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From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} Fwd: Mean Streets 2
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Date: Fri, 25 Sep 2015 06:10:04 -0400
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Mean Streets  2
 
 Waryas Park at the foot of Main Street, was so  picturesque, giving views 
of the majestic Hudson River and a wonderful park  for all to enjoy, well at 
least in daylight hours.  The park itself was  named after a former mayor 
of Poughkeepsie.  A view of a bridge north and  south of it.  The destroyed; 
but now being refurbished railroad trestle  to the north and the Mid Hudson 
(FDR) Bridge to the south.  A pavilion  with tables and chairs for inclement 
weather and  tables and benches  spread over the riverside park.  A small 
dock for fishing and a boat  launch. 
    A new outdoor skateboard  facility and lots of lawn.  The Childrens 
Museum just to the north.   A favorite place for families and couple and 
solitary people, using it  for one function or another. Well policed and 
maintained for the section  of the city it was located. Quite the place on a hot 
summer day to beat  the heat and enjoy fresh air.
    A dark March morning, it is a  whole different milieu.  The cold of the 
morning filling the huge open  room.  The last train gone in to the depot, 
tucked on a siding, being  readied for the morning commuters.  Standing and 
straightening  my tube top and skirt, buttoning my shortwaisted leather  
jacket.  Looking to the brighter part of the dimly lit cavernous  room.  
Shaking my head quietly as I fold the bills and put them in the  hidden inner 
pocket of my coat.  Leaning to brush my knees off, as I walk  over to the water 
fountain.  Gargling and spitting out the ice cold  water.  Walking into the 
dingy ladies room and lifting my skirt as I roll  my hose down my legs.  A 
quick pee and wipe from front to back as taught  when a young girl.  Long 
time ago now.  Adjusting my clothing again  and then hearing my shoes 
resonating on the tiled floor.  Each step  confident and sure, not letting the fear 
that grips me show.  Looking to  the back of the station, the man is gone, 
just a couple of homeless people  sitting on the benches.
    Shoving the door open,  feeling the cool air wrapping around my legs, 
the wind blowing gently, as I  turn right and head to Main Street.  Then 
another right onto Main.   My steps choppy now as I walk down the steep hill to 
the river.  Eyes  surveying the storefronts and alleyways.  Past the parking 
lot and deck,  past Dooley Square.  A few die hard drinkers in the lot, 
sharing a  sixpack.  Then down the steep slope, feeling the strain in my calves 
and  thighs and my ass cheeks as I quickly move past the restaurants,  
Amici's  and then Riverstation, to the entrance to the park.  Now the slope more 
 gentle, as I walk from one street light to the next, feeling like a stage  
performer as I enter the circle of each.  Trying to pull my buttoned  
jacket closer to me, the cool air, blowing against my legs and up my  skirt.  My 
collar turned up around my neck.  Definitely not dressed  for this night 
morning air. 
    As I move along the circle at  the base of Main Street, wisps of fog, 
blow in the breeze.  Wondering why  I am down here, as I find a place on a 
park bench.  It is a special  place, to relax and be away from my sordid life. 
 No more trains for a  few hours and he won't pick me up till he has his 
breakfast.  My  breathing a bit quick from the stretch of my legs.  Small 
puffs of  condensing moisture, extending from my mouth.  Cursing silently, my 
short  black dress and fishnet stockings, not giving me much warmth from the 
cool  moist air.  Shivering as I sit on the cold bench, feeling it wet with 
dew  from the fog.  The patches of fog thickening.  The far lights on the  
other side of the Hudson, being slowly doused as are the ones on the vehicle  
bridge.  Looking like someone walking from the other side, turning them  off 
as they approach.  Hunched and shivering as I listen to the long wail  of a 
freight train on the west side of the river.  Its whistle shorts  bursts as 
it approaches each car crossing.  No sound behind me as I sit  and relax, 
legs squeezed tight to keep my inner folds warm.  Nipples hard  as my torso 
shivers  with the cool breeze and intruding  moisture.
    As the fog becomes the  reality of the night, the lights soft glows in 
the distance.  The sound  of a fog horn, announcing the movement of a 
tugboat on the river.   Pushing a tanker or barge or scow up or down the river.  
