Manhattan Man Hunt Pt 12 ~ A romance sex story from sex story sites.

The dog bounded off into the darkness, apparently quite untroubled by the darkness or the spluttering rain. The trees and bushs were still banging angrily against each other, their movement traced around the perimeter of the park by the flickering appearance and disappearance of street lights behind swaying branches. Tristam walked over to a bench playing hide and seek in the moving shadows, then sat down on it, apparently untroubled by the wet slats. He unfastened his velcro secured running shoes, pulled them off, then his socks. He carried the socks and shoes in one hand and reached out with the other to take Anita's hand. Together they padded across the saturated turf.

"You're mad, Tristan, you know that, don't you?"

"What, because I want to feel some real earth underneath my feet instead of concrete all the time?"

"We could have been in bed by now and afterwards you could have left me there while you walked around out here all night until your feet turned green for all I care. I'm a not a nature lover."

"Ah, but are you a lover? Toni said that it was her considered opinion that you were a fine woman but you needed some of that legal starch taken out of you. So this seems like a good place to do it."

"What are you talking about?"

Tristan turned towards a group of trees off to one side of the park. A few shifting rays of light from East 20th street fell onto another park bench standing in the grass. Tristan steered her towards the bench.

"Sit down and relax."

Underneath the enveloping hood Anita had difficulty in even doing such a simple thing as sitting down. Tristam held her hands as he guided her awkward movements onto the bench. He knelt down on both knees in front of her and unsnapped the two bottom studs on the oilskin, then drew it aside so her legs were uncovered to the top of her thighs. Drops of rain pecked at the qivering bare skin.

"Tristan! There are buildings all around here. Somebody might be looking down!"

He jerked open another stud: "You'd better keep covered up like little yellow riding hood then, hadn't you?"

Tristan opened the oilskin further yet and trickles of cold water ran down the front of it, falling onto her exposed bush and inner thighs like icy fingers.

"Tristan!"

He leaned forward, pressing his scratchy cheeks between the smoothness of Anita's thighs, forcing them apart, pressing her back against the bench.

"Tristan!"

His lips, his tongue were up against her and he was lifting her legs up, resting the backs of her knees on his shoulders, the warmth of his body coming through the damp material of the track suit.

"Tristan - oh, Tristan."

His face was underneath the folds of the mini dress, blackness in blackness, with only his blonde hair to be seen, first ruffled by the wind alone, and then by Anita's fingers as he tongued her clitoris with clinical precision and single minded perseverance.

"Oh, that's good. Oh, that's soooo good!"

Even if he couldn't hear the low voiced words of encouragement from underneath the hood the fingertips urgently massaging his scalp conveyed their own message. Anita writhed around on the wet wooden slats of the park bench, completely past caring about her surroundings as her body sparked with long repressed needs.

"Oh, I want to be fucked by you, just you, just you, you big fucking monster," she crooned in delight, her eyes squeezed shut in delight as every nerve inside her seemed to be tingling with pleasure.

A cold nose touched the outside of her right leg, ruing her pleasure: "Go away, Beech, go away!"

Beech barked.

"Fuck off, Beech."

Beech barked again.

Anita opened her eyes, then tried to make some sense out of seeing a big white dog which looked like a ghost in the faint light. Only it wasn't a ghost and the white outline had dark spots on it. A dalmation! Oh God, somebody else was walking their dog in the park!

"Vikki, Vikki?"