DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction and any resemblance between characters in this work and actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. This work contains scenes of explicit sex between adults and is intended for the entertainment of adults only. If you are offended by depictions of adult intercourse or if you are less than the age of majority in your jurisdiction please do not read or download this file. Because this is a fantasy, characters in this work engage in unprotected sex in a universe where AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases do not exist. In reality sex without protection is unwise and nothing in this work should be taken as condoning such activity, or any of the other activities depicted herein.
Another old story, lost for years in the random, back-room shelves of my hard drive. Dusted off, revamped, rewritten, and made suitable, I hope, for public presentation. Comments always welcome: dowstreet@yahoo.com)
THE MAN IN THE PARK
by Downing Street
PART I: Ramona and Howard
“Excuse me,” said the pretty girl sitting next to him, “that man is watching us.”
“Beg pardon?” Howard replied. He looked up from his book. He was sitting at the other end of the bench from the girl, politely ignoring her. Nobody wants to be hit on during her lunch hour.
“That man over there, see him? He’s staring at us.” The girl was blonde and wore glasses.
Howard looked past her, down the path winding through the park. There was indeed a man standing there. He was old, and quite short. He was wearing an old-fashioned suit and a broad-brimmed fedora. One hand rested on a polished wooden cane. The hat covered his face. He did seem to be studying the pair on the bench.
Howard grinned. “Frankly, miss, I think he’s staring at you, not us.” One could hardly blame him for that. The girl was certainly attractive, despite her school-teacher look with the reading glasses and pinned-up hair. She was wearing a tight T-shirt and a denim miniskirt. Her legs were tanned, bare and shapely above her white sneakers.
“He’s creeping me out,” the girl complained. “Do you mind if I sit a little closer to you?”
Mind? Why would anyone mind? “Uh, OK, sure,” Howard replied, less smoothly than he hoped.
She slid up beside him. She had her own book in her lap, some romance novel with a glossy red cover. It was a pleasant day for sitting outside. “Is he still there?” she asked. Evidently she didn’t want to look his way.
Howard looked over her shoulder. “He’s still there. He’s not doing anything. I think he’s harmless.”
She pushed her glasses up her cute nose. “I hope so. My name is Ramona, by the way.”
“Howard.”
“Pleased to meet you. Listen, I think you had better kiss me.”
“Excuse me?” He couldn’t have heard right.
She shifted closer. “Kiss me. Just once. I want him to think we’re together.”
“Well, if you in—mmmmmm.” Her lips were on his, soft and gentle.
“Mmmm, nice,” she said, quite a few seconds later. “Sorry, I got a little carried away there. You’re a good kisser.”
“Uh, thanks. I don’t really think it’s necessary for you to—”
“We’d better do it again.”
Before he could reply she was moving her warm lips against his. This kiss was slower, and longer. Much longer. Ramona turned sideways on the bench, bringing herself closer to him.
She was breathless when they finally separated. “Whew! Well, uh—well, that uh, that should convince him,” she said, composing herself. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Please don’t think I’m normally like this. That man is making me nervous. I haven’t kissed a guy I didn’t know since that time in high school when my girlfriends got me drunk and dared me to kiss some guy blindfolded. It turned out to be Sally’s younger brother, who was like fifteen or something. Oh lord, why am I telling you this?”
“It’s OK,” Howard said. Funny girl.
The miniskirted blonde set down her book. She crossed her knees, a simple act that instantly made Howard’s day brighter. “I’m not usually this forward with strangers,” she reassured him. “I’m twenty-three years old, live with my room-mate Sarah in Crescent Heights, work at the Daily Mail and I have no steady boyfriend.”
She paused. A strange look crossed her face. “I did it again,” she said flatly.
“I think you’re nervous,” Howard said kindly. Gosh but she had nice legs.
“It’s that old man, he’s making me jumpy. Is he still there?”
“He hasn’t moved.”
“Weird. OK, put your hand on my leg.”
