Crossing the Bridge

I was incredibly relieved when Lorenzo suggested that we go on a late-afternoon walk. The wedding party we were both attending was dragging along and I needed a breather. Lorenzo was a new friend, we had met only a few hours earlier at the ceremony. He was charming. Witty. Likable. He was the kind of man who earns women’s trust easily. The most undeniable quality I found in him was a smoldering sensuality that seemed to ooze right out of him like honey. That and his piercing regard. His eyes were sea-green speckled with gold dust. They seemed to examine your very essence, to peer deep into you where you hide all of your secrets, extracting them from where they had been safely lodged. His presence made me feel suddenly far lighter, less anchored in my own life.

We crossed a mossy meadow, making small talk about the unusual warmth our autumn was bestowing upon us. The acrid smell of fermenting leaves reminded me of hot apple cider and raking leaves and in those familiar memories I felt as if Lorenzo had always been a part of my life, not just a three-hour friend. We continued our promenade and commenced a sort of flirtatious banter. My body began to feel our mutual intentions….they were far from innocent. We approached an abandoned gas-station and then crossed rusty train tracks that seemed to have been forgotten in the ruthless nature of progress. The quiet late afternoon lull we had enjoyed since the beginning of our jaunt was abruptly disturbed. I then realized that we were next to the highway. The headlights beamed in the distance and the day turned a bit gray. In French, they call this time, “Entre chien et loup.” Neither dog nor wolf…something in between. The ambiguous nature of our encounter was much the same and I was thoroughly enjoying it.

Lorenzo’s hand brushed mine as we began to cross the bridge suspended over the highway. The whirling headlights and the setting sun were breathtaking. We stopped in the middle of our crossing, immersed in the beauty of the day. The railing between us and the traffic was surprisingly low. Because of my height that guard rail only reached my waist. I had a moment of vertigo and found myself in the strong arms of my handsome suitor. His kiss was something so obvious, so natural. Such a relief. I felt as if I had been waiting for it my whole life. My skin seemed to freeze over and then burn and my soul thawed and melted at the time. I was shaking as he slowly turned me away from his embrace. I closed my eyes and felt the railing against my waist. The rolling thunder of traffic passing below us was suddenly deafening. Lorenzo gently but firmly bent me over the edge. My body quivered in fear and in anticipation, Lorenzo’s hands explored my ass and I began to feel nearly crazy with desire. The whole incident reminded me of roller coaster rides in my childhood. Exhilaration and terror followed by intense desire to do the whole thing again. Then his hand had found it’s way into my panties.

“Open your eyes.” he said softly in my ear. I was hanging dangerously over the edge of an inadequate guard rail, the weight of my over-stuffed skull seemingly more important and closer to the ground than the rest of my body…now writhing gently under the master hand of Lorenzo. I was rocking like a little boat as he slipped off my panties and pulled up my skirt. I heard him unzipping his pants. I was gasping for air like a fish on the deck at the idea of his swollen member in me and then it really was in me, deep and hard and he was thrusting me nearly over the edge. One strong arm caught my shoulder in a precautionary mesure and he again asked me to open my eyes. I did and it was beautiful and terrifying all at once. His thrusting became more desperate and he let go of my shoulder, taking my ass in both hands. I was suspended there above the oncoming traffic of late afternoon, my only link with solid ground being the lovely erection ground deep inside of me. I came with a roar, images of Niagara Falls, fireworks…spontaneous human combustion.

43 comments

    • pivoine68

      Or I’ll plummet to my death causing a massive pile-up on the highway….

      Ok, I like your ending better. I never know where to stop. I could keep on going forever.

      Bisous Jayne,
      Dawn

    • pivoine68

      I’m relieved that you liked it. I was over indulging myself with white wine while writing. (wwwww for short!) I can get a bit sloppy and exaggerate the usage of exclamation points…run-on sentences, that kind of thing.

      Happy Sunday!

      Bisous,
      Dawn

  1. Accidental Masturbator

    I felt increasingly sad reading this, as my initial joy and anticipation of your release subsided beneath the realisation that this might be historical, and then more likely that it was fantasy. (I don’t know what the emoticon for a tearsome smilie is.)

  2. Pingback: Addictive. My personality? My blog! « work spouse story

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