I met him at the bar on a Tuesday when I was already three drinks in and looking for trouble. He was twenty-two, same as me, all broad shoulders and cocky grin, the kind of guy who looked like he could throw me around without breaking a sweat. We skipped the small talk after the first round. Back at my apartment, the door barely clicked shut before his mouth was on mine, rough and hungry.
“Take your clothes off,” he said, voice low and direct. I stripped fast, no teasing, just skin and heat. He watched, eyes dark, then pushed me onto the bed. His hands were everywhere at once—squeezing my tits, sliding down to grip my ass, fingers finding how wet I already was. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” he muttered, shoving two fingers inside me without warning. I moaned loud, hips bucking against his hand while he pumped them hard, thumb rubbing my clit in tight circles.
I reached for his cock, thick and heavy in my fist, stroking him fast. “Put it in me,” I told him, no patience left. He flipped me onto my stomach, yanked my hips up, and slammed inside in one thrust. The stretch burned sweet. He fucked me like he meant it—deep, relentless strokes that slapped skin and made the headboard knock the wall. I clawed the sheets, pushing back to take every inch, dirty words spilling out of me. “Harder, fuck me harder, fill that pussy.”
He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back, and gave me exactly what I asked for. Sweat slicked our bodies. Every thrust hit that spot inside that made my thighs shake. When I came the first time it was sudden and loud, walls clenching around him, but he didn’t stop. He flipped me again, threw my legs over his shoulders, and drove in even deeper. I watched his face, the way his jaw clenched, how his eyes stayed locked on where his cock disappeared into me.
“Gonna come inside you,” he growled. I nodded, begging for it, and he let go with a low groan, pulsing hot and thick. We stayed locked together a minute, breathing hard, before he pulled out and watched his cum drip out of me. Round two started with his mouth between my legs, licking me clean and then filthy again until I was shaking and coming on his tongue.
By the third round I was on top, riding him slow and then frantic, tits bouncing while he slapped my ass and told me how good my cunt felt. We finished tangled and spent, the sheets wrecked, both of us grinning like we’d just won something.
Morning came too soon, but neither of us moved to leave. He pulled me against him again, already hard, and we started over—slower this time but no less raw. That was the night the girl-to-boy sex story began, and it only got dirtier from there.
