The walkway

I left the hard hat in the closet. I was off duty, and the pedestrian bridge was not an inspection. I do not fuck my crew. Vikram is not crew. He is forty-six, a man from a bar two blocks back, and he walked with me because I asked. Charcoal coat, black turtleneck, trousers, silver-streaked bob neat. I stood on the empty bridge at night with the city lights on the water and my hands in my coat pockets, fully dressed. That is the moment. Then I told him I wanted his cock in my cunt against the rail, and that if anyone came close we would stop and move.

He kissed me with the coat still on. I opened the coat and the trousers and turned to the rail. The walkway was empty enough. Cold metal under my hands. He got his cock out and rubbed it between my thighs until my cunt was wet on him, then fucked his cock into my cunt from behind. I told him yes. He held my hips through the coat and fucked my cunt in steady strokes, night air on my face. I pushed back to take his cock deeper. I said fuck me. He fucked my cunt harder. I rubbed my clit with one hand and held the rail with the other. I came on his cock, a sharp clench, my voice low because I wanted it low.

A cyclist showed far off, one light at the other end of the bridge. I said car. He pulled his cock out of my cunt at once. I did my trousers up with wet fingers and we walked, not ran, off the span. My coat was buttoned again by the street. I was still throbbing. I told him the rest would happen in the car, and that I had lube in my bag because I was going to want his cock in my ass after he had already fucked my cunt. He said he was with me. I did not give him a work number. I gave him the passenger door.