“Ramona, I—we just met, what—”
“I know, but I want him to think you’re my boyfriend or something. Look, take your hand and put it on my knee.” She lifted his hand in hers and guided it to her leg. “That’s right. A little higher. There. Now squeeze a little, and run your fingers up and down. Is he watching?”
“I, I think so. But—”
“Oh, your hand is warm. That feels nice. Here, kiss me.” She leaned over him and did just that. Howard made to lift his hand off her leg. Ramona slapped it and pressed it back down. She pushed it a little higher onto her bare thigh.
The kiss multiplied into a family of kisses, then a clan, then a whole township. Ramona slid one arm around the back of his neck. The other stroked the side of his face, or toyed with his shirt collar. “You kiss awesome, Howard,” she murmured.
Whatever modest reply Howard would have made was drowned in more earnest lipwork. Her tongue danced briefly in his mouth. She smelled of some flowery, light perfume. His hand slid higher on her thigh.
“Well, that uh, that should convince him we’re together,” Howard managed, when Ramona came up for air. Her eyes were moist and lidded, gazing into his from a few inches away.
Suddenly she sat up. She pushed herself away. “I, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m not like this at all. Please, don’t think I’m some sort of tart. I’m actually quite reserved. I mean, I’ve never told anyone my secret fantasy about being spanked.”
Howard’s eyebrows rose. Ramona put her hand over her mouth in shock. “Ohmygod what did I say! Please, forget that, I never said that. My god this is mortifying. Why did I tell you that?
“At least I didn’t tell you the part about me being dressed like a fantasy schoolgirl, you know in a white blouse and a tartan kilt, really short of course, with little white ankle socks and you would bend me over your big desk and swat me on the bum until I came—I mean, until I cried. Oh, and then you would insist that I pull down my knickers, girly white ones, so you could spank me on my bare bottom. Or better yet, I would pretend that I forgot to put them on that morning, and I’ve been flashing you in class all day until finally you decide that I have to be punished for being such a bad, bad girl!”
She was breathing hard. Her chest rose and fell beneath the tight white pullover. Howard himself was becoming aware of a certain stiffness in his shorts.
Ramona pulled off her glasses and flung them aside. She held her face in her hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” she almost whispered. “I’m acting like an oversexed dimwit.” She raised her head suddenly. “The old man—is he still there?”
Howard ventured a look. “He’s still there.” In fact, the man appeared to be dividing his attention between Ramona and a couple of stylish women sitting on another bench. They both had briefcases. They had been sitting separately, but now they were side by side, talking in low voices. Howard heard giggles.
“Darn it, what can I do to make him go away?” Ramona exclaimed. “Can’t he see that we’re an item?” She brightened. “I’ve got it. Let’s do what we were doing before.” She slid back against him. This time she turned half sideways and arched one long leg down in between his. Her skirt slid up to the edge of her ass.
“Gaa!” Howard cried, as Ramona’s warm leg rubbed against his erection.
She kissed his face. “Being together isn’t enough. We’ve got to make him see that I’m yours. Completely yours. Like you own me. That way he won’t try to make a move.”
“Yes but—mmmmph!” Once again she kissed him into compliance.
She wiggled against him earnestly. She whispered to him, very close: “Put your hand on my leg again. Oh, yes, like that. Mmmmm.” She paused to neck for a while. “Now slide it up higher. Come on, keep going. Ooooh! That feels niiiice.” Her breath was hot and moist against his face.
Howard felt it was only proper to protest, though his straining cock fully approved of Ramona’s behaviour. “Uhm, mmmmm, yes, that’s mmmmmmph, but, Ramona what are—slmmmph.” Hungry, wet lips discouraged conversation.
“Call me Baby,” she whispered in his ear.
“Wha—what?” He had one hand around her back, holding her close, the other on her leg, about an inch below the hem of her mini.
“Call me Baby,” she repeated, “or Pet, or Kitten, or Sugar. In case he hears us.”
