She spotted him across the bar, the kind of guy who looked like he fucked hard and didn't apologize. Tight jeans, rough hands, eyes that said he wanted to wreck something. I walked straight over, no games. "Buy me a drink or fuck me in the bathroom," I said, leaning in close so he could smell my perfume and the heat coming off my skin.
He didn't hesitate. His hand grabbed my ass right there, squeezing hard. "Bathroom. Now."
We barely made it inside the single stall before he shoved me against the wall. My skirt hiked up, panties yanked down, and his fingers pushed straight into my wet pussy. Two thick digits, no warm-up, pumping deep while his thumb worked my clit. "You're already dripping," he growled, voice low and filthy. "Bet you came here looking for cock."
I moaned and spread my legs wider. "Shut up and fuck me." He unzipped, pulled out a thick, veined dick already leaking, and slammed it into me in one thrust. The stretch burned in the best way. He pounded me against the cold tile, balls slapping, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls. My tits bounced with every stroke. I came fast, clenching around him, but he didn't stop. He kept driving in, harder, until he pulled out and sprayed hot cum across my ass and lower back.
We left separately. I thought that was it until he followed me to my car. "My place. I'm not done with that cunt."
His apartment was small, messy, perfect. He stripped me the second the door closed. No lights on, just the city glow through the blinds. He bent me over the kitchen table and ate my pussy from behind, tongue lapping at my folds, sucking my clit, then pushing inside. I gripped the edge and pushed back on his face. When he stood up, he spit on his cock and drove back in. This time he went slower but deeper, grinding against my cervix with every roll of his hips. His dirty talk poured out nonstop. "Take that dick. You love getting used like a whore." I came again, legs shaking.
We moved to the couch. I rode him reverse, ass bouncing, his hands spreading me open so he could watch his cock disappear into my hole. He reached around and rubbed my clit in rough circles until I squirted, soaking his balls and the cushions. He flipped me onto my back, legs over his shoulders, and fucked me like he hated me. The slap of his hips against my thighs was loud and wet. I clawed his back and begged for more. He pulled out at the last second and painted my tits with thick ropes of cum, then rubbed it in with the head of his cock.
We didn't sleep.
Around three in the morning he woke me with his mouth on my nipples, biting just hard enough to make me gasp. I got on all fours and he took my ass this time, working lube in with two fingers first, then easing that fat dick past the ring. It hurt, then it didn't, then it felt so fucking good I was pushing back for more. He held my hips and railed me, calling me every filthy name while I fingered my own clit. We came together, him buried deep in my ass, me soaking the sheets again.
By dawn we were on the floor, me on top, grinding slow and deep while he sucked my tits. Sweat and cum everywhere. He grabbed my throat, not hard enough to stop air, just enough to remind me who was in charge, and told me to come one more time. I did, shaking and cursing, then collapsed on his chest.
We didn't exchange names. When I left, my thighs were sticky, my ass sore, my pussy swollen and satisfied. That was the whole point. Adult stories of sex don't need romance. They need raw need and zero apologies. I drove home with his cum still leaking out of me, already wondering when I'd go looking for the next one.
