I’ve been looking for a reason to write more erotica, and Sinful Press provided me with the perfect excuse in this Eroticon 2017 writing competition! The winner receives a ticket to Eroticon 2017, which I really, really want to attend, so here’s hoping I can make you and the judges hot and bothered enough to get me there!
The story is inspired by the above photograph, provided by Molly’s Daily Kiss, and features one of my favourite turn-ons: nostalgia. Enjoy!
It was a wistful, drunken moment following an uneventful high school reunion that brought me to this old haunt of an adolescent fling. Ten years ago, under this bridge was a favourite hangout for Jake & I during my last summer in town; I’d throw stones into the passing river, while he would tag the nearby pillars and walls with whatever crass logo he’d concocted that week.
And of course, when we finished doing that, we’d fuck like teenagers against whatever surface we could find.
I tipsily scanned the still-graffiti-clad wall, foolishly searching for a familiar calling card of an old love. Yet there it was, in the corner, away from the rest of the colourful mess of paint; a tiny “J.S. 16” – a variation on the “J.S. 06” he’d used ten years earlier.
“Pfft,” I drunkenly chuckled to myself, “you loser. ”
“Ouch.” A voice cracked in the silence behind me. I panicked and spun around, gripping onto the wall to maintain my balance the appearance of sobriety. “That hurts, Becks.” I couldn’t believe it, but there was no mistaking that voice.
“You’re the one who’s spray painting bridges at 28” I threw back, as his sandy blonde hair emerged from the shadow and framed his perfectly-shaven face. I did my best to suppress a grin, adopting the attitude of someone who wasn’t at all intrigued to know what was next.
“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “this town got boring without you.”
“What a line.” I turned back towards his tiny signature as my peripheral vision watched him draw closer. He always had this annoyingly attractive natural scent, and it all came rushing back as he stood mere inches from my shoulder, using those grey eyes to look me up and down and radiating what must have been pure pheromones. My mental focus was drawn to the sudden twinge in my panties that this aroma was giving me. I turned my face towards him, giving him the steeliest, drunken bedroom eyes I had.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered quietly enough, knowing it’d force him to lean in. It wasn’t even the booze anymore – this was all him. I remembered all the nights of making out under the bridge and fucking in the bushes to keep from prying eyes, and wondered how much of that was still there.
“If I’m honest, I had a hunch I’d run into you here. With the reunion and all.” The edges of his mouth curled upward into the smuggest smile you could ever imagine. Jake’s smile grew as he looked into my eyes for a moment too long, and with that, we were lost. He kissed me deeply, somehow taking me by surprise, yet being exactly what I expected. I gasped at the touch, and leaned into his warm embrace with fervor.
His hands slid down my neck and over my shoulders, resting upon my hips as I was pulled into him. After a moment of our tongues rediscovering each other, he pulled away, scanning my face and lightly tugging my hair in the playful way that he would. A moment later, I was turned 90 degrees and lightly pushed up against the wall of the bridge where we had spent so many nights doing just this. His tongue continued to find its way past my lips, his black jeans growing tighter as they pressed into me; I could feel the wetness building inside me as the idea of grabbing that cock became all I wanted.
With that, I reached down and gave the bulge a tight squeeze, forcing a moan from his otherwise occupied lips and goading him to move even faster. He turned me towards the wall and pushed my chest into the old graffiti, making sure my bottom was left exposed from under my short skirt. His hand ran up my bare leg and lingered on each bare cheek for a thoughtful moment before yanking down the thong I’d worn rather optimistically.
The underwear lay at my ankles as Jake ran his fingertips through my folds from front to back, letting the wetness overwhelm his hands before inserting two fingers inside of me. He teased, thrusting his right hand in a slow, torturous motion with his left hand across my mouth, keeping me nice and quiet.
His wet hand pulled back from my pussy as he positioned his hard dick directly behind me, resting on my bare ass. My face was pressed against the cold bridge wall as he leaned into me, kissing along my neck and gripping my breasts as he began to enter me from behind. I gripped onto the wall even harder and I let out of full-fledged moan that anyone walking by wouldn’t be able to mistake.
He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled my head back to kiss me hard as he fucked me. His cock dug into me repeatedly as I listened to his laboured breathing in my ear and the slapping of his hips against my ass, again and again. Every thrust of his perfect cock put me one step closer to cumming all over it, and just that thought drove me to the edge.
Jake bit into my shoulder lightly as his thrusts grew harder and faster until he had pummeled me flat against the familiar wall. A groan in my ear was all I needed to feel my pussy clench around his cock and release into a euphoric, screaming orgasm that had no regard for the nearby brick house. Seconds later, his breathing turned to short, rapid moans that ended with his cock twitching inside me and flowing into warmth.
He kissed me passionately one more time before taking his finished dick out of me. We both made ourselves decent in silence, with only the occasional awkward chuckle and coy glance to break the silence.
“So, Becks…” he started in a much calmer voice, zipping up his fly with a smug grin. “What’s new with you?”
Want to help get me to Eroticon in over ways? Contact me and I’ll send you a comprehensive sponsorship package that outlines the benefits of sponsoring My Tickle Trunk at Eroticon 2017!