The old man was clearly standing too far away to hear anything without a listening device, but Ramona seemed determined. Howard tried again. “Uh, listen, Baby, I don’t think you—”
She licked his ear. “Put your hand under my skirt. Hurry.”
“Are you sure? Ramo—mmmmmph”
“Baby.”
“Right, Baby, are you—oh, I guess you are.” She had already found a way to guide his hand upward. Howard’s fingers felt silky panties and warm rump. Ramona’s sighs and kisses encouraged him to explore further. He found a damp spot. He touched it lightly, and Ramona groaned out loud.
She lifted her lips a few millimetres from his. “This is making me hot,” she whispered. “You know, I’ve always secretly wondered what it would be like to have a confident, powerful boyfriend who would tell me how to dress and make me show off my body and call me pet names, and take care of me, and refuse to let me think seriously about anything except being sexy for him. Gosh, I don’t know why I keep telling you these things but—oh! Your hand!”
She wiggled against him. “What’s the old man doing?” she whispered.
“Who? Oh, right, right, that guy. Well, he’s still standing there. Not going anywhere.”
Howard looked around. The two women on the next bench were sitting very close together, holding hands. They were both attractive, in a serious sort of way, though one was much older than the other. One had thrown off her suit jacket, while the other had unpinned her hair. Their faces were very close; from where Howard sat it almost looked like they were kissing. The old man studied them when he wasn’t staring at Ramona. Well, even a dirty old man needs variety, Howard decided.
“Ooooh, your little kitten just had a wicked idea,” said the hot blonde in Howard’s arms. “Let’s give that pervert a real show.”
“What did, uh Baby have in mind?” Howard asked. He still had one hand on her ass.
She sat up. Locking eyes with Howard, she reached up and pulled the barrettes out of her hair. She tossed them aside carelessly. Thick blonde locks tumbled down around her shoulders, surprisingly long. Then she reached down, arms crossed, grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head.
Howard’s eyes went wide. “You like?” Ramona cooed. She dropped the shirt on the grass.
Howard found himself up close and personal with a pair of full, round, young breasts, lovingly encased in a delicate half-bra of peach-coloured lace. “Oh Baby!” he breathed.
Ramona smiled. “Show the old man what he’s missing, Howard.” She reached behind him and pressed his face against her chest.
This time Howard made no protest at all. He was too busy kissing and licking. He kissed his way down the slope of one bountiful breast, crossed the valley and worked his way back up the other. Above him, Ramona sighed and shivered in approval. She gasped when he freed one stiff nipple from its confinement and began to lave it with his tongue.
“Oh gawd, Howard!” she cried, “Baby likes this! Baby really, really likes—oooooh!” His tongue found the other nipple. The half-dressed honey began to tremble. Her skin was hot and moist beneath Howard’s hands. He slid a finger down between her legs and stroked her cleft, through her wet panties. He was rewarded with a twitching yelp of delight.
Ramona used both hands to hold his head against her tits. She had apparently forgotten where she was. She was panting and crying constantly now, while praising Howard in a torrent of words. “Yes, oh yes, like that, more like that, Baby likes it, so good, you’re so good to your Baby, oh yes, yes, yes—OHMYGAAAWD.” The last word was a shout. Howard felt his partner stiffen, then convulse helplessly for long seconds. He felt liquid drip over the fingers between her legs.
She came down at length, breathing deeply. “I—I came,” she sighed in wonder. “I’ve never—you didn’t even—oh wow wow wow!” She slid down a bit to kiss him gratefully. “So good to your little pet,” she sighed.
“The old man is still watching,” Howard commented. He looked around. The man was standing in the same place, studying the figures on the benches. The two women on the next bench were quite obviously making out, while impatiently helping each other shed clothing. Their blouses were already gone, skirts and brassieres weren’t far behind. Their conversation had sunk to urgent slurps and gasps. On the far side of the path, a little farther away, a young woman in tight jeans was sitting on the grass under a tree. She had set aside her book. She was gazing off into the distance while squeezing her breasts throug her pullover with both hands.