Sometimes  thinking to myself, what it might be like to travel freely and see 
new  places.  Imagining a journey on a sailing ship, the only woman amongst 
 all those men.  Knowing they all think of me at night, and whenever they  
would see me during the day, leaning over the rail of the ship,  my  skirts 
blowing about me, my blouse defining the gentle swell of my   small breasts, 
but knowing they are desired by all.  All my parts in  demand, high demand. 
 Smiling, laughing softly.  Not so different  then what I do now.
    Wishing I had a hot cup of  coffee to wrap my hands around, to press 
against my not so warmly covered  mound.  Hoping for the warm weather, where 
my attire will match the  temperatures.  Scanty clothing might be nice on a 
beach or in a hot  stuffy hotel room; but on the streets here in April, it is 
bone chilling, and  all my other parts also.  Wondering why I don't get 
sick from all this  exposure, giggling as I think, maybe my intake of protein 
off sets it in some  way.  And there is nothing like a big man on a cool 
night, lets you mold  into the folds of his body.
    Listening to the lap of the  now unseen water, my thoughts are broken 
by the muffled sound of  footsteps.  Though cushioned by the thickening fog, 
the sound is  definitely of heels.  Looking around uselessly for sight of 
the person  making the unsure sound.  Just thinking the sounds are closer,  
huddling on the bench, chilled by the wet air and now the unknown  walker.  
Definitely female; but trying to listen for other steps in the  pea soup of 
the early morning.
    Knowing that not likely any  other girl was working this area.  I 
didn't hear a car pull into the  parking lot.  People don't walk to the river 
landing from other better  parts of the city.  Trying to think if I saw a woman 
in the few cars  still scattered around the restaurants and bars.  Maybe it 
isn't heels,  the sounds are deceptive.  Trying to decide whether to stand 
or remain  obscure and maybe unseen on the bench.  At least I am familiar 
with the  water front park.  It is my friend, my consolation and occasionally 
my  place of employment.
    Much to early for my man, he  doesn't miss his morning breakfast and 
would not come out in this gawd awful  fog.  Besides he wouldn't walk looking 
for me, but beep his horn and call  out to his "white slut whore."  The 
footsteps have stopped and then start  again, my eyes and ears trying to focus 
on location.  Seeming to be on  the pathway to the railing and benches that 
overlook the river.   Definitely not high heels.  A form unfolding in the 
wisps of fog, an  outline of a person, one person.  Looking like a hoody on 
their head, a  long coat to below the knees, not able to define if male or 
female, back and  side to me as they lean on the railing.
    Watching the figure as the  outline firms and wisps away in the 
shifting fog.  Stationery, but  shaking in place, smiling as I realize that I am 
not the only cold fool down  here.  Then as I watch, not having decided 
whether to try to leave or  stay and wait them out, I hear a low sound, as of 
someone crying.  A  louder sob, occasionally.  The sounds pulling at my cold 
heart and  body.  Standing up slowly, pulling my leather jacket tighter to me 
as I  jam my hands into the pockets.  Feeling the moisture on my legs, 
retained  by the strands of my fishnet stockings, thinking maybe would  have be  
better with no hose.  Taking a deep breath and trying to walking quietly  to 
the figure leaning on the railing.  As I get closer the form more  defined, 
wisps of hair poking from the hood, seeing the pale face as it turns  to me, 
a hand raising to wipe away a tear.  Seeing the fear in the face  easing 
for a second and then returning as the woman sees my  outfit. 
    Smiling weakly, I walk up to  the woman, catching her arm with my 
fingers as she turns to walk away.   "Sorry, if I have bothered you.  Just that I 
heard you and wondering if  you need some help or just companionship."
    "I am fine," as she daubs  again at her face with her coat sleeve.  
Seeing her posture still one of  fear, I release my fingers from her arm, 
letting them fall to my sides.   "Stay, I didn't mean to disturb you.  I find 
this place calming and a  place to think."  Looking past her to the fog and the 
gentle splashes of  the waves licking the banks of the shoreline.
