Coney

They darted through the entrance, through the foyer, then burst through a closed door. They were met with feminine shrieks and screams. Frank had ran right into the women's changing rooms. As they ran by, women ran for cover and placed hands over themselves. Emma gave them an apologetic look as Frank touched his hat and said, "Ladies..."

"What are you doing?" Emma demanded.

"They won't follow in here," he said.

Good point.

A woman's bare white bottom flashed just before they exited the doors. Frank took a side tunnel away from the pool and soon she found themselves outside again. Frank pressed her flat against the wall as he peered around the corner.

She was terrified, but at the same time wanted to laugh. Those poor ladies! And had Johnathan really called her 'Whore of Babylon?' She started to giggle.

Frank put a finger over his lips and looked back around the corner. They waited a little while in silence then Frank motioned with his hand.

"Coast is clear."

They strolled back out onto the boardwalk as if nothing had happened.

"Well now," Frank said. "That was more thrilling than the roller coaster, don't ya think?"

That set her to giggling again. It took her a moment to compose herself. It then occurred to her that perhaps there was such a thing as too much fun.

"Maybe I should go back," she said.

"Go back? Your old man is hotter than Hades. You can't go back now. He's likely to kill ya."

She thought on all the things she had done this day. Terrible things. Thrilling things. Sweet, wonderful, tantalizing things. But what now? Was she expecting to run through the parks of Coney with Frank for the rest of her life?

Though it had all been wonderful, and she would remember this day for the rest of her life, the ride had to end. And soon.

As for Johnathan. . . she pondered the possibilities. Yes, he'd be mad and he'd punish her for sure, but she knew him. He was selfish and controlling, but he was not cruel. He'd give her about a week's worth of the silent treatment, then insist she stay at her mother's for a couple of months. After that, they'd both be back together living life as usual. He'd probably never forgive her, but there were things she was never going to forgive him for either. They both could, and would, live with this. It would be the secret they both kept locked in their closet to the day they went to their graves: the night she ran out on him with another man that summer at Coney.

"Well," she said. "I am his wife."

Frank looked pain. "So you're saying you've had enough fun with ol' Frank for the day? I'd hate to end the party so soon."

Thoughts of his face between her legs ran through her mind. There were certainly things unfinished.

"How about one more ride?" she said.

"Two if I'm lucky," he said with a grin.

She gave him a playful swat for the double entendre.

She wanted to go on the Shoot the Chute. Frank knew a back entrance into Luna Park. An elevator took them to the top. They boarded a boat that rested at the top of a giant slide. Below was a lagoon ringed by a dock and lights. In the center of the park was a 200 foot tower studded with brilliant bulbs.

Emma curled into Frank as the boat flew down the slide, the passengers all giving thrilled screams. They were lifted from their seats as the boat smashed into the water and skipped across the lagoon like a giant stone. Emma closed her eyes, bracing herself when she saw the waves reaching high into the air over the boat's sides. She buried herself into Frank as the warm water crashed down on them, soaking her to the bone.

The boatman guided the craft to a dock and Frank helped her from the boat. At the sight of her, he let out a bellowing laugh.

Her hair had come undone and was hanging down her neck and breasts like an octopus's wet tentacles. Emma held her arms out, water dripping from her sleeves, her mouth wide open as she looked at the state of her clothes.

Half a dozen ladies waiting in line to board the ride took one look and promptly turned and left rather than suffer a similar fate, much to the chagrin of their partners and families.

Frank was bent over, his hands on his knees and red with laughter. "Jesus, Emma! I don't think I've ever seen anyone get as soaked as you! Look at you, dove!"

He, on the other hand, seemed hardly seemed wet at all.

She flicked her fingers at him, watching droplets of water splatter in his direction in vain. She took the hem of her skirt and gave it a wring. Water splashed at her bare feet.

As they exited the ride, she knew there wasn't much time left for she and Frank. The police were still looking for them. How many she wondered? They couldn't keep their tryst a secret much longer. The show was about to be over. But like any good show, it wasn't over until there was a whopping good climax.

"One more?" Frank asked hopefully.

"Yes," she said putting her hand on his chest and pushing him backwards into the nearest alley. "One more."

