Stranger

I don't know when I began to have the cravings. Maybe it was one of those silly romance books I read. Maybe it was just my brain, conjuring up one of the most dangerous things it could fathom at that moment.

It was like a nibbling, persistent rat. Sometimes I could ignore that sound in the back of my head. If you've ever heard it, you won't forget it. It's the sound of flesh against brick. In the darkness, in the shadows, in that damp, dirty place that paints every fantasy I have lately. And you've heard it probably in movies, during that fight scene where they inevitably end up in an alley.

Sometimes, if the director hasn't cast enough light on the bodies, it's hard to tell if they are fighting, fucking, or both.

In my dream, we're fucking. And he's in control. He has broad, smooth, muscular shoulders. These muscles are from hard work. They are from manual labor, not a gym. This is who he is. And I can feel that flesh under my hands, as I grip at his shoulders. Clothes have peeled away, in too much of a hurry to finish the job.

Sometimes, it's a uniform. The gun on his belt, I can feel it under my thigh as he holds my thighs apart, gripping my ass and drilling me against the brick wall. The rattle of dog tags sometimes, short hair, I cling to him and smother my face against his neck. Rough stubble, the subtle scent of bourbon and aftershave and...leather. Something wild. Animal.

And I just want him to use me. It's not a question. No words are spoken and it's a complete surrender. He pounds my pussy with that angry kind of urgency. That selfish thrust that says, it's going to hurt, but you're going to take it anyway.

Sometimes he's shoved my panties in my mouth. Ripped them off, pulling the broken material from under my skirt and shoving it into my moaning mouth. Other times, it's his mouth that silences me. Kissing me hard, knowing somewhere in the back of my mind that careful makeup will have to cover my slightly bruised lips.

He comes with a frantic, jarring, rough pace and I cannot keep up. I cannot hold it off any longer and I cum. I squirm against that alley wall. I grind my bare ass against the brick to feel the sting and to grind against his pelvis, his cock still pulsing inside me.

For a moment, I am lost. I am in more than that dark alley, I am surrendered, coursing and flowing and floating and it's all centered on that place where we meet. I am nothing more than trembling, jerky thrusts that come on their own. I am aching nipples and wet tongue and bitten lips.

His hand across my face, it's not anger. It's a masochistic kiss. It snaps me back into reality and I look into his dark eyes and know.

"Thanks, babe." He jerks out of me, leaving me on trembling legs and weakened knees, while our fluids weep down my leg.