Thick

"Please fuck me, Sir. Fuck me hard."

That seems to do the trick because, unlike most other times, you immediately comply. The first thrust takes my breath away. I'm so wet you are able to bury yourself to the hilt. "Oh, baby," you moan. Your arms are a protective cage on either side of me and your face is right next to mine. I turn my head and kiss you, sucking your tongue. This time, the tears wetting my cheeks are not mine. We stay still like this for a few moments, your penis slowly, rhythmically throbbing inside me.

I can't take it anymore. I start to try to move up and down your length but you've got me sandwiched tightly between your bulk and the railing. Sweat from your forehead drips onto the swell of my breast causing me to shiver. The air is so murky I can barely manage to gasp as you finally withdraw almost all the way and then with the skill of a master begin long, deep, even strokes in and out of me.

My moans become subdued in the onslaught of sensation and the only sounds now are the cars zooming past us and our breath. It is a tantalizingly slow fuck but so deep. Time stops and the world dwindles. There is only your cock and my cunt. Every thrust is alchemical combustion and soon I can't tell where you begin and I end.

I squeeze around your shaft and your breath catches. A stray summer breeze flits over us. My legs are jelly and quivering by the time you increase your pace. I can feel that you won't be long and I contract my muscles around you more. I realize I am moaning your name like a mantra. "Wolfe"... gasp ..."Wolfe"... gasp.

I know your thrusts are visible now and I don't care if anyone sees and that's driving me over the edge. I'm grasping the railing and driving my pussy back onto you with each thrust.

"Come, baby. Come for me," you grunt pleadingly. I can't refuse a request like that. I come hard, shaking and trying not to fall over as you spurt deep inside me. I don't think I can contain all the semen you pump into me. It feels like we are coming forever.

As the night sounds and smells begin to reemerge into our consciousnesses you kiss my neck and shoulders until we regain control of our limbs again. After you slide out of me and zip back up you use some tissues to gently clean me up.

You are smiling as I turn around to face you. I am smiling, too, after two years, but it is a different kind of smile from the puppy joy of before and yours now. Mine is a little more like a wolf.

The slap seems to shock us both. My palm stings. I can feel my cheeks turning red and my eyes burning hot into yours. "Fuck you, Wolfe." I swear that's not my voice. It's low and growling, predatory and dangerous. Not submissive at all. But Little Red has learned so much in two years. I own my own bookstore; I have friends and family who love me. I like who I am. I love my life. You will never consume me, again. You will never be my totality, again. I will never let you treat me that badly, again.

And it's obvious to me that that it's your heart's desire because when you kneel in front of me with your head bowed and hands in your lap I know you won't. I run my fingers through your hair. I think we can make this work this time. "Welcome back, Wolfie," I whisper as I pull you to your feet, kiss you, and lead you across the bridge into the sticky city night.