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The chain-link fence March 3, 2011

Posted by Leah in D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Masturbation, Public, Repeated hookups.
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About a month ago, I suggested to Amadeo that when the weather warms slightly, the two of us should play in public. Even a brief session outside, with the risk of being caught in flagrante delicto appeals to me. There’s a sordid danger to the act. There’s the fear of discovery. I don’t want to be seen. But I get off on the possibility. It’s an illicit thrill — to get away with being dirty in places where one ought to behave with propriety. Given the ubiquity of closed circuit television cameras in London, a quickie encounter has an added peril.

I received an e-mail from Amadeo two evenings ago in which he outlined a scenario for us. Though he allowed a winter coat in acknowledgement of the weather, he wanted me to wear a dress short enough to ensure easy access to my pussy. He specified no stockings. I took care to shave my legs in the morning and brought the outfit to the office. After my workout in the gym, I showered and changed.

The winter jacket reached to my knees. The leopard print minidress I had worn stopped halfway up my thigh. I liked the bracing rush of air that spiraled between my legs as I descended into the arteries of the London underground.

Amadeo and I ate at an excellent Italian restaurant. (He is finicky about the cuisine of the country of his birth.) The waiter stood behind me when we ordered. Following the scoop of my dress, his eyes nestled in my cleavage. Amadeo’s amusement at how conspicuous he was found a mirror in my smile. We lingered over wine until 10 pm. Then it was time to go.

We drove north of High Barnet, beyond the terminus of the Northern line, and wended through narrow streets. Standalone houses replaced the apartment buildings of the interior of the city. After several minutes of seemingly aimless driving, Amadeo circled around a block and then doubled back. He parked the car and told me to bring the bag in the back seat. The side street we had stopped on was deserted: there were a handful of cars parked on the side of the road and no pedestrians at all. The streetlamps offered only a dim illumination to the setting. The buildings around us were dark. They looked to be abandoned. A hundred meter metal fence marked the boundaries of an asphalt lot. I surveyed the length of the street and didn’t see cameras.

Amadeo took the bag from me.

I removed my coat.

“You will be cold,” he said.

I shrugged and threw it over the trunk of his car.

“I am going to cuff you to the fence.”

He sent me to my knees, brought my arms up above my head, and secured the wrists with handcuffs to the chain-link fence. He pressed his fingers to my lips and had me open my mouth. The fingertips skated along the row of teeth. He stretched them over the tongue. He scissored them apart to widen the maw. The fingers spun inside. I forced saliva between them. I bobbed my head as though I were sucking his cock.

Amadeo brought the penis out of his pants. He hadn’t worn underwear and was most of the way erect. The eye of the glans peeked through the foreskin. The fingers made a circle around the thickening shaft and exposed the head.

I glanced all around me. Amadeo and I were still alone. I was aware of the goose pimples on my thighs and exposed forearms. I could see my breath.

The metal was cold against my back. Suppressing the impulse to shiver, I focused my attention on his prick. I licked my lips and waited. A jolt of electricity raced up my spine as I contemplated what we were about to do.

When he gave me the cock, I took it down halfway without a second’s hesitation. My head moved back against the fence, then forward, in the direction of his pelvis. The saliva dripped over the front part of the penis. I made slobbering noises as I sucked him.

The pressure of his hand tilted my head up and made my neck arch. The fence gave behind me as he pressed inward, the metal biting at the back of my head.

He jabbed the cock deeper into my mouth. My fingers looped through the links of the fence. I tightened my grip as I strained to accommodate the front part of the erection into my throat. I made gagging sounds.

He swore at me and bade me to throat the cock fully. I followed his instruction. The gag reflex was more pronounced than usual last night. It took an effort to comply. But I did. My lips came to a halt where the seam of the scrotum begins. My nose was buried in his pubis. I had his scent deep inside my lungs. I glanced up at Amadeo and conceded my submission with a needful look. He fucked my face for a minute or so. After that, he let me continue the blowjob at a more equal tempo. I interrupted the sucking to tongue the sides of his shaft. I accepted the knob of his penis into my throat repeatedly, surfacing for a swallow of air each time.

