One Night in Short, Dirty Pieces #02

He pulled away, stepped back, and she saw that someone (she assumed it had been her) had already unclasped his belt and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his jeans. Tight jeans, so the shape of his prick was easy to make out. Half-hard and straining to be free. It would be cruel to keep it locked up like that any longer. She wanted to help out with that, but he was pinning her in place with an expectant smirk. An asshole's smirk.

But she was happy to play along, reaching back and unclasping then turning to one side as she slowly, teasingly let her bra fall forwards, away from the sweet curve that it had been supporting. She kept her arms crossed over her nipples for a moment, coquettish, glancing up at him with a giggle painted on her lips, then she brought her arms down, hooking her thumbs into the waist band of the furry skirt.

"Woof, woof." He stroked himself through his jeans as he watched her turn, and she felt jealous of his hand. She looked down at her breasts, felt that little charge of vanity again - they weren't huge but they looked big on her slight frame and her nipples were obediently dark and pert in the stockroom's chill air.

"Bow wow," she shot back, "Your turn to get topless, stud."

He crossed his arms and pulled his tee over his head like a model in a soft drink commercial, and as she saw the muscles on his side stretch, she knew that this was absolutely the best possible thing she could be doing. She tingled, knew it wasn't the alcohol, shifted her thighs together and felt herself responding.

She was up close when he freed himself from the thin cotton garment, popping the last few buttons of his jeans, and letting him reach out, cup and caress her breasts. Fuck, but that distracted her. His hands were good - stroking, circling, pinching ever-so gently - and her hands trembled as she tugged the fly of his pants wide open.

She was almost there, the prize almost hers. But there was someone panting, gasping, moaning, in there with them, distracting her from her mission.

Oh, of course - that was her.

"Little doggy getting all worked up?" He grinned, and tugged at her nipples, almost as if he were trying to pull her off balance. But the smile she flashed back had him beat.

"You missed your chance," her left hand slipped inside, just as her right hand grabbed the waistband and yanked his boxers down. She had him, hard, hot, twitching in her tight grip, exposed to the world of the stockroom. She watched his pupils dilate, heard the sharp intake of breath as she seized him, then gave it a beat: "Little doggy wants a bone."

His prick was a nice size - perfectly in proportion with his tall, lean shape, it wasn't too big or too small. And it had girth - delightful width as she held it, squeezed it, coaxed it harder still.

"F-fuck." His hands had left her breasts now, flying back to grab boxes for support as she pushed his jeans down too to give her room to work. Then both hands were on him. She cupped his balls, tracing the outline of one, then the other, as she gave him a long, slow, tight pump. "Oh, shit..."

"It's not really a case of 'cat got your tongue' is it?" Her voice, nevertheless, was a low, feline purr.

"Fuck, you're good." He was torn, his eyes flicking between her full, bare breasts, her cute, black-smeared face, and her commanding hands on his dick.

"Well... thanks."

"And you're so fucking cute." He found the willpower to move, leaning forwards only for a second to plant a brief, hot kiss on her lips.

"Mmmm, actually..." a stupid, petty scheme swam into focus in her mind and she thought - why not? She tugged on his prick and now it was getting so hard that it was resisting her commands. It wanted to jut up, bold and proud; it wanted to sink itself into a hot, moist pussy. She didn't know if that would happen, but she wanted to have more fun either way first.

With one hand pressing him down, pointing his prick forwards, she lifted the cheap, furry skirt she was wearing with the other. As her boy-shorts came into view she wished, wished, wished that she'd worn something sexier today. They were cute, they were practical, they weren't sexy. Still, she could work with it.

She ran the heel of her palm across the crimson head of his manhood and smiled to feel it slick, wet and sticky. "You little slut, you're already wet."

"Fuck y-"

"Don't worry," dropping her voice to a whisper, "so am I." Then she leaned forwards and drew with him, traced the hot, cum-slick head of his prick against the grey cotton of her underwear, down into the valley between her thighs, leaving a dark smear of his cream and pressing his insistent hardness against the soft, wet cleft that was hiding behind the fabric there. She was in command but she didn't sound like it, letting out a soft, desperate whine as she pressed him against her.

