A Nameless Fuck

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This is the first erotic story I have written.
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I went out with one objective that night: to get fucked.

I'm not generally promiscuous, aged eighteen I have been with four men. There was just something about that night.

I left my halls of residence and jumped on the 87 bus into town.

I was wearing a simple, short, tight-fitting black dress and scuffed up boots.

When I left the bus I headed away from the popular student haunts; I didn't want to bump into anyone I knew from uni. This night I was anonymous.

I walked in the opposite direction, away from the bars and clubs in the centre of town until I found myself deep in the heart of the city's back streets, outside a grimy pub.

I entered and immediately the five customers' eyes all darted towards me.

I felt exposed.

They were all older than me by a good few years, gathered around one table near the door.

Their eyes slid over my young form, then fixed back on their half empty glasses.

The room was quiet. I got the impression that these patrons were regulars; all conversational avenues had been exhausted over the years so that they were now content with the heavy silence.

I approached the bar, self-consciously tugging my skirt down as I walked.

"You got ID, luv?" the barman leered at me.

I showed him my license, ordered a vodka cranberry, and sat on a barstool.

This was a bad idea.

It was then that I noticed a shadowy figure who I had not clocked when I entered the pub.

He was sitting at a table in the back corner of the dingy room.

I remember being intrigued by the fact that he was smoking, despite the ban.

He leaned forwards and yellow light fell onto his face.

Smoke twisted upwards towards the low hanging light, partly obscuring him from my gaze.

I could just about make out his dark hair, unshaven face, somewhere around mid-thirties, I thought.

His eyes, from where I had been sitting, appeared jet black.

He was compelling and I forgot my inhibitions, swiftly stood up, picked up my glass and walked over to him, as if I had been ordered.

He did not acknowledge me, merely shuffled up the bench seat to give me space.

I sat next to him and felt my excitement building.

This is what I had been looking for.

A nameless street, a nameless pub, a nameless fuck.

I sipped my drink and stole a sideways glance at him.

He was stubbing out his cigarette, eyes fixed lazily on the scattering ash.

He looked up and caught me looking.

His eyes blazed for a moment before I looked away, again embarrassed.

I looked at the other customers. None of them were looking at me. It seemed I had melted into the shadows of the dimly lit establishment, and was no longer visible.

I sipped my vodka.

I looked defiantly forwards, waiting.

I felt his hand brush my leg.

I looked down, but his hand was no longer near my leg. It rested on the bench in the space between us.

Too nervous to look at him, I felt my chest heaving as I slowly breathed in the smoky air.

After a minute, I looked up at him and our eyes met once more.

I moved a fraction of an inch towards him on the bench.

That, it seemed, was the encouragement he needed.

His hand quickly found its way onto my thigh.

This time it didn't leave.

I jerked my head away from the intensity of his look, and returned to studying the dingy room, but my mind was elsewhere.

Specifically, it was on his hand that moved, ever so slowly, up my leg to the point where my bare skin met the fabric of my dress.

I felt that I was shuddering.

I still wasn't looking at him.

The hand began to push my dress further up my leg.

He shifted it gently to the inside of my thigh.

Still, it was moving up and up.

I silently gasped when he reached my knickers and, without hesitation, rested his hand there.

My pulse quickened and my breath shortened.

The subtlety with which he moved caused my body to react to his lightest touch. My senses heightened.

We sat that way, his hand resting just outside of the thin fabric of my knickers, perfectly still, me, looking blindly forwards at the dark room, for some minutes.

A glass clinked on the other side of the room.

Then, very slowly, I felt his fingers awakening.

He traced his forefinger in small circles over the lace which separated us.

He was deliciously gentle.

I wanted him hard.

Time passed as we sat there, not looking at each other, our only communication being his hand softly tracing circles on my panties.

I felt myself getting wet.

I wanted to tell him that I wanted him, to tell him to satisfy me, to be rough with me.

But my body was frozen.

Slick with anticipation.

As if reading my thoughts, or perhaps just reading my short, quickening breaths, he edged his hand to the outer seam of my panties and gently slipped it under them. He felt his way over my outer lips, still moving agonizingly slowly, and began to rub my wetness and spread it around the outside of my sex.

I wanted him deeper, inside me, but his fingers did not progress any further.

I sat, obscenely on show to anyone who cared to look. But the pub was tired and still, in fact, I don't believe anyone had moved since my entrance quarter of an hour ago. I was past caring anyway.

The man was driving me wild.

I pushed my hips out, trying to force his fingers inside of me.

The increased pressure caused me to let out a small moan, breaking the silence.

I glanced furtively around, but no one was looking.

For the first time since he had touched me, I slowly drew my gaze up to the face of the man beside me.

His eyes were fixed upon his hand that was stroking me.

His expression so intense that it bordered on anger.

He felt me looking and rose his eyes.

He took in my expression: lips parted, eyes burning, and abruptly withdrew his hand.

