Page 74 of Tips and Trysts

I put my hand back on the wheel. “Put your fingers in,” I guide right before the light turns green.

Her head shake is emphatic. “Not a chance. I’m taking your cock or nothing.”

It takes a beat for the words to sink in, but once I get it, I’m ecstatic. It’s happening. I turn the car so abruptly that Cora braces herself with the door handle.

Two summers ago, I coordinated a volunteer day for my team at the EPA in Rock Creek Park. Tonight, I’m going to fuck Cora there.

When I pull into the parking lot, it’s empty. Rain batters the windshield harder than it has all night, flattening the thump of my heartbeat. The night sky is a blanket of cobalt and black, coated in a dusting of glimmering stars over the vast expanse of the park. The trees look like an unbroken mass from where we sit: oak and beech, looming elms and cherry, and the evergreen holly and laurel. I know this place, but seeing it with her is like seeing it for the first time through new eyes.

But when I face her, Cora isn’t looking at the park; she’s staring at me. Her expression is one I’ve come to know: brow raised, corners of her mouth upturned—she’s curious.

The faint lights from my dashboard illuminate her mostly naked body, from the piercings to the torn fishnets to the traces of cum on her skin. She may be curious about me, but I’m positive she’s the most fascinating person I’ve ever encountered.

I kill the engine and open my door, letting in the symphony of raindrops. “Are you coming?”

“What?” is the only thing I hear her say before I emerge into the night.

The rain is relentless, torrential by definition. Cora is only a step behind me, emerging from my car topless, and her skin glistens with the glittery cast of raindrops.

A surprised laugh slips from her lips. She looks over at me, shielding her eyes—laughing. Her arm extends, hand open. I clasp her hand in mine, and together we step over the chain separating the parking lot from the stretch of grass in front of the tree line.

And we run.

The rain plummets in sheets, constant and heavy, streaming over my skin. The mud sticks to my heels and my pants are ruined, but I keep running. Cora is a half-step ahead of me, skin catching the hazy moonlight like a flickering candle and her hair dark like ink. She doesn’t let go of me. Her other hand covers her bare breasts as she moves, and she heads for the trees.

I follow her—and I now know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I would follow her anywhere.

When we reach a deciduous grove, her pace slows. She whirls around and faces me, chest heaving with labored breaths. I don’t stop moving until she’s in my arms.

My hands go to her cheeks, my chest presses against hers, and only my soaked shirt separates us. I stare into her eyes, blinking past thick raindrops, and I let out a chuckle.

She does the same.

And we’re laughing and holding each other in the pouring rain. Her hands roam over my body, caressing me until they settle flat against my pectorals.

When her forehead touches mine, our laughter dims. One of my hands moves from her cheek to the nape of her neck,tangling in her wet hair. The other drifts to her fishnets peeking over the top of her skirt. I slip under the elastic, finding hot skin and smooth edges, and I want to know every part of her.

And I want her to know everything about me: not only my body, but every thought that crosses my mind. No more secrets—for her, at least. She gets all of me. Anything she wants.

“Fuck me,” she requests, and our lips graze as she speaks.

The way I go from caressing her to lifting her in my arms is a lightning flash. Want streams through my body, racing through veins and capillaries, rushing through my hands gripping her. My feet guide us until she’s pressed against an elm tree. I’m not gentle or careful. This is what she needs.

Cora groans, pinned between me and the tree trunk, legs spread open and wrapped around my waist. When she breathes, her breasts press against my chest, and I can feel the pulsation of her heartbeat. It’s racing—mine is too.

And we stare at each other, water sluicing over our faces, memorializing the moment—seven months in the making. We move forward at the same time, like some divine thread looped around us tightens, and our mouths collide.

I kiss Cora hard, opening my mouth and finding her tongue waiting. I lick into her lips, determined to kiss every part of her. She’s kissing me back, groaning so loudly that I can feel the vibrations in my chest. Her hand is wedged between us, fumbling for my buckle, and my hand is there too, easing her pussy open with my fingers.

I stroke her piercings first, acknowledging them and thanking them for being the be-all, end-all of my fantasies. Then I touch her, skimming her clit before I work two fingers in. Her pussy is slick, and it takes everything I have not to dive right into her.

When I remove my fingers, she positions my cock at her entrance and gasps against my mouth when she says, “Call me a slut. Tell me I’m your good little slut, Everett.”

Your good little slut.

I know better than to hesitate for too long. What Cora just said is important.

Since the first time I watched her stream, she’s asked me to degrade her.A whore. A slut. Anything I want to say, I can say. I’ve been game for it because it’s hot, obviously, but I mainly do it because she wants it. Needs it.

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