spiritual successor to this post!
hooking up with a toxic straight girl who hates your guts but also can’t keep her hands off you…it gets messy.
->probably definitely some problematic dynamics, degradation, fingerfucking, fingersucking, the return of oral over boxers, dacryphillia, begging, masochism (mild-ish), sadistic meangirl!!, squirting, overstim<-
I burst out through the side door of the bar and into a dingy alleyway, reaching furiously for my pocket. The sky above is cloudy with light pollution and criss-crossed by six storeys of fire escapes. There’s a distinct scent of stale weed, but I’m too pissed to register it. It’s empty out here, and that’s how I want it to stay. The low th-th-thump of bass surges when the door swings open after me. She follows me out into the night air and I turn from her, snapping at my lighter. “I’m leaving. Right now. Go suck his dick or something. Whatever. Gag on it. I don’t have to stay and see you two eyefuck across the bar. You stay the fuck away from me for the rest of the—”
A hard push from behind shoves me up against the grimy wall. My half-finished roll and my lighter spill to the shards of glass at our feet. I’m glad for the sound; it covers up the pathetic little gasp that the show of force pulls from me.
“You’re so funny,” she murmurs. Her hands lift from my hips. She slides one into my hair and tightens until I have no choice but to crane my head upwards. “You think you really take up that much of my night? I’ll be out here for maybe fifteen minutes, then I’ll be back with him. We both know it takes nothing to have you soaking my fingers. Bet you got wet when I pushed you, didn’t you? Cause all you are is my stupid painslut who can’t cum unless it’s with me.” Her grin turns wicked. “I saw you. With that pretty thing by the bar.” My indignant scowl doesn’t make her pause. “Couldn’t even string two words together, could you, baby? I’ve ruined you, haven’t I, pretty girl? You’ll keep crawling back to me no matter how much I hurt you. Especially when I hurt you.”
I try to push back at her, but she whirls me around so I’m facing her instead. We stare at each other while she presses me against the damp brick. A band poster crinkles against my shoulder. Pieces of a bottle crisp under her sneaker. She props her forearm against my chest and presses hard. Hard. Harder. Until I grunt and tilt my head a fraction.
“You are such an unequivocal bitch,” I pant, struggling against her strength. “It’s actually remarkable. You’re setting bitch records never before seen.”
“An unequivocal bitch,” she sings, eyes glinting. “Mhm. Yeah, okay. God, you get so whiny when your shitty pickup lines don’t work, don’t you?” She smirks then, and leans close enough to my ear to make me a bite risk. “Big fuckin’ talk from a dyke who sluts herself out on a straight girl’s mouth every second night.”
My entire face burns. “Shut the fuck—”
She cuts my shout off by shoving two fingers in my mouth. My last syllable fizzles out and everything in my head goes fuzzy. Then she frowns and pulls them out.
“Take ‘em off,” she orders, nodding at her rings. “Don’t want them getting messy. It’s bad enough what you do to my fingers.”
I claw for any remaining scrap of backbone. C’mere dignity. “Go take them off yourself.”
She slides the hand she had in my hair around to grab my throat. When she squeezes, I whimper and scramble to reach for her hands. Bye dignity.
One by one, I wriggle her rings off and push them into her front pocket. She watches as I work, lips pursed and nails digging into the soft skin of my neck. It has to be pure absentminded, but her thumb strokes against my pulse point. That little touch has my entire body straining towards her, but her hand is firm around my throat.
“Good girl,” she praises. “See how much nicer it is when you do what I ask?”
I nod as best I can. She studies my face for a long moment, then her eyes dip southward. She wanders down my open jacket, my shirt, down to my ratty old jeans. Her teeth toy with her lower lip. I fight the urge to arch from the wall just so she’ll have a prettier sight to ogle. I fail, so I arch anyway. Her palm slides up to the underside of my jaw.
“Show me how wet you are right now,” she says softly, squeezing in against each side of my jawbone. “You’re gonna show me. And maybe that might calm you the fuck down.”
About an hour ago, I was drunk. The buzz was fading now, but her touch catapults any lingering inhibitions I had. I work my own hand down my body before clumsily unzipping my jeans. It takes me three tries to open them before I realise I need to undo the button too. Her laugh at that makes my cheeks burn harder. The moment I slide my fingers into my soaked boxers, I know it’s all over. I can never hide. Not with her. It’s pointless to even try. I rub my fingers against myself, gathering wetness laughably easy. The second I withdraw my hand, she raises an eyebrow.
