“Shit!” I lost my footing on the bottom step and the pile of paperwork that I had wedged in my arms spilt across the polished concrete floor. Thank fuck no one was around to see. I scrabbled around on my hands and knees to pick the sheets up.
“Let me help,” a soft voice from close by. I looked up into bright blue eyes and a crinkly smile underneath a shock of dark hair. He bent to scoop up the papers that I’d missed, flushing as he read the advert on the top sheet.
‘Bondage for beginners?’ he asked, eyebrows raised. He wasn’t a conference delegate, then. I got to my feet in a rather ungainly manner and held my hand out. He passed me the sheets with a shy smile.
“Hobby?” He grinned and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Work,” I replied. “I’m a writer. And this,” I waved the sheet of papers at him,” is research.”
“That’s what you say,” he grinned. I’d heard there was something unusual on today. If I’d have known exactly what, I’d have taken more interest.” He tilted his head and looked at me quizzically. “Have you finished for the day? I’d love to know more about your…research.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s very sweet,” I said. “But I’ve arranged to meet friends. And I’m quite capable of doing my own research.” His expression flickered and I felt mean.
“But yes, I think you’d have enjoyed it,” I relented. “It’s a shame you missed out.” A quick smile and I turned on my heel. I looked back briefly as I headed out through the door and saw him standing in the corridor, watching me. I dipped my head with a smile and went off to meet my friends.
By the time I was on my third gin and tonic I was kind of wishing that I’d got the friendly man’s phone number. A day of thinking about nothing but sex - even on a work level - had left me feeling rather antsy. I decided to go to the Ladies and give myself a break from the heaving bar.
Standing at the sink, I leant over and splashed cold water onto my face and neck, letting the coolness drip down under my top. I really shouldn’t have worn a sweater, it was far too hot. Peering at my reflection in the mirror I sighed at the red flush that was creeping up my neck - how terribly glamorous. It was probably a good job that I wasn’t out on the pull, after all.
I swung the bathroom door open and took an awkwardly long step out through the door, thanks to the gin. I staggered slightly and a hand gripped my arm to catch me.
“That’s the second time today,” said an amused voice. You must be fucking kidding me, I thought. But it really was him. He was younger than I’d first thought, maybe very early twenties at a push. His newfound confidence made me suspect that he’d had at least as much to drink as I had. I heard my name being called and looked around. My friends were waving from the corner table, evidently wondering who I’d managed to pick up on my way. Sally was giggling and falling sideways into the lap of her boss who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. I sighed, hoping that she’d at least ask for a pay rise before she gave him a blowjob.
I snorted to myself and the man looked at me curiously. “Am I that funny?” he asked, looking crestfallen. I felt bad for a second – he seemed like a nice boy. And ‘boy’ was the operative word – I must have had at least a decade on him. Mmm, Mrs Robinson, I thought to myself.
“Let’s go,” I said, making the decision as I spoke. “I need some air – you can escort me.” Without waiting for an answer I headed for the door.
He was predictable, at least - as I stepped out onto the pavement and turned back towards the door he came out after me, holding something over his arm.
“You dropped this,” he said, holding my jacket out to me. I must have been more pissed than I’d realised. Muttering my thanks I pulled it around my shoulders against the cold night air. To my surprise, he put his arm around me as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Come on,” he said, giving me a tug, “you’ll catch your death out here. Let’s go for a walk, and then I’ll see you onto a bus.” I let him pull me along; impressed that he was apparently going to genuinely see me home, presumably alone.
It was late now and Blackfriars Bridge was as quiet as it was ever going to be – that is, not very. As we got to the embankment I stopped in my tracks, forcing my companion to stop with me.
“Can we sit down for a minute?” I asked him. “I’m feeling a bit wobbly.” I most certainly didn’t feel wobbly at all, but he didn’t need to know that. He looked concerned.
“Over here,” he said, leading me to a stone plinth that sat just away from the pavement behind a low wall. He sat down and patted the stone encouragingly next to him. I perched on the edge – I only had a thin skirt on and didn’t fancy having my arse in contact with the cold for very long.
Not when there was a rather more attractive option available, anyway. I looked my new friend in the eye and decided to be honest.
“Wouldn’t you rather I sat on your knee?” I asked. “It would be warmer for both of us.” Even under the diffused orange glow of the streetlight, I could see him redden.
“Erm, well, yes that would be nice,” he said nervously, not shifting. I was obviously going to have to take the initiative. I moved over to him and sat sideways across his thighs, snaking an arm around his neck for balance and resting my head against his shoulder. I tried not to giggle aloud at my own awful coquettishness – I obviously had even less shame that I’d previously thought.
He wasn’t completely inept – his hand closed gently around my knee, the fingertips digging slightly into the softest flesh at the back of my leg, making my breath catch slightly in my throat.