*****

She felt the litter of wax paper, crumpled napkins, and a half eaten apple near her feet as they entered the alley. She stopped just on the other side of some piled up crates. She looked about. On either side of the alley, the boardwalk was awash in light. She could see people walking by. She and Frank could be seen if a passerby really paid attention, but the people were so enamored with the spectacles in the brightness, they had no thought of the spectacle that would be performed here in the darkness.

"How about that tonguing you promised me?" she said.

She put her hands on Franks shoulders and pressed down, until he knelt before her, like one of Aphrodite's worshipers.

He looked up and gave her a sexy little smile before he raised her skirt and petticoat. When she felt his breath on her thighs, it gave her a little quiver. She could hear her own breaths, anticipating what he would do next. To afford herself the best seat in the house, she took the hem of her skirt from his hands and held it up.

She was naked below the waist, her drawers now the prize of some ticket barker at the Tunnel of Love, she imagined. Frank looked her over, his eyes giving the hairy mound between her legs an admiring and wanting gaze. He then took her by the right ankle and plopped her leg over his shoulder to give him access between her legs. She leaned against the wall to help balance herself.

He started with soft kisses on her belly and navel, teasing her. Then came the tip of his tongue. So soft. So moist. She shuddered as he licked beads of water off her body. Slowly, he made his way down the front of her legs then inward to her thighs.

Up and down he went. Toward her knees. And toward the junction between her legs. Down. Then up. Teasing. Teasing. Slowly. Slowly. And then . . .

Emma sucked in a long deep breath and followed it with a wonderful sigh as his tongue parted her lips. If it weren't for a nearby piping calliope, she was certain the crowd on either side of the alley would have heard her.

She looked down and saw his nose resting on her mound, his breath waving her pubic hairs. He was making happy lapping noises. And oh that tongue! Drinking her juices as they flowed out of her. She tangled her hands in his hair. She realized she could angle him. Up a little. There, on her tiny knob.

"Oh yes. Lick there . . ."

He obeyed, his tongue making little circles around the knob.

She squirmed against him as her shoulder blades smacked back against the wall. The crates rocked against her shoulder. She let out a moan. Someone passing by shot a quizzical look into the alley, but kept walking. Emma bit her hand and smiled. She really was the slut. But she didn't care.

With both hands gripping his head, she bucked against his mouth. She was coming to that pinnacle again. Coming. Coming!

She twisted his hair. "God, Frank!"

And there it was. It was as if she had connected her body into one of the parks' electric circuits. She went rigid as the exquisite sensation coursed through her, wave upon wave of ecstasy. She melted against the wall, losing grip of her skirt. It flopped over Frank's head.

She closed her eyes and basked in the afterglow. She let out a deep relieved breath and chuckled. Gracious.

There was jostling under her skirt and a second later Frank emerged, wiping his mouth as he stood up. "You like that?"

She could smell herself on him. Whew! Brave man!

She dug her fingers into his sleeves and pulled. "Yes. God, yes. I could have you do that to me all night."

"Just say the word."

She bit her finger as a thought crossed her mind. But no, that was what whores did. And yet what was she now? Panting in an alley, alone with a man whom she had only met this morning who had just given her a good licking between her legs?

She reached for his trouser buttons. "I have a tongue too you know."

"I know," he said. "I've been thinking about it all damned day."

He pulled off his vest and slid his suspenders off his shoulders as she unbuttoned the front of his trousers and pulled them down his thighs. She popped the buttons on his long johns and knelt down in front of him.

She was thankful she could see his cock this time. This wasn't Johnathan's curved yellow squash. Frank's cock was fat like a sausage and pointed toward the night sky. At the base was a mass of black curls and under that dangled a large wrinkled sack that held what looked like a pair of heavy bird eggs.

It twitched at her.

She could smell his odor—it was like a swamp. For a moment, she didn't think she would be able to perform the act she intended to do. But, then again, he had obliged her. And based on what she smelled of herself on him, she knew she didn't smell exactly like a bouquet. If he could do it, so could she. Besides, she was getting excited about the idea of being able to get him to that same pinnacle she had just been. She stroked him, really not sure what to do next.

"Lick on it like a lollipop," he said softly.