Ramona was still dreaming in Howard’s arms. “Let him watch,” she said indifferently. “In fact—oh yes, that’s a great idea.”
“What?”
“Let me do you now. You’ve taken care of little kitten but she hasn’t done anything for you. Baby’s been bad.” Her hands were moving as she spoke. She found his erection through his trousers. “Oh, poor Howard, you need your little kitten to take care of you!”
“Ah! Uhm, wait, uh, Ramon—I mean, little kitten, are you, are you sure—we are sort of in public.”
The half-dressed blonde had already unbuckled his pants. With some difficulty she worked his stiff wang out into the sunlight. Howard was relieved. He had been afraid that his pants would explode.
“Oh gawd, I’m sure,” she exclaimed. She ran her hands adoringly up and down his shaft. “Besides, this will be perfect. This’ll show him that you own me; I’m your perfect, obedient bimbo-doll, who does whatever you tell her. You can dress me up how you like, take me out and show me off, use me whenever you want, even order me to . . . gawd this is so hot . . . to blow you on a park bench.” She was panting for breath. She shifted position until she was kneeling on the bench beside him, leaning over his crotch. “That old man would never make a move on someone else’s property. Mmmmm, this is like all my fantasies come true.”
Howard looked around. They were almost alone. The two women on the next bench were too busy to notice what Ramona did. Both of them were down to underwear and heels. The younger woman was sprawled lengthwise along the bench, one leg thrown over the back, gasping and twisting. Her older companion lay half on top of her, kissing her bare tits while her fingers danced in her pussy.
The other young woman beneath the tree had unfastened her skinny jeans to thrust one hand down inside, while the other fondled and squeezed inside her sweater. Her legs were spread wide. Her head was thrown back, mouth open and eyes closed. The old man with the wooden cane watched it all, unmoving.
“Mmmmm, you’re nice and big, Howard,” Ramona murmured, holding him in both hands. She tried an experimental lick that made Howard jump. She said, “I haven’t done this very much. I hope I can do a good jommmmmmmmmm.” Her words slid off into a happy slurp as her lips descended on his member.
Howard stiffened. His head snapped back as the blonde babe worked magic below his beltline. “You—you’re doing fine so far, kitten!” he cried out.
“Mmmmm, Blb lvs sck you,” Ramona replied, around a mouthful of cock. She was sucking him avidly, her head bobbing up and down, making up in enthusiasm what she lacked in experience. She turned her head this way and that, experimenting with different positions. She stretched her lips to take him deeper. She sucked and licked and stroked.
In less than three minutes Howard felt his climax approaching. He gripped the bench with one hand, pressed on Ramona’s bare back with the other. He heard a woman on the other bench scream in delight, moments before his own peak took him. He grunted, his back arched, and his hips rose off the bench as he fired his load into the blonde beauty’s eagerly sucking mouth.
She stayed with him, sucking and swallowing and sucking some more, until the last dribbles of jism were gone. She licked him clean before reluctantly letting him go. They were both breathing hard.
She straightened up to kneel beside him. Howard let out his breath. “Well. I guess we really showed that old man.”
Ramona rested her head on his shoulder. “Who?”
“You know, the old guy who was—wait a minute.” He looked around. The man in the hat was gone. The two women on the next bench were lazily helping each other get dressed, sort of, leaving jackets and undergarments behind. They stopped frequently to kiss and coo. The younger one had evidently decided to wear her sweater as a microdress and leave her skirt behind too. The girl under the tree was licking her fingers, looking slaked.
Ramona ran a finger down Howard’s nose. “Take me home,” she pleaded.
“What? Why?”
“So I can be your eye-candy house-pet ornament sextoy, of course.” She slipped her titties back into her bra, in no great hurry.
Howard could hardly believe his good fortune. “But, but, what will you do there?”
She leaned in close to gaze into his eyes. “Anything you tell me to.”