Alley Slut Ch. 03

Even after I went limp, in an almost total post-orgasmic unconscious fog, the pounding and pummeling didn't let up; my "lover" still kept drilling deep into me as he bounced me off his cock, my head literally spinning, but he wasn't paying any attention to me, clearly not caring about my physical or mental state at all. I was panting and gasping for air like I was in the middle of running a marathon. It felt like I was being impaled on the searing heat of his cock all way up into my lungs with every stabbing thrust, as over and over, deeper and deeper, he drilled, causing me to gasp more and more desperately with burning pleasure each time. Soon I was more exhausted than I'd ever been, stupefied, losing all sense of time, unable to move on my own even if I'd wanted to.

Finally, when I was on the verge actually passing out, without any warming except for a barbaric grunt, I felt my tortured, stretched inner caverns being filled up with his hot spunk, which exploded in several waves deep inside me, each one a more powerful and welcome gusher of liquid warmth than the last. I moaned, blissfully ignorant of every except for how much joy his cock was bringing me, and me to it, and how the warm pleasure of the batter it was blasting into me was spreading throughout my body, making me feel whole, better than I ever had before ... until, that is, the moment just after he finished pumping all of that thick, creamy jizz into me, and collapsed on top of me with a sigh, and then, squeezing me even more tightly than earlier in his arms, again wrapping his legs forcefully but reassuringly around mine, his cock still hard and hot and throbbing and pressed against my naked body, twisted my right nipple and bit the back of my neck, whispering, his voice sounding totally contented, "oh god, what a perfect fucking slut."

I loved everything about that moment: how strongly and securely he held me; how he treated my vulnerable body like it was his possession to do with what he willed; that he'd once again called me whatever he wanted without it even occurring to him to ask me what I thought about it; the power I could feel radiating against my skin from the rigid tool that just a moment ago was brutally tossing my insides around; how nice his sticky cum felt slowly sloshing about deep inside me; and most of all that I was responsible for making him so contented. I was about to finally ask him his name, now that we were sharing this blissful moment together, perfectly relaxed and entangled.

But I didn't get the chance. It was, after all, only a moment, prefect though it may have been. Just a second later he leapt off my exhausted body, springing from the bed so quickly that I guessed that he was afraid I'd try to keep him from loosening his comforting grip if he waited any longer, not allowing him to get away now that he no longer had use for me.

And I realized what, of course, I was to him. Now that the lust was briefly receding and lucidity slowly returning, as I realized with dismay that for the second (almost third) time in barely 12 hours I'd let a guy finish inside of me without a condom, it made me once again embarrassed and ashamed to admit it. Yet how could I deny the truth, after all that had happened since last night? It was just like he said earlier: I was a slut, I would always be a slut, and for a short while, as he was using me to get off, I was his slut. But now that he was done using me for what he needed, now that he'd just finished burying his warm seed deep inside of me, already starting to cool and dry, I was of no value to him, nothing to him, worthless. Seeing myself through his eyes, I realized: I really am just some slut - no different than any other depraved girl who'd let every random guy she meets use her however he wanted until he was ready to finish inside of her, knowing that as soon as she takes his load she'd be of no more use to him and be tossed aside, but letting him use her anyway. So of course this guy, whoever he is, would toss me aside the second after I took his load! Realizing all this so clearly would just a few days ago have made me want to cry, but now it evoked little emotion. Maybe I just didn't have the strength right then to care. Or maybe I was just becoming numb the truth of what I was starting to accept as my new reality.

I didn't even watch him pull up his pants or throw his shirt back on before he nonchalantly tossed the comforter back over my naked body without saying a word. I still hadn't seen what he looked like. I decided, but without any deliberation and so not even realizing how slutty I'd become, that I didn't want to know. It was hotter not knowing, always left to wonder if some guy, any guy, I would run into the hall or sit in front of in class in the future was the one whose jizz was starting to leak out of my stretched snatch, about to drip down and calcify along my thighs.

Not long after I heard him walk over to the futon in the corner of the room and turn on the TV, Jess returned from the showers. I assume she took her time getting ready there, but had no desire to look up to verify.

"The ho still asleep?" She asked with a sigh.

"Guess so," the guy replied, yawning lazily, "didn't pay her much mind. A slut's a slut. So, should we stop by next door to grab the rest of the guys before heading to lunch?"