Rebound

I'm sitting in a bar near campus on a Wednesday night. I've got a book to read while I sip on some wine, but I'm distracted by Him. He's only a few seats away from me at the bar with dark hair, deep brown eyes, and wearing a t-shirt that stretches across his obviously, well-sculpted chest. He doesn't notice me at first. Nope, not at all. But then his eyes catch my lustful gaze. My face flushes and all of my thoughts disappear. The only thing I'm acutely aware of is my shallow breathing and the hot sensation that's spreading across my whole body.

He's smirking at me, studying me...and the look in his eyes is...fuck...devilish. I'm light-headed and trembling and know immediately I need to have him. We haven't even spoken a word to each other, and I'm already beginning to plot how I'll take him home with me. I quickly look away and act like I'm reading while playing with my hair. Nervously, I run my fingers over my lips, then quickly look back up. He's still staring at me.

I glance down at my book again and can't control a grin as I think about how many men I've managed to fuck in the last three weeks. Is it five? It might be six? This binge I'm on is a bit extreme, even for me, a self-proclaimed (and proud) slut. It's my ridiculous attempt to get over my ex-boyfriend. He broke up with me about a month and a half ago, and I'm not over it yet. Still, I've grown tired of moping, and my cunt is relentless. It doesn't give a fuck about my broken heart. All it wants is to be filled.

Shit, he's getting up and walking over to me! When he reaches my side, he doesn't introduce himself. He leans over my shoulder and whispers in my ear, "I've been watching you the last few weeks. You come here, pretend to read, flirt with whatever man catches your eye, and then leave with them." My heart's in my throat. He's been...watching me...?

"You're a little slut, aren't you?" His voice is soft and deep, and his tone is mocking, but I can tell he isn't messing around. His teasing makes me squirm in my chair. He notices this and chuckles. The combination of his voice and warm breath on my neck are overwhelming. He sits down on the stool next to me, places his hand on my knee, and squeezes. I'm a bit shocked and wondering who the fuck this guy thinks he is? Does he really believe I'm going to let him talk to me and touch me like this? We don't even know each other for godsakes. But, I can tell I'm losing control of myself. I'm incredibly aroused by his confidence and his taunting. Turning toward him, I part my knees enough so that he can get a glimpse up my short skirt. He picks up my cue and wastes no time sliding his fingers up between my thighs. I spread my legs, even more, further summoning him. He swiftly moves my panties to the side and plunges deep into me. Gasping, I bite my lip and fight back a moan. This is all the further encouragement he needs.

His fingers are working rhythmically, and he growls in my ear, "That's a good girl, now you're going to go to the bathroom with me. I'm going to hold your arms behind your back, bend you over the sink, and fuck that soaking wet pussy. That what you want?" I'm so stunned and turned on; all I can do is shake my head yes. He pulls his fingers out, licks them, and pauses. He waits for me to lead the way. I get up and walk toward the rear. He follows me as I lead him past the bar, down the narrow hallway, and open the last unlocked door.

As we cross the threshold into the unlit bathroom, he wraps one of his hands around both my wrists, tightly pulls them behind my back and holds them there. It hurts, but I don't protest. I'm overcome with the pleasure of how he controls me. With a flick, he switches on the light and turns me around. Now we're facing the mirror. My pulse is racing, our eyes meet, I'm light-headed, and my knees start to give out. My heartbeat is so loud I'm confident he can hear it. I watch our reflection as he begins kissing down my neck, occasionally stopping to nibble around my ear. As his free hand begins roaming under my blouse, I'm carried away by my own thoughts of what this man must think of me. Look at this pathetic, little college slut, picking up random men in the bar several times a week. I didn't even have to persuade her to fuck me, a total stranger, in the bathroom of a bar. She doesn't even know my name.

The realization that he knows how desperate and slutty I am turns me on even more. I'm salivating, and the inside of my thighs are dripping. We kiss for the first time. His lips feel luscious and firm against mine. I hungrily bite and lick, then teasingly hold back. He pulls my face toward his, slaps it hard, and then kisses me more forcefully. "Don't pull away from me again," he says. And with that, he swiftly bends me over the sink, pushes my skirt up around my waist, and pulls my soaked lace panties down to my knees. I can hear the slow unzipping and the rustling of his pants as he frees himself. I whimper in anticipation.

"Please..." I beg him, and before I can finish my sentence, he slides his cock against my slickness. He's stroking himself up against me, growing harder and harder. He's trying to draw it out, but I don't want to do it his way.

I wiggle my ass against his cock and beckon him. His thick head brushes against my lips, and I take advantage of the proximity and force myself onto his full length. He presses my head against the sink and groans, pulling himself back out.

I squirm around and do my best to angle myself in such a way that I think he can't possibly resist me again. But instead, he just uses his tip and shallowly thrusts in and out. Doesn't matter. I begin to feel myself swell and throb. I'm sure I'm going to go crazy if he doesn't really fuck me. I need him to fuck the hell out of me now.

"Please, please...," I'm begging.

"Please?" He snarls, "Please, what? What do you want slut, tell me."

"Please fuck me. Fuck me so hard. I want your cock so much, it hurts."

He grabs a fistful of my hair, leans his chest against my back, and then I feel every inch of him, thick and rigid. He's finally totally filling me up. He holds me like this, stretching me, not moving, but pulsing inside me for what seems like an eternity. Then he withdraws and slams inside me again. Each thrust brings a little swell of pleasure, and I can tell I'm on the brink.

"Mmmph, fuck, I'm really close," I gasp.

"Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yesss, fuck, yes."

"Cum for me slut, cum."

The first tremor of my orgasm hits, I moan, and he starts to fuck me more deeply. My head is knocking against the sink's edge, but I barely register it. And then I cum again, gushing, pulsating, and clenching around him. He lets go of my hair and backs off his relentless rhythm, but presses himself even deeper inside me and thrusts with long and leisurely strokes. He growls, grips my throat, bites down onto the spot where my neck connects to my shoulder and then pulls out quickly. He's moaning and shooting loads of his creamy thick cum all over my ass.

It's at this moment we hear a knock on the door. Whew, I almost forgot we're in a bar bathroom. I rub his cum across my back, hips, and thighs and then lick my fingers off. We hastily pull ourselves together. He pats me on the ass and gives me a smug smile before slipping out the door. I can hear him offering some kind of an explanation to the person waiting outside but can't make it out.

I finish straightening my skirt and attempt to smooth my hair, slow my breath, and then head out a minute or two after him. I see him sitting back in my seat. When I reach him, he stands up, pulls me to him, and kisses my cheek. I return the kiss and whisper in his ear, "Bring some cuffs next time."