Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica

Crime

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Whether it was our actions that called attention, or that city folk already attract it when in the countryside, I’ll never know. Too many events to attribute the stares occurred; any guess would be as valid as another. Being used to the the big city makes any place look small in my eyes, but this town, it was very little. A rock could be thrown from the town-line across to adjacent towns. The Main Street directed traffic north to south, just before the end of the town to the south side, the main roadway “Main Street” forked. Right there at the fork stood the one opened venue at 11PM within walking distance from our motel room.

On the East side of Main Street, just a few feet north of the traffic fork, an old cemetery stood. Gates had been left opened as if awaiting the imminent arrival of unsuspecting souls; adjacent to it, to the north, was our stay room. Across the street of the motel stood a few abandoned buildings and a hardware store. There were no houses in the town, I suppose it didn’t really need any, it couldn’t have been no more than a 100 yards long.

We had tired of driving, and as fate had it, this was the first town to offer over-night accommodations in a long while. I refused to chance any farther traveling looking for a more welcoming stay. We caught a sight of the opened venue while registering, and thought it a wonderful idea to simmer down with some music and a few drinks. After getting situated in our room, a double bed room because my workmate, though a female, thought it odd to share the same bed. I thought it to be a most wonderful idea. But, she didn’t share the sentiments. On our budget, we were lucky to have a double bed “suite”, never mind individual rooms.

On… we headed to have a drink. We walked passed the cemetery to our left, in direction to the opened venue. Upon reaching the venue, it became apparent that we were in for more than anticipated. Blue grass music played, numerous bearded fellows greeted us with a menacing stare. I fear we’ve trespassed private property, I whispered to my companion. She didn’t care, being quite the attractive person, I’m sure of their delight to see her walking in wearing legging pants, and a fitted top – I was happy to see her, too.

The liquor menu seemed to be true to the area. We could choose between beer, and well, whiskey. I didn’t trust the stuff being poured out from the tap, so I selected the “top shelf menu” by asking for whiskey, neat. She seemed to have figured as much and selected likewise. Mine was presented in a beer mug, but hers came in what looked to be the only brandy glass west of the Great Lakes. Aside from the dust cleaned off of it, it looked like it’d been dormant for a few thousand years.

After a few drinks, not having made any friends, we decided to get up and change the music. Luckily there was no dj to debate, nor band to make a request. A jukebox was the center of attention at this local establishment. There was absolutely not a recognizable name on that jukebox, not one. So we left it alone, and hope for the best until it was time to depart. To it’s left, thought, oh, there was an open window facing the cemetery… eerie. But I gave my back to it, leaned against it, held my beer mug with my left hand and, be it what it was, said to my companion that her entire physique was revealed through the tight legging pants. Your top, well, I can’t tell whether you are cold, or enjoying my company.

I quickly apologize for being lewd, but rescinded the apology on account of wanting to tell her the difficulty I’d been enduring in her company during this over-night business trip. The view of her thighs and calves escaping the cover of the skirt cost me two speeding tickets on the way up. They were well worth it as well. They are far more appealing than looking at common traffic signs. She took the mug from my right hand, dumped her drink inside mine, and drank it all. She looked like she wanted to cry after it, but hell, I was impressed. I’d been sipping mine for a while now in fear of looking like lush.

She pushed me against the wall, almost tripping me over the open window. She prevented my fall over the opened window by holding me in place by my belt buckle. After I had stopped moving she noticed that all of me had reacted to her touch. I wear low rise pants – the type where the waist sits below the hip bones. And, I am not ashamed to admit that half of little me was visible outside the pants… standing tall in the sake of desire. Nothing was said for a few seconds when, glory all might lord who is in the heavens, my coworker goes down and wraps her lips around that part of me visible outside the pants. She kissed it quickly, then wrapped her tongue around it a few times. I looked around and saw all the beards looking one way, at us; I pulled her up by her chin, and told her we had to leave. We dashed out of the venue hand by hand; she led, and led me straight into the cemetery. We ran in, stopped for a second to look back assuring that no beards were following us… we saw them, a few looking through the window at the venue, the door, and others in the parking lot looking around. We ran just farther in to discourage any daring souls to come after us. It was difficult to see anything this far back; our eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness. We felt around with our hands and feet until stumbling into a suitable rest stop.

I wasted little time undressing her, her pants and shirt I placed on the floor to cushion her back. I needn’t undress, unbuckling my belt sufficed for her to run her hands up and down on me. Unable to see what I wanted from her, I felt all of her, felt how supple, yet strong, toned and feminine she was. I had won a price for my lewdness, and now she was ready to present it to me. I wasted little time on plays of the “fore”. I slid down with my lips, quickly finding the spot that weakens the most stubborn of women. I could tell she would have preferred a smoother approach as her butt kept pressing against the cushioning garments until moisture saturated her. The type of pressing where it’s obvious that too fast in too comforting a zone takes getting used to. Today I’ve yet to taste such allure as I did that night… thought that’s here nor there for the accounts that transpired that evening.