He didn't have any words for that, just a choking, grunting growl that seemed to reverberate down through his chest, through his abdomen and through his crotch and his cock and right into her cunt. She almost felt her lips parting of their own accord, begging to be filled by his shaft. She fought for control.

She swept him back up, his cock-head still wet and gleaming in the dim light of the 40 watt bulb above them. And she kept pulling him, wiping him up over the waistband of her shorts and onto the rough underside of her skirt. She felt the friction through his cock and he winced.

"Hey..."

"Sorry, just needed that sticky cum." She giggled as she wiped him onto the skirt again, more gently this time. She saw the pearly cream clearly now, a thin trace on the reverse of the cheap synthetic fur.

"What are you doing?" He was asking with a smile: as long as her slender, sweet fingers were gripping him, working him, he really didn't care what she was doing.

"Well," she leaned away, letting the skirt slip back down now and putting both hands on his shaft - jerking him slow and firm. She spoke only to his prick, looking down at the perfect curve of it as it throbbed between her fingers. "You mentioned the blonde who was out last week?"

"Uh-huh..." His breathing was laboured, he was trying to concentrate.

"Well, she'll be out next week too. In this outfit."

"Shit..." She wasn't sure if he was swearing because of her story, or what she was doing to him. She stroked away from her, pushing back the sensitive skin of his dick until he whimpered, the head purpling now and still shining with boy-juice.

"And she's kind of a bitch. To me. Most of the time." Her sentences were broken too, her attention more and more attached to his prick. "I just wanted to leave her a little present inside this skirt." She was halfway to her knees now, and she paused in an awkward squat.

"You really are kind of a bitch," he was saying when she touched the hot, head of his member to her left nipple, leaving a shining smear behind. "Holy fuck!" That exclamation broke into a joyous chuckle as she bent it to his left and wiped him onto her right nipple.

"Now who's the doggie marking his territory?" she taunted as she finished her descent. She tugged his pants and underwear further down his thighs and inspected him. She bent his prick back against his belly and explored his balls. She stroked the soft, small bush of pubic hair that surrounded his genitals, from which his fat, hard shaft emerged. She groped him and he let her.

She didn't look up - just imagined him looking down at her working him, kneeling before him, tits out - and she knew she had him. He was quite the jerk, but he was yielding to her now.

Leaning in, she smelled him, a raw, male scent that connected with something in her head, and between her spread thighs, she felt her cunt getting wetter still. She couldn't resist for much longer and she let her head move dreamily - tracing his cum onto her lips like lipstick - then she swallowed him.

The way his prick bucked when she first took him into her mouth was so violent that for a second she thought he was going to come straight away. His hard, purple head hit the roof of her mouth, leaping off her tongue and she gagged, closing her lips around him and holding him still. But he didn't come, his penis was just more jumpy - more active than most.

She took him in as far as was comfortable, letting his hot length cover her tongue, press it down; letting him enjoy the tight, moist chamber of her mouth, and she thought about her needs. She was horny, truly a bitch on heat now, but she could live with just satisfying his desires... as long as she got his number. As long as she could get this delicious shaft inside her properly when they were better prepared.

"Fuck, you're good at that." She controlled him still, working the base of him with her hand as she started lavishing attention on his head and the rest of his length. He tasted good, it wasn't really a hardship for her. "Good doggy." He was still full of it then. She let him feel her teeth and he quickly yelped an apology.

She moved on him faster, bobbing her head, pumping with her hand. Feeling his cock-head wetten with more sweet cum that she tasted and savoured as she pulled off him and stroked him with her tongue. His gasps and curses above her told her how well she was doing. When his hand touched her forehead, slowing her, stopping her, it came as a surprise.

"What?" She had to swallow the thick pre-cum that he had already given her.

"You're gonna make me fuckin'... fuckin' come! I don't want to yet."

"It's cool," she gave him a drowsy, aroused smile, "I don't mind you... y'know, coming in my mouth." Saying the words worked on her violently, a potent aphrodisiac, her pussy tingled in complaint. "I don't want to do anything stupid, and we don't have a..."

She fell silent. There, gleaming in his fingers, accompanied by a surprisingly sheepish smile, the perfect square of a condom.

