I stood in the darkness under the trees, my back against the still-warm stone wall. The dead-end street was gloomy at the best of times. The single street light was too far away to penetrate the canopy of willow trees. Just as well.

He'd phoned and told me what time to meet him. I'd insisted I couldn't, but we both knew I'd be here, and so would he. Just then the street lit up as a late model car cruised toward me with a familiarity that had to be him.

He turned off the headlights before he got to me, carefully parked and got out of the vehicle. I was dribbling before he got near me. I loved the way he walked, and the deep sound of his voice. I loved the way he held me, the confident way he handled my body with his.

He didn't say anything, just looked around to make sure no one else was in sight, walked in under the cover of the trees, and put hands either side of my stomach. He pulled me towards him, pressed my thin dress against his suit, and touched my mouth with his firm lips.

He was a little taller than me, firm and solid, but not fat. His dark hair was trimmed short and neat, his eyes sparkled with whatever light was available. I pulled him more tightly to me, and allowed our tongues to get reacquainted. That was another thing I loved. The smell of him. In the evening like this you could tell he'd been working all day.

While our mouths touched and pressed against each other his hands slid down my sides, down over my hips and past the hem of the dress to rest against my legs. He slid them up again slowly, lifting the dress as he went, fingertips rubbing against my skin, and up over the waistband of my panties.

He paused then for a moment, as if he couldn't decide what he wanted most, and then he hooked his thumb into one side of my panties. I expected him to hook both sides and pull them down, but first he wanted to check. His right forefinger touched me in front, and walked down the front of the black satin, the panties he'd bought me, and insisted I wear. Then he cupped me in his hand, and I jumped. I knew what he was doing. He wanted to see how wet I was.

I can't have disappointed him, because he squeezed me quickly, making me jump again, and then returned his hand to my side and pulled my panties down far enough that they slid the rest of the way.

My hands were on his shoulders now, knowing that I'd need something to hold on to. His large fingers slid up and over my ass, and he grabbed me as only he could, and lifted me, bringing my face to the level of his. I could feel his hardness now, his cock trapped in expensive suit trousers. I knew there were better places for it.

He knew from experience that he couldn't hold me like this forever, as much as I liked it. I knew what he was going to do, as well. He pressed me up against the stone wall. My back hurt as it scraped against the stone, only the thin red dress to protect me, but I didn't care. I wanted him to press me harder, press me into the stone, if only it meant he would stop playing around. I was desperate.

With his body pressed tightly against me he managed to free one of his hands long enough to unbutton the front of his trousers, pull the front of his briefs down and release his cock.

His hands returned to my ass then, and he lifted me, kissed me delicately on the lips, squeezed his fingers on my butt cheeks, and lowered my sopping desperate cunt over his cock.

I'd lifted my legs and wrapped them as best I could around his waist, but despite my knees being well parted, I could feel the large tip of his cock squeeze past my labia and slide slowly up inside me. Sometimes this was enough, and it only took the anticipation and the feel of his entry to make me come. As nice as that was, this was better. I was ready and willing, but I wanted to come when he did, and that wasn't likely if I sneaked one in first, I knew from experience.