Between a Coc and a Hard Place

The chill nips at your bare skin, just as eager to get at your body as the fingers currently sliding under your sweater. You gasp as he finds one sensitive nipple and begins to toy with it. He's heavy and warm against your back, a contrast to the frigid brick wall you've been pressed against.

It's cold out, snow and slush soaking your sneakers and the edges of your pants. Mac is sucking kisses into the back of your neck, leaving patches of spit that turn icy on your skin. You can feel the tent of his pants rubbing against your backside, hard and insistent and silently begging for more. The hand that isn't wringing pleasure from your chest slides down to tease the waistband of your pants.

Distantly you hear someone walking on the salted sidewalk, heels clicking. If they were to look into the alley, would they see you? Would they see your red-flushed face, disheveled hair? The way Mac is fondling you like his life depends on it and just how into it you are? Or would they be oblivious to the

The thought turns you on more than you care to admit and you let out a pitiful whine against the brick wall. Mac's fingers push under the fabric and find your dick, already heavy with arousal. His fingertips are cold and you flinch as they wrap around you. Mac is breathing heavy against your neck now, his hips rutting insistently.

He's getting loud enough that you're legitimately worried someone will see you both. Not that you're much better, moaning as he jacks you off and shoves you further against the bricks. Your cock jerks in his hand and he mumbles something about how hot you are, how much he wants to fuck you. His hand leaves your nipple and suddenly your pants are being unbuttoned. It's clumsy and fumbling but finally he manages and your ass is bared to the world. Your cock is kept somewhat safe from the chill by the loose grip of his hand.

You can hear him struggling with his sweatpants but you can tell he finally manages to get his dick out because it slides between your cheeks and rubs up against your hole. You're about to protest and tell him there's no way in hell he's going in dry but he doesn't try it. The words die on your lips before you can say them.

Instead, he squeezes your body and fucks up against you like a horny dog would hump someone's leg. You take up where he left off and wrap a gloved hand around your dick. It's like fucking a blanket, not the best but you'd rather get off with the glove than have your fingers freeze.

It's a little hard to breathe with how tightly he's holding you but you still manage shaky, moaning breaths anyway. Your sounds of pleasure come out in a cloud of condensation. He's grunting and panting into your back, his dick a hot, hard line along your back.

There's more footsteps, a whole group this time.

You can hear them walking and chatting drunkenly over the rushing of blood in your ears. If Mac can hear them, he doesn't seem to care. He's close, you can tell. He's been dribbling precum on your ass for the last minute and he's got you so tight against the wall you couldn't move if you wanted to.

They pause, there's some discussion about pissing and an argument about just going back into the bar and a pair of feet leave. The shadow of the building hides you both but you can see the illuminated figures of the rest of the group shuffling away from the entrance. You catch someone's eye and watch him quickly turn his head, surely feeling some embarrassment at catching you two in the act. You can't bring yourself to feel embarrassed. The heat that's been steadily coiling in your belly reaches its boiling point. You bite your lip so hard that you feel the skin split and slap your other hand over your mouth in a last ditch effort to stay quiet. It doesn't work.

You keen loudly as you spill over your hand and paint the wall white with cum. Beneath the flutter of your eyelids you can see you've garnered more attention and it makes you shake in Mac's grip as your orgasm tears through you, urged onward by the stares of your unwitting voyeurs. It leaves you whimpering and shaking on trembling legs. You're glad for Mac and the wall because you would surely fall otherwise.

Speaking of Mac, he's gotten louder still, his desperate humping turning uncoordinated. He groans into your sweater, huffing drunken comments about how he's so close, how he's going to blow his load all over your little librarian outfit and make you look so dirty. You roll your eyes but encourage him anyway. The group has mostly moved on, save for a few who seem incredibly interested in the way he's rutting against you.

You feel his legs tense against your own and he holds you in a vice grip against his chest as he begins to come, his spend hot on your chilled skin and soaking into your sweater. He bites down on your sweater and keeps humping until his dick is satisfied. Belatedly you chuckle at how much he really is like a dog.

Mac lays against you for a short while before you push back and start trying to pull your pants up. It's hard, trying not to get tacky jizz on your jeans as you make yourself look presentable enough for a cab. The sweater's a lost cause. You're almost tempted to make him give you his jacket. He's bigger, he can handle the cold. He's slow to cover himself up and you end up taking the lead there to at least get you two out of the cold.

You fix his sweatpants and lead him out of the alley, trying to make it look like you came out of the building next door in case anyone outside the bar decides to pay any attention to you. After a few minutes you manage to hail a cab and silently apologize for the mess you're no doubt making of the seat. You're making him pay the dry cleaning bill for the sweater.