Stag Night

I stepped into the darkened pub knowing that my stag nights would soon be coming to an end. My fiancée acknowledged I needed to get my carousing out my system, but with my increasing commitment to her came her increasing fear that I might stray. I had been unreservedly insulted by that suggestion. I had sown my wild oats and was now in my late thirties, utterly in love with Catherine, and quite ready to settle into family life. The pub was simply a place where I went to drink, laugh, and relax with my mates, not prowl for girls to shag!

Trev, the married guy in our group, had my actual stag party planned for several weeks away, just before my wedding, in detail down to the stripper. The cruel bastard couldn't wait to watch me squirm while a nude woman ground her crotch on mine in an attempt to force my body to respond against my better judgment. Sitting in a booth listening to his lurid teasing, I felt the colour rising in my cheeks along with the tent in my trousers. Normally such a fantasy held no appeal to me, since I'm an aggressive sort who is far more likely to get hard from the chase, but now that I wasn't supposed to do such a thing it held appeal! It did make me a bit nervous.

So I suppose I was trying to prove how ironclad my fidelity was that night when the strange woman plonked her drink on our table and sat down unbidden at our booth. The cheek of her! I was on the end, and her hip gave me a bump which forced me to half jump away from her. She grinned pleasantly and inched her round bottom in next to me, her thigh pressing mine. I was trapped. I glanced round the table questioningly, but none of my mates had an answer for who she was. Fortunately, she announced it.

Her hand closed round the nearest hand -- mine -- in a firm handshake, and she purred in a silky, rich American accent: "Good evening, boys, I'm Linda. I could use some local entertainment." Oh fucking dear. Her audacity both offended and intrigued me. I suddenly realised my clammy hand was practically limp in hers and made some attempt to regain my manhood, firming my handshake and introducing myself and my mates with the warmest grin I could manage. Just a brazen tourist seeking a bit of local colour, I thought. Harmless enough.

Faithful old Trev quickly made some attempt at rescue, his usual ebullience overtaking the conversation as he flirted with her behind the safety of his wedding band, and I did see Linda's eyes graze it. She was looking. My own hand felt quite bare. Of course she wore no band. What married woman would plonk herself into a booth of men and so boldly tease us? But she seemed to fancy Trev, and I knew he was impervious. I picked at food and kept drinking, hoping to dodge much talking -- and drown out her sweet scent. But my eyes were quite riveted to her.

Her hair was shoulder-length, dark and wavy, the sort that moved softly with her, brushing the straps over her tanned shoulders. After a second glance I supposed it was probably dyed, since she did appear older. Her eyes crinkled merrily when she laughed, and they were deeper in their sockets than a younger woman's typically are, hooded with painted lids to complement their warm brown colour. Her nose was long, not the short upturned nose of youth but a mature nose, its line a graceful, firm arc. Actually, most fat that had padded her youth had faded, leaving strong cheekbones, a refined brow, and thinner lips...

Dear God, those lips. Plump lips revealing a peek at upper teeth on a young woman usually set my blood boiling like any man, but there was something about Linda's warmly hued mouth when she spoke that made me squirm pleasantly. Her upper lip showed a few lines where their former plumpness had been, and her lower lip pursed sexily to reveal her lower teeth. This is something I mainly noted in older women, when skin began to loose its elasticity and sag, taking the mouth down with it, but ever since boyhood I'd found it heartstoppingly attractive. Probably just a throwback to boyhood when I'd lusted after adult women.

I caught snatches of conversation as my head began to muddle with drink. Cultured and refined, Linda seemed distinctly out of place in our quaint pub. Our local brews were foreign to her, and she tried them with an enthusiasm that escaped me. While I'd pissed away my adult life as a shiftless rake chasing skirts to compensate for a dull job, she'd raised two girls and was now free to travel the world courtesy of one cracking divorce lawyer. I was only now even thinking of marrying; Linda's eldest daughter was round the same age as my fiancée! Next to this accomplished globetrotter, I felt pathetic, and rather a pervert.

