Sex Woods Public Park

Millie’s heels clicked against the asphalt path as she stepped into the trees. Each patch of shadow made her heartbeat quicken. The lamps overhead buzzed and flickered, spilling only scraps of light before surrendering her to the dark again.

Her thin dress clung to her body, hugging her breasts so tightly she could feel the fabric tug with every breath. It cupped her waist and strained over her hips, the hem creeping higher with each stride. She hadn’t bothered with panties, and the brush of air against her bare folds left her slick with a restless, aching heat.

A man stepped from the trees as she entered the next circle of lamplight. She froze, pulse hammering, waiting for the press of his chest. She was torn between terror and desire. She had come to the park for this. To be taken. Used. Forced. Fucked. Instead, he only stared.

“What?” Her voice cracked.

“You have to say yes.” His words were flat, almost annoyed.

She blinked. “Huh?”

But he’d already turned away, approaching another woman who had just reached the lamplight. She nodded eagerly, said yes, and let him lead her into the dark. Moments later, the sounds reached Millie. Moans, gasps, the slap of bodies meeting. The rawness of it made her thighs clench harder.

So that was how it worked in these woods. No real rape. No danger. Consent whispered into shadows, then the freedom to play with it. Her breath quickened as she continued deeper, the lamps now far apart, the shadows thicker. When she stopped beneath one, she felt like she was floating on an island of pale light in a sea of dark. She sat, legs trembling, dress pulling tight across her breasts, waiting to be claimed. A branch cracked behind her. Large, heavy hands settled on her bare shoulders, hot against her skin.

“Well?” His voice was deep, rough, curling straight down her spine.

“Yes,” she breathed, barely more than a whimper.

He moved in front of her, and she stood, trembling, as his calloused palms slid down her arms, over the swell of her breasts, catching her hard nipples through the thin fabric. He squeezed, slow and deliberate, before tugging the dress down until it pooled at her feet. Night air caressed her nakedness, raising goosebumps that his warm hands smoothed away.

“How old are you?” His gaze roamed her body like a brand.

“Twenty-four.”

His lips curved faintly. “I’m fifty-seven.” His voice was full of hunger and grit.

She bent forward over the bench in answer, bracing her hands, arching her back. He spread her with a rough grip. Then his mouth was on her, his tongue plunging deep, licking her open, circling her clit. She moaned, pressing back, his beard scraping her sensitive skin as wet heat and raw friction spiraled through her belly. He stood, leaving her needing more. The rasp of a zipper filled the night. Then the thick crown of his cock pushed against her slick entrance.

He slid into her with a groan. His cock wasn’t long, but it was thick. Stretching her ruthlessly in the first few inches, making her gasp and moan at the sudden fullness. Her body trembled as she shifted, angling her hips to take all of him, letting the blunt head sink deeper until his full, wide length was buried inside her. She realized he hadn’t put on a condom. The risk made her want him even more.

He fucked her with short, hard thrusts, hips slapping against her ass with a rhythm that stole her breath. The weight of his years showed in the way he moved. Not clumsy, not rushed, but relentless, each grind designed to drag a squeak or a moan out of her throat. The thought that he was old enough to be her father only twisted the pleasure tighter. Then, suddenly, he pulled free.

Millie looked down, startled, just in time to see thick ropes of hot cum splattering onto the bench between her legs. The sudden emptiness left her aching, her pussy still fluttering around nothing. She heard the sound of his zipper being pulled up as he backed away. And then he was gone.

She stood there, breathing hard, watching him vanish into the dark without a word. Frustration burned through her. First, the man who walked away when she didn’t understand the rules, now this one who left her half-fucked and throbbing. She was wet, needy, and unsatisfied.

Clutching her dress in one hand, she didn’t bother to put it on. Instead, she walked naked into the night, her skin prickling with the thrill of exposure, every flick of cool air against her damp sex reminding her how badly she needed more.

She passed a couple tangled on a patch of grass, the wet slap of their bodies and the woman’s cries echoing through the trees. But Millie didn’t slow down to watch; she was too hungry. She didn’t want to see someone else eat. She wanted to be devoured.

The next patch of darkness swallowed her. Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her waist, the heat of a bare chest pressing against her back.