Sarah's Journey Ch. 02

The street lighting was old, stylish cast iron poles, I guessed, though there were modern, bright bulbs in them. Old, sprawling oak trees, some of them enormous, were spaced along the walk, and a few hundred feet away I could see patio furniture, clearly owned by the cafe across the street, placed under the boughs of one of the larger trees. Most of the tree roots had buckled the brick cobbles around them to varying degrees. Not a place to go jogging, but the atmosphere was fantastic. There were almost no cars moving, though parked cars lined both sides of the street. Pedestrian traffic was modest, but mostly on the shop-side of the street.

I removed my heels before walking to the railing. Facing the river I remembered the image I'd had back in the clothing store, of myself leaning over a rail, and couldn't resist. I took a small step back. There was a sort of curb that ran below the rail, concrete and about six inches high with occasional iron gratings here and there just like you see along a street. I put my right foot on it and leaned forward, keeping my back straight. I placed my forearms along the top railing with my heels dangling loosely from my fingers. I knew I was exposed now, though I estimated anyone across the street would be too far away to be a problem. For now there was no one close by on the river side.

Looking across the river, which was rather wide, I could see the lights of the downtown area. Artificial light in every color imaginable danced on the water in chaotic mimicry of the electric jungle, and a gentle breeze played with my hair, teased my dress, and caressed my moist sex like a lover. In a different mood, I would have found all this intensely romantic, and indeed I felt a certain peace in my surroundings. But I was sinking into a more primal frame of mind. I felt myself separated from the "safety" of civilization so close, yet unreachable across the river. I was vulnerable and feeling disconnected. It seemed I was completely alone. My mind drifted.

The railing put me in mind of a bar in a dance studio, and I floated along on thoughts of dancing. My eyes were closed, and I stood up straight, held the rail in my hands and leaned back, stretching. Ah, it felt good. I moved forward against the rail, gazing across the river, rhythmically bouncing my belly gently off of the rail in time to the music in my head. It was for an old dance routine from my youth.

I was running the movements in my mind. I began little mimicry steps, a shadow of the dance. A little lunge forward, little steps back, a small lean to the right, then the dramatic plunge to the left. In preparation for that I had placed both hands on the railing. When it came to that moment, I flicked my left foot up onto the curb, my back very straight and my eyes looking off to my left. Then the snap down and left, both hands sliding in opposite directions, my head coming down to rest upon my left arm, and my left leg sliding far out upon the curb as my torso lay along its length.

I was shocked back to the present by a rapid series of whistles, catcalls.

"Would you look at THAT"

"Oh my fucking GOD!"

"Come dancing with US!"

I hadn't even realized there was anyone walking on my side of the street, yet now I saw a small crowd of men not fifteen feet away. Holy crap! I was bent flat, both my shoulders were raised, and I was practically doing the splits! Without thinking I had caused my hemline to rise to... Shit, I might as well have had my dress around my waist for all the good it was doing in that moment.

I jolted to a full standing position and turned toward them with a shocked and embarrassed look on my face. I couldn't help letting out an "Oh Shit!" as I looked out on that small crowd of men who had just seen everything I had between my legs at pretty close range. A thrill of fear shot through me as I wondered what they would do, which was followed by an almost painful tension in my belly as my pussy decided she wanted some action. I was shocked to think that, at some level anyway, a part of me wanted them to come over and take me.

What the hell was wrong with me tonight? I was honest enough to acknowledge the desire but it was quickly overridden by self-preservation. I wasn't ready for this, it was way too public, there were too many of them... I was in trouble and needed to get away now!

They had stopped and were looking at me. The comments had changed to invitations.

"Come on, gorgeous, come out with the boys tonight."

"We'll show you a good time."

"Come have some drinks."

And of course many dancing suggestions of the very lewd variety. Their mood was escalating fast.

Every woman knows you do not run. As much as you want to, as scared as you might be, you will trigger their predator instincts; it is like begging them to chase you. Muttering "Sorry," I turned and started walking as briskly as I dared in the direction opposite to where they had been headed.