    Smiling wanly again, "I would  offer you a kleenix, but think you 
wouldn't want to touch it, sort of  used."  Seeing the look of assessment in the 
woman's eyes as she looks at  my eye shadow the thick mascera, a track of 
lip gloss,  the  leather jacket, short skirt and fishnet stockings, the low 
heels.  Trying  to stand still as she looks, but shivering with the moisture 
collected on my  clothing.  "I won't bite,,,,,,,,unless you want me to,"  
laughing to  soften my remark.  Taking my time, I look at her.  Seeing the 
brown  hair, mostly covered by the cotton hood of the shirt underneath.  Seeing  
a gleam of moisture on her lashes, the result of the fog,  eyes teary,  
with a faint track where tears had moved down her cheeks and then curling  
around her mouth to her chin.  Lips pressed together as she looks back at  me.  
Her wool jacket buttoned to the neck and down the front, extending  down to 
mid calf.  Loose denim pantlegs below and a pair of brown flat  loafers.  
Not too tall, but not short either.  The coat flared out  nicely at her bosom 
and hips, alluding to the definite fact of her  femininity.  Hands crossed 
over her chest in a closed posture of body  language.  The knit gloves, 
fingers small, but the left ring finger,  bulging with a ring or two beneath. 
    A waft of breath, condensing  as she slowly exhales, eyes relaxing a 
bit, as I extend a bare hand to  her.  Watching as her hand moves slowly from 
the security of her chest to  grasp mind in a hesitant grip, letting my 
fingers squeeze the warm hand.   "You know you shouldn't be down here, not safe 
for a woman or even a man at  night?  But should be okay with the dampness.  
Sort of discourages  the lazy dregs."  "Can I stand by you and we can just 
share a little  warmth and companionship.  It is chilly."  My body shivering 
to  attest to that statement.  Feeling my legs shaking as they are exposed  
fully to the night air.
    The woman nods and then turns  to lean on the railing again, looking 
into the dense mist.  Walking up to  her, I turn and lean on the railing also, 
my arm just touching hers.   Long minute as she looks to the river, then a 
soft sob again, feeling her body  moving with each successive one.  Reaching 
out my arm, I slide it around  her waist, hooking my fingers at the side 
and pulling her against me.   Then running my fingers in a small track up and 
down the back of her  coat.  The sobs light and contained.  And then a 
heavier one as she  can't control them.  Leaning over and turning to her, I see 
the flood of  tears, rolling down her left cheek, her eyes half closed, lower 
lip  trembling.  Her breathing gasps.
    Taking my hand, fingers  touching her right cheek, gently turning her 
face to mine.  Seeing the  pain in her eyes, the hurt.  Feeling her breath on 
my face, as I lean  over and touch my lips to hers.  A quick kiss, then 
moving to her cheek,  my tongue tip, licking the salty tears from her face.  
Hearing a gasp of  surprise at the touch of my lips and tongue, her hands 
rising  defensively.
    "Don't", one word whispered  to her face, as I feel the arms pushing me 
away.  Catching her eyes and  seeing the fear drop from them, my hands 
reaching to move her arms to her  sides, holding her hands in mine.  My lips 
again moving to touch hers, my  tongue wetting them, feeling the dry skin, the 
warmth of her lips, the  taste.  Her breath, smelling of wine, not 
unpleasant, but a sweet  taste.  My tongue touching the sides of her mouth, then 
sliding to the  other side, my breathing stopped as my tongue moves trying to 
relax the closed  lips.  Looking for an opening.  My right hand grasping her 
left, can  feel the rings, one over the other, the band of circle and then 
the thin band  with the large stone.  My finger touching it wistfully for a 
second, then  my hand moving her back and behind her back, holding her hands 
clasped there  as my body presses on our bulky coats.  Feeling her legs, 
wanting to move  back, but a half circle and I have her back  to the railing.  
My  lips more insistent, as I purse them and then press them against her, my  
tongue finally breaking through her resistance, tip entering.  My full  
lips, now moving slowly on hers, taking a kiss, pulling her breath from her  
mouth.  Inhaling the warmth of her breath. 