Face set, he stood, grabbing my hand as he strode further into the recesses of the pub.

He pushed open a door and dragged me through it.

Up a wooden staircase and into a dark hall.

I took in his height, which made me feel petite at my 5"9. I noted his strength, he pulled my slight form along easily.

I knew he could easily overpower me.

I was aching with need.

We were swallowed by the belly of the old pub as he kicked open a door to his right and unceremoniously pushed me inside.

An open window, curtains fluttering in the evening wind, dark mahogany dresser and large bed crowded the room.

The wallpaper peeled. There was a sense of neglected grandeur.

The door slammed. I turned, and there he stood. His back to the door. Tall, dark and breathing deeply like an animal. His eyes on my body.

Time slowed again. We stood, looking at each other. The curtains fluttered behind me. The man stood before me.

And then the drawn out seconds tumbled into each other, compressing, and everything happened at once.

He was striding towards me, he was upon me, grabbing me around the waist, lifting me a couple of inches off the floor as his rough jaw found my neck.

He kissed me there, in the place just above my collarbone that makes me wild; I felt myself go weak in his arms.

His raised his head and his lips found mine. He tasted off cigarettes. His kisses were urgent. He licked my lips, fought into my mouth with his tongue, bit my lips and tongue. I moaned into his mouth.

His hands around my waist moved lower. He lifted me as he cupped my ass and I wrapped my legs around his strong form.

I threw my head back and his mouth found my chest. His chin pushed my dress down and his lips devoured my breasts. I had come out braless tonight, my breasts are smallish but perfectly formed so I don't necessarily need to wear one. It makes me feel sexy not to.

He grunted into my soft skin and I felt his hardness underneath me, pushing against my ass.

He carried me the few steps to the bed and I felt his body heavy on top of mine. He ceased kissing my breasts and raised himself up on his elbows, staring at me hungrily. His frantic urgency stilled as he peeled my dress up and over my head, painfully slowly. I was quivering, desperate to feel him inside me.

For an instant I saw my need reflected in his black eyes, but then they flashed fierce once more and his hands grabbed my panties, dragging then downwards. His head dropped to my stomach and his stubble scratched my skin as he moved downwards. I moaned as I felt his hot breath between my thighs. When he tasted me I felt frenzied and buried my hands in his dark hair, forcing him closer to me.

He tongued my swollen lips and his hands found my thighs and held me still as I squirmed with delight. He sucked and lapped me. After teasing me he moved deeper, his tongue forcing its way inside me. My hands in his hair tightened, I pulled his hair as my eyes closed. My writhing body lay pale and naked in the little moonlight that seeped through the window. I heard myself moan, and, as his tongue fucked me, grunt and growl. My clit was throbbing and I felt myself close to coming. My voice raised a pitch and my body convulsed, I was so close. I rammed his head deeper, wanting him closer and closer, more and more.

Then, all of a sudden, he stopped, he withdrew his head from my sex, panting. He raised his head and our ragged breaths filled the room as I stared at him, incredulously.

Then I noticed the raging desire on his face: eating me had turned him on so much he looked close to coming.

I felt a wave of desire for him and grabbed him by the upper arms, pulling him up on top me. He groaned as he pushed down his trousers and boxers and I felt his cock pushing at my entrance.

The moment hung as we looked into each others' eyes, faces close, breathing hot breath onto each other. And then, in an instant, he was filling me, stretching me, pushing into me.

I raised my head and pushed my mouth onto his. He responded ferociously, forcing my head back down with his hard kiss.

I felt him deliciously fill me, and felt a flash of pain for a moment as he pushed even deeper inside me.

Fully embedded, he began to slowly withdraw, grunting into my mouth as he did so.

"Fuck me." I growled into his mouth.

His response was to thrust all the way back into me, stretching me beyond pain and ecstasy, in one swift move. He pounded into me, fingers digging into my hips as he lifted them to allow him to fuck me harder. I felt him slam into me and my moans quickly turned to screams. He fucked me like I had never been fucked before. His cock was larger than any other I had taken in my eighteen years. My cunt was unaccustomed to such length and width. His thrusts and were hard and fast. My screams mixed with his low, animalistic groans. My cunt was on fire, I closed my eyes, I felt his mouth shoving against mine. I felt his balls slapping me as he pounded me, turning me inside out. I saw bright red behind my lids, I felt my body buckle as my climax tore through me. My muscles clenched around his cock, I bit his mouth and scratched my nails into his back as waves of ecstasy crashed through me. My screaming filled the room, he quickened his pace and let out a hoarse roar as I felt him spurt hot cum inside me, filling me up. We lay entwined, suspended in the moment for a few seconds, locked together, and then he collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress as his head flopped down next to mine, his hot breath in my ear.

I opened my eyes and looked at the old artex ceiling. His cock was still inside me. I felt cum ooze down my thigh and drip onto the bedsheets. I smiled. This is exactly what I had wanted for my evening. A nameless street, a nameless pub, a nameless fuck.