Damaged goods - Sex Stories

Damaged goods

... rising and falling with the slaps of their bodies as she rode him in the driver's seat. Their mouths pressed together in the confined space, tongues lancing. Her breathless whispers of encouragement. The toilet door squeaked from the corner of the pub and shortly Melody rounded the corner, striding confidently towards him, effortless in her grace even atop four-inch heels. The end of the world never looked so damned appealing, her moment of insecurity gone. Perhaps he'd done enough and her decision was made. He just prayed her renewed self-assurance wasn't chemically induced; coke was a harsh mistress that Ryan knew only too well had the propensity to ruin everything it touched. She fixed him a long, loaded stare as she approached, climbed the two steps and breezed past the table. "Let's go." They pressed through the deserted car park, leaving his car behind. So much for best-laid plans. He hung back a step, improvising. "So how far do you need to go from here?" She shrugged. "Fifteen minutes maybe." "I could walk with you some of the way. The air will help the alcohol wear off." "OK." It was said without hesitation, almost as is if there was no other option. He sped up to catch her. Their route took them past abandoned factories, decaying shells of once magnificent buildings, the crumbling, faded red brickwork supporting rotten frames with broken glass, and rooftops peppered with holes. Ryan mused, "They must have been stunning in their prime." "They're even better from ...

... the inside." "They're boarded up." "You've never been in an abandoned building before?" He shook his head. "Do you ever do anything you're not supposed to?" If only she knew. But he let her grab his hand and lead him to a pile of earth alongside one of the buildings. She unhooked her shoes and scrambled up the bank, looking back to yell, "Come on, I'll show you." From the low vantage point Ryan could see up her dress and was reminded that she had no underwear. Too fucking easy. He looked around to make sure no one was watching and scrabbled up after her. The summit of the bank ended level with a broken window frame. Melody started to drag a discarded, sturdy plank and between them they made a bridge. Ryan guided her across with a hand against her lower back, the closeness making him shiver with anticipation. A few short, slightly wobbly steps later they were inside, hopping onto a dilapidated wooden gangway, which was all that remained of the first floor. Stairs to their left led down to the vast open space where textile machinery once clanked. The noise must have been deafening. She scampered off down the flight clutching her shoes, somehow oblivious to the decades of grime on the floor. Ryan descended and crunched after her, footsteps echoing off the walls and fragments of ceiling a few storeys above. Partway across the floor she stooped, brushed her feet and slid her heels back on. Ryan watched her glide into the depths of the cavernous space from a few metres behind, the ...