As her attention fell on me from time to time, her hand would touch my arm, warmly, comfortably, naturally, as if this gesture couldn't possibly unhinge a man's composure. I felt the hair on my arm stand on end and was thankful for the sleeves which hid my excitement, though I was sweating a bit and ached to roll them back. As the evening wore on, Trev had mentioned my upcoming wedding, and Linda actually threw an arm round me to give me a laughing, congratulatory squeeze and kiss to my cheek. Her arm was cool on the back of my neck, and I felt a taut nipple prick my arm as her lips pressed to me. Such a lovely, sweet woman, to throw her arms about what amounted to a stranger and snog his cheek in celebration of a new phase of his life, and me forcing a crooked grin as her innocent gesture sent my blood raging into an erection of epic proportions. I was in trouble.

I begged off to the loo to escape her, hoping my dark trousers would hide my burgeoning lust. Slipping behind the privacy wall to the restroom doors, I was relieved to find no queue. I stood over the toilet, dizzily steadying myself against the wall, my molars afloat. Perhaps she'd be gone when I returned. I thought of England and at last managed a good trickle. As relief flooded me, I briefly considered having a wank to put out my fire. But then I thought, 'Buck up, miladdo, Catherine will be wanting you when you get home. Save it!' And that's what I determined to do. I'd let this free-spirited older woman get me hot, then I'd go home and pound my lust into my beloved.

As I left the loo, my plans quickly unravelled. She was exiting the ladies' room. We were suddenly alone, shielded from prying eyes behind the privacy wall. She smiled with recognition and motioned to me, distracted about something. I'm a big lad, over 6 feet, and in her heels she stood near tall as me, rather intimidating actually. My eyes raked her curves for the first time. Her legs were bare, clad only in a modest skirt of clingy fabric that revealed the swell of her well-padded hips. The strappy shirt she wore was just light enough in both weight and colour to reveal the impression of hard nipples. They jiggled as she moved to grasp my arm, her deep voice coolly ordering me to hold her up. Then she leant over, lifting a foot to adjust a shoe strap.

I was numb, couldn't bring myself to put a hand on her. With an overly dramatic sigh of exasperation she grabbed my belt to steady herself. I gasped and snatched at her hand. She grinned impishly up at me as she adjusted the strap, then stamped her shoe down and stood to her full height, giving my belt a downward tug as she did so. I felt the wall thump my back, hadn't even realised I had stumbled backwards. My hands had gone slack on hers.

Linda leaned in, her nose scant centimetres from mine, and purred, "You, sir, are going to walk me to my hotel, and you're going to be a perfect gentleman about it in spite of the way you just undressed me with your eyes. Do you understand?"

I felt my face flush hotly. Her hand was poised just over the evidence of my desire. The threat in her words and posture caused a defensive reaction I hadn't expected -- I literally growled. She grinned with pleasant surprise. "Ooooh, I thought so! Come now." She emphasised the latter words carefully, and I struggled to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head as I imagined the tight load in my bollocks erupting on command. Then she simply released me and walked away, leaving me panting, aching, choked. But as though a leash were attached to my dick, I slowly felt myself drawn after her. Phwoar!

She walked with utter confidence back to our booth, grabbing her coat. When she thanked my mates for their company and bade them good-night, Trev, ever the gentleman, quickly offered to walk her to her hotel. Before her beautiful lips could part in answer I snapped, "I've already offered. See you lads later." Trev gawped, and out the corner of my eye I caught Linda's pleased smile. She held her coat to me in expectation, and I obediently helped her into it as I cast a glare at an amused Trev that clearly said "oh do fuck off". Linda's arm slipped through mine, and we stole out into the city.

The brisk night air sobered me somewhat, and by the time we reached her hotel a few blocks away, my gait was steadier. My head spun a bit as the lift went into motion, and her arm gripped mine knowingly, tightening her noose round me -- I'd never meant to get into the lift! Was I walking her to her room then? I was. And I would bid her good-night at the door, and go use Catherine like a whore. Right. I would --

Her deep brown eyes glinted merrily with amusement as she swung the door open and noted my resistance. "Come," she commanded, and the word again worked its magic, goddamn her. Her smile broadened as I growled again in defence, but there I was, standing in her posh hotel room like an utter prat as she slipped off her coat and hung it in the closet. "Sit."

"Linda, I am not a dog!" I snapped indignantly in a pathetic attempt to escape her spell.

My flash of temper didn't even phase her. She was pouring two drinks from a bottle on a writing desk, her back to me, her voice maddeningly unconcerned. "Don't be silly. You're all dogs, it's only a matter of degree. You're growling like one. Followed me up to my room like a puppy. If you didn't want to be here, you wouldn't be." She turned to hand me a drink. "Now sit on my bed, drink up, and try to resist raping me."

