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Two weeks have passed since your boyfriend stuck it into one of your closest friends. You suppose “worthless scumbag ex” and “backstabbing whore” are rather fitting names for them. You’d sensed something was amiss with your ex for a while, as he constantly came up with excuses about why he always came home late or didn’t return your calls. At first, you thought he was just too stressed from work to be as affectionate, but the universe sure loved proving you wrong. When your five-day work trip was cut short due to an unexpected storm—which you figured was divine intervention—you returned home earlier than expected. You caught them right on your bed, the audacity they had to do it in your apartment than get a motel, assuming you’d be away much longer. You don’t remember much of what happened next, as everything became a blur; you lashed out and threw them out of your home without caring that they were still half-dressed, their asses hanging out.
With your mind full and your heart heavy, it was hard not to burst into tears. It took you a few days of wallowing to start getting over your ex—you suppose it was easier since they were the ones at fault. But you knew you were still hurting over the situation, and moving on wouldn’t happen in the blink of an eye. It would take time to really get over this, considering you truly loved that idiot before all of this happened; after all, you’re only human. Healing would take months, and you’d need some time for yourself before getting back out there and letting your heart give it another try. But that's not where you are right now. You’re in the early, messy weeks of a pathetic breakup, and you’re not ready for all that meditation and self-love bullshit. Right now, you just want to get drunk, maybe screw a few guys here and there, and drink away the hurt. You’re in the initial stages of a breakup, drowning yourself in whatever helps you cope—because, honestly, you deserve it.
You spent the first week after the breakup drowning yourself in work, thinking that staying busy would be enough to distract you. But it wasn’t. Which led you to this moment now, as the cab stopped at a local bar your friends insisted you come to. The old you would’ve needed a handful of reasons to be convinced to go out and drink with them. But ever since the breakup, one phone call was all it took, and you were in.
After paying the cab fare, you step out of the car and stare up at the vintage-looking building. The LED lights illuminate the faded bricks, with the bar’s name, "Brass Pub," set in bold letters above the entrance. You take a deep, heavy breath, as if preparing to step onto a battlefield—which, in a way, feels accurate. You’ve been out of the game for a long time since your last long-term relationship. Flirting wasn't really necessary when you were already together, and you rarely put in the effort to impress. Now, you must trust your gut to guide you back into the social scene. Still, you’d be lying if you said it won’t be the alcohol steering you tonight. Hopefully, you end up just enjoying the ride—preferably on someone’s lap, at that.
Tonight, you plan on getting hammered and hooking up with the first guy who catches your eye. No plan, no second guessing—just diving in headfirst. The end goal? Your sheets stained with another man’s sweat and fluids. You could say you’re desperate, but it’s been so long since you’ve had sex. Your ex just had to ruin things by putting his dick in someone else, and now here you are, back out in the wild, looking for a replacement. You know it’s not the healthiest way to move past the pain, but logic and reasoning had already vanished the moment you stepped into the pub. The scent of wood and leather fills your senses as you scan the crowd for your friends.
The pub buzzes with life—chatter, clinking glasses, and a mellow rock tune playing in the background. Warm, dim lights make the wood tables and leather chairs look inviting, despite the faint smell of spilled beer and smoke. Groups gather at tables and in corners, some deep in conversation, others scanning the room.
Near the bar, your friends sit huddled around a small table. One of them spots you and waves, grinning ear to ear. The table is cluttered with half-empty glasses, and a few scattered snacks, evidence of a night already in full swing. You chuckle to yourself, as you weave through the crowd to join them.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in. You’ve finally risen from the dead," one of your friends jests, prompting a round of laughter from the group. You shake your head, a small smile on your face as you take a seat.
"Yeah, I figured I should make my debut since you’ve all been waiting for this," you say, rolling your eyes sarcastically, fighting the grin threatening to spread across your lips.
Your friends had been bugging you for weeks to join them, insisting a night out was just what you needed. But it’s only now, after countless nights spent alone with your thoughts, that you finally caved. Something about tonight feels different. It’s like a pull you can’t explain, a nudge telling you this is where you need to be.
"Girl, forget about that dumbass and that bitch. They can rot in hell for all I care. We’re just glad you finally came—you need this." Unanimous nods go around the table as you sigh.
"Yeah... I just want to get drunk and blackout so bad, or maybe jump the bones of the first guy I see. Whichever comes first, of course." You all roar with laughter at that, your friends clearly amused by your surprisingly blunt behavior. You’ve always been known as the reserved one in the group, keeping to yourself and rarely indulging in drama or gossip. But you can’t help liking this new side of you. It’s as if, ever since the breakup, you’re slowly discovering an untapped version of yourself that had been hidden away. You can’t wait to see more of her, eager for what tonight will bring.
You’re busy chatting with your friends when a guy walking past your table catches your eye. Your gaze locks onto his wide, towering figure as he heads to a booth in the back, more secluded than your table, which is out in the open, surrounded by others.
You strain to keep him in sight, curious about what he looks like, leaning forward slightly as you wait for him to turn into view. When he finally does, settling into his seat, you hold your breath, taking in his appearance.
His messy brown mullet gives him an effortless edge as he runs thick fingers through his hair before sipping his beer. His bulky arms seem to strain against his leather jacket, making you swallow hard. From the look of him, his body is burly, meaty in all the right places. The stubble on his face and his rugged features make you think he’s a bit older.
