The Pier – a short, erotic story

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(18+ only please)

The sky was stormy, with dark clouds rolling in from the sea. There had been just a few isolated raindrops, enough to drive most of the visitors towards the safety of the shore, where there was shelter from the rain that was threatening to lash down imminently. Eventually she was the only person at the end of the pier.

She loved weather like this at the seaside. You could keep the sunny, blue skies, that brought with it the crowds of people, families mainly, with their noisy children, and loud adults, who yelled at the children as their patience wore thin. No, she preferred the drama of a summer storm that whipped the waves until they came crashing dramatically over the end of the pier. She liked it even better when there were rolls of thunder and forks of lightning brightening up the sky. Perhaps it was dangerous, being out in the open during an electrical storm, but she adored the danger, the feeling that she was risking herself against the elements, that made her feel alive.

She noticed that she was not alone after all. Twenty feet to her right was a man in a raincoat, also leaning over the shabby iron railings, whose coat of turquoise paint, used to brighten up the appearance of the old pier, was already peeling. The man did not look at her, but she sensed that he was aware of her, making her nerve endings tingle.

The wind began to blow harder, whipping her long hair against her face, as the storm clouds approached. She tried in vain to keep it out of her eyes and mouth, but was fighting a losing battle.
“Allow me.”
The man was no longer twenty feet away, but standing immediately behind her. He did not wait for a reply, but used both hands to draw her hair to the back of her head, in a ponytail, which he continued to hold in his left hand. She tried to move her head, but the man kept her hair in a firm grip and she could not move so much as an inch. She was his captive and at his mercy.

The man came closer, his body almost touching hers. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. She shivered. Was it fear, or something else? His right hand began to slide slowly down the side of her body, stopping at her right thigh. She could scream, but she knew it would be wasted. The strong breeze and the crashing of the waves would make it inaudible to the people huddling under the shelters along the promenade.

His hand moved downwards again until he reached the hem of the thin, cotton dress she was wearing. She had dressed for the summer sunshine and not this unexpected storm. His fingers slid up her inner thigh and his hand slipped easily between her legs, stroking her mound. He continued to keep a tight hold on her hair, while his finger slid under the edge of her knickers and across her slit, before slipping inside her. She was powerless to stop him.

The lone finger was joined by a second and he began pumping them with vigour inside her moist depths. His body was pressed close to hers now and she could feel his hardness through his trousers. He bent her more over the railing and, with his foot, kicked her legs a little wider apart, while, at the same time he began to whisper filthy words into her ear.

He removed his fingers and unfastened himself and she felt his hard cock press against her bottom, until he redirected it downwards. He paused for just a second at her entrance before thrusting himself inside her as far as he could reach. Still he held her hair, as though he was using it to direct her movements backwards and forwards like a puppet. He was thick and solid and filled every inch of her. He sought out her clitoris, and massaged it until she lost control as her climax came rushing towards her. She exploded with pleasure at an event that had been entirely out of her control, and yelled into the wind as a feeling of euphoria swept through her body. Feeling her climax the man, with one last thrust, came with force inside her. He pumped until he had given her everything, before he pulled out and rearranged his clothing. He had not said a word to her.

Seconds later the man released her hair, turned and walked away. She could hear his shoes on the wooden pier until the noise of the wind meant that she could hear them no more. She lay over the railing for several seconds, absorbing the ripples still coursing through her body, before standing and turning to look along the length of the pier. The man was nearly at its end, and then he turned and disappeared from view.

The woman wiped her thighs with a tissue as best she could before making her way along the pier. It was time to go home. She walked the length of the pier, crossed the road and went down into the underground car park opposite. The car was a few yards along to the right, and she climbed inside, and sighed with relief. The man leaned over and kissed her tenderly. “Was it good my darling?”
“It was better than good,” she whispered.
“Well then, we should go home. Oh, by the way, you will be getting a spanking tonight for conducting yourself so disgracefully in public like that.”

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