Will You Answer?

For you… for whom my blood scalds with an unquenchable heat every single moment, of every single day, and sends my mind into dizzying heights of wonder of what each day may bring.

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The concrete is cold, hard, rough – unyielding under my bare knees. My jacket is strewn nearby in the dirt, thrown off in haste, and the cool spring air breathes like a whisper wrought with an irresistible danger weaving though the soft errant hairs curling in the dampness of the nape of my neck. And even through the background noise of construction chaos and raucous laughter of men on their lunch break, I can hear the breath hiss through your teeth as I wrap my lips around the hardening tip of your cock, and slide my mouth all the way down your shaft.

There’s a rare moment of quiet, of stillness, before the thundering of my blood cascading like a scarlet waterfall up and down my veins returns to echo inside my own head, and I pull back, looking up at you with eyes wide, as if surprised at the boldness my own actions; then, overcome with my consuming need for you, I drag my fist down the length of your hardness, feeling my palm grip the soft skin, and moving it over the hard core of your manhood, following with my mouth and sucking hard as my lips slide over you inch by inch until your cock head strangles the air in my throat.

I’m sorry. I just couldn’t wait. Not another minute.

This morning dragged long and slow, every single moment besieged with the thought of your hard, thick cock trailing a line of clear pre-come along my tongue.

So I’m here, I came; not bothering to wave to you as you stood, aloft, a dark figure silhouetted against the sunlight. I felt your eyes on me, as I walked to wait for you in the shadows in the nearby alley, knowing you’d know what I’d want.

And you’re here, you came; dusting the dirt off your palms to cling like ghostly, dusty hand prints on the back of your jeans as you turned the corner to find me, kneeling, waiting, waiting for you.

The skin scrapes from my knees, jagged stones on the asphalt surface digging raw, blood dotted trenches as I spread my legs further apart, adjusting my position to better take you deeper. Your belt buckle clangs with a dull metallic rhythm as it swings against my cheek to the beat of your thrusts, my fingers grasping at the base of your cock, holding it still, erect, as my lips drag up and down your pulsing iron hardness in an agonizing pace, each movement designed to make you even harder, longer, thicker… each movement designed to make you want more.

Someone calls your name from afar.

I feel you exhale, emptying your lungs of a breath held for too long. The adrenalin coursing through your veins dulls the pain of the back of your head dropping back too hard, banging against the fading graffiti paint. A groan catches in the hollow of your throat each time the rim of your cock catches in the tight ring of my lips, and your hands coming up to tangle in my hair, your hips moving to force yourself faster in and out of the fleshy, velvet tunnel of my mouth.

The pent up hours of waiting for this has drained me of all grace and made my ministrations erratic, frantic. The familiar musky taste of your cock mixed with the warm, minty scent of my own breath washing back over my face as you fuck my mouth has transformed me into pure whore, and I reach between my legs, shoving two fingers into my sopping cunt.

I want you, I want to feel your cock turn my lips to pulp as you piston in and out of my mouth, I want to feel you anchor yourself by taking handfuls of my hair, tearing it from my scalp, shivering as my tongue flicks against the seam of your cock, I want to feel your entire body clench and tremor in that exquisite moment before orgasm, and more than anything, I want to feel you erupt, in a cascade of hot thick come all over my face.

The image makes me moan even as the head of your cock rams like a jackhammer against the back of my throat, making me gag. I look up at you with eyes blurring with tears and you move your hand to tighten around my throat, making me choke even as you pound into me, deeper, faster, with more brutality than I can imagine; as if to punish me for interrupting your day, making every moment of yours I’ve stolen count.

Someone calls your name again, closer now.

I freeze in place, a deer in the headlights, that split second before all vestige of innocence is lost, and I wonder if you know, I want to be found here, right here, legs spread wide like a fuck deprived slut, bent over ramming my own cunt with fingers soaked with my juices, and your cock glistening with my saliva as it plunges down my cock hungry throat.

I wonder if you know, that I want to be found here, moaning and whimpering, begging and pleading like a common street whore to be fucked, exposed to everyone, to anyone. To you. And that the thought that you’ll be right here watching every second of whatever may happen next, burning into your psyche every moment of my submission to my inner slut, every second of my admission of my utter whore with which to later pleasure me, to torture me is what brought me here in the first place.

The footsteps crunch on the asphalt, unknowing of what lays now only seconds away, and the voice calls out for you one more time.

As my fingers drive deeper into the clenching vice of my cunt, and I feel your balls stiffen as your cock strains against its own imminent eruption, I can’t help but wonder if you know that I want you to answer the call.

:: And I can’t help but wonder… if you want to answer it, too.

~ by libertiness on April 3, 2009.