“I was supposed to be walking you to the bus,” he pointed out quietly. I murmured an inaudible reply and wriggled on his lap, feeling a pleasing stirring underneath my thighs. Bending down slightly, I nipped at his neck.
“You can still walk me to the bus,” I said, “they run all night. There’s no rush.” He laughed, but quietened as I ran the tip of my tongue lightly up the side of his neck to his earlobe. His fingers slid around onto the top of my leg, gripping harder. His thumb pressed into my thigh as he slid his hand steadily upwards.
Turning his head, he found my mouth and kissed me gently, his other hand slipping around my waist and pulling me against him so that I could feel his hardness against the back of my thighs. It must have been uncomfortable for him having me sitting on him. I couldn’t help myself, wriggling and pressing down even harder. He gave a sharp intake of breath but did nothing to stop me.
A noise nearby made me look up suddenly just as a cyclist came by, grinning conspiratorially at us as he sailed past.
I grinned and turned back to kiss my wonderfully anonymous friend harder, pushing the tip of my tongue against the edge of his teeth. He leant back against the concrete wall in an almost passive gesture. Only the hand inching ever higher up my thigh gave away his desire.
Relenting, I moved my weight from his lap - but only briefly in order to wriggle around and sit back down astride him. I could feel his cock properly now and couldn’t help but rub myself slightly against him, angling myself forward in order to push myself against his hardness through the layers of fabric. He slid a hand up underneath my sweater and up to my bra, his fingers cold from the night air. I shivered, as much from excitement as the goosebumps rising across my stomach. My nipples were already hard, pointing sharply through the fabric of my bra - he caught one between his thumb and forefinger and pinched hard, making me gasp. Need rose up in me like a wave and I pushed down hard against him, rocking against his straining cock.
He groaned deeply and snaked a hand around the back of my head, pulling me down hard back against his mouth. His tongue pushed against mine, probing my mouth as he gripped me tight.
I held onto his shoulders, feeling the tension as he strained against me. He slid his free hand down my backside and under my skirt, his palm flat against the lace of my knickers. My nipples were so hard as to be painful and I pushed against him, desperate for release.
“Is this…is this okay?” he asked nervously as he squeezed my backside, and I almost cried out with frustration. It was obviously time that I took matters into my own hands.
“Yes,” I whispered in his ear, nipping his skin to make my point. “It’s very okay.” I wriggled again. “Slide your hand underneath, I want to feel your hand on my arse.” I felt his cock pulse hard. He liked being told what to do, then.
Smiling to myself, I kept my mouth close to his ear and spoke in a low voice. Not that it mattered – there was a constant hum of traffic, even at this time of night. I couldn’t be sure that no one would see us, but then that was half the fun.
His hand slid obediently under my knickers, stretching the elastic tight against my thighs. I wriggled excitedly as he dug his nails into the flesh of my bare arse. He slid his fingers down the centre of my flesh, eager for me now.
“Not that fast,” I warned him. “Slowly.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Feel my skin under your hand, imagine me naked and splayed in front of you, waiting for your cock.” He gripped hard, digging deep into my skin. I rocked against him encouragingly. “Oh yes,” I murmured, “ready and willing, legs spread wide, wanting you inside me.” He groaned and bit me on the shoulder.
“Or maybe I’m on all fours with my naked arse in front of you, would you like that?” A hard pinch at my breast suggested that yes, he would like that very much. Catching my nipple between his finger and thumb he twisted hard enough to make me gasp. “Oh yes,” I whispered into his ear, “that’s good. Harder.” He responded with enough force to make me whimper.
His other hand slid underneath me now, searching for my wetness. “Feel how much I want you,” I muttered as he slid a finger inside my cunt, making my breath catch in my throat. “More.” He pushed another finger into me, forcing them deep. I lifted myself up slightly to give him better access, the concrete plinth hard under my knees. I knew I’d have bruises in the morning, and the thought excited me.
His fingers moved slowly out of me and then deep inside again, setting up a slow rhythm inside my body. I was getting wetter by the minute – I imagined the liquid dripping down his fingers and onto his hand as my cunt swelled and tightened against him.
Arching my back, I gave in to need, gripping his shoulders and pushing down on his questing fingers. His other hand pushed my sweater up and he bent to my breast, his tongue snaking out to taste my nipple, hard and puckered in the cold air. I was losing it now, sensations focusing only my eager cunt and painfully taut nipples. He sucked at me, pulling my flesh into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it languorously. My head dropped back and I stared up at the stars that I could just see flickering through the sheen of the city lights.
The sharp stone beneath my knees combined with the tang of river air anchored me in reality as my cunt clenched around his fingers, pulsing against the intrusion yet wanting – needing - more. His groan was muffled against my breast as he sucked and nipped, pulling me deeper onto him.