You’re shamelessly gawking at him until your friend nudges you, snapping you out of your trance.
"Ohhhh, you’re thinking of hitting that, are you? You sure you can handle all of that?" she says with a grin, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
A faint warmth surfaces on your cheeks as you shake your head with a small smile. "I don’t know... he’s kind of cute, though. Maybe he’s waiting for someone?" You worry at your lip as you glance back at the man, who seems to be casually enjoying his own company, leaning back and drinking, oblivious to your stares.
You’re met with an exasperated sigh and rolled eyes. “No, stop that. You didn’t come all this way to chicken out now. This is a new night for you—live on the edge and make this happen. You won’t know until you try.”
Your other friends somehow get wrapped into the conversation, and soon everyone at the table is giving you all the encouragement you need to finally stand up. It’s also partly because they’re getting a bit too rowdy with a few profanities that would make a nun have her panties in a twist, saying things like “make sure to gobble it up!” and “bounce on it and make it clap!” You quickly leave the table as a few people are already glancing your way. As you head off, their howls and cheers fade behind you while you approach the mysterious man you’ve been eyeing all night like a piece of candy.
Stan has been drinking alone at a local bar for a while now, hoping to drown out his loud thoughts or maybe even find a quick fling if someone’s interested. As he sips his bottle, he notices you approaching, looking fidgety and a bit nervous as you tuck your hair behind your ear. “H-Hey,” you manage to say.
His eyes widen a bit as he takes you in, surprised that someone like you would notice him. Looking at you, he thinks you seem more reserved, maybe even introverted, as he glances at your work clothes—a pencil skirt and a white blouse with a few buttons undone, your hair slightly messy in a bun with a few loose strands, and a faint blush on your cheeks tying it all together.
Oh , he thought, I’m going to have some fun with this one. Smirking, he raises his beer and says, "What’s a pretty thing like y’self doin’ here all alone, huh?"
"Oh, um... I thought you were cute," you stammer, laughing nervously. "My friends told me to just go for it and come over." You stand by his table, unsure what to do with your fidgeting hands before balling them at your sides.
He chuckles at your words, finishing his beer in one big gulp before setting it down, his gaze fixed on you. "Well, I’m glad you came over here, doll. You’ve got guts." He pats the seat next to him in the booth.
You hesitate but steel your nerves, finally sitting beside him. “Thanks,” you say, clearing your throat.
He signals to a waitress and orders two beers. You both briefly exchange names before he asks, "So, what do you do for fun besides lookin' all shy and adorable?" His hand rests on the back of your seat, his fingers lightly playing with the ends of your hair.
"Oh, just work stuff. I don’t usually come to bars much." You laugh nervously, averting your gaze.
You cringe at yourself. Since when did you get this bad at flirting? That could’ve been the perfect opening line for some playful banter, yet here you are, fumbling like it’s your first time.
He grins, leaning a bit closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Well, tonight’s the night to loosen up, isn’t it?"
You blush, feeling tense. "I... guess so." God, you wish you could just chuck yourself out the window. But you have to see this through—a little alcohol in your system should do the trick to put some backbone into your game.
The beers arrive, and you instantly take a sip, scrunching your nose at the taste. It’s not that you dislike alcohol; it’s just that drinking has always been more about the effect than the flavor for you. If you’re going to drink, it might as well be to get drunk—something to take the night up a notch. Drinking to savor every sip has never been your thing; rather, it’s more like a social catalyst.
He laughs at your reaction, clearly enjoying your nervousness. "First time with the hard stuff, huh?" His hand drifts down, resting on your thigh with a gentle squeeze. "Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of ya."
His large, warm hand makes you hitch your breath as you grip your beer. You haven’t felt a man’s touch in weeks, and it’s killing you. As much as you’re a romantic at heart, you can’t deny that your needs are just as important—maybe even more, if you’re being honest.
You grimace as you force yourself to take a few more sips. "It's fine. I usually stick to shots, though—they’re quicker." You laugh softly, looking up at him.
His eyes darken at your words. "Shots, huh? I like the way you think, toots!" He signals the bartender for two tequila shots. Your eyebrows shoot up at his eagerness, and you can’t help but feel a bit giddy. The thrill of being out, mingling with someone new, and hitting it off with a total stranger sends a rush of excitement through you.
Smirking, he adds, "Hope you can handle your liquor, sweetheart."
You raise an eyebrow. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
You’re teasing, but you feel a spark of excitement at his bad boy vibe. You get the sense he’s been in trouble before, though you can’t be sure how much. It’s nothing like the safe, ordinary people you’re used to, and that unfamiliar edge has you more interested than you’d expected.
As the shots arrive, he leans in, not taking his eyes off you. "You betcha. I wanna see what happens when you get all brave." His gaze is steady, challenging yet playful, and there's a hint of a smirk on his lips.
He hands you your drink, careful not to spill it as it’s filled to the brim, then lifts his glass toward you, his eyes glinting with anticipation. It’s as if he’s daring you to let go, to show him a side of yourself you’ve kept hidden. He softly clinks his glass against yours, and together, you both tilt your heads back, downing the shot in one go. Your nose instinctively scrunches at the burning taste, though it fades faster than the beer.
He grins, setting his glass down. "Mmm, atta girl. You're a natural." He orders another round after that—clearly, he’s set on getting you boozed up.