They continued to call after me, but I kept going. Everything seemed balanced on a razor's edge. Finally, the deadlock amongst the men was broken as one of them firmly said, "Come on, let's go get a beer."

Several complained and expressed a desire to chase after me, but I could hear their voices moving away now. I glanced quickly back and saw they were all walking in the opposite direction.

As the tension finally eased, I laughed quietly, nervously to myself. The thrill of the adrenaline rush was just beginning to fade, but there was another powerful sensation right below it. Arousal. Wanton, uninhibited lust. I couldn't accept that. I had been in real danger, maybe I even came close to rape. It was outrageous to think that was responsible for my state of mind. But my subconscious kept forcing images of myself naked, held spread-eagled and bent over the railing, being fucked hard to the catcalls and encouragements of a growing crowd of men, all waiting their turns with their cocks in their hands... and I was moaning in ecstasy!

No! But my pussy kicked into overdrive. My fantasy images were pushing me so close to an orgasm as my breath became labored, and not from the exertion of walking so fast. My swollen lips rubbed against themselves and even my clit was stimulated by the motion of my legs. My erotic thoughts all evening combined with my flashing had my imagination in full flight, and now the fright by the river had broken my control and left my fantasies to run wild in my conscious mind.

I saw a side street to my right and crossed the riverside avenue, heading away from what few people were walking around here. Finally I couldn't stand it. Half leaning, half crouching in a dark and dirty recessed doorway, I spread my legs as wide as I could, dropped my shoes, and reached down.

As my hand touched my clit, the jolt of sensation made me jump and draw my breath in sharply. I could feel my pussy throbbing as my fingertips slipped over my lips then buried themselves deeply. Immediately Frantically I thrust three fingers into myself while my thumb thrummed over my clit. My breath exploded from my lungs then I gasped in a new lungful and held it. Explode and gasp. Faster. Faster. I threw my head back, my mouth opened in a silent scream. Closer, closer, until finally my orgasm burst forth, I wailed to the night, and the world vanished in a red haze of release.

I must have been a sight. There I was, covered in a light sheen of sweat in a doorway that afforded me little protection from view of the street. Yet I stood there utterly exposed and wanton. My feet more than three feet apart. My already short dress clutched to my navel in one hand, the other hand glistening wet, hanging limply at my side. My breasts heaving wildly as I tried to catch my breath. My head still thrown back and my mouth open.

Eventually, I regained enough composure to think of adjusting myself. I closed my mouth, too. With my left hand (the dry one) I got a wipe out of my purse (handy things) and cleaned my right hand, then thighs and pussy. Not a lot I could do about the latter since it was still throbbing with need and very wet, but the wipes had a cooling effect on my inflamed lips.

My mind reeled over my behavior, my thoughts, my responses. I had to admit to myself that I was actually fantasizing about being forced by those men. I understood I had been working myself up all day and I suppose I expected something extraordinary to happen. But the direction and raw power it just took shook me to my core. I determined to pull myself together, go to the hotel, and think about all this tomorrow.

Still feeling shaky, I put my shoes back on and started walking again. I didn't want to return to the boardwalk just yet so I continued up the street a little more, then turned left into a much smaller lane. My debauchery in the doorway had taken the edge off, but I was still in a heightened state of need. My mind was occupied with the overwhelming rush of experiences I'd had today when I saw a man loitering just ahead on the same side of the street.

There was a light mounted high on the wall across the lane from him, with a cheap, weak bulb burning naked while moths flirted with its heat. Below the light was a dirty set of three concrete steps leading to a battered, nondescript door. I could faintly hear the beat of music and guessed it was a club of some sort. An alley disappeared into the darkness right beside the club, and I could just make out two men in the shadows who seemed to be talking quietly.

Looking ahead again, the guy standing alone did not appear to be with those guys, but he was watching me approach. Of course, I moved to the edge of the broken sidewalk as I neared and kept a wary eye on him without appearing to look. I don't know if my need was coloring my sight, but when I took a peek at this guy as I passed, I almost stopped in my tracks. He was like a carved slab of granite! I mean, he was muscular, so very muscular, but not like a body builder. Not the classic bulges, and narrow waist, and exaggerated lats, and so on. Ugh, how to describe him!? There was something so utterly primal about him. His arms looked so hard that if you swung an iron bar at him it would go "ting" and bounce off.

