D is for Duck Pond

Come here.

He stopped and turned around. She had been right behind him just a minute ago. All he’d done is turn to watch a group of kids playing soccer in the distance. Where had she gone?

confident young woman reaching hand towards camera in park
Photo by Oleg Magni on Pexels.com

He looked at the text on his phone and then looked around the park. Where could she have gone in such a short time?

Where?

He started to walk back in the direction of the car, but what if it was the wrong way? He looked at his phone, willing her to reply. Finally, he saw the dots indicating that she was typing.

You know where. And hurry.

Now he was starting to get worried. Was something wrong? He stood in one spot and spun around, looking wildly for her. She wasn’t in sight anywhere.

He was halfway through another text message when his eyes caught a glimpse of the old pond at the edge of the park. It was boggy and abandoned now that the new fields and playground had been finished a couple of years ago.

Of course she was there.

He found himself getting hard as he remembered the last time they had been there. It was just about sunset and it was chilly enough that the park was empty. They had been out to dinner and she wanted to go feed the ducks the leftover bread that she had taken from the restaurant.

The ducks weren’t around–it was too cold for them too. She had had on a heavy winter coat that was too warm even for the chill in the air. But it sure had helped keep them both warm while they’d had a quickie on the bench…

He adjusted his shorts and headed to the pond. There was no way she’d risk that with all of the people in the park right now. Would she? He smiled to himself. Nah. Nice thought, though.

Coming around a large oak tree, he saw her sitting on the bench. Naked. He gasped, looking around, and then looked back at her. She shushed him and then beckoned him closer.

“How about a repeat, mister?” she asked with a smirk.

“Now???”

“No time like the present. Better get busy–there’s no telling when a stray soccer ball might come this way. This sarong is only so big after all.”

She pulled down his shorts and then pushed him onto the bench. “It’s not nice to keep a lady waiting.”

“Yes, ma’am. On it, ma’am,” he managed to groan out as she slid onto him.

Erotic Fiction

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