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From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} Mean Streets (2)
Lines: 319
Date: Fri, 18 Dec 2015 08:10:06 -0500
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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 Children's 
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 short waisted  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 Kleenex, 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 mascara, 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 pant legs 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 affluence 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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