So, I actually finished the story I was working on. In my defense, this one clocks in at a little over 24,000 words, making it the longest story I've ever actually released into the wild.
A large, dark haired man with very good hands pushed me into a bathroom stall in the back of Louie’s Bar & Grill. He kissed me like he meant it, his mouth wet and hot and hungry.
I opened my mouth and leaned into the kiss. The man hiked up my skirt and hooked a finger beneath my panties, letting them drop around my ankles. The cool air felt good against my sopping pussy.
I bit his lip, then I reached down and grabbed his shirt, ripping it open. His buttons clattered to the tile floor, and I pawed at his muscular chest. My eyes were shut, but I could feel that it was just hairy enough.
The man broke off the kiss and spun me around bodily, pushing me toward the right hand wall of the stall.
I caught myself with my hands, not wanting to press my cheek against the cool surface. If I’d been even a little less drunk, just putting my hands on it would’ve been too much.
As it was, the wall was dry and I was soaking wet, so I just rolled with it. I put one foot up on the side of the toilet to spread my legs and give him a decent angle.
Mr. Bar & Grill didn’t argue. He unzipped behind me, then spread my nether lips with his nice stiff fingers. A moment later, a cock replaced his hand. I felt its head rub against my slick folds, then he slammed it into me.
I moaned, then I leaned forward and braced myself to give him a better angle.
He grabbed my shoulder with one hand and my hip with the other, using them to steady himself as he rammed his thick, hard cock deep inside me over and over again.
I nearly growled at the intense stimulation. I could feel tingling, electric pleasure building between my thighs with every deep thrust of his throbbing dick. I rocked my hips in time to his thrusts, trying to drive him even deeper still.
My partner leaned in and sped up. I was impressed with his balance after all the beer he’d drunk in front of me.
Then he let go of my shoulder and reached around the front of my blouse, pawing at my breasts through my halter top. It wasn’t nearly as good as if I had time to take it off, but I didn’t want to ruin the top or pause the fucking, so I just enjoyed the teasing stimulation.
For his part, Mr. Bar & Grill wasn’t going to last much longer. His cock tensed inside me, throbbing like mad. He slowed his rhythm down, trying to prolong it.
I was almost there, though. I could feel it. So instead, I sped up, bouncing up and down on him with abandon.
He came with a low animal noise. He leaned in and bit the nape of my neck even as his seed slapped my inner passage, then he gripped my breast a lot more roughly.
The stimulation from his sticky hot seed, mixed with the unexpected pain from the bite set me off. I saw stars as my body jerked and spasmed. Despite the hurried and perfunctory sex, pleasure crashed over me in waves.
He leaned in to kiss me on the lips, but I tilted my head so he only caught my cheek. We were done, and every game needed a few rules.
~~~~
A few moments later, I stepped out of Louie’s Bar & Grill, both my panties and my hookup discarded in the bar bathroom. I’m sure he would’ve taken me home with him if I had asked, but that wasn’t why I was in town.
Besides, whatever happened on Saturday night stayed on Saturday night. It was like Vegas or Mexico like that.
So instead, I slipped lightly into the driving rain, soon skirting ankle-deep puddles in the cracked and ruined streets. Some were worse than others: maybe half the street lamps were working. They were enough to keep my eyes from acclimating to the dark, but not enough to see very well by. It left the dilapidated neighborhood in shadow, lent the incomprehensible graffiti scrawled on walls and fences an especially sinister look.
The whole place reminded me of the set of a zombie movie, except that a zombie movie would’ve been livelier. Right now, nobody seemed to be out.
Just a year ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of setting foot in such a bad neighborhood, much less alone and unarmed. Honestly, the rain would’ve probably been enough to keep me indoors. Now, all I cared about was that it was anonymous: cash transactions, no cameras.
Nobody would ever know that I’d been here.
I was so caught up in the atmosphere that I almost missed someone following me, a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t bother turning around: that would only tip my hand. Instead, I crossed an empty intersection and headed down a side street, turning into a blind alley between a sad looking discount store and a local burger place, both closed at this late hour.
I waited, rivulets of dirty water cascading off my jacket. I wondered who was coming for me, if they would be human, or something more. Either way, I didn’t want to disappoint them: I put on my best doe-eyed ‘scared face.’
I practiced the look in the mirror sometimes, just for kicks.
The man following me was there moments later. He was broad shouldered with dark hair, and surprisingly hot in a hard bitten sort of way. Elaborate tattoos peeked out from beneath the sleeves of his leather jacket. There was a shiny revolver in his left hand. He aimed it squarely at my chest as he stalked forward. As he approached, he added, “Gimme your purse, bitch.”
I knew I should probably take the whole thing more seriously, but I was still feeling giddy from the booze and the fucking. Besides, men with guns usually needed them. Rather than keeping up the ‘distressed damsel’ act, I smiled and gushed, “You’re left-handed? No way! Me too!”
The thug stepped closer, brandished the gun and said, “Shut up, you drunken bitch. Just set your purse down and back the fuck up.” Lightning flashed, momentarily revealing that his eyes were bloodshot. I caught a whiff of cigarettes and whiskey, and wondered if he’d simply followed me from the bar.
I leaned forward, trying to get a closer look.