You’re not complaining, though; you want to get as wasted as possible that your words start to slur and your steps start to wobble. The idea of getting so drunk that he’d have to carry you home even crosses your mind, and surprisingly, you like it.
"Why don’t we play a game—truth or dare, to pass the time," he says, cutting you off from your thoughts with the suggestion.
You think about it for a moment—well, it’s better than nothing, plus you’re curious about where this is heading. "Okay," you hum as you contemplate your first pick of the night. You want to start out small to get a feel for how he makes his play. “Truth.”
The corners of his lips tug as an unreadable gleam flashes in his eyes. He leans in close enough for only you to hear, his breath tickling your neck. "Alright, then. Have you ever fooled around in public before?"
You blush. "I... haven’t,"
You have never done that. You have only ever had private indoor sex with your ex, who, you remind yourself, is the very reason you’re out here drinking and flirting with this guy. Looking into his mischievous gaze has you squeezing your thighs together as you continue, "But... I can't say I haven't thought about it."
He growls softly in approval, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. "Well, ain't that a shame." He grins as you squirm under his mere touch. He’s getting you all worked up, and he’s barely just grazing the surface.
Out of nowhere, he asks you, “You got any limits I should know about?” He cocks his head to the side, his fingers drawing small circles on your skin. “Don’t wanna go too rough on ya, if ya know what I mean, doll.” A knowing smirk tugs at his lips.
Stan only asks because he picks up on your shy and reserved nature, wanting to ensure that you’re capable of handling something as bold and rough as he is. He’s used to being with people who enjoy it at a different level of intensity, not usually someone like you who appears to be respectable. He’s not about to push your boundaries; he wants this to be enjoyable for both of you, and he can’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and curiosity about what you’re truly willing to explore.
Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the question. You’re only nervous because you haven’t flirted with anyone in a long time, having just come out of a long-term relationship. This is your first time back in the field, and it does feel more intimidating than exciting. But that’s where the alcohol comes in to help, giving you a little boost of confidence to take on this new territory.
You both aren’t oblivious to the fact that this night will only end one way—sex. Still, you suppose it’s fair for him to ask. Looking up at him, he seems like the type of person who might be into intense plays. You’ve always been curious about those things, and though unorthodox, it appealed to you. But you’ve never really met the right person to share that with.
“If I’m being honest, I’m okay with… extreme stuff…” you trail off, coughing nervously and avoiding his gaze.
His eyebrows shoot up at your answer, clearly not expecting that from you. He pokes the inside of his cheek as he processes your words. “I see… that’s good to know, toots. But ya tell me when somethin' will be too much for ya, got it?" He gave your thigh a squeeze.
You gulp, your mouth dry as you give him a nod.
He scoffs softly at you. “I need to hear ya say it, sweetheart. Just promise me you’ll let me know if it gets too much, alright?”
“I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” you say breathlessly, his gaze never wavering from yours.
A smirk pulls at his lips as he says in a gruff voice, “Good girl.”
Boy, did that send a wave of heat down to your nether regions.
When the next round arrives, you both drain your glasses with ease. You can feel the tingling effects of the alcohol finally coursing through your system as you face him. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"
He smirks at you, his eyes twinkling playfully. "Truth, darlin’. And make it a good one." He leans back in his seat, his other arm resting on the back of the booth while his hand stays stationed on your thigh. He signals to the bartender to up the next round of shots to doubles.
A surge of excitement mixed with nervousness washes over you as you search for the perfect question to ask. His earlier conversation about limits has you believing he might be a little freaky when it comes to sex. You can't help but wonder just how far that goes and how adventurous he truly is.
Avoiding his stare, you play with the empty glasses as you ask, “Have... have you ever eaten out a pussy you just came in?” Just hearing it come out of your mouth makes your cheeks heat up.
His eyes widen slightly at your question, a look of surprise quickly giving way to a hungry grin. "Fuck yeah, I have. More than once, if I'm being honest with you. There's just something about that sweet, sticky taste that gets me every damn time."
You stay silent, absorbing his words until your next drinks arrive at the table.
You can’t bring yourself to face him; his hand still on your thigh doesn’t help either, as your thoughts run wild with the idea of his tongue between your legs. “W-Well... damn,” you whisper.
“Mmm, you like that, huh?” he asks gruffly, leaning in close. “ You want to know what it feels like?” he adds, grinning wickedly.
You can’t give him a reply, his bluntness leaves you stunned. Seizing the shots, you can’t stand another second of silence, so you empty both of your glasses. The alcohol burns its way down your throat, making you wince as you slam them back on the table.
Stan can’t help but be amused by the scene unfolding before him. It’s like watching you malfunction with every word that spills out of his mouth.
You take a breath, feeling the alcohol’s warmth envelop you as you look up at him. "Maybe I do," you murmur.
You decide to toy with him, making him think you’re about to kiss him, wanting to get him all riled up too—he shouldn’t be the only one having fun. The alcohol has definitely done its job in making you more courageous.
You inch closer, just enough for your breath to brush his lips, as though a kiss is coming. Your eyes flick to his and notice how he tenses up, his eyes widening a bit at your unexpected boldness, accompanied by a subtle blush. Just when he thinks you’re about to kiss him, you ask, “Aren't you going to ask—truth or dare?"