“Told you,” she murmurs, eyeing how my fingers glisten neon by the light of a nearby emergency sign. “Figures all it takes to get you this wet is a dingy little alleyway and a promise that it’s gonna hurt.”
She sinks to her knees in front of me, and all I do is watch. Slowly, she tugs each half of my opened zipper aside until she’s face to face with my clit. I know I’m absolutely throbbing and I have to be so soaked already. I don’t even need to feel it. I can read the smugness on her face. The moment she wraps her perfect lips around my aching clit, I drop my head back and moan. The hot feel of her mouth over my boxers is perfection. She bobs her head and sucks just enough for her cheeks to hollow, and the visual makes me buck into her mouth hard. It doesn’t even take her thirty seconds. The instant the tip of her tongue strokes up against my clit, I’m gone. She rides me through my shaky orgasm, and before I’m even fully down, her fingertips start a punishing pace over my clit. I’m so sensitive on the comedown that it’s painful — but there’s a bite of pleasure so strong with that pain that I grab for her reflexively.
“Oh god,” I whine. Somewhere outside of me, she laughs. Her fingertips start to rub even faster, right on the perfect angle. My eyes start to roll. “Oh—fuck—m’gonna—”
I cum hard against her fingers, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even slow down. In fact, she stands up for added leverage. I barely get a chance to moan before she’s pulling me back over the edge for a third climax. A cold thumb rubs at my cheek, and I realise I’m crying as I shudder against the wall. She sucks the salt of my tears off her thumb and eyes me. Like I’m nothing but a toy for her. My clit throbs at the thought.
“You’re so fucking cute when you cry,” she murmurs. “Makes me wanna fuck you even harder. I’ve barely even started and you’re at, what? Three? So easy. And in public, too. Such a slut.”
“Not fair,” I blubber, rolling my hips against her hand. She starts circling my clit again, though this time her free hand claws at my shirt. “So not fair. This is—fuck, right there—you’re such a—yes, yes fuck—”
I cut myself off when she shoves my shirt up, yanks my bra down and fits her mouth to my nipple. The pathetic sound she pulls from me when she starts to suck is all but drowned out by her next move. She shunts her hand down the front of my boxers and shoves two fingers into me. I’m so utterly wet by this point that she easily fits three by the fourth pump. She times each harder suck at my nipple with a rougher curl inside me. I’m jolting with each thrust, so much so that I wrap my arms around her to keep myself somewhat upright. She twists her fingers horizontally, so I’m stretched around them as far as possible. I cry out when I cum this time, gushing around her. Loud. I’m loud. If I weren’t so drunk on her, I’d probably be embarrassed about it. She keeps fucking me through it even as I’m dripping down my pants and her shirt. All I get is a mutter of so fuckin’ messy before she hooks perfectly against my g-spot and I’m cumming again. She has to slam my hips to the wall with her own this time, so neither of us fall. She pulses her fingers as deep as I can take them and then some, just to make me whimper. Slowly, she pulls her fingers out. I shudder and twitch as I feel myself stretch around her, and she gives the underside of my breast a quick bite before wiping her fingers in my shirt. I’m too breathless and lazy to even be mad about that.
I watch her as she fixes her hair, straightens her clothes in the reflection of a nearby bottle shard. It takes me another good minute to even be able to move, and by the time I can she’s already touching up her lipstick and heading for the door. As always, that’s it. No comfort. No warmth. No thank-yous.
I flip her off as I fix my jeans. She returns the gesture, but it’s spoiled slightly by the fact that my cum still glistens on her finger. The door opens and she vanishes back inside. I glance at my phone. It’s nearing two am, but true to her word it’s only been about fifteen minutes since she followed me out here. I weigh my options and decide to head back in. If nothing else, I can get a little more drunk and scrounge for some smokes. Maybe get talking to that girl I’d been trying some moves on at the bar. Maybe, even less likely, go back home with her. For now, I pull myself onto a stool at the bar. She’s already at the door, hand in hand with that guy from earlier. I glare at him over my cocktail, but I’m sure he doesn’t even notice. All he’s looking at is her chest. She glances around as his hands start to wander, and once her eyes lock on me I see her mouth later. I’ll see you later.
I turn back to my drink before she leaves for a taxi. Never now, but later. It’s a meagre promise, but it’s good enough for me.
janainaart
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prguitarman
titsay
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areudirty
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