Wild as Friday Night

Like most nights you watch me, the man I'm about to fuck is new. I've never met him before, but that's why I like it. We're two strangers who know we can give what the other needs; he needs a warm cunt to cum into and I need a cock to bruise my insides.

As I pull on his hand to guide him to the bar exit, we don't talk. We don't need words right now, we both know what's about to happen. His hand is warm around mine and I like the roughness of his callouses against my smooth palms. They're big, but purposeful, almost graceful in their size; they'll know exactly where to go. His fingers are thick and long, with a heavy, engraved silver ring on the middle digit. I wonder how it would feel inside me, how the brief coolness of the metal would feel along the warm walls of my pussy.

Before you started following me, you asked me what my type was, hoping that I'd describe you. I answered honestly, replying that I didn't have one. Then, after the first few times you watched, you assumed it was older men, like the one tonight. Older men are my type, but it's not just them. My type is someone who can sate the emptiness I feel deep in my cunt, the one who fucks me like they're claiming me, like we're two animals that couldn't stop if they wanted to. I need to be marked and I want to be left aching -- that's how I know I'm truly satisfied.

Watching me get fucked was a shock for you. You had never seen me so needy, so cock-hungry to my very core. This part of me has always been there, has always simmered below the surface, only coming out for the right people, and you were never able to provoke it. I'm sorry we couldn't be anything, but when you see me, week after week, with my mouth open, crying out as a thick cock stretches me open, do you think you could give that to me? When every part of my body but my hips become limp like a rag-doll, do you think you could give me that?

You couldn't, I'm sorry. Fucking feels good for you, sure, but this? You haven't felt this.

I want you to watch closely. Watch as I'm hauled up, look at how he pins my hips against the brick wall. Do you see how he works - how he takes - how he exposes my wet pussy to the cool air before he unzips his jeans? Watch how his steady hands put me where he wants, how before he presses in, he spreads my thighs until they physically can't stretch any farther.

If you haven't been looking at him, if you've only been watching my face screw up in desperation every second I wait for his cock, I need you to watch him now. Only him. Watch how he eases into me -- it'll be the only time he'll be gentle all night. Watch as he allows me to wriggle around and hump forward in tiny increments so I can adapt to his size. I know that once he fucks in a second time, he won't be stopping. There will be no hesitance or tenderness, it will just be him pumping into me, using my cunt as his toy.

And I was right. The second time he fucks into me, he doesn't stop. My legs become rigid with how tightly they're wrapped around his waist. He pins my back harder into the wall and rips down the sleeves of my dress so my nipples pebble in the cool air. I don't even care that the ferocity and force of his hips ground my bare back against the rough brick. It feels too good to be filled, too satisfying to finally have his cock inside of me, and the slight ache of the scratches on my back will be a good reminder for the rest of the week.

From watching me fuck several men, you know that I like to talk. It's only for the first few minutes - eventually I get too fucked out to say anything more than disjointed sentences, but I like to tell them what I want and how badly I need them. This always makes them fuck me harder, makes them fuck me how I need it. I need the hard, solid thrusts, the bursts of aggression, the sharp pressure on my clit, and the deep, unparalleled feeling of being stretched around a thick cock.

This one doesn't talk that much, so I follow his lead. I don't mind -- the silence allows me to listen our different sounds. He grunts and breathes heavily. I let out sharp breaths and sighs that sound like soft wails. Then, there's my favorite sound; him rutting into me. The sound of my needy pussy finally getting the attention it needs, the sound of it being so welcoming, so eager to be fucked.

Like the other nights, I forget you're even here. I can't focus on anything but the way I'm being stretched. There are voices on the other side of the building, cars driving by and beeping their horns at pedestrians, and there's you - just watching. But I don't care if someone else sees us, neither of us do. This isn't just a fuck out of desire, it's out of necessity.

For tonight, I'm his. For tonight, he owns my cunt, and he knows it. It's possession in his eyes as he slows down and creates space between us so he can watch me take him. He dips in and out leisurely, and when I try to move my hips increase the pace, he holds me in place. My hips struggle against his grasp, and I almost expect him to reprimand me, but it's like he doesn't even notice. His gaze is stuck on the way my lips cling onto him, the way my cunt attempts to suck him back in every time he pulls out.

Eventually, I stop trying, and let him do what he wants. This isn't him being gentle, it's ownership. Once again, he owns my cunt tonight - the slick sound of my pussy only emphasizes that - and he's merely reminding me.

Eyes still trained on where we meet, he asks if I want his cum. I perk up, nodding quickly, and I begin to grind against him. This time he lets my hips work as he stays still.

"Fuck me," I demand, reaching the point where I just need him to make me take it, but he doesn't move. Finally, I stop.

"Please,' I plead softly, tightening my muscles around his cock.