He lets out the breath he’s been holding as you pull away, clearing his throat, nervously laughing at your sudden change in demeanor while he scratches the back of his neck. So much for Mr. Confident , you thought, but he looks cuter when he’s a bit rattled.
"Hmm, alright. Truth or dare, toots?" he asks roughly, brushing it off as if he's trying to act cool again, his gaze flicking down to your lips, his hand squeezing your thigh possessively.
Biting your lip, you hesitate, almost regretting the word as it escapes. “Dare.”
The first dare of the night, and it only took you, what, four shots? You’re either drunk or you really want to get in his pants that badly. You concurred it’s the latter.
His eyes flash with excitement at your choice. "Dare it is. Alright, here’s what I want you to do..." He leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers the dare. When he pulls back, he grins wickedly, eagerly awaiting your response.
Shaking your head in disbelief, your jaw drops and your eyes widen. "No way, you're daring me to do that!"
He throws his head back, laughing heartily. “C’mon, where’s that newfound confidence? Besides, we’re in a back booth. No one can see nothin’,” he encourages, his hand sliding higher up your thigh, his fingers brushing the hem of your skirt. “Unless...”
His question hangs in the air, the tension between you two thicker than before as you hold his gaze. Your silence only prompts him to continue with his motions.
Your breath grows heavy as his fingers continue to move, edging higher up your thigh. You glance around quickly to see if anyone is looking your way. “Stan—”
"Unless ya worried ‘bout someone walking by and seein’ ya with your legs spread wide open, showin’ off that pretty little pussy of yours," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "Is that it, darlin'?"
It’s like every word that comes out of his damn mouth sounds ten times more vulgar. It’s the way he delivers them with his gruff voice and smug tone that makes it obvious he’s done this with multiple women many times. You can’t deny he has that charm that gets them hooked so easily. You can’t help but compare him to your ex, who didn’t really stand out to you when you first met. Unlike a certain someone who’s about to finger you right in this booth, your ex didn’t leave your stomach knotting with heated anticipation.
Come to think of it, Stan is the total opposite of your ex. Your ex wasn’t really into anything extreme, so it put a damper to your unconventional tastes in bed and eventually died out. But you always knew you wanted something more adventurous.
Flushing furiously, you let out a soft sound as his fingers keep moving, trapped between your thighs. He chuckles darkly. “That’s what I thought. Now... are you going to do the dare, or should I make it a little more convincing?”
He presses his thumb against the soft fabric of your panties, directly on your throbbing clit, sending a shiver through your body. “Like this?”
“Shit...” you grip his wrist as his finger circles agonizingly slow. You struggle to hold in your voice, glancing around the bar again to be sure no one has noticed.
“Mmm, that’s the good stuff,” he whispers approvingly as you let out a quiet moan. He flexes his wrist just enough to let his fingers curl and caress your folds through your panties, your arousal gradually seeping. He watches you closely with intense focus, drinking in every flicker of your expression. Your entire being is zoned in on his thick digit inside your skirt, while the people around you, even your friends several tables over, remain unaware of what’s happening down below.
"No one's payin' us any mind, sweetheart. They're too busy drinkin' and bein' merry. Now, spread those legs for me." He rasps as he squeezes your wrist gently, his voice dropping low. "Trust me, darlin'."
You look at him hesitantly, but his gaze never falters from yours. He doesn’t proceed with any movements unless you consent, his expression patiently waiting for some form of approval from you.
It’s not that you don’t want to do it, but this will be the first time someone touches you in public. Your mind reels at the idea of someone catching you in the act; you’d die of embarrassment if anyone glimpsed his hands inside you. Your throat feels dry as you swallow thickly.
Just when you think you’re about to back out, your friend’s words from earlier echo in your mind: Live on the edge, make this happen. You’ve never really tried things outside your comfort zone, always content to stay inside the lines and never daring to step beyond them.
But the voice in your head rings out: If I’m going to take these kinds of risks… I might as well do it with someone like him. He seems like the kind of person who has done nothing but live recklessly, which is reason enough to entice you. Finally, you open your legs to him, giving him access.
“Mmm, good girl,” he purrs approvingly as his fingers slide beneath the edge of your panties, caressing your slick folds. “Oh, you’re already soaking for me, aren’t you?” he rasps as he slides a thick digit inside your warmth. “Look at that…”
“F-Fuck... Stan...” you whisper, a moan escaping your lips as you lay your head on his shoulder.
“Shhh, just keep quiet for me, darlin’,” he whispers, his finger curling inside you as he begins to pump it slowly. He glances up, ensuring no one was paying attention, then focuses back on you.
Your booth had the advantage of offering a full view of the pub without drawing much attention. From where you were seated, it would appear to anyone glancing your way that you were both just flirting quietly. Stan couldn’t care less about getting caught; in fact, he might even love it if a little thing like you gets all flustered. Still, he’s determined to keep it as discreet as possible if it means a pretty girl like you can enjoy the experience too.
You muffle a whimper on his shoulder, your hand gripping his sleeve as he continues to pleasure you. The walls of your folds moving along with him.
“That’s it. You like that, don’t ya?” he asks, nuzzling into your neck and nipping at your earlobe. “Mmm, you’re so tight…” he purrs as he slides a second finger inside you.
A soft whine escapes your lips as your hips buck to his movements, and with half-lidded eyes, you occasionally glance up to see if anyone notices what is transpiring under the table.
