Waling the Wrong Way?

There is something about walking through the city at night that sets your pulse racing. Your friends have always warned you not to venture into this area after dark, but the feeling of living dangerously just keeps you coming back. You revel in the fact that the clicking of your high heels on the pavement causes everyone to look up at you as you pass. As you stride away, you can feel them looking you up and down. You sense those eyes burning into the backs of your thighs, up towards your bare shoulders and mentally mapping every point in between. Your curves are barely concealed under that light summer dress, which is hardly keeping you warm in the cooling night air.

As you descend the steps leading to the underpass, the clicking of your heels begins to echo. The increased volume makes you highly aware of your surroundings. The sound of voices and vehicles begins to disappear as you drop below street level. The steps lead you down to the tunnel running under the road, as as you reach the bottom of the steps, your eyes begin to adjust to the dim lighting. The smell hit your nostrils as you turn the corner, and can't help feeling that you've walked into a huge public toilet. Your footsteps falter as you attempt to avoid the puddles on the rough concrete floor. Not wanting to spoil your favourite shoes walking through carelessly discarded urine, your concentration focuses downwards, and you pay no attention to the man standing near the other end of the underpass.

You smile as you manage to successfully navigate the pools of piss, congratulating yourself for keeping your feet dry. As you look up to see your walk ahead, the unnoticed man is now right in front of you, causing your walk to pause. "You have a beautiful smile" he murmurs softly. "Whatever could be making you smile in a place like this?" You can't quite hear his words properly, causing you to lean closer to hear. There is something about his manner that seems unusual, but you are curious to know what he..."Oh" you gasp, as he takes hold of your throat, and slams you into the underpass wall. You begin to struggle against his hold, but the cold steel against your cheek makes you freeze immediately.

The smile falls away as you realise that the pressure against your face is a knife. The man sees the change in your demeanour and his face brightens as much as yours has fallen. The cold concrete wall feels rough against your shoulders. As you take stock of your situation, the cold spreads right through your body.

You take a deep breath, ready to scream in the hope of attracting some attention. There were enough people who noticed you walking this way. The swell of your chest gives you away, and before you can make a sound, the edge of the knife presses harder against your cheek. "Don't be stupid!" hisses your assailant. "I could cut your throat and be gone before you hit the ground!" With a long sigh, the air flows away along with your hope that you might get away from this man who holds your very life in his hands.

The pressure on your throat reduces a little as his hand slips down over your chest, which now feels so thinly covered in that summer dress. You can feel the roughness of his skin catching the fabric as he grabs one breast, then the other. His smile turns to a sneer as he feels your erect nipples pushing against that thin cotton. His eyes fix on yours again and you know that he believes you to be turned on. His reading of your body language tells him so, although he is not seeing the cold sweat running down your back, or feeling the shaking in your knees. He is mistaking your fear for excitement, or is he?

It is true that you are scared, perhaps more afraid than you have ever been, but can you really be sure that this is just fear? You cannot deny that the sense of the unknown has you feeling very alive. Aware of every sensation in your trembling body. Without warning, his hand drops from your chest and is shoved roughly between your thighs. Those rough fingers part your lips with no finesse, surprising you with how easily they slip inside. "Feels like somebody was waiting for this...is that right, Bitch?"

Your voice is lost somewhere deep in your throat and only a squeak escapes when you try to speak. You feel betrayed by your own body. You cannot believe that it would give such signals to this...monster. You daren't shake your head, with the knife still pressed against your face, and yet your hips begin to rock back and forth. Just a little to begin with, but that pressure against and inside you cannot be ignored. Is he right? Did you really want this?

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out of your pussy and grabs your throat again. Releasing the knife just a little, he growls "Knees!"

You remain still, not quite sure what he means. "Get on your fucking knees!" shouting this time. Your legs buckle, and as you fall into kneeling position, you feel the stones and pieces of glass digging into your skin. You cling to the hope that nothing worse will happen.

The knife moves to your throat as the other hand releases, just long enough to unzip his fly. Right before your eyes, his long thick cock slips out. The hand grabs a handful of your hair. "Suck it, and don't even think about biting me" The hand twists in your long hair, pulling it sharply and causing you to gasp. As your mouth opens, it is immediately filled...over filled. His cock is shoved all the way in, with no pause for you to catch your breath. Your eyes water immediately, but fear prevent you from gagging. You cannot afford to anger this man. Your only hope is that he will let you go once he has what he's after.

The pressure on the knife blade drops as you begin to move your mouth back up the shaft, then down again. As the tip reaches your throat, a half swallow causes a contraction, then back down again. You hear the breath catch in his throat each time you do this, and you pick up the pace a little. There is hope that he may be finished with you sooner rather than later. The hand tightens in your hair, pulling your head onto him. It is his turn for the hips to start rocking as the pressure builds inside him.

Suddenly the invasion in your mouth is gone. The hand in your hair is pulling your head up sharply. "NO! I'm not done with you yet!" You are pulled up to your feet by your hair, and spun around, face first into the concrete wall. You are so taken aback that no struggle even enters your mind. He grabs your hips and pulls them towards him, then in one swift stroke, drives his cock deep into your sodden pussy. The deep stroke shocks you, and you part your feet to steady yourself. All thoughts of struggling are gone now. He will not leave you alone until he's cum deep inside you. With each thrust, your balance is challenged. Your hands press against the wall to hold you steady, as you push your hips backwards to remain on your feet. This seems to drive him on, and the strokes get harder and harder. He's fucking you deep and long now, and despite yourself, you feel the climax building inside you. How could your body let you down like this? You didn't ask for this. You didn't want this, and yet that hard cock inside you is making you pant and moan.

Your sounds, along with the involuntary clenching drives him over the point of no return, and with a long deep growl, drives himself forward against you one last time, and shudders to a climax.

The knife lies forgotten on the ground as he regains his composure, tucking his dick back into his trousers, and wiping the sweat from his forehead back through his hair.

As you both regain your composure, he puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to him. While still breathing heavily, he kisses your forehead tenderly. You bend and pick up the knife. Handing it to him, you say "Don't forget this, my love. You'll need it next time" He looks a little surprised, as you begin to walk away. You blow him a kiss and chuckle "See you at home?"