The Bridge (2 page)

We talked. Someone else might have rushed to
sex, but he knew I needed death more than sex, although I think his
motives were more to stop my death than to hasten it.

Cold chills rolled down my spine when he
licked my ear. I usually hated that, but his tongue was so
preciously soft, I couldn’t help but love what he was doing. The
slow rush of his breath on the dampness ignited a small flame in my
passionate zone. Rolling a few sweet words in my ear was all he had
to do to make me collapse onto my back, pulling him down with me.
Curling my fingers in his hair, I found myself too involved to care
what happened next.

Smoother than ice cream, he slid his hand
under my shirt. I wondered if he would unhook my bra and release my
tits to his waiting lips. Nimble as cat paws, he followed my straps
to the clasp. A sudden flick of his fingers released the clasp. A
couple of tugs at the straps freed the weight of my breasts to fall
from the cups.

He smelled of the salt air from the salt
marshes around the bridge. I had spent lots of time leaning against
the rails in the evenings after the rains and often I could
distinguish a faint hint of salt air in my clothes. He must have
been there for hours. Drinking in the aroma made me feel at home
with him. How could anyone not trust a man who smelled of seaweed
and salt air?

His gentle touch along the globes of my
breasts delivered what he knew I desired, an uncontrollable urge to
kiss him. And kiss him I did. Long, deep and sensuous kisses passed
between us, first deep in his mouth and then to mine. I loved the
almost perfect motions of our tongues with each other as if we had
practiced this for months.

He must not have noticed the difference in
the sizes of my boobs, for clearly, my left was bigger than my
right, a point that becomes more noticeable when they are excited.
The only thing more embarrassing would have been for him to
discover just how wet my pussy was from only kissing. My panties
were soaked from his touch.

It had been a year since a man looked at me
this way. First the old guys stopped hitting on me when I gained a
few pounds. Then the ugly guys found other women as I aged
gracefully. Soon, I was left alone to find satisfaction wherever I
could. In the darkened streets dividing the worlds of normal and
insanity, one can never be sure where their next fuck will come
from.

Fuck. Such an ugly word for the pleasures a
woman can give a man. She can make his world wonderful for a few
minutes. There never is anything else that makes a man so happy as
the single pleasure a woman gives him with her body.

By the time I realized we were being
intimate, he already had run a finger across the lips of my cunt.
The audible slushing sounds shook me from my daydream to the
realization that he was rubbing my g-spot so perfectly that if I
didn’t do something quickly I would come in an embarrassing torrent
of pussy juices and screams.

The wind blew the brine smell of rotten fish
across my nostrils. The morbid taste of his breath dissolved into
the acrid fumes of the sea. Still, I couldn’t break the manifest
power of his grip on my pussy. My senses were awakening like a
flower opening in the morning sun. I felt every single pebble under
my back as I squirmed beneath his talents. The sounds of lapping
water on the shore kept time with his thrusts as I listened for the
passing of another boat under the bridge.

I laid back against the concrete, resting my
head on the grassy patch growing up between the seams. He followed
my motions, never releasing his lips from mine. The dark shadows
caused by the passing cars overhead on the bridge danced across the
retaining walls on the other side of the river. It was a sensual
distraction away from the fear I was experiencing with such close
contact with a man I met while standing by the rails of a
bridge.

Some looked like bodies intertwined in lust.
Other shadows resembled a murder scene. I could still feel the
utter hopelessness that led me to the bridge being part of my
salvation, but clearly the shadows were playing my life in black
and white.

The first moan escaped my lips. A subtle slip
of my tongue let the first hint of passion leave my body. Fighting
to stop the mounting pressure to scream and thrash about wildly
caused my legs to a spasm. I couldn’t release the muscles without
releasing my sexual secret. He would have to work harder than this
to have me make such a spectacle of myself.

Harder he did. Invigorated by my slip, he
delved slightly deeper, allowing his thumb to come to rest on my
clit. The static charge between this man and my clit jolted my
spine with a wave of pure ecstacy. Greater moaning forced his lips
from mine and allowed me to breathe deeply.

Under the illusion I was still in control of
my body, I sighed in simple relief when he moved from my face to my
chest. Breasts have never been a big deal to me. My nipples usually
are too sensitive to be of use in any sexual manner. One gentle
lick released his dogged force and I could stop the tide of orgasm
rising in my body. I welcomed his lips to my nipples with a smile
on my face.

The bite hurt; it hurt so good I couldn’t
believe I had missed this all my life. He gripped by breast with
his teeth sinking in my nipple, stretching the whole of my breast
with his mouth as he pulled away from my body.

This fickle man knew my secrets. He knew the
lustful remnants of ecstacy buried in my body so deep I didn’t know
they existed. How he knew mystified me. Could he have seen me in
some other world? Were we lovers in a previous life? The questions
bounced around my mind and distracted me so much that his lips
touching my clit startled me.

The tongue that started this whole chain
delved into my most sacred place. I couldn’t stop the short,
staccato breaths, the only air feeding my lungs. The more I wanted
to breathe, the quicker he licked, keeping my breath in time with
his stokes.

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.