She gave it a squeeze and ran her tongue down below the head. She wondered at the feel of its softness along her tongue, yet at the same time it was so stiff. She extended her tongue and did what he had suggested, remembering a big round sassafras candy she had adored as a child. She licked it just like that.

"There ya go. Mmmmmm good."

His hands intertwined in her hair.

Emma reached around and unbuttoned the back flap of his long johns and cupped her hands around his bare buttocks. They were firm and round as Virginia hams. She gave them a squeeze. This elicited another moan and she felt him shudder.

"Here now," he said softly.

He cupped his strong hands around her ears to steady her head. She had a fleeting thought that she might have done something wrong. But then she felt something soft nudge her lips; the tip of his cock was plying her mouth for entrance. She parted her lips and he slowly glided inside, his cock sliding between her teeth and across her tongue. It filled her mouth. She opened wide, her lips pursed and beginning to slide and suck; she thought she might gag, but quelled the reflex. He let out long moans, almost sad-like. She loved that he was enjoying himself so much.

He went in and out about a dozen times, then pulled himself out of her mouth with a slurp. Her spit dangled from her lip to the tip of his cock. She was glad it was over and wished they had done it when he had been more clean, but the thought of having done such an unspeakable act made her feel incredibly aroused.

"I want to fuck ya," he said.

She nodded. She wanted him to as well.

He pulled her to his feet.

"I want ya naked."

"Okay," she said.

She untucked her wet blouse as she considered their surroundings. Where to do it? There was no bed or any place to lie on. On the ground? That seemed uncomfortable.

"Where do we-?"

"Let me worry about that," he said.

Her wet blouse clung to her arms as she pulled and then tossed it aside. She felt the muggy night air hit her skin. As she worked at her skirt, he turned her around and pulled the strings to unfasten her corset. By the time she had dropped her skirt, exposing her bare buttocks to him, he had lifted her chemise over her head.

He turned her back around. He kissed at her neck and cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples around under his fingers. He had lost some of his self control and he was a little clumsy. In truth it hurt a little, but it was Okay. She found she liked feeling him so aroused and losing control.

Frank wrapped his hands around her buttocks, gave them a squeeze, then lifted her up.

Oh my. Did he propose to . . .?

Her breasts rubbed against his sweaty shirt as he lifted her. She could feel his hard chest underneath the cloth. He held her up, so her breasts were laying against his shoulders. He looked up at her, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he lowered her down. She felt his cock head jab at her thighs before he readjusted her then slowly brought her down on him. She closed her eyes as he stretched her out. He let out a long gasp into her ears.

He moved her up and down on him, like he was using her body to masturbate himself. She could feel his biceps under his shirt, taught as ship cables. He started out slowly, letting her juices lubricate him, then slowly he increased the pace. She put her hands in his hair and kissed his head as she enjoyed the sensation of his cock bury itself into her wet slit over and over. He was so strong!

He pushed her back against the wall so he could more easily buck into her. The peeling paint from the building stuck to her sweaty skin. He was breathing hard now and his excitement only increased her own. She crushed herself against him. Wanting to dig into him with her hard nipples.

His pace slowed. He was getting tired, she could tell, despite his strength. He lowered her to the ground.

He turned her around, his breath short. "Here, put your hands up against the wall."

She let him turn her and as she moved her hands up, she looked at him over her shoulder. "From behind?"

"You don't mind that do ya?"

Johnathan had never taken her like that before. It had always been from the front, so they could see each other. Her mind wandered to the monkeys.

She placed her palms flat against the rough wall.

She could feel his cock still stiff and fat as he ran it down between her cheeks. He bent behind her, positioning his cock with his hand and probing for her opening. Then he was in again.

She could hear her pussy slurping at his cock as it pumped in and out of her.

He wrapped one hand in her hair and cupped her breast with the other.

"Look back at me," he told her.

She twisted her head and her eyes locked on his.

"Yes."

Beautiful eyes. Like a child's marbles. His jaw grew tighter as he pounded away.

An idea crossed her mind. Not once had she ever spoken during sex. She grew excited at the thought of saying something now. She wanted to say something to him. Something wrong. Something filthy. Something Frank might say.

"You like fucking me, Frank?"

His eyes widened, surprised to hear her say such a thing.

"Oh dove, do I ever," he panted.