I was gobsmacked by the accusations. Feeling nothing less than a scolded child, I numbly took the drink and obeyed, eyes never leaving her as she sat in a chair opposite me, kicking off her shoes, crossing her legs like a perfectly refined lady. I nursed my drink, scratching at the stubble on my jaw, and muttered, "Can't stay... my fiancée --"

Her abrupt, haughty laugh stopped me cold. "Oh darling, I won't keep you long! You couldn't be safer. I'll be gone tomorrow, won't tell a soul, I'm clean, can't get pregnant. You're clean, aren't you?"

"Well, y-yes!" I stammered before realising what had dropped out my mouth, as though I'd actually considered her bold proposition. But my manhood began to recover with my rising temper, and I blurted, "But I didn't keep this way by shoving my cock into every whore who wanted it!"

She uncrossed her legs and leant forward, anger flashing behind her dark eyes. Her voice was low, dangerous. "Did you just call me a whore?"

I should have apologised and legged it, but I felt a need to vanquish her before I self-righteously stalked out to return to my beloved. I sneered back, "Bloody right I did. You just propositioned me knowing full well that --" My words had scarce left my lips before she had crossed the space between us and slapped my face hard enough to turn my cheek.

I was positively stunned. There was something intensely humiliating about being slapped in the face, and I didn't like it at all! My lips drew back from my teeth in anger as I slammed down my glass onto the nightstand and shot to my feet, fuming. She didn't budge a jot.

"Apologise," she demanded coldly.

"I will not!" I sniped back, earning a backhand this time. Fuck's sake, did this woman have a death wish? Did I?! Why was I continuing to stand here and take this abuse? When my eyes again turned back to blaze their defiance, she lifted her hand once more, and this time I couldn't stop myself. The first hint of fear passed behind her dark eyes in the split second it took for my palm to connect with her cheek.

A perverse pleasure washed over me, but dear God, I'd just hit a woman. Her face spun away from me, but she remained on her feet, swaying for a long moment before she pressed a hand to her cheek. Then her eyes once again met mine, and she squared her shoulders. A slow smile crept cross those incredible lips. Her chest was beginning to heave. I was paralysed, enraptured by her odd reaction.

Without warning, her hand shot between my legs and grasped a handful of scrotum. I fair yelped and doubled with the shock of it. But her grip was only firm, not painful. It was the threat of pain that kept me stock-still, eyes on stalks, gawping into her bemused face. Then I buttoned my lip, my breath coming harsh through my nose, anger welling again. Her other hand reached up to clutch the back of my head and pull it down to her mouth. My neck stiffened with resistance. She squeezed.

My mouth dropped open again as sickening tendrils of mild pain snaked from my testicles up into my abdomen. She shoved her tongue in and crushed my mouth to hers. I whimpered at the warm wetness and hunger of it, realising that the ache in my bollocks wasn't so much killing my erection as making me painfully aware of it.

In a last-ditch effort to end this madness, I began a frustrated invasion of my own. My fist tangled into her hair as I bruised her mouth with mine, biting her lip till it bled, foolishly hoping she'd crush my nuts and stop me. But to my horror, the mercuric, tangy taste of her blood only fed my lust -- and she appeared to be enjoying it as well. She moaned ecstatically, her grip weakening and shifting upwards along the ridge in my trousers, the nails of her other hand clawing at my scalp. My resistance melted into her kiss as she tugged my zipper down, fingers slipping into my y-fronts to graze my bare, traitorous cock. As I began growling again, I felt her nails dig in. God, I wanted her. And I was going to make her pay for making me want her.

I broke the kiss and spun her sprawling backwards onto the bed, deftly unbuckling my belt. She bit her lip in anticipation and enticingly hiked her skirt, opening her legs. A hard shudder shook my spine as I spotted a distinct lack of knickers. Her cunt was positively soaked, glistening, winking at me, begging for invasion.

I needed to hurt her, and badly. I ripped my belt from its loops, doubled it, and surprised us both by bringing it down with a crack directly on her exposed quim. As she howled and slammed her thighs shut, I shoved the end of the belt through the buckle to form a noose and jerked that over her head, tugging it just tight enough to frighten her. She clutched at it, gasping, genuine fear creasing her brow. "Dog, am I?" I snarled. "Who's on the leash now, bitch? Shall I take you like a whore then? Doggy-fashion??" She hissed with fury as I jerked her to her knees over the edge of the bed and shoved her face down.

