“Have you every fucked in public?”
Walking home after last call, that time of early morning when it feels like the world is holding its breath, the silence is magnified, and I always find my mind digging into deep corners it otherwise wouldn’t.
Twilight was soft against the trees, making everything a sort of gray-ish purple. Even the graffiti seemed to blend into the concrete, saving up its color for an audience.
” I wanna fuck out here.”
“Now?” His expression is only a little incredulous.
“Where?” His eyebrows are raised just enough show interest without judgement, yet still appear cautiously concerned.
I scanned the landscape, my eyes locking in on an enclosed staircase.
“There.” I pointed, and his eyes followed my finger. Taking his hand, I pulled him across the street toward the staircase. Looking up, I could see a set of graffiti eyes staring back at me, but otherwise, only the early morning would see.
I walked up a few steps before he stopped me.
“Bend over.” I giggled a bit in response, but the edge in his voice was clear. He meant it. So, I did it.
“Spread your legs.” He ran his palm up the back of my thigh, pushed my skirt up, and slipped his fingers under the crotch of my panties. I felt the pulsing tug and heard the fabric give way as he cut through with his pocket knife.
The cool bite of morning air shocked my cunt to life.
“Is this what you wanted?”
This week…Mr. D’s photo (the featured image) was created to accompany this piece of fiction. No panties were harmed in the creation of this image.