This is inspired by a story I read many, many years ago. The only parts of the original story that I remember are the jockstrap, the tree, the trench coat, and the thin trickle of fluid. I don't remember any of the characters having actual names. Despite the fact that two of the characters are named "The Boy" and "The Girl" all characters are over eighteen.
The Old Woman, The Boy, and The Girl
She knew it was coming on again. The Urge. The irresistible urge that always won out over her weakness. She decided to take a cold shower in an effort to blunt the increasing desire. It didn't work. But then, it never worked.
In fact, the shower was actually the start, the catalyst. Instead of taking the edge off of her wild need, she ended up fondling herself, teasing her clit under the cold water. She soon turned the hot water up.
She suspected that she subconsciously knew that the shower would do her more harm than good, that instead of relieving the urge, it would only escalate it. It always did, and she knew that that was what she really wanted. Telling herself that the cold shower would help fight the urge was only lying to herself, deluding herself into believing that she wasn’t a completely depraved young woman. This was what she wanted. She grabbed her razor.
There wasn't much to shave. It had only been a few days, certainly less than a week since the last time she had been out so she didn't have more than stubble down there and soon that was gone too, disappearing down the drain.
Caressing her now smooth pubes, she checked for any remaining stubble. The Old Woman would not allow anything less than a perfectly bare vulva as she had learned long ago, the hard way, through pain. She allowed her fingers to tease her clit briefly but was careful to not let herself go too far. She couldn't afford to slip over the edge. To come. Not yet. If she did, she might not be able to go on, to do what she had to do, and she needed to do it.
Stepping out of the shower she dried herself quickly, then went into her bedroom and opened the special drawer in her dresser, the one containing her stuff. It was primarily full of jockstraps. What would someone think if they looked into a young, single woman's dresser drawer and found it full of jockstraps?
She had bought the first few herself, nervously picking them up in the sporting goods store well before the first time the Old Woman had found her. She had mumbled something to the clerk about ‘My nephew.’ Now the Old Woman made The Boy buy them for her, which was good, because she ended up losing a lot of them.
Most of them were brand new, some still in the packaging, but she selected one of the already open ones. She slipped the cup into the pouch, wondering if men put the cup in after donning the garment or before, like she did. She supposed she could ask The Boy about that, if she ever spoke to him that is.
She put the jockstrap on, snugging it up against her pussy and giving the cup a little knock with her knuckles, then reaching around with both hands and slapping her butt cheeks, then grabbing them and squeezing.
She sat on her bed and put on her sneakers without bothering with socks. The shoes were cheap, because she lost quite a few of them too, although not so many as the jockstraps. Next she went to her closet and selected one of her three remaining raincoats. These she usually managed to hang on to, or sometimes was able to retrieve later. If she ran short, it was easy to pick up another couple from the second-hand store.
Then, wearing nothing but wristwatch, sneakers, jockstrap, and trench-coat, she left her apartment, locking the door. She didn’t take a key with her because she had several carefully hidden around the building both inside and out. It was almost exactly ten o’clock at night.
She lived on the third floor but eschewed the elevator, going down the back stairway instead. The stair let out near the kitchen entrance to the diner that she lived above. At this hour the small alleyway was deserted and she began her walk.
It was early fall, and though chilly, was comfortable under her long coat. She paused at the end of the alley. Despite the number of times she had done this she was always nervous at the start. Frightened even. Hyper-alert. She turned toward the park.
She wasn’t looking for the Old Woman. She never did. She didn’t know how the three almost always found her, but they did. Almost always. Once-in-awhile they did not, and she completed her walk alone.
The breeze rattled the bare branches and sent a few dry leaves scuttling along the pavement as she reached the park entrance. She had seen no one.
Still hyper-vigilant, she walked along the path deeper into the park. It was risky she knew, dangerous, but she had never been able to overcome The Urge despite her fears. The need was stronger.
At last she came to ‘her’ tree. Just like all the other trees along the path, this one was surrounded by an iron railing, but unlike all of the others, this railing had one of the bars bent outward, far enough that she could use it. She looked around and opened her coat, then squatted down, her knees open wide, and pressed the cup against the iron bars gripping the surrounding railing to pull herself tight up against ‘her’ bar.