Now I'm not a girl whose biological clock is ticking. I suspect the spring is broken or something, but whatever I just have no nesting instinct. I do however have a very functional mating instinct, and that was screaming EUREKA!

Somehow, I managed to keep moving past him, but my labia were still rubbing together, my pussy was still slick, and my baser instincts were going nuts to be let out.

What chance did my sensible side have?

Just twenty feet past him on the same side of the street, another alley ran into darkness, though I caught a glimpse of light near the end. I looked on ahead and tried, I really did, to keep going, but I stopped. I stood still except for the subtle trembling of my over-stressed nerves. I just froze for a suspended moment, then turned. He was watching me intently, and even this far away I could see the base hunger in his eyes change to a predatory alertness. The whole evening so far seemed to have conspired to rob me of a single shred of resistance.

One man was something I understood, a comfort zone to which I could cling. Dark alley be damned. My heart hammering, I started walking back towards him. Slower than before. I am very aware of the effect of my golden eyes and black hair. It is a vanity that I compare the image to a panther, and I do move with a feline grace. It is a fluid tension invoking a certain grace of movement, controlled yet also free, at once relaxed but also with a promise of explosive violence just below the surface.

My need was overwhelming me; it was a clear "come fuck me" look I gave to this tall, human rock as I backtracked to the alley and without pause turned and walked down it, keeping my gaze fully on his face till the brick wall he was leaning against obscured my view.

A few heartbeats, then I could hear his steps pacing me. I could feel his eyes burning into me, watching my toned ass, naked legs, bared back and swinging hips. My legs quivered so badly I feared they'd give out!

As I walked on I could see a chain-link fence ahead of me. It wasn't blocking the alley but rather appeared to enclose a lot behind the buildings. I could just make out the lights of the city through the branches of a tree and remnants of a brick building that still had some sections standing. Nearing the fence, I saw to my right just the flat, featureless expanse of the back wall of that building running into darkness, but to my left, the near wall ended a little short, ran for about ten feet, then again ran towards the fence to the same line as the other building. Then it, too, disappeared from view.

This odd feature presented me with a little corner in which I saw some old pipes and a kind of heavy wood shelf at a 45-degree angle to the walls. It looked to be the perfect height for a lascivious encounter, and the closer pipes in both walls would give me somewhere to put my feet. I almost lost my legs right there as the image inundated my mind, but managed to stay upright long enough to reach my goal. As a bonus, someone had taken advantage of the empty lot and erected a massive billboard high up on the wall. To my delight the flood lights were not mounted directly below it, but rather were on the ground inside metal cages. One of which shone rather well into "my corner."

I reached the corner and slowly slid my purse strap off my shoulder, hanging it on a convenient, rusty stub of pipe protruding from the wall. Then I turned around. The guy also stopped, letting his gaze sweep slowly over my body. I checked him out, too, though the light made it hard to see. He wore a leather vest, white wife-beater, jeans and boots. From the street, I remembered his hair was brown. His shaven face, like everything else about him, looked carved from stone. I mean, it was expressive even though I got the impression this was a man who routinely hid his emotions, but it just looked like breaking a brick across his nose would only piss him off.

Then he moved. Slowly, very slowly towards me until he was so close I could feel the intense heat of his body. Hell, he was like a radiator. Up close I got a good idea of his height, maybe 6' 3". He grasped my wrists and moved my arms out from my body, then to shoulder height, and finally straight up in the air. He let his hands slip partway down my arms until he stepped back, leaving me in that position. He took a few more steps back, towards the light this time, then shifted slightly to his left to let the flood light illuminate me. It was bright enough so that I could only make out his silhouette, while he could see me plainly, including my now-revealed pussy.

"Turn around."

The first sound of his rich, rather deep voice startled me. I did as he said, keeping my arms in the air, and slowly shifted my feet till I was facing into the corner. He was taking his time, and his control surprised me. I had expected, in fact was vaguely concerned, that he'd just tear my dress off and take me. An extremely exciting thought to me at present, though the problem of the destroyed dress would be difficult to resolve.

