She walked into the bar like she already knew what she wanted. Tight black dress, no bra, nipples poking through the fabric. She spotted him at the end of the counter, big hands around a whiskey glass, thick arms stretching his shirt. No small talk needed. Ten minutes later they were in his apartment, door barely shut before she shoved him against the wall.
"Get that cock out," she said, voice low and rough. "I want it in my mouth right now."
He unzipped and pulled it free. Thick, half-hard, heavy in his hand. She dropped to her knees without hesitation, grabbed the base, and slapped the head against her tongue a few times, watching it twitch and swell. Spit already gathered at the corners of her mouth. She licked a slow stripe from balls to tip, then opened wide and took the head in, sucking hard enough to hollow her cheeks.
"Fuck," he grunted. "That's it. Suck that dick."
She worked him deeper, inch by inch, until her nose pressed into his stomach and her throat convulsed around the head. Gagging noises filled the room, wet and filthy. She pulled off only to spit on the shaft, stroke it fast with both hands, then dive back down. Saliva ran down his balls and dripped onto the floor. She moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs tense.
He grabbed her hair and started fucking her face. Short, hard thrusts that made her eyes water. She didn't pull back. She relaxed her throat and took it, gagging and choking but never stopping. Strings of spit connected her lips to his cock every time he pulled out. Her mascara ran in black streaks down her cheeks.
"Look at you," he said, voice tight. "Fucking cock-hungry slut. You love this shit."
She nodded as best she could with her mouth full, eyes glassy, and doubled down. One hand cupped his balls, rolling them while she sucked the head like she was trying to pull the cum straight out. The other hand disappeared under her dress; she was fingering herself, wet sounds mixing with the sloppy noises from her mouth.
He lasted longer than most. She switched tactics, licking and sucking just the head while her fist pumped the shaft in a tight, fast rhythm. "Come on," she mumbled against the slick skin. "Give it to me. I want to taste it."
When he came, it was sudden and heavy. Thick ropes hit the back of her throat, then her tongue as she pulled back to catch the rest on her open mouth. She swallowed what she could, let the rest spill over her lips and down her chin, then licked him clean while he twitched and cursed.
She stayed on her knees a minute longer, breathing hard, face messy. Then she looked up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled.
"Round two in the bedroom," she said. "I want you to fuck my throat until I can't talk tomorrow."
He pulled her up by the hair and kissed her hard, tasting himself on her tongue. They never made it to the bedroom. She ended up bent over the couch, dress shoved up, while he fed his cock back into her mouth from behind, using her throat until she was drooling onto the cushions and coming on her own fingers again.
By the time he finished the second time, she was a wreck.
Spit-soaked, cum-streaked, throat raw. She swallowed every drop, licked her lips, and asked when he could go again. He told her to get on the floor. She went without a word.
The night stretched on like that. Raw, messy, no romance. Just her mouth and his cock, over and over, until both of them were spent and she could barely speak. Exactly what she'd come looking for.
