Plain Jane

Call me Plain Jane. My name's not Jane, but it'll do. I've been plain as long as I can remember. People don't look at me twice. I never got asked out, never went to a prom. I'm sure I was never the subject of some Teen Dream's erotic nocturnal fantasy. It's not as if I'm ugly; I'm not. I'm just kind of average looking. Oh yes, and shy. Painfully shy.

Shyness is basically the reason I was there in the first place on a sultry night in June, instead of out at a bar or a club or some party. No, I was sitting on a bench by the rail trail facing the river, getting all damp and sweaty reading a book of short erotic stories all by myself. My roommate had friends over, and they were all loud and exuberant. I was getting my jollies by squeezing my thighs together underneath my skirt. Later on, when I went home and showered and went to bed, I would ride my vibrator like a wild stallion and watch videos with the sound turned all the way down of muscle bound men sucking dick and fucking each other in the ass. For now, I just enjoyed the feeling of being turned on, relishing the anticipation.

When he jogged by, I looked up and set my book in my lap, pretending to be reading something serious and non-smutty. He was beautiful. There weren't many joggers out this evening. It was hot, and getting late. He was tall and slender and ripped. He didn't look like a marathoner—too many muscles; or a jogger out to win the battle of the bulge—there wasn't any bulge. (Not at the waistline anyway; there was a promising looking package in the front of his sheer nylon shorts.) Maybe he was a triathlete, or a rock climber. He was my age, or a little younger. He had short, crew cut hair, and he was covered in sweat, but he ran easily, beautifully, without any apparent effort. He reminded me of a wolf; not the cartoon stereotype, but of a wolf I had once seen at nature preserve: Highly intelligent, totally functional, utterly wild.

I would think of him later on. Not too much later; the midsummer sky was getting dark, and it was getting hard to read.

He passed me again as I was walking back toward the apartment, and I got to admire him from behind. Strong calves, long legs, tight little ass. Some kind of tattoo peeking out from the collar of his shirt. His lucky girlfriend. I wondered if he fucked her in the ass.

Thunder had been rumbling in the distance, and flashes of lightening just over the horizon. A storm was coming in. I felt a breath of cool as a strong gust of wind came up. Seconds later, fat drops of rain started pelting the dusty path around me. I ran to the pavilion, a wooden structure with a roof, four picnic tables and no walls. I ducked into the shelter just as the storm broke. Lightening flashed and thunder crashed, and the rain poured down in sheets. It had come on so fast, I hoped it would move on just as quickly. Until then, all I could do was wait. I'm not an especially nervous type, but being female, alone in the park after dark, and stuck in the shelter made me feel vulnerable and just a little scared.

He came in out of the rain. He was drenched. His t-shirt was transparent and stuck to his skin. His shoes were muddy. His nylon shorts left little to the imagination. He flashed me a wicked grin that lit up his eyes, and sat down on the table next to me, where he began prying off his soaking wet running shoes.

I was tongue tied. I felt like I should say something to this man who was now so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"It's raining, huh?"

"Nice weather we're having, eh?"

"My name is Andrea, and I'm super horny. Wanna fuck?"

No, no no. I kept my trap shut, and felt myself starting to blush.

I almost jumped right out of my skin when I felt his hand on my knee. He had taken off his shoes, and layed them upside down on the concrete floor of the pavilion where a puddle had formed around them and was joining the little lake that had grown up from the water that had run off of us. He had placed his hand on my left knee, just as natural as could be. The jolt of electricity that passed between us almost stopped my heart. I felt my cunt swell and my nipples harden. My skirt rode up a little more, and my legs parted even as my face turned (I'm sure) a hitherto unknown shade of deep red.

He wasn't looking at me. He removed his hand. My heart dropped like a stone in my chest. He pulled off his t-shirt, and I held my breath. He wrung it out and set it on the table next to us. His skin was pale, his muscles defined, his chest smooth, his nipples pierced with thick steel rings.

He was kissing me fiercely as his hand explored the territory between my thighs. My skirt had ridden up to my waist, his arm was around me, his tongue was in my mouth. I wanted him dreadfully, painfully. I could plainly see the bulge in his running shorts. The thin wet material left not much to the imagination: I could practically see the individual veins of his engorged cock.

His groping hand found my panties. Softly, tantazlingly, he traced the cleft of my pussy down the front of my underwear. My cunt was drooling, my clit singing. His fingers slipped under the elastic and my pussy felt the cool night wind on her naked flesh.

With one strong, sudden motion, he tore the crotch out of my underwear. Another sure tug and he broke the waistband. He tossed them aside, concentrating on my naked sex. I was exposed as I never really had been before, totally open for his inspection. There was no security of a dark room or a sheet here; he could see anything and everything. And so could anyone who happened to come by. Outside our shelter, the rain was still coming down in buckets.

I wanted him to fuck me right there on the table. I knew I didn't want to get pregnant or catch some disease, but Christ I wanted that cock inside me. It looked like it was about to split his running shorts. I wanted to tell him to put it into my mouth so he could fuck my face until he came.

His fingers were exploring my pussy, and my legs were spread wide, wider. His fingers found their way up inside me, filling my need, driving me half mad with lust. My clit felt like a big ripe cherry. My cunt was soaking wet. He offered his slimy fingers to my mouth and I eagerly sucked my juice off of him, reveling in the sexiness of it all.

His fingers were back inside me. He lowered his mouth to the place where I needed him so badly, and his tongue caressed, teased, tormented. He was kneeling on the bench in front of me now, my legs supported on his shoulders. I had extracted my tits from under my bra, and was tweaking my nipples in time with his squirming tongue.

The thrusting fingers inside my pussy seemed to know just where to put pressure to drive me totally insane. I was going to come. I was going to come on this strange man's face as he licked my clit and finger banged me.

I felt a finger probing between my ass cheeks, and I started to go off. I squirmed and wiggled, trying to give him more access, trying to get more of him into me. I felt his big finger (maybe two?) penetrate my asshole in a flaming jolt of sensation.

Now he was fucking both my holes and licking my clit like a man possessed. I think I was crying aloud, shaking and writhing and coming hard all over his talented fingers and mouth. I don't know how long my orgasm lasted, but it seemed like forever.

I realized that it had almost stopped raining. He was standing over me as I lay on top of the picnic table, skirt around my waist, pussy and tits hanging out for the world to see. He was looking into my eyes, stroking his long cock fast, faster.

I reached out to take it in my hand, but he pushed me back. His hand was moving so fast it was a blur. His balls were a tight knot, the head of his penis outrageously purple. He came with a howl, squirting ropes of white hot semen all over my breasts. It seemed like gallons, it seemed like he would never stop coming. He never looked away from my eyes until he was done.

And then he was gone: shorts up, shoes on, and jogging off into the night. I had to touch myself again, as I tasted his salty come and rubbed him into my nipples. Then I cleaned up and went home, where my vibrator and DVDs were waiting patiently for me.

I would be waiting for him though, one night soon, on the park bench next to the river and the rail trail.