"You going to come inside me?"

His jaw clenched. "Oh yes."

"Do it," she said. "Do it Frank, come inside me."

He gave her breast one more squeeze then held onto her hips, thrusting into her like a water pump. His eyes never left hers. His breathing increased and then he gave three hard thrusts that lifted her feet right off the ground.

He gave a grunt then his jaw slowly opened, as if coming unhinged. A look of pain or rapture crossed his bewildered face. She could feel him pulse inside her, spurting his seed. His eyes rolled back and his body sagged.

He slumped forward, his weight on her back. Her arms trembled against the wall as she struggled to hold them both up

"Oh, dove." He was breathless. "Oh, dove . . ."

She felt his cock slowly losing its girth inside of her. He shuddered and gave a chuckle.

Suddenly they heard a shout.

"There!"

Silhouettes appeared at the end of the alley. Three policemen moved rapidly toward them. Frank suddenly had life again. She felt his cock slide out of her.

"You dirty beast! Get off her!"

Frank stumbled as his trousers caught him around the ankles. The policemen made a beeline for him, swinging their clubs. They weren't interested in her, she realized, only apprehending Frank. It didn't take much of an imagination to determine what they believed he had done to her. She thought quickly.

"Run, Frank!"

She stretched out her arms and threw herself at the police. They went wide eyed at the site of a naked woman leaping at them and they all tumbled backward in a tangle of limbs and clubs.

She looked back and saw Frank hurrying down the alley, awkwardly, like he was running a three legged race with himself. He hiked up his trousers and darted right onto the main boardwalk and was gone.

One of the policemen untangled himself from Emma and ran after him.

"Get after him, Cliff!" came a shout near Emma's ear as she pushed and pulled to keep the remaining two back. "Don't let him get away!"

The policemen finally pushed her off. She stood and looked down the alleyway to where Frank had made his escape. He'd get away. She had no doubt. Frank Kelly was too clever.

The policemen were muttering behind her.

"She's as naked as a newborn babe. Lookit her. Mike, where's her clothes?"

"I think these are her's. Oh jeez, they're soaking wet."

"Fetch her something for Christ's sake!"

Emma felt like she was in a dream. She could still feel the warmth and weight of Frank on her body. His rough hands on her. Teasing her. Tempting her. Tantalizing her. It almost didn't seem real. But he had taken her. Right here in this alley. And she had only met him this morning. As if to help remind her it had all actually happened, she felt his semen drip out of her and dribble down the inside of her thigh.

Her attention focused on the blinding lights outside the darkened alley, where he had gone. She was drawn to them. She walked out onto the main boardwalk. Heads swung in her direction but she barely made out the cries and shouts. She felt like one of those naked Greek carnival statues. She could feel the hot lights on her bare skin. Her porcelain body felt like it was glowing, like one of the bright bulbs.

"Christ! Misses!"

A hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back into the darkness of the alleyway.

"For all that's holy, get her covered!"

One of the policeman's rough wool coats was thrown over her shoulders. It hung down to her thighs.

"Here now," said the policeman as he fastened up the buttons in front of her. The other picked up her discarded clothes and crumbled them under her arms.

The two of them flanked her and escorted her out of the alley.

"Your man's been looking for ya," said one. "Ashamed of ya he's gonna be when he sees ya looking like this."

She didn't care.

As they led her toward the train station, she sighted a roller coaster. Thousands of tiny lights illuminated its white-plastered, criss-crossed beams and rolling steel. There was a roar followed by delighted screams of those crammed inside the cars.

Then she saw Frank. He was near one of the light poles. The policemen hadn't seen him. He had a look on his face- as if he was asking her, 'are you going to be all right?' She felt a little pang in her heart as she realized she'd never see him again. She gave him a wink and he smiled. She saw a flash as his coin shot up in the air then fell into his open palm. He rolled it across his knuckles before he pocketed it. He then glanced over his shoulder, gave her a tip of his hat, and was gone.

The police walked her into their station, brought her into a private room, and allowed her to change back into her still damp clothes. When she reemerged, she was met by a haggard-looking Johnathan. His jacket, cane, and hat were missing. His peach colored suit was polka-doted with sweat and dirt. His hair was tangled and matted with sweat. His face was wet and pale.