“That’s right, doll. Just like that.” His voice was low, dark amusement lacing each word. “No one knows you’re getting fingered right now,” he hisses, his thumb pressing down on your sensitive nub. “Look at you, so worried about getting caught,” he taunts softly.
He was only met with your soft whimpers as you clutch the hem of his jacket, too occupied by the pleasure to even form a response.
He smirks against your neck, fingers crooking inside you, beckoning you closer to the edge. “You like that idea, don’t ya?” he growls, his breath hot against your ear. “The thought of getting caught with my hand buried between your thighs…”
You moan faintly, hips grinding into his hand as he feeds you the dirtiest thoughts. “N-No…”
“Don’t fib to me, darlin’,” he rasps as he curls his fingers, hitting that sweet spot inside you, causing you to clutch onto him tightly to hold back a shriek as your core clenches around him.
“Mmm, you’re squeezing me so tight. You’re gonna come for me, aren’t ya?”
“Fuck, I’m so close… don’t stop,” you pant into his ear, desperate. You feel your inner walls closing in on him, his movements slightly restrained as you clamp around him. But his pace never wavers as he resumes his motions. He positions his hand with his palm against your clit, rubbing it deliciously as he shoves his fingers into your moist sex.
You have gone so long without touching yourself that it’s easy for Stan to drive you over the edge. He can feel your release building as your legs begin to twitch.
“Shhh, almost there, sweetheart.” His fingers moves faster, gripping your thigh possessively, keeping your legs spread for him. “Come on, darlin’, show me what a good girl you are.”
You have to cover your mouth to stifle your sounds as you climax, your hips jutting as he continues to pleasure you with his fingers, his hand slapping against your sensitive nub.
“Mmm, that’s it. Good girl,” he praises lowly, his fingers continuing to pump as he lets you ride out your release. You bite back your moans as your cunt rolls against him, his palm flat on your swollen clit. Your eyes flutter shut as you finally come down from your high.
He nuzzles your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. “You did so well, doll.”
With half-lidded eyes and furrowed brows, you look at him as you pant heavily. You take a quick scan of the pub to see if anyone witnessed what just went down, and your adrenaline kicks in as you spot a guy smirking in your direction. You quickly look away from his gaze, your face burning as you hide in Stan’s neck.
You don’t know how much he saw, but it’s definitely enough for him to grasp what the two of you are doing. The way the stranger’s gaze lingers on you suggests that he’s pieced together the both of you being indecent.
Stan notices the interaction and chuckles darkly. “He saw you getting off, didn’t he?” he whispers softly, his fingers slowly sliding out of you. “Maybe he’ll think about that pretty face of yours next time…”
You bury your face in his neck, groaning. “Stop…”
He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “Aww, come on, darlin’. It’s not like he knows who you are. He probably just thinks you’re some cute little thing getting fingered under the table,” he teases against your hair.
You pull away, your cheeks flushed, and push against his barrel of a chest, barely making him budge. “It’s your fault!”
He holds his hands up in mock surrender, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t go blamin’ me for your dirty little secret,” he teases, his eyes glinting playfully. “You’re the one who let me finger you in public.”
This man is unbelievable. Stan is definitely getting a rise out of you with his teasing, and he loves every second of it as you glare at him, not even bothering to wipe off his stupid, cocky expression.
“You dared me to!” you whisper sharply, swatting him on the shoulder.
He catches your wrists and pulls you close, his face inches from yours. “And you loved every second of it, didn’t ya?” he challenges softly, his breath mingling with yours. “You couldn’t resist my dare, and now some stranger out there knows you came all over my hand.”
A soft whimper leaves your lips as you squirm under his heated gaze.
“You’re already all hot and bothered,” he purrs, his eyes flickering to your lips. He squeezes your wrists before placing them in your lap.
You’re not about to let him get away with this. No, you want to give him a taste of his own medicine to even out the playing field. He thinks he’s just some big shot who can tease you like that. Well, he’s about to find out you can play dirty too.
You forcefully tug away from his grasp, huffing a breath before saying, “My turn. Truth or dare?”
He smirks. “Dare.” he says confidently, not taking his eyes off of yours.
It takes a few seconds to think of a better comeback. You rack your brain, considering the possibilities, until an idea surfaces that makes you smile wickedly.
He raises an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Go on then, what’s your dare?” he asks, amused. “Don’t hold back, I can take it.”
“I dare you… to touch yourself right now.”
He chuckles darkly, his eyes brimming with arrogance. “Demanding, aren’t ya?” He leans back, his hand moving to his crotch, rubbing himself over his jeans as if he’s been waiting for this moment. “But since you dared me—”
"But you can’t cum, though," you cut him off, grinning up at him.
"Oh, you’re a cruel one, aren’t ya?" He chuckles softly, his hips starting to roll into his touch.
You let out a feathered breath as you watch him touch himself. Slightly squirming in your seat, your eyes flicker between his face and his hand, attentive to his growing erection straining against his pants.
He notices you fidgeting, a conceited smirk spreading across his face as his hand moves faster, gripping his bulge tightly. "Like what you see, sweetheart?" he purrs. "Bet you wish that was your hand, don’t ya?"
You haven’t seen the full extent of him yet, but you can tell just by the look of his growth that he is definitely a handful down there. Your mouth goes dry at the thought of taking all of his thickness. Not bothering to glance up at him, your eyes stay glued to the sight of him as your breaths turn labored.
