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It's getting dark. Quicker than usual, you think.
It's not so much that the street itself is intimidating, but the stretching shadows as the sun drops.
They seem to reach at you like giant, gloved fingers, getting closer and closer, making the street seem to close in on you......until it's completely black.
Now.......the street is intimidating.
The streetlight ahead brings you no comfort from the echoing sounds of the night, which seem to grow louder with each step you take.
You hear footsteps. You spin to look behind you. Nothing. No one.
You turn back to the streetlight, glows up ahead. You take as step toward it, and the footsteps behind you return.
Not caring who or what it is, you pick up the pace, your feet moving fast even as the footsteps begin running behind you.
Charging now at top speed you are almost to the light. You can make out a car parked underneath, a small foreign model station wagon. It looks beat up, but in the darkness it appears to glow with warmth.
And then you stumble.
You catch yourself, your hands breaking your fall, but you hear your stockings rip as you drop to the street.
The footsteps seem to multiply suddenly, a stampede directly behind you—
You turn back—-nothing—-you turn back forward-—there's the car in the light.
And then the light goes out.
Your eyes go wide, just as the car disappears from view.
You shut your eyes tight, waiting to be trampled .but the footsteps are gone. You look around in the black as best you can, but you see only the vast nothing that surrounds you.
Probably just your own footsteps echoing in the empty air, you think. You stand up ..and find that your stockings haven't ripped. The left one has come unclipped from the fastener, but the right is still attached to your garter belt, the lacy black material barely seen, more felt in this lack of light.
The tearing noise was your skirt. Not exactly conservative, hovering slightly below mid thigh, yet now with an aftermarket slit ..from the right side hem to an inch and a half below the waist.
A breeze blows ..moving from the surrounding air, to under your skirt, blowing it open in an un-Marilyn-esque fashion. You hold the new side of the skirt down, and move forward, toward the last thing you saw before the night blinded you ..the car in the light.
You move quickly, but not in a panic. You can make out that the footsteps are in fact echoes of your own.
This relaxes you slightly, and your eyes adjust enough to make out the parked station wagon.
Saying that it looked beat up was like saying the guy on your last blind date had an issue or two. The huge dent over the drivers rear tire leads to the broken taillight, which leads to the thick layer of dust and dirt that covers the paint and the windows.
Those windows ..are wooden? No, but random pieces of wood and newspaper fill all the windows save the windshield, making it impossible to see inside. Blocking out even light it would seem.
You squint, trying to see inside, your footsteps still echoing in ..the ..
But your feet aren't moving.
Footsteps, faster now, at least 3 pair.
You try the rear hatch. Locked. You move quickly around the side, trying the front passenger door. Also locked.
The footsteps increase, 5 pair now----was that laughter or a scream?
Desperately, you try the rear passenger door—which opens.
Feet pounding, the sound of a football team charging in the night.
You duck, close your eyes, and push off your feet.
You land on your belly, laid flat out, your legs outstretched and together. You reach back with your left hand, pulling the door shut, finding the lock, pushing it down.
It is very dark now. You try to make out anything inside the car. All you know is that the rear seats are down, giving you enough room to lay flat, your head toward the rear hatch, feet pointing toward the front of the car. There appears to be some loose newspapers strewn in the back.
As you guessed, the windows are filled with debris, blocking out even light. The inside of the car seems still. Except for your breathing.
You hear the footsteps outside, running past the car. It makes you catch your breath.
Then why .can...you still....hear yourself breathing?
You feel him now his hand sliding slowly up from your ankle to the still fastened garter, easing your skirt up further and further.
Your mouth opens to protest, but you now know where his other hand is. Over your mouth.
You sit in silence as you feel his hand on you, softly caressing your shivering flesh, moving all the fabric off your skin.
With one hand, he unclips your stockings, slides them to your ankles, pulls your skirt up and open, exposing you to his touch and the darkness.
A chill comes over you......but you aren't cold. Warmer and warmer in fact, his soft touch making you moist enough to allow his fingers easy access when they slip inside you.
You moan softly, and the hand over your mouth squeezes slightly. Your eyes open, and his meaning is clear. Silence. And satisfaction you think as your mouth opens and his thumb finds your tongue. You suck it like something else ..something you now feel stiff and warm against the back of your leg.
Slowly, like a wave of fog floating low and unnoticeable, he eases from his position next to you to a new one on top, your legs parting slightly as you feel the firm stick of flesh sliding over your legs to up your thigh, resting in the crease of your ass.
You silently suck his fingers as he slides his other hand under you, cupping your breast, pinching your nipple slightly, making you stifle the sounds you can't help but create.
He moves like a mechanic sliding under a Jaguar slowly back, laid flat, his large, stiff cock sliding between your cheeks, then dropping down, the head running along your wet pussy, stopping near your clit, just barely parting the lips.
And now he moves opposite, letting you feel his unaided but perfectly guided hardness as it slowly forces between the folds of you, then inch by inch by inch up into you, until the base reaches your lips, his hips against your ass.
He slowly repeats the sliding motion, over and over, fucking you slow, yet firmly, accenting the occasional end of entry with a flex of his hips that pushes his hardness and extra half inch inside.
Your head swims, you want to scream, know you can't, feel the speed of his sliding increase, until he is quickly pounding you, you don't know how in the close quarters and dark silence, but you feel like you're being almost pushed thru the rear hatch.
You feel it then, like lightning and a shot of hard whiskey, warming you, making you dizzy, electric jolts spiderweb up your legs, down your back, your body shaking as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to ride the waves without making a sound.
He fucks you even harder thru your orgasm, his cock growing even bigger inside you.
You cum harder and harder, so hard that when he slips out of your dripping wet pussy, your body reacts on instinct, your lower back arching, your ass lifting, positioning your tightest hole in front of his dripping head, relaxing as he slides slowly forward.
More shocks as he enters your ass, you shudder, he slides in all the way on the first try, then slowly makes his thrusting speed equal to before, slamming between your cheeks harder and harder.
You bite his thumb slightly, euphoria enveloping you, your forehead dropping down, pushing on the surface you lay on as his body tenses and hot, liquid fire shoots out of his stiffness and floods the insides of your ass, shooting off for what seems like an eternity, until he relaxes on top of you, his cock still hard, pulsing intermittently inside you as you drift into sleep.
End of Story