"Bend over, lie on the table, and spread your legs."

His command sent shivers through me. I think I was becoming addicted to that wicked sensation I felt when exposing myself "inappropriately." Once prone on the bench, I inched my feet out, a little at a time, first one then the other, then a little more, just a little wider, teasing both of us. When I was spread as far as I could manage, I rotated my hips, thrusting my sex backwards, into the light, and into his view.

He left me in this position for quite a long time. I was feeling a powerful urge to look over my shoulder, but I resisted for some reason. An instinct told me he wanted me to keep still, but I was going to scream if he didn't fuck me soon!

"Good," he said, seeming to acknowledge I was being obedient. Another, shorter pause, then, "stand up, then turn and face me."

I did that, feeling very pleased with myself for guessing right. My arms were down at my sides now, and I was a little surprised when he stepped forward and raised them again instead of telling me to do it. Then his hands trailed down and stayed in contact with my body, lingering around my breasts, then drifting further down, stroking my thighs, then coming back up, hooking the hem of my dress as they came.

Still very slowly, I felt his hands brushing along my sides as his thumbs retained control of my dress, sliding it up higher and higher, over my hips, his hands just brushing the edges of my breasts as my dress caught very briefly on my nipples, then suddenly jumped past. On past my shoulders, then sort of blindfolding me.

He paused at this point.

I was naked, under his complete control, and blind. I was panting with need and a little scared. Then he kissed me. Nothing soft, or sweet. He simply lifted my dress just enough to expose my mouth then pushed hard with his lips against mine. It was a bruising, harsh, hungry, demanding kiss. Not clumsy at all, simply insistent, hard, taking with or without consent. I melted into it. I couldn't keep my knees locked and I started slipping down, but his hands already resting on my arms clenched suddenly like iron shackles.

He lifted me slightly back to my original position, seeming to use no more effort than I might expend holding a pillow aloft. I felt helplessness, joy, surrender, lust. "DAMN IT, FUCK ME!" I screamed in my mind as I whimpered and moaned into his mouth. I was completely out of control.

He broke the kiss and completed lifting my dress off my body. Then he did the oddest thing. He removed his vest without putting my dress down. He spread the leather over a rusty, dirty 44-gallon drum standing upright close by, then carefully placed my dress on top of it.

The unexpected act of courtesy seemed so out of place, and I thought, "You find chivalry in the strangest places and circumstances."

I kept my arms raised, and once more he moved to a spot several feet away and just looked at me, standing naked in an alley under a spot light while a total stranger inspected me. My body was humming with desire! This time he soon returned, and began to explore my body with his hands. He told me to part my legs. I did, relishing the feel of his fingers against my pussy. Like his kiss, his exploration was harsh, not quite painful, but brooking no rejection or delay. I locked my arms around his neck and hung on desperately for support. I was utterly in his control, and we both knew it. What's more, I accepted it. Wanted, needed it! I felt his need, his demand, and it resonated deep inside me, and enfolded me, trapped me. I was lost to him.

Abruptly he lifted me onto the platform, seated me on the edge. His lifted my left leg and pushed it away, guiding my foot to a short section of protruding pipe. He did the same with my right, finding a section of broken plumbing to wedge my foot into.

Now my legs were spread very wide, my knees back and high.

"Lay back on your elbows, throw your head back, and arch your back" he commanded next.

First glancing behind me to check my clearance to the wall, I complied and noted I could lie down flat without fear of hitting my head on the wall, even while being violently fucked, as I was sure I would soon be. The wooden surface did not extend that far, however, and if I did lay back completely, my head would be unsupported.

He was quietly, patiently observing me, my vulnerability and exposure striking more chords deep within my sexual id. My urgency for his body was driving me to the edge of control and beyond. I was about to do something, anything, to relieve myself, when I finally heard him move. He seemed to be very close to me as I heard the telltales of a man undressing. The sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt. The sound boots make as they are pulled roughly off of feet. At last. Yes, yes, yes, YES!