You’ve been with guys in the past and had a few experiences of your own, but right now, Stan appears much hotter as he massages his hard groin in front of you. Somehow, it’s much more satisfying watching him because you know he’s thinking about fucking you right this second. Deep down, you’re just hoping he snaps and actually does it.
“Fuck, darlin’…” he pants, his hips bucking as he nears the edge. Watching you watch him pushes him closer to his release. The expression on your face as you track his every move is anything but innocent. It’s like you want him to take you right here in this very booth, and he has half a mind to do it if you keep looking at him like that.
He’s almost there, and he can’t help but get off to the image of your pretty little pink mouth wrapped around his hard cock, your cheeks bulging as he pushes himself against it. It’s a challenge not to pull you out back to the alley and have his way with you. Most of his hookups never last long with teasing and flirting—heck, most of the time, there isn’t even any of it. It’s always one quick fuck and then never to be heard from again. It’s efficient and simple just to bust a load in some needy fuckhole.
But as he looks over at you—with your chest rising and falling gently, mouth slightly agape with a few soft curses slipping out, and your lashes occasionally dipping down before peeking up at him—you give off that naive demeanor, like you’re some fucking pure thing. Yet he knows you’re just as nasty as he is. Acting all shy and timid at first, but he sees right through all that. Behind the modest, private front you’re putting on is a desperate hole begging to be filled. And he’s sticking around just to see that side of you, hoping it’ll eventually show by the end of the night.
You pick up on his movements as he tries to be subtle about his release closing in. You look up, breathless. “You’re not allowed to cum,” you remind him of his dare. His heaving chest and the stutter of his hips meeting his touch gave it away.
He lets out a frustrated growl, his hand stilling on his cock as he glares at you. “You little brat…” he mutters, a mixture of arousal and irritation coloring his voice. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me struggle not to cum in my pants.”
Fighting back a smile threatening to break through, you bite your lip. “A dare’s a dare,” you shrug.
“Ugh, you’re killin’ me…” he groans as he leans back in his seat, his hand squeezing his crotch painfully. "Alright, you win. But it's my turn now. Truth or dare?" His scowl at you is anything but playful.
The alcohol still circulates in your veins, along with the events that just transpired, leaving you feeling buzzed and intoxicated. All thought processes are nowhere to be found as you both hold your heated stares.
Your body feels lighter, and your judgment is impaired as you boldly reply, “Dare,” even though part of you knows his next challenge will feel more like a punishment than a hearty dare.
"Good," he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. As he leans in, his warm breath sends a shiver down your spine. "I dare you," he whispers, "to let me take you to the men’s room, turn you upside down, and lick you from front to back."
As he pulls away, he sees you getting all worked up, a soft moan escaping your lips. “Fuck…”
"Well? Does that sound like a fair trade for blue balls?" he taunts softly, his eyes alight with amusement. "Or are you chickening out now?" he challenges, his hand slowly trailing up your thigh possessively. "Come on, doll."
Alcohol and hormones took the wheel that moment. Without a word, you abruptly stand up, giving him a good few seconds to stare before you walk away from the booth, not looking back at him—or so you make it seem, like you’re walking out on him.
As you head for the men’s room, you cast a glance back at him before disappearing inside. You feel adrenaline coursing through you as your hands splay across the cool counter, steadying yourself, your heartbeat thundering against your chest as you await what’s to come of your dare.
His eyes follow you the entire time, a smirk spreading across his face as he realizes you’re actually going to do it. He quickly stands up and follows after you, his heart racing with excitement. Not long after you disappear into the men’s room, Stan slips inside and locks the door behind him. He flashes you a wicked smile as he finds you waiting for him, your eyes filled with anticipation and nerves. “Mmm, you little minx.”
Stan backs you against the sink, his hands trapping you on both sides. He presses his body against yours, pinning you to the solid counter as he grins down at you. “Now, let’s see about that dare, shall we?” he purrs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “Hope you’re ready, toots.”
He grips the back of your knee and lifts it easily with no effort, hitching your skirt up as he descends on you. Your breaths come in labored pants.
He sinks to his knees in front of you, one hand grasping the soft flesh of your thighs while the other pushes your skirt further up around your waist. “Fuck, you’ve got such pretty little panties on…” he murmurs appreciatively, his fingers hooking into the waistband.
You squirm and whimper as he removes them completely and tucks them into his back pocket. He gives your mound a soft kiss before burying his nose in the space between your thighs and your cunt, inhaling your scent deeply before growling. Your legs threaten to give out from just that, your head already spinning. God, you don’t know how you’re going to leave this bathroom alive.
He stands back up a bit, just enough to lean forward and level his upper body with your hips as his elbows rest on the counter, further prompting your legs to spread wider. Without any warning, his mouth closes over your pussy, and he gets right to work.
You gasp loudly as he works his tongue inside you, fingers clutching onto his mullet as you grind against his nose. "Shit! Stan..." Your fantasies hadn’t done him justice, as he expertly uses that thick muscle on you, occasionally thrusting it into your core, flicking and wriggling it along your walls until your eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent gasp of euphoria.
He pulls back, smirking knowingly as he licks his lips. "That's right, you’re just a pretty little slut, aren’t you? Letting me eat your cunt in a public bathroom..." he growls, fingers pressing into your thighs before dragging his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.
