Stomping Ground

Hi everyone,

Literotica has been amazingly supportive of my writing efforts thus far. Thank you -so- much!

I wrote this piece in one sitting. It is a fictional work and, yes, the girl that I'm writing about does read these.

I was thinking that I'd like to continue this story, but there are a number of directions our adventure could go. So make sure to tell me what you'd like to see happen next!

Kisses and other such things, -mostlyintact

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"This is crazy," I hiss. Each syllable is punctuated by the soft thump of my running shoes. The noise cutting distinctly and clearly through the still night air.

"But fun!" you laugh, pulling ahead of me and spinning, arms outstretched. I do wish you would be quieter, but watching you twirl naked through the moonlight makes me glad to be here.

You fall back in step with me. Your perky breasts bounce with you strides and rise and fall with you labored breathing. They are pale, like the rest of you, outlined clearly and perfectly against the black of the night. Except for two dark spots where I know your cute pink running shoes to be. I make a mental note to tip Mr. Moonbeam next time I get the chance.

I can see you sneaking sidelong glances at me. I'm wearing a sports bra, to prevent my larger boobs bringing me agonizing pain with every step, but you don't seem to mind. Judging by your gaze, you're more of an ass-woman. This is fine by me. I am proud of my butt. The way it flexes with each upward thrust. The way it bounces just the right amount every time I make new contact with the pavement. These midnight runs, I can only imagine, will make it even better.

"We're here." you tell me, pulling my mind from that blank state of zen which running so quickly brings to me.

I look about. We are on the outskirts of the park, a planted row of trees shields us from casual eyes. But only a little. The night remains our true defense. In this artificial glade, about five paces from the asphalt, is a statue. A marble man on a marble chair, arms thrown casually over its back, head cocked sideways; judging.

"Swing Vote," I read off the little metal plaque in front of the statue.

When you don't respond I turn around, and you give me a guilty smile. We both laugh, realizing you were too distracted by my bending over to hear what I'd said.

You tell me to wait and scamper off. Now it's my turn to watch your butt. You pull yourself gracefully into the lower branches of one of the trees -more interesting angles- and retrieve a small brown paper bundle.

I am confused, and a little concerned. But I don't think it's drugs. Despite the newness of our sexual relationship, we've been friends for years, and I've never known you to do anything more then drink.

Your smile, outlined in bold in this dim light, tells me what the parcel contains even before you unwrap it and waggle its contents in my face.

"No fucking way!"

"Yes fucking way!" you tell me happily, slapping the white silicone cock against me cheek. And dancing over to the quiet marble statue. In your other hand I see your white leather harness. I follow you, dumbfounded.

There is some muttering and cursing as you fit the stone man with your toy. But I am, of course, watching you more then I am listening. And I suspect you know, as you drop a buckle for the third time. Your pussy, peaking out from between your asscheeks, shimmers teasingly in the moonlight and you bend over to grab the errant strand. You're wet.

Eventually you stop teasing me and fasten the dildo tightly into the harness. In the dim light the marble man and the white silicone penis look fused, a complete being. You beckon me forward to kneel between the marble man's legs. Like the good girl I am, I comply.

Looking up at the statue I am struck by the emotions captured in the carved face. He is clearly weighing great and powerful options, yet seems confident that he will arrive at the right decision. His majesty -for that is the correct term- reminds me how exposed we are out here, it makes my ears twitch at every cricket chirp and my stomach knot with a nervous thrill. He is the kind of man who's cock I'd like to suck.

"Do it!" you whisper in my ear, and I lean forward to envelope the silicone penis with my mouth.

I support myself with my hands on the statue's thighs. This man will not buck excitedly underneath me as I press him to the back of my throat, and so I use no protective hand at the base of his cock. It is only my mouth, my lips, my throat, my tongue and his rapidly warming penis.

I delight in you watching me. And find myself inspired by a desire to impress you. Your hand, gentle but firm on the back of my head, encourages me. To my own amazement I find my lips pressed against the soft leather of the harness, and you hold me there. My eyes, though they can see nothing but the leather and stone before me, are wide.

Lips tickle at the back of my neck, teeth nibble at my earlobe, the sensations taunt my gag reflex. But I persevere, the silicone penis inside of me feels like it belongs.

"Would you like to ride him?" you ask me, still pressing my head to his crotch.

It is a silly question. The vibrations of my "mh-hm!" transfer from the back of my throat, through the silicone invader, and finally to my outer lips. They feel like a static shock.

"Good girl." You coo to me, letting me expel the invader. I do so slowly, sucking and dragging my tongue against its underside, imagining that the stature creaks and groans with pleasure. The sillicone dick glitters with my saliva.

My own desire quickly takes hold. The inanimate blow job has left me with a wetness of my own, so I quickly straddle the statue, thighs gripping his torso, arms around his neck for balance. But you stop me before I can do more then tickle my opening with the waiting cock.

"Hold on. Cock ring." I groan with anticipation as a tiny electric hum emerges from the statue's groin. I feel you touch the tip of the enhanced dildo to my lips, and I can already sense the vibrations whispering up from the rubbery ring at its base.

You have a gift for picking out dildos. This is the perfect size.

Though the silicone member and I are both slick as can be, and though your hand acts as an eager guide, I take the insertion slow. The cock stretches me to the point where I must consciously let my body stretch to accommodate each inch, but it is not so thick that I am concerned I will hurt myself. I clamp my thighs around the hard stone torso for leverage. His chest is cold, a sharp contrast to his well warmed penis.