Amadeo took his penis from me. He used it to slap my cheek. He pressed down on my forehead and ran the shaft, which was sticky with saliva, over my cheeks and nose and then placed it between my lips. I sucked. Without my hands to help guide the movements, there was no finesse to this blowjob. He didn’t care. He had me swallow the spit that corded in thick strands on the lower part of the head. As the cock was now lubricated, I could take it deep more easily. I shook my head from side to side with the penis seated atop my tongue. The cheeks puffed up. They expanded and contracted like bellows.

He boxed the side of my face. He reached for my tits and tweaked them through the stretchy cotton fabric of the dress. He combed his fingers through my hair. The fingers dug into my scalp. All the while, he surveyed the area to make certain there was no one else present. I was constantly aware of the backdrop of the sex. It excited me to be sucking cock, chained outside, like a dog, like a bitch, like a slut. I was a mouth he had claimed for his use. I was a woman.

He pulled his cock away definitively and fished for the key in his trouser pocket. “I don’t want to come this way. I want to cream in your pussy.”

Amadeo uncuffed me and brought me to my feet. My hair caught in the fence and snagged, causing me to wince. Amadeo went to the ground. He wet the corner of a handkerchief with spit and wiped it across my knees and just below, where they had become scuffed with the dirt on the pavement. When he was satisfied, he pushed me against the fence and kissed me as though he had just returned from the wars.

I stretched my arms to the side and made a large V. He cuffed my wrists to the fence again. The dress was too short, but it was also too tight over the legs. He contended to pull it up my hips. When the dress had lifted enough to show my underwear, he shifted the panties — also leopard print — to the side and considered my cunt. The fingers slipped inside. Their presence made me groan. Amadeo wiggled them. The blowjob had left a puddle in my knickers. Now I longed to be filled with cock.

He rolled a condom on. He entered me.

I was conscious of my surroundings: the stillness of the street, the brick facade of the building across the way, Amadeo’s car parked in front of us, the long shadows on the pavement, the wintry arctic air, how the metal of the cuffs dug into my wrists, the movement of the fence at my back. I brought my knee forward and kicked my foot off the wiry mesh, drawing my thigh flush against Amadeo’s leg. The movement enhanced the angle of penetration. Amadeo yanked on my hair to jerk my head up. His hand gripped my jaw from below. He lowered his spit into my mouth. He bit my lower lip. He grunted fiercely. The fence buckled as his cock slammed into me. He came within two minutes.

I hadn’t orgasmed, but this didn’t matter. My cunt was raw. The sex had satisfied.

He inverted the condom, placed it over his index and middle fingers, and brought it to my lips. I sucked his sperm from the latex. Once he released me from my bondage, I went to my knees and mouthed his drooping penis. Before rising to my feet, I picked up the discarded Durex wrapper. “We shouldn’t pollute,” I told him, and he laughed.

The reserves of adrenaline exhausted, I shivered uncontrollably. I wrapped myself in my winter coat and, teetering on pointed heels, spun myself in a circle, taking in the neighborhood around us. Though we had been outside for barely ten minutes, the heat in the car felt heavenly.

I masturbated during the drive to Amadeo’s, leaving a pool of moisture on the seat. Whenever he could manage it, his left hand migrated from the stick shift to the space between my legs. As soon as the apartment door had shut, he sent me toppling to the floor and threw himself on top of me. The sex continued for hours.

Comments»

1. Anonymous - March 4, 2011

You, young lady, understand cadence. All was well and good until I came to this particular paragraph ending:

“I was a mouth he had claimed for his use. I was a woman.”

That did me in. I could no longer contain myself.

There are times when I think you are indeed perfect.

Leah - March 4, 2011

Thanks for the comment. I am glad you enjoyed my adventure.

2. Leah - March 10, 2011

Thanks, Fleshbot!

3. redains - March 28, 2011

He didn’t think to fuck you THROUGH the fence?
That can hurt so GOOD

Leah - March 28, 2011

The only way to get to the other side would have been to jump the fence. I will bank the other option for the future.


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