His degrading nickname sends a surge of heat down to your stomach as you rut your flushed core against his mouth, throwing your head back, jaw slack, and eyes closed, focused solely on your pleasure.
He grumbles approvingly, his hands pressing firmly against your legs as he buries his face into you again, his tongue diving into your wet heat.
"Fuck, baby, it feels so good... Mmmff, fuck me just like that..." you mutter, struggling to keep your eyes open as you look down at him.
"That's it, baby... ride my face," he mumbles against your skin, his stubble scratching your tender flesh.
He feels you gushing on his mouth, your cries growing louder and louder, forgetting that you’re not in a private place. He snickers against your folds as you grind your sensitive nub against his nose, your juices coating his lips and chin. "Mmm, you like that, don't you? You love having your dirty cunt eaten by a lowlife like me," he growls, the vibrations sending you closer to release.
God, his filthy mouth almost pushes you over the edge.
His lips envelop your entire mound as he suckles and nibbles at your delicate skin, lightly grazing you with his teeth, drawing a hiss from you.
"So fucking sweet..." he groans between kisses.
Your breaths come in sharp gasps as tension coils in the pit of your stomach. "I-I'm close… Stan… Fuck—"
He doubles his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit as he thrusts two fingers deep into your clenching core, curling them to hit that perfect spot. "That's it, sweetheart, cum for me... cum all over my fucking face like the desperate little slut you are," he urges, his voice muffled as he sucks hard on your clit.
Just as you're about to tip over the edge, loud, resounding thuds echo from the door, followed by a man’s voice shouting, “QUIT FUCKING IN THERE! YOU’RE HOLDING UP THE LINE, ASSHOLES!”
Both of you jolt back to reality. Stan quickly stands up, his face glistening with your juices as he adjusts himself. "Well, shit, looks like our little party's over," he chuckles nervously, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Better get yourself together, sweetheart."
Blushing furiously, you adjust your skirt and blouse, covering yourself up. Sneaking a quick glance in the mirror, you fix your hair and smooth out any wrinkles that may have formed. But the embarrassment hits like a tidal wave, and all you want to do is melt right there, live in the bathroom, and never come out. What were you even thinking? You can only blame the alcohol for making all the decisions tonight.
You've never done anything like this before, and a mix of shame and worry gnaws at you as you bite your lip. In a way, Stan got his payback for the dare you challenged him with earlier. Neither of you got to finish, which is a little ironic—and maybe even poetic justice.
As you finish up, you catch sight of your face in the reflection—a bloom of rosiness spreads across your cheeks and lips. Your features seem softer, with a subtle glow that makes you... prettier. You haven’t looked or felt this way since the breakup, and it’s refreshing to see your face without a grim expression.
Stan notices you checking yourself in the mirror and gives a soft smile, coming up behind you to gently kiss the back of your neck. “You ready?”
You take a deep breath, exhaling sharply as you brace yourself for the inevitable embarrassment to come, then nod up at him.
Stan gives you a reassuring look as he straightens up, leading the way as you both head for the door. You’re grateful for his impressive stature, hiding behind his tall frame as you hold onto his arm and step out.
A few men stand in line—one glaring in irritation while the others watch with amused smirks.
Stan shoots a sharp glare at the onlookers, silently daring them to comment as he keeps a protective hand on your waist. He feels you shrinking behind him, your face flushed with humiliation.
Fortunately, your friends aren’t in the bar anymore as you scan the crowd for their familiar faces; they probably left to go to a club. You wouldn’t hear the end of it from them if they knew you and Stan were in the bathroom together.
“You alright, toots?” he asks softly as you finally reach your booth, helping you gather your things.
You manage a weak smile. “I’m okay…” you say, gently tugging on his arm, eager to leave this place already. The effects of the alcohol are starting to wear off.
He nods, sensing your desire to leave. Stan doesn’t bother leaving money for the drinks as he grabs your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. Hopefully, you’re too preoccupied with your worries to notice he didn’t pay for the alcohol. The bustling hour of the pub makes it even easier to slip away. “Let’s blow this joint, then.” His arm stays protectively around your shoulders as he leads you toward the exit, casting one last glare at the men in line.
You both walk hand in hand outside, the night still young despite the hour, the cool air refreshing as it washes over you.
Turning back to you, he gives a small smile. “You did real good in there, by the way.”
“Yeah?” you murmur, looking up at him with wide eyes, hanging on to his every word.
He nods, his gaze softening as he glances down at you. "Yeah, you did. Real good. You’re a trooper, puttin' up with all the crazy things I drag you into." he says, his voice low and reassuring.
You laugh softly, recalling the dares you just completed at the bar. As you both walk into the night, a sly notion pops into your head. "You know... we can still do one last truth or dare. And it’s my turn to ask you."
He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he turns to face you, his hands moving to rest on your hips as you both pause. “Oh yeah? And what exactly ya got in mind, sweetheart?”
"Well, you gotta pick first. Truth or dare?" you challenge, mirroring his grin.
He chuckles darkly, his eyes glinting with amusement as he slowly answers, "Alright, toots, I pick… dare." His gaze never leaves yours, silently daring you to come up with something good. "But you gotta make it good—none of that kissing nonsense."
Shaking your head, a giggle escapes your lips as you lean closer, just enough for your breath to brush against his. “I dare you…” Your eyes wander around the area before settling on a dimly lit passageway to your left. “…to throat fuck me in that alleyway.”
