"Pretend I'm her."

We are standing under a willow tree in the park near the office, her body pressed against mine, my hands on her bare back under her shirt and her bare ass under her skirt.

I have finally admitted my obsession to her, my long obsession with another younger woman who has reentered my life and my work and to whom I cannot bring myself to be open with. The obsession has been a distraction, a barrier to the complete openness she has insisted on for so long.

"Pretend I'm her," she repeats, and kisses me.

I break off the kiss, excited, panting, about to lose my carefully cultivated armor of control.

"Pretend I'm her," she says again, sinking to her knees on the dark earth beneath the enshrouding willow tree.

If anyone should walk over here, get within even ten feet they will see her kneeling in front of me with Oh God my cock in her mouth.

"Pretend I'm her," she mutters as best she can around my erection.

I look down. I look down at her and see her, and then her, picture my obsession, my girl forever, down on her knees in the park under a willow with my cock in her mouth and I say it, say her name, say it out loud, so she can hear so she will know, know she has reached me, know she has me, know she has won me, know I am hers as I come spurting, again and again and again into the back of her throat and she swallows, and I say the name again, just for good measure, as she licks her lips and looks up at me, knowing.