A Night in a Year: 21. Wall

[jacquelineb]

Who grabs who, she cannot tell. Only that they are tripping and sliding to get to the narrow alley, to sidle down it so their limbs don’t fall over the edge and into the main passage. They might be heard, but they might avoid being seen. She isn’t sure how she feels about being seen, and when he smashes against her, her mouth meeting his – hungry, thick – she stops caring about anything but that she’s about to fuck.

They wrap to each other. She lets her back fall against the wall. There is only a slight impact as his arms brace her. One hand is across her arse, holding it like he’s squeezing fruit. Their mouths are all lips and teeth, biting, almost snarling. Then he dips, and is at her neck.

His teeth are smoothly savage, his stubble rough, brushing her freshly cleaned skin. She grits her teeth, takes on the harsh rub of it, let’s it corrode her.

She clutches the leather jacket at his shoulders, bunches the material in her hands. Her throat is increasing exposure as he nips and bites and rubs, the sensation shooting straight between her legs, exciting her clit. She keeps her legs pressed together; the sticky wetness will run down if she does not.

Them, swiftly, his face is in her cleavage. His hands leave her back, so she is fully against the brick, the light rough edge now pressing against her shoulders. She doesn’t mind, for his fingers coax back the lines of her dress, and he cups her tit as her nipple is revealed. His mouth descends, and the rapid, ferocious sucks he plants there make her cry out, one hand flying to her mouth. He’s so fast, so quick at this, he’s making her come undone.

The loss of control is delicious.

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Next: 22. Preparation

Image found on flickr, by Rob Young, used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.