"What kind of jerk carries a condom around all the time?" She asked, when her heart-rate had dropped to an acceptable level. The surge of adrenaline (fuck, she was going to fuck this guy in the backroom of a bar) had been incredible.

"I... actually, I know. It's kind of an asshole thing to do right?" She released him, and his cock bobbed free from her influence for the first time in quite a while. "In fact I... uh... I've been doing it since I was like eighteen. And... I've never once used any condoms I've brought with me 'just in case'. It's become kind of a personal joke..." he tailed off.

"Until tonight?" She straightened up. "Wait, that's not the same condom from when you were..."

"No! No. I have actually had sex since then. Just never... y'know, instant, surprise sex."

"Instant surprise sex?" As she spoke, once again she watched him watching her. She brought her legs together neatly and slipped her hands under that stupid puppy skirt on both sides - lifting it up until she could hook her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. She kicked her sneakers off and bent at the waist as she pushed the shorts down. She could tell how wet she was: very. "Is that what this is? Surprise sex?"

"Wouldn't you say?" He was still following her lead, waiting to see what she would do. She stepped out of her underwear, swung her hips to her left in a cute pose and brazenly lifted the front of her skirt for him.

She saw him swallow.

His eyes were locked on the trimmed strip of her bush, on the swollen, pink, glistening lips of her pussy. She saw his manhood leap again, just as it had when she had swallowed it. Would it do that when he plunged it into her? God, she couldn't wait for him to put that thing into her.

She looked around and there it was, perfect. She stepped back and hopped her pantiless, skirt-clad ass up onto a stack of boxes that looked to be the perfect height. She shuffled herself onto it, lifted her skirt again, and spread her legs wide for him.

She was there, exposed, waiting for him. And as he watched, the condom still clutched dumbly in his hand, she reached down with the hand that wasn't holding her skirt up and touched herself. She stroked the tight opening of her pussy and found it wasn't all that tight at all. It was soft, hot, so sensitive and it opened as soon as she caressed it. Her finger slipped inside with a tiny, wet sound. She slid it out and made a perfect, upside down V of her fore and index fingers. She split herself open for him. He couldn't get a clearer invitation than that.

He came towards her, half cocky asshole, and half co-conspirator in this insane, secret adventure. He ripped the red, metallic envelope open, slipped the condom out and made no mistake in unrolling it onto his twitching, pulsing prick. She could feel him inside her already, it was so close now.

"So you can stand me enough to fuck me?" He said when they were face to face, when his cock was mere inches away, pointing straight to the wet (so, so wet) hungry lips that awaited it. She half thought about it, about how - more and more - it seemed like his arrogance and cynicism was a mask that he'd been wearing for so long it had become his real face. Mostly, though, she was thinking about his cock.

"I think I can stand you just fine." She smiled, reached down, curled her fingers around the base of him, feeling the soft hair down there once more. "Now fuck me."

She guided him, he moved, and they both looked down as his head touched the vulnerable folds of her pussy. They had no cynical banter now, the sensations that gripped them made such cheap bullshit seem childish. They just, both of them, wanted to fuck. She helped him, opened herself and guided him inside just the littlest bit. She bit her lip, whimpered, her other hand a fist, bunching up the fabric of her skirt.

Then he moved his hips, thrust, and slowly, firmly, filled her.

"Ohshityes!"

"Holy fuck..."

She didn't want to move, couldn't really on her perch of boxes. So it was up to him. Up to him to thrust... to make her moan, penetrating her until she was too tight for him to move, and then to pull out. She loved thick pricks like his, loved feeling them as they forced her lips wide open and loved feeling them as they slipped in and out of her.

There was playful teasing in the way he pulled almost all the way out, letting her feel the round tapering head of his prick between her labia, before he thrust back in again. And she begged for it with such a cute, broken gasp that she knew he'd do the same thing again. He did, he teased her, made her pant, made her beg, wordlessly, for his dick.

And every long, slow stroke he made into her relaxed her more and more. She let him take her, brought her free hand up to support herself on his shoulder as his hands firmly took her taught thighs just above the high, furry socks and lifted them up to make sure their angle was perfect.

He stroked. He thrust in. He filled her and she felt it in her toes and her fingertips. She had become so infernally horny that the powerful swells of pleasure she rose on as he fucked her were good, but felt like they might never be enough to satisfy the terrible need that had built up between her thighs.

