It was a quiet
fucking night, the kind where the world feels half-dead, as I cruised home over
the rickety old bridge in my E21. My denim shorts hugged my plump ass tight,
riding up my shapely thighs, and my tank top clung to my small, perky tits,
showing just enough to turn heads. The headlights sliced through the dark, the
river growling below like it was pissed off at something. I caught my
reflection in the rearview—brown eyes with long lashes blinking back at me,
full pouty lips parted slightly, dark wavy hair spilling past my shoulders. My
pale ivory skin glowed under the dashboard lights, and I smirked, knowing I
looked damn good.
Then, out of
nowhere, the beams caught a shape on the edge of the bridge—a guy, leaning over
the railing like he was about to take a fucking dive. I slammed the brakes,
tires squealing, and my heart kicked into overdrive. He was in his 40s, white,
bald as hell, with gray eyes that looked like storm clouds ready to burst. His
face was a wreck—red-rimmed eyes, sagging cheeks, like life had chewed him up
and spat him out. He didn’t even flinch as I pulled over, just stared down at
the water like it was calling his name.
I shoved the
car door open and stepped out, the cool air hitting my long, toned legs. “Hey,”
I called, my voice softer than I meant it to be. “You okay?”
He turned his
head slow, those gray eyes locking onto me, heavy with something dark. “Fuck
off,” he rasped, voice like gravel.
I took a step
closer, my sneakers scuffing the pavement. “Please, don’t do this. Whatever it
is, it’s not worth it.”
He laughed, a
bitter, broken sound. “You don’t know shit, girl. Nothing’s worth it anymore.”
I reached out,
my pale hand hovering near his arm, trying to bridge the gap. “Talk to me.
What’s going on?”
That’s when he
snapped. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist, fingers digging into my skin
hard enough to bruise. “Give me a reason to live, girl,” he said, his voice
raw, desperate, like he was begging and demanding all at once. His grip was
tight, his eyes burning into mine, roaming down my body—over my tits, my ass,
my legs—like he was starving and I was the only thing on the menu.
My breath
hitched. I could feel the heat of his desperation, the way it pulsed through
his touch. My mind raced—what the fuck could I do? He looked like he’d jump if
I pushed him away, and those gray eyes were pleading for something, anything.
Then it hit me: maybe he needed a release, something to yank him back from the
edge. It was insane, but my heart was pounding, and my body was already
tingling with the adrenaline of it all.
I stepped
closer, pressing my curves against him, my voice low. “If that’s what it takes,
then take me.”
His eyes
widened, shock flashing across his wrecked face, but then something
shifted—lust, dark and hungry, took over. “You don’t know what you’re saying,”
he growled, but his grip tightened, pulling me in.
“I do,” I shot
back, steady as hell. “Just fucking do it.”
That was all
he needed. He shoved me against the railing, the cold metal biting into my
back, and his hands were everywhere—grabbing my hips, squeezing my plump ass
through my shorts. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered, his breath hot against
my neck. He crashed his lips into mine, rough and sloppy, his tongue forcing
its way in. I kissed him back, matching his fire, tasting the salt of his
desperation.
His hands
yanked my tank top up, exposing my perky tits to the night air. He groped them
hard, fingers pinching my nipples until I gasped into his mouth. “Such perfect
little tits,” he said, voice thick with need. Then he spun me around, bending
me over the railing. I gripped the metal, staring down at the roaring river
below, my heart slamming against my ribs as the height made my head spin.
He didn’t
waste time. My shorts hit the ground, and he hooked his fingers into my thong,
tugging it down—but it snagged on my tiny cock and balls. He froze for a
second, staring, then ripped the fabric clean off with a grunt. “Well, shit,”
he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
I glanced over
my shoulder, my dark hair falling across my face. “You got a problem with it?”
“Hell no,” he
replied, his gray eyes glinting. “Makes you even fucking hotter.”
Relief mixed
with the heat pooling in my gut, and I smirked back. “Good. Now stop talking
and get to work.”
He laughed,
dark and dirty, then dropped to his knees behind me. His hands spread my ass
cheeks wide, exposing my tight hole. “Goddamn, this ass,” he muttered, almost
reverent, before diving in. His tongue licked a slow, wet stripe over me,
circling my entrance, and I moaned, loud and shameless. “Fuck, that’s good,” I
gasped, my knuckles whitening on the railing.
“You taste
like fucking heaven,” he growled against me, then plunged his tongue inside,
fucking me with it. The wet heat drove me wild, my tiny cock twitching, leaking
pre-cum onto the bridge. He worshipped my ass like it was his lifeline, sucking
and licking until I was trembling, begging for more.
