Found You...
I’m on edge.
It’s obvious to everyone on the bus—my leg is bouncing, and I keep nervously checking what stop we’re at before checking the time on my phone to see the time hasn’t changed. When it’s my time to leave I practically bounce up. I don’t think I’ve been this excited to be at a park in years.
It’s not a large park, nor is it the nicest one in the city, but that’s why we chose it.
Barely anyone comes here during the day, and even fewer wander in at sunset, which is exactly what time it is now. The game is on, and it's been on since lunch, started by you with a single word text of the same word.
On.
Just that. It's the last things I've heard from you.
We've planned this all out a week before, though I didn't know when we'd start. The anticipation has had my mind buzzing since then, waiting for just this moment as I step off from the sidewalk and wander into the small trails that littler this little park. There’s another part of our game tonight, and it has my heart pounding as I try and peer around trees which make figures out of bushes in the distance.
The trick is, I don’t know where you are.
It’s not unlike hide and seek, but somehow I feel like your both the hider and the seeker, and I'm just a piece of warm meat for you to claim. I feel seen, even though I know I'm alone out here. I can't hear footsteps, and haven't seen anyone in a half hour while the sun sets.
You know this place better than me. If you don't want me to see you, I won't see you. Despite this, I look.
Are you even here? Are you at home, warm in your bed, laughing at me for thinking you were serious about this?
Maybe you’ve decided not to show up at all…
As it gets darker, my excitement starts to morph into nerves. I chew on my cheek and head towards where the main path was behind me. Not far down the way, I notice a concrete building. The bathrooms I assume because of the dirty yellow light that has just flickered on. It's dilapidated looking, yet the sight of a building offers the vagueness sense of comfort I get from remembering there's a society outside these empty woods.
I sigh, and head in its direction.
One more pass around the park, I think, and then I’ll call before I give up entirely.
I wander closer to the bathrooms, my eyes wide and searching. But I’m so focused on my task I don’t hear you sneak up from behind me. Your footsteps are a soft, fast noise, but not one that sounds much different from the wind or a squirrel settling down for the night.
I feel your presence once your right behind me though, but before I can turn and scream, your hand is over my mouth and you drag me into the men’s bathroom. The fat click of the lock snaps me out of my shock and I finally start to struggle, the few self-defense tactics I know coming back to mind.
The terror, though, is realizing that I can't get away. Even if I tried my hardest. I really fight now, though it seems futile, until I'm rendered practically immobile.
“Shh, shh, shh." Your arms have locked me tight against your chest and your voice is huffed. "It’s me.”
It takes a second as I recognize your voice and the sound of your grunts, they my shoulders visibly relax into your chest. The loud sounds of my attempts to scream turn into giggles of relief. My first thought, I was so relieved you decided to come, and my second saved for savoring the thrill of actually being caught. But with a gasp when you roughly grab my breasts I remember that our game is far from over.
Your hand slips under my shirt, moving under my bra to paw at what you’ve caught, and my head rolls back. Your teeth run along my neck once, making my shiver, before you start to bite and mark my skin with your mouth. It’s a distraction. The hand that was kneading my ass starts to roughly pull my pants down. Then my underwear. Then your rubbing me, your pace harsh and demanding, and my moan is a shuddering breath.
“Look how wet you are…” You condescend in a low voice, “I knew you were my little slut, but really?”
“I’m—ohH!” My answer is broken by your finger slipping into me and you add the second too quickly and I’m forced to stretch.
I can feel your hard-on trying to press into me through your pants, and I arch to grind into you. You grunt, your hand slapping my ass as you decided there I don’t need any more teasing.
“Bend over.” You order, “Put your hands on the wall.”
It looks filthy, so I hesitate. But I want to get fucked more than I care about the grimy bathroom wall or the fact there’s a public urinal not two feet from my face. You slap my ass enough to sting and I take the hint.
Unable to hold back all my disgust, I touch the wall, I even bend over, but not as much as you wanted. Your hips press my whole body closer to the wall, until my cheek and forearms are pressed against it and my nails get dirt and crusty filth under them as you enter me.
It’s a good stretch, and it’s better than your fingers—certainly better than mine.
“Fuck!” We sigh together when you’re in and you start to fuck me properly.
We’re nothing but moans, and I’m whining as you reach around and grab my tits to squeeze and pull at my nipples. But you grow tired of it, and your pulling my hair so you can see my lust filled face as my eyes roll back. You kiss and bite at all the skin you can and I’ll trace my fingers over the marks when I’m alone later and think about your cock.
“Do you want me to cum in you? Do you want my cum?” I moan, but you want more, “Answer me.”
“Yes, I want it.” I manage.
“Do you want me to fill you like the good little breeder you are?”
I hiccup with pleasure, “Yes!”
“Then say the name of the man you want to breed you.” You grunt, “Say it.”
“Please!” I finally beg your name in a muffled voice, “I need you!”
And I do. Who else comes up with such fun games?
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