~~~Authors Note: Please let me know in the comments if you have suggestions for scenes. Getting new ideas for unique encounters inspires me to write more chapters! And thank you to everyone who has commented and/or liked the story so far.~~~
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Huh. Raindrops are spheres. Tiny little spheres. You always thought they were like a line of water or something. Apparently not. The sky is a dark tumultuous black and one of the clouds is backlit by a far off unseen clap of lightning. Spheres. Who would have thought?
Everything is so much more peaceful with time stopped. Right now, this street is probably a loud monstrosity. You can see an angry motorist holding down on the horn. Across the street it looks like a man is yelling at his wife as they walk through the rain. A rattling radiator on an apartment above. A screaming cat or dog down the alley. A crying baby. A truck without a muffler. But not now. Now, it is blissfully quiet. Not a sound. You can hear your own heart beating as you walk under the partially sheltered awnings of bistros and hair salons.
You pause on your walk. There's an old man sitting huddled at the edge of an alleyway. He has a cardboard sign, but it has been rained on and you can't really make out what it says. It looks like a small "GOD BLESS" is scrawled in the lower corner. A small tin bean can sits near the man. It has more rain in it than change. The man is clothed in dark rags of brown and black. You crouch down in front of him, looking into his face. His eyes are downcast. His skin is rough and tanned like old jerky. Sharp rough whiskers like castoff slivers of some steel mill. Looking closely you can see his cap used to be a green color, but now it's just a mottled brown.
You stand up and just look down at the man for a few moments before backtracking up the road you came from. You cross the street, weaving in between the honking man and the mufflerless truck over to the yelling man and his wife. The wife's eyes are downcast, and she clutches to her umbrella with both hands. The veins on the man's neck are bulging. One hand is crushed in a fist that is rigid against the side of his suit and the other is in the middle of making a wide gesture through the air.
You slip your hand into the pocket of the dress pants, pulling out his wallet. You open it and count the money. Two hundred and thirty five dollars. Forty six of that is in ones. His wallet was practically bulging open with all the ones. You are about to put the wallet back, but you look up at the woman again. Something about her caught your eye. Her neck. Near the line of her dress. There's makeup there. And a single raindrop has worked its way past the umbrella falling into the middle of the patch of well disguised makeup. It's a small drop, but enough to reveal purple underneath.
You reach into the other pocket, careful not to touch his clenched fist. You pull out his phone. Looks like a top of the line android. You think about taking his watch as well, but that would be too obvious. You walk back in front of the man and lean close into his face. You slosh your tongue around in your mouth a bit, then slowly spit out a ball of saliva. You move it close it him, so it's right in front of his eye. Just a few millimeters away. You pull back. The spit hangs in the air, a lopsided oval. You then walk away, phone and wallet in hand.
You reach the old man sitting by the alleyway. You stuff all the money into his little can and continue your way down the street. A block further and you kneel down, leaning over the curb. You push the phone and wallet into the storm drain. With your heartbeat as a metronome you whistle a lazy tune as you continue to walk through the still and quiet night.
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Campus is sopping wet from the unexpected thunderstorm. The sky is clear now, and the sun causes the puddles to glisten and glimmer. It's actually rather warm out. You're sitting under the shade of a large oak tree, back against its trunk. Sure, the ground is wet and your pants are muddy now, but a little dirt never hurt anyone.
The campus woods are behind you, and in front if the main plaza of campus. An amateur guitar player has set up on one end of the plaza and is strumming a lazy tune. It's near lunch time and people are bustling about headed to lunch or a poorly timed class. There she is. Right on time. Freaky Freckles. A snap and it all freezes in place. You stand up and walk towards her. "Excuse me, pardon me" you say for no reason as you weave your way through the crowd.
After a minute of maneuvering you are standing in front of Ms. Freckles herself. You pull the cleaned dildo out of your pocket. "I think you dropped this Miss." You say, looking into her frozen eyes. "well, why don't I just put it back for you." You kneel down and peek a look up her skirt. No underwear again today. You smirk. Freaky Freckles.
You pull out a small vial of lube and put a dollop on the tip of the dildo. You work it around a bit, then go back under the skirt. Cute. There's a small little freckle on her left labia. You rub the tip of the dildo against her lips then push upwards, sliding the slim plastic dick inside of her. You can feel her folds opening up to accept the rod as you slowly slide it inside. "All the way in" you coo as you push the last inch inside past the lips. "There you go."
You work your way back to your tree and regain your sitting position. "Ready. Set... Action!" Freckles stumbles and bends forward. Her pussy must have clenched up at the sudden intrusion because the dildo shoots out of her like a bat-out-of-hell. With no panties to hold it in it slaps into the ground and rolls a good few feet away. A few people nearby jump back, startled at the sudden happenings. Freckles squeaks, then dives on the dildo with all the fervor of a war hero diving on a grenade. She lands squarely on top of it, but in her haste to cover the dildo she forgot about covering herself.
With the dive to the ground her skirt kicked up, and for a moment rests on her lower back, giving half the plaza a view of her round butt cheeks and her slightly lubed lady hole. There are some muffled gasps and a few pointing and snickering dudes. Freckles quickly swishes her skirt down and clumsily sticks the dildo into her backpack before practically running off the plaza, face crimson red.
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