I zoomed into the park and across the small meadow beside the Metropolitan Museum. The few people who were about ignored me, and I chided myself for worrying in the first place that people in New York would notice me, remembering Memphis and how I used to shy away from seeking a seat in front of a church at Mass because I was afraid that the eyes of the congregation would be upon me, analyzing every fault.Soon I was winded. I slowed to a walk, angry with myself. When I got my wind again I did some chin-ups from a tree limb, only to have leaves and debris bombard me. I dropped to the ground and lay down, resting but getting angrier.Then I got up and broke into another jog. I heeded Fiore's warning and kept the pace moderate, determined to make it all the way to Martha's. I stopped at the newsstand for a Sunday paper. It was too cumbersome to jog with, and I was getting out of breath again. I waited on the corner of 86th Street and 2nd Avenue for the traffic light. I looked around: not. Her fingers gently caressed my shaft as she took the head between her lips. Her scent was that of cinnamon. My mind swam in the pleasure of the moment. My fingers gripped her ass, gently spreading the firm young cheeks.I felt her forcing more of my hard cock into her mouth. Her warm tongue tickled my shaft as it slid back out. I felt the vibrations of the song she hummed on my cock. Her fingers cupped my scrotum and brushed my asshole.My tongue danced over her swollen young clitoris. I felt her body tremble when thunder rolled trough the little tent. The darkness lit suddenly and frequently by the glow of lightning. Sherie pushed herself upright, her hands on my thighs and her beautiful ass on my face. I felt her shudder and tasted a warm flow as she moaned through an orgasm. Her head dropped and she pressed hard against my tongue. Her juices flowed over my lips and down my chin. I slowly slid my hands up the front of her tiny body. Her hands covered mine as I cupped her small.
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