She pushed and rubbed her crotch against the bars, but it wasn’t enough, the cup preventing contact with her clit as she knew it would, but she had to wear it. She reached down and pushed the cup to the side, twisting the waistband of the jockstrap around to the side to expose her vulva, gasping a little as the cool breeze hit her now wet slit. She pushed herself against the bars again, feeling the cold metal between her pussy lips, moving up and down against it. It still wasn't going to be enough.
She stood and pushed the jockstrap down her legs, bending to try and step out of it. The elastic straps caught on her sneakers and one of them came off so she kicked off the other one too and stepped out of the jock. She squatted down again and resumed rubbing on the metal bars. It was better now. She was getting friction on her clit. Maybe she could come. Just a little bit more...
Then, a footfall. The sound of a shoe against the pavement. She jumped up and ran off the path and into the bushes. Once in the shadows she turned and looked back. No one. She started back toward her tree but then there was someone. No mistake this time, there were people in the park and she headed away from them.
If only she had been able to come. She would have been able to go home then, and maybe this would be one of the nights when the three didn’t find her. She stopped by a tree, placing her palm against the rough bark. Rough bark. Her coat was still open and she pressed her front against the tree, rubbing her breasts against it, pushing her crotch against the bark.
That’s where they found her, the three, The Old Woman, The Boy, and The Girl. By that time she had lost her coat and they found her totally naked, mindlessly masturbating against anything she could find.
The Old Woman pulled her away from a fence and slapped her lightly, then a bit harder, just hard enough to wake her from her trance. The Old Woman pointed at The Boy, who was also naked. No words were spoken. There never were any words spoken. She knew what to do. There weren’t any names either. She suspected that The Old Woman knew her name but had no idea if the others did, and she didn’t care.
She approached The Boy, and knelt. She could see The Girl, also naked of course, standing silently behind The Boy. She didn’t know their names and didn’t need to. She didn’t know their ages either, but thought The Boy was at least twenty-one or twenty-two by now and the Girl maybe a bit younger, eighteen or nineteen. She didn’t even remember when she had first seen them. It seemed like this was the way things always had been for her.
The Boy was already hard, his thin but long, slightly curved penis ready. He was always hard. She used to wonder if The Old Woman drugged him, now she didn’t. She didn’t know what her job really was, since he was already hard, but she knew she had to take him in her mouth. Maybe to lubricate him, though The Girl always seemed ready. But she didn’t have to know the whos or the whys, since it was The Old Woman who orchestrated everything.
Soon The Boy was starting to thrust into her mouth and she wanted to keep him there, wanted to taste his cum, but The Old Woman wouldn’t allow it. To confirm this, she felt him jerk and pull out of her mouth even as she heard the slap of The Old Woman’s hand on his ass.
The Girl didn’t need to be told anything either, instantly dropping down on all fours, not on her hands and knees, but on her hands and feet, legs spread wide. The Boy moved around behind The Girl. They were waiting for her.
She lay down on her back on the cold ground under The Girl, looking up at the dark brown curls covering The Girl’s pussy. She didn’t even wonder why The Girl was allowed pubic hair and she wasn’t. She was beyond questioning such things.
As soon as she was in position The Boy moved forward, grabbing The Girl by the hips. The Old Woman clapped her hands, the signal. The Boy carefully felt with the tip of his cock for a little bit, then thrust forward quickly and hard. He was in her! Oh! The Boy was in The Girl!
The Boy kept a tight grip on The Girl’s hips, not so much thrusting into The Girl, not fucking her now as simply using her her pussy to masturbate himself, pulling her back and forth onto his cock again and again like one of those artificial vaginas.
It didn’t take him long. It never did. With a last vicious yank, he pulled The Girl back onto his cock, his hips pushing forward against her, pressing himself deep and holding there.
The Girl made one of the few sounds of their otherwise silent meeting, a tiny grunt, followed by a little whimpering moan. After another moment The Boy seemed to relax his grip on her hips and The Girl shifted forward slightly although The Boy’s penis stayed in her.
From flat on her back under the joining of The Girl and The Boy, she could see, reflected in the glow of the distant streetlamps, a thin line of fluid trickling down, making a silvery streak down the inside of The Girl’s thigh.
There was a quick clap of The Old Woman’s hands and The Boy and The Girl were gone, back along the path and out of sight. The Old Woman stood looking down at her, shaking her head slowly, then she too was gone.
Alone now, and naked, she got to her knees, legs wide apart and at last was able to find release. It was getting more and more difficult to cum.