She didn’t ask of me to penetrate her, she told me to penetrate her. She told me to do it then and there. Not to take any time thinking about whether it should be gentle and soft; to forget she’s a lady, that she wanted to feel me flog her for keeping me at bay so long. To make my intentions known, to give her a reminder for the morning when she’d awake feeling that I had been present. So I did, I tell you I did. Those outside the cemetery knew for sure something unusual was at work that night. Me in her, and her eagerness to inform the small town that the girl with the world contoured to her pants just at that one opened venue, the one wrapping her lips in a lewd act on her coworker, was being taught a lesson.

By now our eyes had acclimated to the night, whatever light was shed by the full moon reflected off of objects light in colour. I was first to notice that we where atop a tomb, just as I was the first to become aware of the many other tombs staring at us. Given the amount of alcohol I had consumed, I cared little for the friendly residents. Yet, during one of her moments of joy, she opened her eyes, looked up at the tombstone in front of us, and screamed “CRIME”. With a strong shove, she forced me away from her. She ran off in direction of the front gates, frantically screaming “CRIME”, that we’d committed a crime, that she had a notion that we were about to sin, and here we were being told that we really did.

I grabbed her clothing from the tomb and chased after her. Not really chasing to stop her from going anywhere, but because the darkness prevented me from seeing her body react to her galloping. I wanted a closer view of how her legs, butt and bust looked in distress. The darkness prevented me from the view; now all I wanted to do was catch up to her to stop her run out the cemetery in full nudity. Just steps from the gate I caught up to her, hugging her, shushing her. She was crying, telling me we’d committed a sin, and now had to pay for it.

I was laughing, she didn’t understand why I found it so amusing. I just couldn’t stop laughing. See, I explained to her, I also read the engraving on the tombstone. It didn’t read “CRIME”, it actually read “GRIMES”. A certain Mr. Grimes from the 1800s rested there. She was still in distress looking at me, asking if I was positive. That I was! I read it a few times. As her, I had initially thought it did read “CRIME”, so I had to read it multiple times. I suppose it was a relief for her to hear she’d read it incorrectly, because she jumped on me, wrapping her legs around me, kissing me, telling me to hurry, assuring that she saturated enough before where it would be an ease to slip inside of her. She lied, her dash and distress had totally opposed her statement of being wet. Whatever saturation might have remained there, I’m sure it fell way of the wind while she ran to safety.

Regardless, I tried once and again to push in, caring little for the somewhat uncomfortable friction caused by forcing in when I shouldn’t have. I would have been gentler any other time, yet her constant reassurance made me thrust ignoring the painful-at-times friction. She told me not to care about her, that she was woman enough to handle whatever I wanted to give her. That being nude outside mid night, she refused to go indoors without being satisfied. That she didn’t just want the tip waiting to cause precipitation of moisture, but to force it and make her precipitate. So I did, and wet she got. I had grown tired, and figured I would grab her butt with my right hand, take a wide stance to sort of support her bouncing weight on my thighs, and there I stayed. Acting as a bouncing receptacle for her pelvis. She bounced, she shifted forwards, backwards, throwing her torso backwards, bending her back to where she placed her palms flat on the floor.

I pulled her up fearing I’d drop her, fearing I’d pull out and not culminate the endeavor. I could feel the stretch caused on me, pulling me down as far as back it can reach. My one desire was of light to come to my rescue to allow a sight of me inside of her as she bent backwards. That never did happen, I was left only to feel her tightly wrapped around me, consuming me without hesitation, or distraction. To feel her butt collide against my pelvis, against my thighs as she bounced on me. Left to touch her moisture sliding out of her. I’d reached and touch myself, holding on to him to feel her coming down against my hand, to feel her residues against my hand.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands, I needed to hold on to her as she went backwards, but I also wanted to press my hands against her buttocks. Feel the suppleness of them, actually, because I wanted to touch more than her buttocks. I had this dire urge to also feel that area I knew I wouldn’t have a say in having. So I did, I reached with my left while using my right hand with all my might to hold her up, and touched her. She sighed, she sighed, and moaned fervently, thrusting herself upright onto me. She kissed me, and told me “Papi, don’t stop, Papi”.

I did more than touch her in all honesty. I did it because she asked to use “my digit if I wanted to take more of her than I anticipated. So I did, I initially spent enough time saturating my hands, ensuring them to be on guard. I circled with my ring finger, circled and again, until she told me to stop being timid and push in. I did, I did what I wanted, feeling her shift her pelvis around, swallowing both me and my digit where I thought I’d never feel. I was more mesmerized by the action encountered by my hands that I was about being inside of her. I had more of her than I could have imagined being scolded by the traffic official during my second speeding stoppage.

She looked at me, kissed me, climbed off of me, and ran towards the hotel totally nude. Asking of me to come inside and finish with the help of light. To come view all I had been unable to see. I ran after, we ran after two witnesses standing at the gate. Both males with long white beards. I could hear them sighing, saw one toss an old hat on the floor. But she, she was mine, and you, well, you two can only look and wish there was room for more than just one.

Author: jibarican

https://crimsoncrossing.wordpress.com

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