I slipped my hand down to touch his cock directly for the first time. As my fingers touched the strained fabric I felt his flesh leap beneath me, desperate for escape. His body was so hard that it was difficult to twist the button undone but I finally managed it, his cock already pushing out above the top of his jeans.
Sliding my hand down under the fabric I grasped his hard flesh and wrapped my fingers around him, weighing him against my palm. I stroked gently up and down a couple of times – he responded by pushing his fingers hard up inside me, mirroring my movements. Neither of us had spoken for the past few minutes, distracted by sensation. I bent to his ear again.
“I want you,” I muttered. “Now.” I was wriggling with excitement and no real idea of how to manage it, but he surprised me. With one hard tug he ripped my underwear away from my cunt, tearing them straight through. Pulling me down to him, he pressed the head of his cock up against my wetness.
I almost didn’t want to push down onto him, to break the tension, but I couldn’t hold off. Sinking slowly, I allowed his cock to spread me open, pushing into my flesh. I grasped his hair at the nape of his neck, forcing his head backwards. Bending my head I licked his throat, nipping with my teeth up to his ears.
“I want your cock inside me,” I whispered to him, “but it will be when I want it, not you. You don’t get to decide.” He grunted slightly but made no move. I pushed down, allowing him fractionally further inside me and clenching my muscles against him. I pulled his hair again. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?” The only reply was a stifled moan. “You want me to slide down onto your cock and make you come, whilst the traffic goes past just by you and anyone could find us. Don’t you?” Before he could respond I pushed down hard, struggling not to cry out as his cock buried itself deep inside my cunt.
His mouth found mine, kissing me hard as I ground down onto him, his cock stretching and filling me, my groans lost against his lips. I rocked against him, seeking pressure, struggling to get the satisfaction I desperately needed. Pulling backwards away from him I slid my hand down between us where our bodies joined and frantically rubbed my clit as his cock thrust up inside me. He leant back against the wall with his eyes closed, gripping my hips hard as he pushed his body up against mine. My fingers moved urgently against my own flesh, feeling my clit swell as waves of sensation began to lap deep inside my cunt.
I could hear people nearby, but was past caring. The rough surface of the bench was hurting my knees now and I pressed myself down harder, wanting to feel the pain cutting through the excitement. I could feel his cock throbbing inside me as he thrust up against me ever harder, and I clung to his shoulders in order to not be thrown off balance. I clenched my muscles down hard, sucking him into my body, squeezing him tight as the spasms built inside me.
“Oh god…fuck me…harder…” I muttered almost to myself as I tried not to become frantic, pulled myself back from the brink, taking pleasure in the building of sensation with my eyes shut tight against the outside world. He groaned underneath me and bucked his hips, losing control as he forced his cock hard up into me, holding me fast against his body as I caught up with him and let escape crash over me, waves of orgasm pulsing up through my cunt and through my body, making my throat catch and gasp shallow cold breaths as I finally, finally allowed myself to let go – coming hard against him, rippling against his cock as he exploded deep into me. Warm liquid pleasure spurted into my cunt, the slippery wetness running over my fingers that pressed hard against my clitoris as I rode out the last waves of my own orgasm.
Breathing hard, I finally allowed myself to slump forward, my head against his shoulder as he gasped for breath above me. I could feel him slackening inside my cunt - the wetness seeping out between us, cold against bare flesh in the night air.
I forced myself to move, pulling up and away from his body and wincing at the pain in my knees. Now that it wasn’t being drowned out by the excitement of fucking it was becoming majorly sore. Standing up, I wriggled the shreds of my knickers down and off my legs and tucked them into my jacket pocket whilst my temporary friend pulled his trousers up, fastening the button back up whilst staring at me from under hooded eyelids.
“You’re really something, you know that?” he said. I grinned and said nothing, straightening out my clothes before finally speaking.
“I need to get back to my friends. You’ll be okay to get home?”
He looked up in surprise. “I, err…I mean… I kind of thought I’d walk you to the bus,” he floundered. “I don’t want to just leave you here. After…this.” He looked thoroughly confused.
“I think you’ll find that it’s me leaving you here,” I grinned, already stepping back up towards the road. “It was very nice to meet you.”
He looked at me, bewildered. “You’re just going to walk off? What was this all about then?”
I grinned as turned and headed back towards the lights of the bar where my friends sat waiting.
“Let’s call it…research.”
Violet Fenn is a writer and journalist from Shrewsbury, UK. Her main aim in life is to help others realise that they’re not alone in their confusion at the world. She writes sex and lifestyle features for MetroUK and opinion pieces for anyone who’ll pay her (she has a LOT of opinions and is more than happy to share them).