She started with the real language of sex now: short, high moans, half spoken curses and panting entreaties for him to keep going - just like that - deeper - and, and harder now - fuck his cock felt so good -

He didn't even have that many words. He came out with grunts and growls that seemed too deep for his skinny body to produce. She felt him getting faster, a split second before she was going to beg him to do that very thing.

He fucked with his hips and she loved it. She was so wet now that the sloppy, wet sounds he was forcing her to make were clearly audible over the lazy thump of the drumbeat from upstairs. He gave a sudden, single, fierce thrust, and his prick stretched her wide open. She gave a short sharp, embarrassingly canine bark.

"Shit... that was..." she panted, he paused, rocking her but no longer sliding in and out.

"Again?" She looked up at him, biting her lip, and nodded nervously. He pulled out, slower than ever and just when she thought he was almost certainly about to slip out completely, he rushed back in with a violence that left her tingling, trembling, shaking.

Then he was fucking her again, and now they found the perfect rhythm. He was penetrating and withdrawing so sweetly, so smoothly, and at the perfect speed, the bottles hidden in the boxes around them rattling as they started to get more and more physical, as he heaved her up against them, just rutting into her now, splitting her cunt again and again, making her lose all sense of volume as she just squealed and hung onto his neck for dear life.

"Shit! Shit yes! Fuck me like that!" But she was greedy and finally she forced her skirt-holding hand into action, letting the fabric fall down, covering the sight of their wet, messy fucking - but only for a second. A moment letter she pushed it back with her wrist and sent her fingers to find her clit in the mess of cum and sweat down there.

"Holy hell, Marcie-Puppy," he laughed, "I can't keep this up for much longer."

"Fuckin'" she panted, her head on his shoulder, her eyes screwed tight shut as his hips slammed into her again and again, sinking so deep now, fuck she was going to be sore after this wasn't she? But she wasn't now. "Fucking don't come yet, asshole."

"When you say that," his breathing was just as laboured, "it almost sounds sweet."

"Hnngh!" her shoulders drew up tight as she pinched herself just a little to sharply. "I... I'm close too." She couldn't hear his answer. Couldn't hear anything except the pornographic sucking, slurp of his cock as he penetrated her, as he took her, again and again.

Her fingers flickering back and forth over her clit, his prick not slowing, his lithe hips working tirelessly to keep her gasping, begging, on the verge of... on the verge of...

He came first, she knew, just like the asshole he was. But it must've been close to a photo finish.

"OH! Fuck!" A rough, guttural exclamation and she felt him, bucking hard, so hard she almost laughed as her pussy clenched around him - holding him and milking him. She almost laughed but she couldn't because then her mind was wiped clean. The feeling of him twitching, spurting, filling his condom and just how fucking deep inside her he was and her fingers on her fucking clit and how perfectly he'd been fucking her...

She hunched over, she bit his bare, skinny shoulder until he howled, and she screamed into him. The swelling waves of pleasure had been getting bigger and bigger, and when he came, they went tidal. She couldn't see. How could she ever have doubted that she wouldn't be satisfied?

When she came back from wherever it was she had been washed to she was sweating and heaving, trying to breathe. She wasn't biting him anymore, her brow was back on his shoulder, but her other hand was gripping him like a vice on the other side. She opened her eyes wide, felt like asking what year it was. A sharp cardboard corner bit into her naked back, and she felt how fucking wet she was and realised that there was a lot more of her cum on the bar's skirt than there was of his.

"Holy. Fucking. Ow."

She looked up at the red semi-circle on his shoulder. A perfect imprint of her dental work. "Wow, I really bit you."

"Yeah! Yeah, you fuckin' did! If I hadn't just come in that tight fucking pussy I'd be pretty pissed off right now!" He started pulling out, and for a second she thought she was going to stop him. She just wanted to feel it inside for a second more. When he was out he stepped back and they both looked. He had really filled the condom.

The boxes weren't at all comfortable to fall back against, but she couldn't support herself.

"Sorry about the teeth... but wow. That was... fucking...."

"Right?" For once there was no trace of the asshole at all in his toothy grin.