A small voice in the back of my head was screaming, 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING???' She choked, laughing contemptuously into the mattress, "You want a fight? Makes you hard, doesn't it? Oh, I had you pegged for a rapist! Just try to hurt me with that pathetic cock of yours!"

WHAT??? With a roar of indignation, I jerked the belt tight round her neck, and she began gasping for air and fighting back in earnest. To my absolute horror, I discovered she was right. Her soft bare bottom twisting about in an utter panic under my swollen crotch positively inflamed me. Within seconds my own struggle was over. I ripped my cock from my fly, clutched a hand over her mouth, and stabbed into her wetness.

A gurgling, desperate scream erupted into my hand as I pinned her impaled and kicking under me, and I felt her now-unwelcoming cunt grasp me agonisingly tight in terror and shock. I groaned helplessly, dug my teeth into her shoulder, and began ramming her with over 200 pounds of tightly-coiled, raging beast. I drove myself deep enough to hurt us both, my glans battering an inner wall of resistance that I became determined to destroy. Her hot tears streaked my hand, and knew I was truly terrifying her. I realised I was now a rapist but didn't want to accidentally add murder to the charges, so I released the belt. As her breath returned, her increasing wails began rising and falling on the rhythm of my violence. I was sick with guilt but powerless to stop myself. My peace offering was to slip my now free hand under her to rub furiously at her stinging clit in the sad hope that she would orgasm anyhow. Perhaps if she enjoyed it, she could forgive me.

This was how dogs fucked, wunnit?! Male on the female's back, teeth gripping her neck, her snapping over her shoulder and crying out at the invasion, prisoner to the male until he drove his seed into her and released her. She was mine till I was satisfied. My satisfaction was quickly approaching as my cock roared with pleasure in her panicked tunnel, swelling, my groin fast tightening... and I felt it. Her insides rippled and sucked hard at me as she screamed her lungs raw into my hand. A new space opened inside her as the dam broke, and I froze bollocks-deep inside her. I groaned through my teeth on her shoulder as the flood spasmed from me. A few more weak shoves and I was spent as well. Her screams had lapsed into ragged gasps, and she sagged under me in defeat. My teeth slowly released her shoulder, my hand slowly released her mouth.

My rage spent, mortification sunk in. I loosened the belt and tugged it over her head, kissing her bruised neck gently, mumbling my remorse. I sucked the pain from the wound I'd bitten into her shoulder and rocked her in my arms, whispering comfort into her ear and stroking her hair. She sniffled for a time, unmoving. Then at last she laughed abruptly, nervously: "You bastard. You really scared me!" I sagged with relief as she arched her neck to accept my kisses, her hand tightening on mine. Good job, because I hadn't been looking forward to this one act of utter stupidity landing me in prison.

Only after my erection had flagged and I rolled off did I realise how badly I'd hurt her. She groaned, rolled onto her back, and rubbed between her legs. Then she caught sight of her hand, my bloody shirt-tail, and my stricken expression. "It's all right," she murmured through a weak smile. "It's been a while. You were pretty rough. I'm all right." Pretty rough? I could only stare her numbly. I'd never hit a woman much less raped one bloody. But to this globetrotting adventuress, this was just rough sex!

She sat up, wincing, and motioned me to my feet to stand before her. As I realised what she was about to do, I became both excited and repulsed. I protested weakly as she cleaned her blood from my now-hypersensitive cock with her mouth and was still squirming when she deftly tucked it away.

Didn't change the state of my trousers though. My semen and her blood had stained the fly, testament to my betrayal, and of course there was my bloody shirt-tail. Linda reached to grab the glass I'd slammed down earlier on the nightstand, took a neat sip, then dumped the remainder right on my crotch. I jumped. She grinned up at me as the alcohol soaked into our fluids. "Nobody will be the wiser, huh?" I frowned, unconvinced. Then she surprised me again by slamming the glass down at an odd angle on the edge of the nightstand, breaking it. I scarce had a moment to protest before she grasped my hand and drew a jagged edge along my thumb, slicing it. As I jerked my hand back with a cry, she said, "That will explain the blood." I sucked at my thumb, comprehension sinking in. Then she rose to lick my neck, sensuously erasing her scent with the whisky.