    Holding her hands loosely  behind her with my right hand, my left moves 
between us and undoes the top  button of her coat.  The quarter size 
button, sliding through the  slit.  Feeling her body stiffen at the touch of left 
hand.  Letting  my lips take hers, not giving her time to think as my hand 
undoes the next  button, working slowly down to her waist, then sliding 
between the  opening.  Feeling her lips and tongue moving to push mine away, 
wanting  to protest, as my fingers cup the underside of her right  breast.   
Fingers moving to touch the zipper of the hoody  sweatshirt, feeling the warmth 
emanating from her body.  Hand  warming with the heat waves.  Looking into 
her eyes in the dull  brightness from a light, watching her eyes open when 
my fingers cup the front  of her breast.   Fingers resting lightly on the 
round  orb.
    Breaking the kiss, as my  mouth moves to her neck, touching the 
pulsation there, feeling each pump of  her heart.  As my lips slide lower, my hand 
moves to the zipper tab,  sliding it down with a soft sound in the night 
air, a gasp, but not of  protest.  My head sliding lower, touching the swell of 
her full breasts,  tongue tip pressing at the top of the cleavage.  My hand 
moving to my  jacket, sliding down the  zipper on the leather.  Feeling a 
rush of  cool air against my thin blouse.  Nipples quickly extending with the 
cold  and excitement.  Feeling the ache, as they push at my top.  Letting  
my lips slide down to the half cups of her brassiere sucking on the creamy  
white flesh.  Then moving to a half crouch as my fingers work open the  rest 
of her long coat.  Standing again, parting the coat and then the  hoody, 
hearing a whimper as I release her hands, my cold right hand moving to  the 
warmth and then around back to unsnap her bra.  A gasp as the cold  hand 
touches her warm flesh.  Smiling to myself as I realize the shock of  the touch.  
Then lifting up the left cup, sliding it off her breast, my  cold right 
hand moving to grasp the round flesh, feeling the turgid nipple  hard.  The 
loud moan at the touch of the cold fingers, her body trying to  escape the 
touch. 
    Trapping her mouth again with  my lips, taking it with my tongue, 
pushing it deep, as my hands massage the  large full breasts.  Fingers slowly 
moving over the nipples, flicking  with my nails, and then rolling them with my 
fingers.  Taking each gasp  and whimper into my mouth, swallowing them as 
mine.  Given, maybe not  freely; but given to me.  Enjoying the play of her 
eyes, closing and  watching the movement under the eyelids, as my fingers 
touch the sensitive  flesh, raising the nerve endings, exciting them with  
stimuli. 
    Sure in my mind that her  hands are still behind her back, overlapped.  
Held by and invisible  bond.  Moaning deeply into her mouth as my hands 
pull my tube top down,  exposing the small mounds of my breasts, the large 
nipples.  Pressing my  body against her, the cool air forgotten as my breast are 
flattened against  the large globes.  Nipples touching, the pleasure so 
exquisite.   Feeling my eyes losing focus for a moment.  Her body pushing to 
mine,  chests moving side to side, as the nipples rub hidden by the melding of 
 breasts.
    Feeling fleeting chills as  our upper bodies press together, my lips 
taking hers, teeth biting into her  lower lip, holding it as mine.  Looking at 
the surprise in her eyes,  waiting for it to relax, then again enjoying the 
look as my fingers fumble at  the snap to her jeans.  Finally freeing it 
with one hand and then sliding  the zipper down.  The sound loud in the dark 
morning fog.  Seeing  the tightening of her face, as my fingernail, pushes 
between the open flaps  and presses on the waistband of her panty.  Curling as 
I reverse my hand  and palm against her mound, my fingers slide down the 
warm round flesh.   Feeling the trembling under her skin, the gasp and intake 
of her stomach,  tightening.  Trying to escape my fingers, but making it 
easier for them  to slide lower, as she sucks her stomach in. 
