You wore pink eyeshadow, as instructed.

You were sitting–legs crossed, revealing just a hint of thigh beneath your short, pleated skirt–at a table alone, stirring your latte? tea? fucking frappe? something. I watched you carefully from across the cafe, flipping absent-mindedly through East of Eden. We’ll be east of…well, east of somewhere soon enough. So of course I couldn’t focus on Steinbeck right now. But I caught you looking. The flicker of recognition as you saw me pull the novel to my nose.

You got up to leave, sashaying in a flirtatious manner as you set your oversized mug on the counter. Your skirt swayed lightly, yet still managed to grip each individual curve of your ass cheeks. I could imagine my hand slipping beneath your hemline and groping your plump flesh, goosebumps bubbling up as teeth grazed along your neck…

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon as I followed you out the cafe and down Thrush Street. It was bustling–a crowded downtown strip on a Thursday night–but it’d be quiet where we were going:: a parking garage next to the courthouse. It was tucked far enough away from the bars on West Third that it was deserted after 5 PM. Such a silly place to park if you’re going to Cafe Mocha.

But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? The long walk past the clamor of the pubs and restaurants, away from the smell of smoke and roasted coffee beans. You walked block after block, glancing over your shoulder occasionally to see if I was still following. But I was taunting you, sometimes crossing the street or dipping into an alleyway only to reappear a few seconds later. I saw you looking around, searching for me within the thinning crowd.

After an almost agonizingly long walk, you finally reached the yawning maw of the parking garage. I closed the distance quickly. Underground. Four stories. You were on the lowest level. Your heels–pink like your eyeshadow–clicked against the concrete as you entered the stairwell.

Good girl. Why would you take the elevator when you could take those dark, lonely stairs?

I waited a few beats, peeking through the stairwell's small, square window until you crossed the first landing. Then I opened the door and let it slam behind me. It echoed and I knew you could hear it. My feet fell heavily as I followed you down.

We hadn’t discussed the specifics of when I’d snatch you, so I was enjoying the pursuit, knowing that your pulse must be pounding, your mind racing, wondering when you were going to feel a hand wrap around your neck.

I waited until you had your keys out and were a few steps from your car–until maybe you were starting to feel disappointed, perhaps thinking I chickened out or couldn’t find a clear opening to engage. But in a flash I had one hand reaching around to grasp your stomach and the other covering your mouth.

“Don’t say a fucking word or I’ll choke you out.” My voice gruff and serious.

I pushed you forward, bending you over the hood of your Camry so that my waist pushed against your ass. Your skirt was so tight it was riding up, exposing the pale, U-shaped curves of your lower asscheeks.

My hand fell from your stomach, two fingers shoved between your thighs. “A thong. Fitting for a whore.”

I withdrew my hand, slipped it into my pocket, and produced a small switchblade–as discussed. I pushed the cold metal base against your upper thigh. “Feel that? Know what it is?” I pushed harder, digging the handle into your soft flesh.

I flipped the knife open and dragged the dull edge beneath your skirt. Sliding under the band of your thong, I flicked my wrist carefully outwards, cutting it. Moving quickly, I began to run two fingers along your slit. I could feel that you were already soaked. And your moaning confirmed just how turned on you were. Slowly, I slid my index finger inside you.

“Tight fucking bitch,” I growled. “Wouldn’t have guessed it.”

You clenched around me, squeezing my second knuckles as I slid further inside you. I spread my fingers apart, turning their “L” shape into a “V.” While I fingered you I leaned in close, pushing my erection against your ass cheek and biting at your earlobe.

“This is going to be fun.”

I was caught in the thrill of the moment–ready to go fast and rough. No point dragging it out. Keep it concise. Never dull.

The clanking of metal. Belt unclasped. Cock out, precum-wet tip slapping against your ass. A little speck of that sticky stuff breaking off against your smattering of freckles. Thumb across the base of my shaft, pushing it down, dragging the sensitive head until it was propped under the curl of your ass. A shift of my hips. Now it’s between your thighs, bouncing up with each pump of blood. My breathing heavy on your neck. Cock up. Push. Push. Push. Spread those tight fucking lips. So fucking wet.

Hand at your neck, wrapping through your hair. Pressing your face against the cool metal of the hood. Shoving you hard as the rim of my head clears your entrance. Inch after inch. Digging deep.

“I hope you don’t mind–I forgot to bring a condom.”

My hand was around your throat bending you back from the hood of the car while my dick plunged towards your cervix. “Should I fill your womb with my cum?”

“N-no-! Mm!”

I shoved you back down.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Silence except for heavy breathing. Small whines and moans. Balls against your wet lips. Hand digging bruises into your ass. Car shaking gently beneath you. You gave in. Let me have my way.

“Fine, fine. You wanna play it safe, huh? I can do safe sex.” I snatched you up by the hair, spun you around, pushed you to your knees.

“Open that fucking mouth.”

You did so demurely. Half-heartedly.

A slap across your pretty cheek that echoed in the empty cement garage.

“Don’t be cute,” my voice lowering into a growl, “I know you’ve sucked dick before. Is that how you do it? Looking like you’re half-asleep? Does it look like this will fit in your mouth if you only open that wide?”

My cock swayed back and forth–thick and red and wet from your cunt. I dug my thumb and forefinger into your cheeks, forcing your tongue out. Then I firmly pushed my hips forward, dipping my thick-rimmed cockhead between your lips while pushing you back against the wheel well.

“How’s your pussy taste?” I sneered while thrusting my rod past your uvula. “Let me get deep and this’ll be over soon. You think I can cum from something gentle blowjob? I need to go fucking hard to finish.” I squeezed your nostrils shut with one hand and cupped your chin with the other, holding you in place while I increased my speed.

Rougher and rougher. One palm spread wide across your skull. The other pressing on your cheeks, feeling them puff out to make room for my cock. You started to gag, spit bubbling up around my shaft. I was going to cum.

A jerk back, cock breaking free from your throat with a long whip of saliva. An immediate burst of white on your eyebrow. Another on your nose. Then your cheek. Then your forehead. Dick back into your mouth for you to suck clean.

“Better this way anyway. Only an unabashed cocksucker would take a load on the face.” I pulled myself from your lips, tapped a final bit of semen against your forehead, and zipped my pants.

I leaned forward, grabbed your chin, “Have a good night, slut. I know I did.”

I gave it a few minutes. Ducked into the stairwell, caught my breath. My pulse pounding. My cock sore, but satisfied. I looked through the door’s window and saw you leaning on your car, looking light-headed. I returned–this time gently, calmly. I kneeled down and lifted your chin, “You did good. So good. Are you okay?”

A nod. Still dazed.

“Should we get some ice cream?”

Your eyes brightened up and you smiled. “Mhm!”

I grabbed your hand, helping you up, and kissed your forehead. Then I walked you to the passenger door and helped you inside. My cum was still drying on your face, I could see the slight sparkle beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. I handed you a wet wipe, “You might want to clean that off. Someone might think you’re a slut.”