Stranger on a bench 4.
Seated on a bench, she sits, as grey as the cold dawn that surrounds her. Golden rays of sunlight pierce the eerie sky. Warm fingers probing the haunts and shadows of spectral silhouettes within the swirling mist.
This girl, who spins webs of fantasy in the dark corners of her imagination, sees the gentle hues of dawn. Her nose feels cold. Her lips, closed tight, keep the chilly early morning air at bay. She has her hands deep in the pockets of her coat.
Her night had been long. Restless, she paced within her room and tossed and turned in the unmade bed, all the while listening and thinking. She waited for the captive hands of the ticking clock to tell her it was safe to slide out into the early morning, where all was quiet and still. She heard the click of the lock and hurried to wash and dress. Done, she took herself out into the morning air, to her place of solitude. Becoming another statue in the park, she contemplated the surreal and nightmarish worlds between fact and phantasm.
She reflects that this is now the eighteenth day of her vigil, waiting for a stranger she has never met. In her imagination, she has seen him. She believes that strange powers, in whom her fate swirls, will bring him to her.
‘Could this be the day?’ she wonders, sitting in frozen hope.
Out of the mist, a man approaches. He walks hurriedly and sits on the bench where a dreamer waits. She looks at him, taking in his gaunt, unshaven face and worn, shabby clothes. He does not smile and stares ahead, his exhaled breath condensing, cloudlike, in the morning air. The way he hugs his chest resembles a solitary embrace.
She imagines her nakedness beneath his rough hands and hairy body. Picturing him as a wretch, devoid of feeling, forcing her to surrender to his demands, she fantasizes about how to satisfy him by taking his body and tending to his sexual needs. Thinking about taking his adulthood in her soft hands, she imagines how it would feel, gripping its thick circumference. Inside, she tingles at the thought of his arousal, hoping she can please.
The girl pictures him standing over her, telling her to hold his cock and jerk it.
He is critical and says, “I can wank better myself.”
In her mind, he places his hands over hers, guiding her to give him satisfaction. When he removes his hands, she intensifies the stroking and feels a glow when he moans with pleasure.
Excited by her thoughts, she pulls her hand from her pocket, clutching her phone. She taps the screen, revealing photos. She can be seen in various states of undress. She slowly and deliberately scrolls through her erotic gallery, stealing glances at the figure she shares the seat with. This process is repeated until she catches sight of him furtively looking.
She angles her phone in such a way that the visitor can easily view the content of the screen.
The thrill she feels spurs her to begin typing on her phone. The letters she types string together, creating words;
‘You wait for me. Still shackled to the ceiling hook, you look around when I enter. Holding up a beaker, I say:
“A nourishing drink, my pet, drink up, suck it, feel the vitality I bring.”
'Your eyes closed, you drink the refreshing, energy-filled liquid. I wait, watching your strong Adam's apple bob as you swallow. Your thirst is evident, as the container loses weight. When you slide your lips away from the tip of the straw, I move away.
“Now it’s time to play,” I snarl.
‘You must know the rules by now,’ I think to myself. ‘I control you. You follow where I lead.’
I regard you, giving you a twisted smile. I run my hands over you, sighing, as your muscles tense beneath my touch. Moving closer, I run the tip of my tongue over your navel and feel the roughness of your hair. Tugging it slightly with my teeth I explore you, tasting the contours under my mouth. I touch your balls, tracing their shape with my fingertip. To my delight, I see an erection stirring in your penis. The purple head starts to force its way out of your tightening foreskin. My eyes widen, and I feel a familiar rush of lust.
'Jumping onto the bed, I kneel before gazing at your face. I push my hair up, one hand on either side of my head. This lifts my bust. I feel my nipples glowing with excitement, and take hold of my breasts, squeezing and rolling them in my hands. With my thumb and forefinger, I play with my erect nipples. The pleasure on my face is evident as they grow stiffer and harder, and I massage my chest feverishly, pushing my hands hard against my boobs.
'My cunt aches while I tease myself. My bum clenches and unclenches, stretching my thighs and pulling my pussy upwards, like a slow, deep fuck. Stretching my arms back, I grab my bottom. With nails digging in, I push against the grasping fingers. Peeling my bum cheeks apart, I feel a very intense need to have a penis inside me, thrusting and forcing itself against my soft insides. I moan, imagining my hole filled with cock.
'I fix my attention on your face and say, “The hate and lust in your eyes make me weak.”
'Rising anger is visible in the contorted features of your face. Turning, I plant my face on the ruffled bed linen and push my ass upwards. You can see my hand reaching through my legs to stroke my hungry crack. Knowing you are watching, I bury it deep between my legs, opening my hole. Gasping, as a wave of sensation passes through me, I climax before slumping down onto the bed.
“I am so wet and desperate for hard fucking.” I say hoarsely.
'Grinning wildly, I walk over to you and release you before teasingly slinking back to bed. With my eyes closed tight, I wait expectantly for you.’
The stranger on the bench reads the last line written on the screen. He stands and stretches on his toes.
Looking down at her, he says, "Take off your fucking clothes.”
She returns the phone to her coat pocket and then stands up. Stepping away from the bench, she blows him a kiss before turning on her heel and striding away.