    Letting go of her lips,  tasting a drop of blood.  Moving my lips to 
suck at her breath.   Fingers now playing with the light down, and then taking 
her gasp as my  fingers touch a fat lip,  feeling it warm and full.  Then 
sliding  lower fingers outlining the lips as my middle finger moves down the 
slit,  feeling the warmth of the flesh as it parts, the moisture on the 
walls.   The movement of her hip to pull away, and then my finger following, it  
pressing back.  Inhaling the whimper as with one movement she again pulls  
away and pushes back, finger dipping deeper into her pot of honey.   Cupping 
the vulva, as I press against the back of my hand with my mound,  forcing 
the finger deeper into her wet tunnel.  Moaning, loudly against  my mouth, 
her lips moving on mine, her hips pushing hard, driving the finger  deep.  My 
fingers massaging the full outer labia, then pushing in to  massage the 
inner, pulling on the delicate folds, rolling them in my  fingers.  Feeling the 
rolling of hips as I can feel her body squirming on  my finger.  The muscles 
clamping on my finger, curling it to scratch on  the walls. 
    The secretions slick on the  finger, pushing a second alongside the 
first, feeling her body reacting, hips  jerking as the fingers saw slowly into 
the wet hole.  Holding them as I  feel her clenching on my fingers.  The 
heat from her pussy and the  buildup in the crotch of her panties and jeans 
steaming my fingers.   Leaning my head to take a nipple in my mouth, tongue 
swirling slowly around  the thick nipple, sucking with my lips, drawing the 
nipple into my mouth,  feeling the cornea of the areola sucked in, tongue 
circling slowly on the  flesh as my cheeks draw on the sensitive tissue.
    Letting my thumb move to rub  across the small bump of the raised clit, 
as my fingers flex in the steamy  hole.  The soft pad stroking over and 
around the small pearl.   Feeling in her breath and the straining thighs, 
seeing her eyes, wide as her  nostrils start to flare and then pinch tight.  The 
jerky movements of her  spams taking me by surprise, as my fingers ride the 
bucking bronco of her  pussy.  Her hands finally pulled from her back, as 
they grab my wrist,  holding it tight to her body.  Losing contact with her 
mouth, the long  low moans, reaching out across the expanse of fog.  Her eyes 
glazing and  body locked on my fingers and wrist in long seconds of freeze  
frame. 
    Feeling the afflunence of  moisture and seeing the realization in her 
eyes, as she knows that her body  and mine are covered with her expulsion of 
cum and pee.  My fingers and  hand covered with her juices.  My skirt wet, 
moisture on my stocking and  thighs.  Holding my hand cupping her mound, my 
other hand pulling her  close, hugging our naked bodies tight together, I 
feel her head lean on my  shoulder.  Catching the scent of her shampoo and body 
spray.  The  thick air, also heavy with the scent of her juices. My heart 
pounding in me,  feeling the beat, wondering if it is hers or mine.
    Finally pulling my hand from  the entrapment of her panties, jeans and 
pussy, I kiss her lips, taking my  hand, touch it to my lips, tasting her 
need.  Finger painting her face  with her juices, rubbing them under her nose, 
wiping my fingers, tracing her  lips.  Watching as her mouth and tongue 
lick at the artwork.   Smiling as I pull her coat closed, buttoning as she 
stands watching.  Her  bra and sweatshirt still undone underneath, as are her 
jeans.   "Thanks."  Her word startling me.  Looking at her and the shy smile  
on her face.
    Taking her arm in mine as I  finish pulling my top up and zipping my 
jacket.  Letting her lead me to  her car.  Hearing the locks click open as she 
pulls her keys from a coat  pocket..  Taking a piece of paper and a pen 
from my inner pocket, I write  down my cell number.   "Call me girl, make it 
soon."  Leaning  to kiss her lips, tasting her cum and juices, wondering how 
she will explain  her disarrayed clothing and the big wet stain on the front 
of her jeans.   Waving as she drives away.  Then walking back to my bench,   
 feeling myself needy.  Instead leaning against an upright in the railing  
and  rubbing my swollen  lips on the cold steel.  The feeling  so good, as 
my juices coat the cold metal, feeling it warm as my whimpers fill  the 
surrounding area.  Shaking with my lips nasty and slick on the metal,  legs 
grasping at the pole.  Hanging for a minute as I regain my  composure.  Then 
kneeling down, to lick at the pole, tasting a  combination of tastes, some good 
some who knows...........
    Leaning there, till the  ungodly blare of a horn fills the silence.  
"Get you skanky ass in the  car girl."
   
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
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