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spurred him
forward, that resonance of yearning he heard catch in her throat,
it matched his own longings. His hand gripped the back of her head
as he began to ravish her mouth quite thoroughly, his tongue
invading her, tasting every inch of her.
    He heard Sandra moan louder. She threw her arms
around his neck and kissed him back with relish, her tongue dancing
seductively with his. And his body reacted, hardening to the point
of pain. He pulled her over into his lap and she gasped at the
contact with his swollen erection, straining against that damned
zipper.
    He couldn't stop himself. He thrust his hips
upward as he continued to plunder her sweet lips and mouth. God, he
wanted her. He ached . These feelings, he had not had them
for years, maybe never had them.
    The need, to kiss her so hard, to take her
breath away. To possess the very inner softness of her, to thrust
the most painful part of him into her, to the hilt. To claim her,
as his own, right here, on this damned wooden bench, in the private
shelter of the trees and shrubs, as a soft, cool rain fell across
their overheated bodies. The insistent throb of his cock was urging
him onward. Public park be damned! It all added to the excitement,
that possibility of discovery.
    Jerrod was no stranger to assignations in
public spaces. He briefly thought of the many quick fucks he’d had
in dark alleys and back rooms. Hard, fast, and against a wall with
nameless women of questionable reputation. That’s how he had always
liked it before, no attachments.
    His hand moved down and cupped one of her
breasts. It was large, heavy, full. The nipple was straining
against her sweater, as if it had a life of its own, trying to leap
into his hand on its own volition.
    He tore his mouth from her swollen lips and
quickly locked his lips on her nipple, right through the sweater,
and the undergarment she wore. He could feel it, pebbled, erect.
Sandra threw back her head and groaned: a long, guttural sound that
ignited his passion even more.
    He pulled the v-neck sweater downward,
stretching it as much as he could, her ample cleavage on full
display. He laid hot, passionate kisses all along the tops of her
breasts before trying to get her breast out of the cup-like garment
she was wearing. Damme! He was making a muddle of his
seduction!
    Sandra reached down inside her sweater, and
touched the front of the undergarment. "Let me..." she whispered.
“It has a front clasp."
    "How delightfully convenient," he replied
huskily.
    Now free from all constraints, she held her
breast up for him, as if she were offering it as a gift, a
tempting, tantalizing dessert. Though sheltered, they were still in
a public space and he did not care, and apparently, neither did
Sandra. Bold minx, that just hardened his cock even
more.
    He took her breast from her trembling hand,
held it, caressed it. His thumb brushing over the nipple, he slowly
lowered his head, almost reverent. He blew gently on the nipple,
and Sandra moaned. Deliberately, languidly, he took as much of her
ample breast into his mouth as he could, licking, sucking,
kissing.
    Her hands were roaming through his hair,
pulling and grasping, loosening it from its cue. She gripped
fistfuls of his hair, pulling him even closer. She leaned down to
his ear, "Suck it...hard," she purred.
    He almost spilled himself into his trousers, or
jeans or whatever they were, at that moment. Would he take her
right here on the bench? His fevered brain could not say, but
thankfully through the fog of desire, he heard voices growing
closer.
    Reluctantly, he lifted his head, and let go of
the most luscious breast he had ever clamped lips or eyes on. He
let go of her sweater and gently pulled upward, covering her. He
rested his forehead against hers. His breath was labored, his face
flushed. He slowly raised his head, and looked at her.
    An older couple walked by, arm in arm, no doubt
the quarreling pair on the bench they had seen earlier.
    "They seemed to have