Finally, he
stood, spitting into his hand and rubbing it over my hole. “Gonna open you up,”
he said, sliding one thick finger inside me. I hissed at the stretch, but he
didn’t stop, adding a second, scissoring them to prep me for what was coming.
“So fucking tight,” he murmured, curling his fingers until I whimpered.
“Please,” I
panted, pushing back against him. “Just fuck me already.”
He pulled his
fingers out, and I heard his zipper drop. Then I felt it—his cock, fat and
hard, pressing against my entrance. “You ready for this, slut?” he asked, his
voice rough as hell.
“Yes,” I
moaned, bracing myself.
He thrust in,
all seven inches of him tearing into my ass, and I screamed, pain and pleasure
crashing together. He didn’t hold back, fucking me hard and fast, his hips
slamming into me so the railing shook. My tits bounced with each brutal thrust,
my tiny cock swinging uselessly between my legs, and my brown eyes went wide,
staring at the river below as the danger fueled my arousal.
“Fuck, your
ass is perfect,” he groaned, grabbing my hips to pull me back onto him. He
yanked my hair, forcing my head back, and I arched, taking him deeper. His
other hand cracked across my ass, the sting making me yelp. “Take it, you
little whore,” he snarled, spanking me again.
“Yes, yes,
fuck me harder,” I begged, lost in the raw intensity. I could feel every inch
of him stretching me, the burn turning into a filthy kind of bliss.
He pulled out
suddenly, leaving me empty and whining. “Turn around,” he ordered, voice thick
with lust. I spun to face him, and he grabbed my thighs, hoisting me up. My
long legs wrapped around his waist, my pale skin stark against his darker
clothes, and he shoved back inside me, fucking me standing up against the
railing.
Our eyes
locked—his gray, stormy ones boring into my wide brown ones—and he kissed me
again, all teeth and tongue. The new angle hit different, his cock dragging
over my prostate, and I moaned into his mouth, my arms looping around his neck.
“Shit, you’re deep,” I gasped, my body rocking with his thrusts.
He grinned,
wicked and wild. “You love it, don’t you?”
“Fuck yes,” I
shot back, clenching around him.
After a while,
he set me down, my legs shaky as hell, and shoved me to my knees. “Suck my
cock,” he commanded, fisting his shaft, slick with my own ass. I didn’t
hesitate, wrapping my full pouty lips around him, tasting myself—musky, dirty,
fucking intoxicating. I sucked him deep, my tongue swirling over the head,
hollowing my cheeks to take more.
“Goddamn, look
at you,” he groaned, hands tangling in my dark hair, guiding me. “Suck it
deeper, slut.”
I obeyed,
gagging as he hit the back of my throat, tears pricking my eyes but not
stopping. I looked up at him, lashes wet, and he cursed under his breath. “So
fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.”
I hummed
around him, pleased, and kept going until he yanked me off, pulling me back to
my feet. “Not done with your ass yet,” he said, bending me over the railing
again. This time, he grabbed one of my legs, hooking it over the lower bar,
spreading me wide open. My plump ass jutted out, and he slapped it hard,
watching it jiggle.
Then he was
back inside me, the angle fucking perfect, hitting my prostate with every
thrust. I moaned like a bitch in heat, my tiny cock throbbing, dripping onto
the concrete. “I’m gonna cum,” I warned, voice breaking.
“Do it,” he
growled, pounding me harder. “Cum for me, you filthy girl.”
A few more
thrusts, and I shattered, my cock spurting ropes of cum onto the bridge, my
whole body shaking as waves of pleasure ripped through me. He fucked me through
it, relentless, dragging it out until I was a whimpering mess.
Then he sped
up, his grip bruising my hips. “Fuck, here it comes,” he grunted, and with one
last deep thrust, he unloaded inside me, hot and thick, filling my ass. He
groaned loud, head thrown back, then slumped against me, both of us panting
like we’d run a marathon.
We stayed
there, catching our breath, his cum leaking down my thighs as he pulled out.
The night air cooled my sweaty skin, my dark hair sticking to my face. He
stepped back, zipping up, and handed me my shorts. My thong was toast, so I
just tugged the denim over my bare ass, feeling his seed still inside me.
He looked at
me, those gray eyes softer now, less haunted. “You saved my fucking life,” he
said quietly, almost like he couldn’t believe it.
I smiled,
still buzzing from the high. “Glad I could help.”
He nodded, a
ghost of a smile on his lips, and I turned back to my car. As I climbed in and
started the engine, I glanced in the rearview. He was walking away from the
edge, head up, steps steady. I drove off, my body sore and satisfied, knowing
I’d fucked him back from the brink—and damn, it felt good.
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