Maybe it's because I sound broken, with my voice breaking at the end, but he finally starts back up. His thrusts are slow at first, but turn sharp once he's almost in. Each jolt forces a sound out of me; a whimper and shaky breath combined. I let his hips come to mine, and I bask in the way he has me rocking pliantly with him.

But it's when he holds me tightly against the wall, making it impossible for me to move, that I truly lose myself in it. I wrap my arms around his neck, rest my chin on his shoulder, and I let myself fall deeply into the heavy relief of it. He's right where I need him, my nails dig into his skin every time he fucks in, and it only takes a few more thrusts for me to cum.

"That's it," he rasps. "Cum on my cock."

My eyes roll back at the gruffness of his voice as my body becomes taut. I ride it out, clinging to him as my hands spasm around his neck, and he lets out an almost anguished moan as he continues to fuck into me, working harder as my hole tries to push him out with how much it's tightening around him.

I fall limp, forcing my thighs to spread wider for him; an offering for him to make himself feel as good as he made me feel. I'm in a dreamlike state, unworried and uncaring, so when I open my eyes, you and I make eye contact for the first time since you started watching me.

You step back, startled, but you remain in the shadows, cock tenting your jeans. I'm dazed as I barely hold your gaze, eyelids twitching slightly as they threaten to shut. There's no more tension in my body, I'm malleable as he hammers into me, and my cunt becomes even more wet.

Even though I can tell your cock is hard, you're watching us like we're a science experiment. Me, with my dress hiked up to my waist, and the sleeves and neckline pulled down. Thigh-highs wrinkled, torn, and stretched. Legs spread wide over his hips, face pink, eyes hazy, mouth hanging open, panting. Body being used and fucked like a doll.

Then there's him. Leather jacket, shirt, jeans unzipped and around his knees. Wide stance, movements powerful and intentional. Round stomach, hairy chest, heavy and thick cock. He's muscular from working outside or working with machinery.

And then our ages. I'm much younger than him, and I know what I look like. I know that someone looking at me wouldn't think I'd be like this, they wouldn't believe how desperate I am for cock. I look innocent, sweet, and I am - sometimes. Other times I'm this; a wet hole that needs to screw a stiff cock.

Men like this know that. Men like this see both sides of me. You don't.

I drop your gaze as his thrusts start to become stilted and jerky. I pull him closer to me, securing my legs even tighter around him as my cunt milks him good, like it's reminding him how much it wants his load. He lets out deep, raspy moans, and instinct kicks when he shoves me even harder into the brick, making sure I can't escape. It's unnecessary, we both know I need this - I don't want to wiggle free, I want to take every last drop.

With one last growl, he ruts into me twice more, and I feel him jerk. I feel the way his body gets its first deep breath since we started, how the air of lust momentarily lifts with the satisfaction of cumming into a warm, wet cunt.

Usually you stay until I straighten my skirt and walk away, cum smearing across my inner thighs with every step. This time, out of my peripheral, I see you walk towards the total darkness, where the streetlights don't reach, but I don't see you disappear. I'm jolted back into the moment, where he's pulling out of me, and leaning back a little to look between us, waiting for his cum to seep out.

When it does, the lust returns. He moves it around with his thumb, pressing it into my lips and fucking some back into me. Once again, it's possession, it's him marking me and reminding me who fucked me full.

As he sets my wobbly limbs down, I feel the wetness of the both of us between my legs, and I know I'm going to go home with him. He knows it too. Once he tucks himself back into his plants, he slips my panties into his jean pocket.

"Easy access," he grins, smiling lewdly.

We begin walking to his car, his hand gripping my ass hard when we come out of the darkness and start pass people on the sidewalk. He's murmuring dirty questions in my ear, asking me if I liked being fucked by a complete stranger, if I liked begging an older man for his cock, if I always turn into such a little whore at the first thrust.

Gripping my ass harder, he slows our pace. From the direction we're walking, there is only one car in view, and I assume it's his. Instead of walking faster, he grips my ass harder, his stride turning into a stroll, and starts pondering if the people on the street could tell how much of a dirty girl I was. Wonders if they could tell how easy I spread my legs for him, how he figures they all knew, because it's obvious I'm a second away from bending over and presenting my pussy to him. Says that every man that walked by us knew how good I got it, and could tell that I was going to spend the rest of the night begging for my hole to be stuffed again and again and again.

For the last time tonight, I think about you. I'm glad you left early.

This part, the part where I mimic the beginning of the night, where I walk faster and tug him with me. The part where I take his keys and stroke him into hardness. The part where he gathers my hair up as I bob my head on his lap, letting him use my hair as a leash so he can push me down to choke me on his cock. The part where I have him extend his seat back so I can crawl onto his lap and sink down on him, my eager pussy sopping with our cum.

This part is just for me.