He appeared to misread my curious look at hesitation, and his finger tensed on the trigger.
No matter how many times I saw that motion, it always made my heart flip in my chest, and… well. Scare a human, and their body dumps adrenaline into the bloodstream. It lets a person resist pain and fear, perform feats of strength. A mother might lift a car off a trapped child, all that good stuff.
Whatever I had instead, it was better.
Time slowed to an obliging crawl, the rain no longer coming down in sheets, but lazy droplets. I slid the purse off my shoulder and let it dangle from my fingertips. I watched his head tilt downward, following the motion for a split second.
That was all the opening I needed: I lunged forward and threw a high kick at his left wrist. The gun went flying, and his head turned again to follow its arc as it spun away.
I pounced, grabbing him by the shoulder and slamming him against the weathered brick wall of the discount store. He flailed wildly, but he had much longer arms than I did. He managed to grab my throat, and proceeded to squeeze as hard as he could, muscles standing out like cords beneath his tattooed arms.
That didn’t do him a whole lot of good, of course. I shrugged out of his grip and punched him in the stomach, holding back to avoid splattering him all over my hand. The blow knocked the wind out of him instead, his eyes going wide.
I told him cheerfully, “Say ‘uncle!’”
He snarled and took a wild swing at me instead. Cornered animals, I supposed.
I sidestepped the charge and swatted him to the drenched pavement. He caught himself on the slick ground before he bashed his face. I kicked him in the side, but I was still careful to restrain myself.
Really, it was more of a friendly nudge.
He rolled into a fetal position in response, wide-eyed and coughing. Even so, I was mildly relieved to note that he wasn’t coughing up blood. He hadn’t tried to rape me, kill me or wear my skin, Buffalo Bill style. Smearing him against the pavement probably would’ve been an overreaction.
On the other hand, there was no point leaving him with either a gun or his dignity. I spotted his gun in the gutter. I headed for it, picking my purse back up on the way. I scooped it up and turned back toward him, aiming at him.
Even at this range, I might miss. I didn’t have much experience with guns, of course. Apart from posing little danger to someone like me, guns meant loud noises and lots of questions.
He didn’t know that, though. His eyes locked on the pistol.
I stepped close and said, “Gimme your wallet.”
The man coughed, “What?”
I winked and clarified, “I learned it by watching you. Now,” a harder edge crept into my voice, and I brandished the gun for emphasis, “Seriously, a girl’s gotta eat. Toss it on the ground and scoot the fuck against the wall, bitch.”
Fumbling, he pulled an old leather bound wallet out of his jacket pocket and tossed it.
I watched it move in slow motion, crouching to scoop it out of the air before it could land in a puddle. I straightened up, tucked it into my purse and said, “Thanks for the presents, but,” I hefted the pistol, “I don’t think this one’s my color.”
The man just glared at me with a heady mix of fear and hatred.
I flicked the cylinder on the revolver open and let the bullets inside splash into the puddle at my feet. Then, I dropped the empty gun at my feet, and slid my right foot out of its cute little ankle boot.
Nothing abut my supernatural durability extended past my skin, and good shoes weren’t cheap.
“Oh, and if you ever expect a girl to say ‘yes’ to anything you want again?” I smiled wickedly at him, “Get a real job.”
I stomped on the pistol. The blow sent a sharp pain up my calf, but it was worth it for the look on his face.
There was another flash of lightning very close by, and I caught a glimpse of a shadow on the rooftop behind me. Someone had seen my little display, someone out on the roof of a closed business on a Saturday night, in a violent downpour.
That could be bad.
I slipped my foot back into my ankle boot, turned away from the beaten thug and hopped onto the dumpster with a resounding clang. Then, I bounced off the lid and up onto the roof of the department store.
Before I could find the time to really think about what I was doing, another flash of lightning revealed someone leaping from rooftop to rooftop away from me. Whoever they were, they were moving pretty fast.
The odds of my having a stalker were vanishingly small. I was very careful. The odds of my having a stalker who was also Batman seemed even worse.
I gave chase, bounding after them so fast that my feet barely touched the ground. As I cleared a fifteen foot gap between the department store and another building, my skirt wafting around me, I suddenly regretted ditching my panties.
On the plus side, I was gaining ground.
The mysterious figure appeared to notice that, too. They gave me a backward glance, then dropped to the ground a block ahead of me. The wind blew the hood of my jacket down, but I ignored it and sped up. I caught myself on the parapet wall of the roof my stalker had just been on, a discount mattress store, leaning down to look for the them.
I immediately regretted the move. You’d never know it from the ground, but rooftops are actually pretty dirty, and the storm hadn’t done this place any favors. Rather than washing it clean, the rain had mixed with a thick layer of grime to form an unpleasant black muck that would, no doubt, ruin my skirt and top if I didn’t get them rinsed immediately.
All I saw down below was a stray dog, nothing to pose any threat to me. So I dropped to the pavement, landing in a pool of shadow beneath a defunct street lamp. I looked around, realizing there were a hundred places someone might be hiding.
I supposed that left me with giving up, or kicking in doors.
Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I headed back to my motel.
Anyway, hope you all like it. Probably going to do something a little easier for my next story just so nobody thinks I have forgotten about you all, but I'd really enjoy continuing this world down the line.
Thanks again for your continued support. :)
