touch me like this." She murmured, hoping to change the conversation.

"I'll bet you tell your husband that too," he teased purposely adding to her stress. "Maybe I'll ask him," he quipped, watching the flush in her cheeks deepen at the thought. "What do you think he'd say?"

"Don't even go there," she whispered, hoping he'd stop. It bothered her that he could be so gauche as to tease her that way. It was like a clarion reminder maing her being with him seem even more forbidden.

She had her face buried against his shirt and her eyes were closed tight in concentration. Each time she got close he changed his rhythm a little or moved his finger back keeping her so very close but adding to her need to cum.

She moved around now, nestled more into his arms and lay with her back against his leg and her bottom facing the passenger door. The seat was a little too short for her legs and she kept them bent, placing one foot on the cushion and the other trailing off the seat onto the floor.

While she lay with her eyes closed, he watched her closely, enjoying her little winces and the changes of expression that crossed her face in response to his fingers. He liked the sight of his hand working steadily between her open legs and the pulse of her hips and she moved with him.

A subway train rumbled by on the tracks high above them and he looked up and thought of all the bored passengers unaware of what was happening just beneath them and out of their site. He wished they could all see her right now, the way she was and he smiled at how embarrassed she'd undoubtedly be.

He gazed through the windshield and his eyes swept lazily over the valley below them. There was nothing moving at all. His eyes caught sight of a shiny object reflecting brightly in the sun. Without pausing the steady movement of his hand, he continued peering at it, squinting to see it more clearly.

It was something polished, like chrome. Suddenly it occurred to him that he could no longer hear the dirt bike and his eyes began to search the riverbed for the boys. Methodically, he cast his eyes slowly from left to right trying to see any movement down there.

A slight flutter off the passenger side of the car drew his attention to the door mirror and a flash of color moving in the dusty green of the high weeds.

Without changing the rhythm of his hand he studied the tiny reflection.

To be continued...