After Dark

You're hiding in the bathroom of the Statue of Liberty when he comes in. It sounds weird, but it's not. You're a photographer, and in your opinion, the observation deck will be the perfect spot to get some romantic shots of the lights at the summit. Everyone who's anyone on the world stage will be there, so they've gone all-out on the decor. The lights from above, the reflections off the water -- you know it will all look fantastic. But of course, nobody's allowed up here after hours except security. Peh. So you snuck up during tourist hours and locked yourself in a stall, squatting on the toilet seat to make it look like the stall was empty. Out of order, or something.



Okay, so it's a little weird.



You check your watch: the guards should be switching shifts about now. If you're going to sneak out to the observation deck, now is the time. You quietly open the stall and step outside -- slamming right into the firm, broad-shouldered body of a man. Shit.



But it's not a guard. Guards don't wear black motorcycle jackets to work. You look up in confusion and find you recognize the face. It's not from real life, though; it's from the news.



"Well hello," he says with a grin. "Clearing the area is usually such a boring job on night runs. Guess that's not the case today, hm?" He squeezes your ass, enjoying your bewildered look. You feel flustered, for once at total a loss for words. The extremely dangerous mutant terrorist, as seen on TV, continues to grope you, pulling down your panties to rub your ass under your skirt. You're not sure whether he's more or less frightening in real life. Definitely differently-frightening, though. He looks much less like he wants to kill you, more like he wants to eat you alive.



He turns your still-dazed body around, pushing you up against the cold metal of the stall door. You hear the sound of a zipper, and he flips up your skirt, smacking a plump cheek. Oh, this is bad news. But you don't move.



"Y'know, there are a lot of bloody downsides to being amphibious," he comments as he rubs the tip of his slick cock against your asshole, "but on the bright side, I save so much bloody money on lube."



He begins to prod gently at your sphincter. "So, there's two ways we can do this. If you relax, no squirming, this could be very nice for both of us. Or," he smirks, "it can just be nice for me." You whimper as his prodding becomes more insistent, and try to consider your options. You recall the footage you saw earlier, of him and the others sweeping into a train station and wreaking absolute havoc. There's no way, even if you could get out of his firm grip, that you'd be fast enough to get away.



He chuckles as you relax just enough and the head slips inside you with a wet pop. You moan quietly. He's thick and surprisingly hot; you wonder if he's cold-blooded at all, or maybe he warmed himself up just for you. How long has he known you were there? All thoughts are banished from your mind when he pushes into you, each inch making you sure that the next will melt you from the inside. He goes slowly, so that by the time his hips have come to press against your soft ass, you're squirming, barely able to control yourself.



"Glad you like it, love," he whispers, nibbling gently on your ear. He thrusts slowly, his dick massaging you deep inside. He fondles your body as he fucks you, pinching a nipple, squeezing a breast. His long fingers push into your pussy, making distinctly lewd, wet noises. "Yeah, you love it." You find that you do.



After a few minutes of firm, gentle thrusting, he starts getting faster, and rougher. He fingerfucks your pussy with one hand and pulls your hair with the other, turning your head to see your face. He watches you intently, taking in every moan, every look of pleasure that passes over your features. Your body tingles all over and you thrust your hips back into him, reveling in the sensation of his cock buried deep in your ass. He grunts as he comes, squirting his seed inside you. He rests a moment before he pulls out. Your asshole twitches a little, the emptiness already feeling a little strange.



"You know," he says, "You're the first one who actually got off on this. It would be a shame to leave you this way, don't you think?" He runs his fingers over your throbbing clit and you whimper some more, begging softly for release. "After all, you never know when we might run into each other again." He reaches into your pocket and fishes out your business card, tucking it away neatly in his jacket. Then he pushes you down onto your back, wetting his lips with his tongue.



"Don't worry, I think I know just the thing."