As I near the base of the shaft I feel the buzzing of the ring more intensely. Little rubber nubs reach out to tease at my clit. But I am not ready for them yet. I need to pace myself.

I fuck him slow at first, almost lifting off his tip at the end of each stroke. My labia flutter, being pulled a bit into me with every down stroke and released again to the outside world with every upstroke. I know this, because you tell me. Your voice coming, unabashed, from your vantage point between the statue's legs. Knowing you are watching my parts so closely flushes me with an embarrassed heat. I makes the statue's cool skin feel delightful.

Eventually I let the shaft press all the way into me. My but hits your nose, greedily close to the action, and you squeak in surprise. But this doesn't register for me. I am grinding my clit against the cock ring with reckless abandon.

"I was enjoying the show," you tell me, a pout in your voice.

The ring's rubbery appendages flutter against my clit. They are a perfect tease to accompany the stronger reverberations of the motor deeper inside the toy.

"Sorry," I stammer. I rock back against the dildo, presenting you with a better view of my holes. But most importantly, this increases the amazing pressure on my clit.

"Good enough," you say brightly. Then you lick my asshole.

Your lick are not teasing nor probing. You simply bathe my pucker and all of the skin around it with your warm tongue. You let the cool night air chill the wet skin (watching my asshole clench tightly against the cold; I'm sure) before enthusiastically warming it again.

You will be able to tell when I cum. Not that it's a subtle thing, but I know once I orgasm you will want to change up the activity. So I try to hold it off; to loosen my pelvic muscles and just bask in the perfect pleasure of the moment. I have heard that girls can do this. I am not one of them.

With the hot rush of my orgasm, which warms me to my chilled extremities, comes a desire to be truly fucked. I disengage my sensitive clit from the ring and thrust against the dildo forcefully, timing the moment of deepest penetration with the onset of each wave of scorching bliss.

My asshole, as assholes are want to do, contracts and releases in time with the tides of my orgasm. And I shriek in surprise as your tongue uses these opportunities to dart inside. The tickling invasions send new waves of a different frequency to crash against the initial reverberations of my orgasm. The two sensations mingle and change, their new flavor encouraging my body to continue battering me with pleasure.

When I am finally finished I topple backwards, away from our marble friend. But your body is there to catch me, stiff nipples and warm breasts pressing into my back.

"You know. If you keep shouting like that someone's going to come looking for the poor girl being raped in the park."

I mumble something apologetic as you pull me backwards. The dildo, slipping wetly out of me, pops right back to attention. You smile happily, patting the bouncing bit of silicone as tough you're quite proud of it.

"Come here darling."

You position me so that I am kneeling between the statue's knees again. With the effects of my orgasm -and associated lust- wearing off, this position is a scary one. I cannot see the path behind us. I feel vulnerable here, wearing only my running shoes.

But when I look up, instigated by your sharp intake of breath, these thoughts vanish. You have straddled the statue, facing me, with your feet on his knees. The dildo, well lubricated with my juices, has just popped its flared head past the outer ring of your asshole. I stare. You smile.

I know that your ring of muscled flesh, stretching and rolling as you slowly work the marble man's cock into you, is a delightful pink color; as are your pussy and nipples. But in this light, you look monochrome, a specter in the night,

You let me watch you take the entire length of the dildo into you. Gasping in pleasure as my eyes widen. Then you reach forward and tangle your fingers into my hair. I shuffle on my knees towards you, to bury my face in your pussy.

Your sex tastes different tonight. The other times I have lapped at your juices you have tasted and smelled floral and light. Now your smell, though unmistakably you, is stronger and less diluted. The skin around your pussy, when I nibble at it, is salty. We should play after workouts more often.

Your fingers, pulling two fistfuls of my hair towards you send the clear message that you are not to be teased. I make a long stroke from the skin just above where the dildo penetrates your ass to your clit, scooping as much of your sweat wetness as I can to deposit around your clit.

Now I suckle at that bead of flesh, tilting my head to roll my lips around it without breaking the suction. You pull my hair harder. This is your method of encouragement. I tickle the soft skin below your clit with my tongue and moan in pain as you tangle your fingers deeper into my locks, it is indistinguishable from your moans of pleasure.

I am startled when you pull back from me, I can tell my your breathing that your orgasm is drawing close. But you continue to fuck the top half of the dildo rapidly, arching your back to use the statue's chest for support. One hand disentangles itself from my hair and rubs tight circles against your clit.

This hurts my feelings. A stupid, childish phrase, but it's true. I am utterly crushed that you've chosen the ministrations of your finger over the careful and loving touch that my mouth had offered.

But then then the hand still holding my hair pulls me closer to you, and I understand. You want me to watch.

And I do. I watch you fuck your ass on the marble man. I watch for the ring of my juices which you leave behind at the end of every down stroke. I listen to the sloppy wet sound when you lift all the way up. I watch the muscles in your thighs shake with the effort of your position. I watch a drop of wetness slide down from your pussy to mingle with the lubrication I have already provided you.

When you cum I am mesmerized. I watch, transfixed, as your asshole pulsates against the marble man's cock. The muscle, trying so desperately to squeeze shut, but unable to do so.

I hope that you will let me fuck my ass with the toy now. Or better yet, that you will don the harness and fuck me yourself. I imagine the nights activities, recorded by the juices on the dildo, smacking wetly against my butt and slithering sneakily down over my pussy.

"Honey," you tell me. Your pussy is now back in my face, the marble man's dick burred fully in your ass. "I'm too exhausted to move. And we have company."

To be continued...?