He lets out a low, guttural sound, his body tensing at your dare. His pupils dilate as his gaze flicks to the alleyway and then back to you hungrily, his grip tightening on your hips. "Well, well... you're askin' for trouble, aren't ya?"
Smiling cheekily, you pull him along into the dark, narrow path. He follows, his gaze darting around the alley to ensure it’s empty before pushing you roughly against the grimy brick wall, his body pressing against yours. "And what if someone sees us?" he grunts, nuzzling your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin.
A breathless moan escapes you. “Guess we’ll just have to put on a good show.” You push him back slightly, making space to bite his neck, enticing a throaty moan from him, before leaving trails of kisses along his neck and collarbone.
Gradually, you make your way down to your knees, stopping every so often to graze your lips over every inch of his upper body until you're on the ground, facing the front of his jeans.
As much as you’re thrilled to take him in your mouth, you start by teasing him, rubbing your face against his straining bulge through his jeans, giggling and smiling sweetly up at him. Warmth pools between your legs, dripping down your thigh as the scent of him arouses you further. Your bare bottom serves as a reminder of what he did to you in the bathroom, and that your underwear is still in his pocket.
He glares down at you, his face a mix of frustration and desire, a low snarl escaping his lips. “You little…” he trails off. Without warning, he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, his hot, hard flesh spilling into your hands. “Open up.”
Your eyes widen at his size, brows furrowing as you try to get a hold of him, your fingers looking almost too small against him as you give two slow pumps.
You were eager to see his full length, but now that you’re grasping it, you’re not sure how you’ll even fit him in your mouth, let alone have him inside you.
He watches you struggle to wrap your small hands around him, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “Mmm, don’t you look adorable tryin’ to handle all of this.”
He lets out a hissing breath, his body tensing as you pump him. Although your struggle looks undeniably cute, his patience wears thin with your slow strokes.
Without warning, he fists a hand in your hair and thrusts himself deep into your mouth, his thick head trying to reach back of your throat. "Relax, sweetheart..."
You muffle a moan as he rams his dick into your mouth, barely fitting him halfway.
He groans deeply as your cries vibrate around his cock, his grip on you tightening. A dark chuckle left his lips when he feels you gag slightly. “That's it, baby, take it deeper. I know you can do better than that.” He starts to move, slow at first but quickly picking up the pace, giving you time to recover.
You remind yourself to breathe through your nose as his pace intensifies, the obscene slick sounds fill the space as your drool spills at the corners of your mouth. You ground yourself by gripping his jeans, feeling the warmth of his body close to yours.
He grunts, his thrusts growing faster and deeper, his large hands holding your head firmly in place as he drives himself into you, his head reaching the back of your throat. He was really deep-throating you now.
A string of profanities falls from his lips as you gag, his pace quickening, pressing himself deeper down your throat as his hips buck forward. "Look at you taking it so well, darlin'," he murmurs.
Tears well at the corners of your eyes as he continues, his scent and relentless movements filling your senses. Your eyes roll back, and a low moan escapes you. He groans long and low, feeling your body relax further as your throat opens up for him, allowing him to sink deep into you and hold your head there for several seconds. He hisses out curses as you begin to gag on him again before he resumes his thrusts.
“Oh god, sweetheart… you look so good with your mouth full of me,” he pants, his movements becoming erratic. You feel his release approaching as he fists your hair tighter, his hips stuttering.
You gladly let him use your mouth for his pleasure, your cunt throbbing in need as you clench around nothing. Your moist thighs press together, trying to relieve some of the ache as you keep your jaw relaxed while he fucks you with reckless abandon. With a deep groan, he throws his head back, his release imminent. His grip on your hair is almost painful as his movements grow rough and sloppy, losing all restraint.
With a guttural moan, he buries himself deep in your throat, holding your head in place as he comes hard, his mouth hanging open as he chases his high. Gazing up at him through your lashes, you stay put, letting him fill your throat.
He spews his hot cum in you, and you gladly swallow every savory drop of him, your lips still open and wrapped around him as he pulses against your tongue.
As he finishes, you slowly withdraw your mouth, sucking on his tip with a soft pop, giggling as you hold his gaze and rub your face on his wet length.
He watches through heavy-lidded eyes as you pull back, a thin string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to his tip. A shudder runs through him when you give him another gentle suck, his spent cock twitching at the touch. A low groan rumbles in his chest as you continue, kissing along his length with a playful glint in your eyes.
He chuckles darkly, his hands still tangled in your hair as you press soft kisses to his tip. “Look at ya, all messy an’ cute,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. His fingers thread through your hair, gently petting you. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He helps you to your feet, wiping away any lingering saliva and cum from your face with his thumb.
You lick your lips and wrap your arms around his neck, looking up at him in a cock drunk daze. Standing at least a foot and a half taller than you, he looms over you as you softly ask, “Do you wanna… maybe come back to my place?” You bite your lip, running your hands over his torso, hoping he’ll say yes.
He smirks down at you, his hands slipping around your waist as he pulls you closer. “You bet your sweet backside we’re going back to your place,” he replies, his voice low and rough. “I need to have you spread out on a bed, not bent over in some alleyway.”
You giggle, feeling butterflies burst loose in your stomach.
In just one night, you've already done so much with this stranger. You barely know anything about him—heck, you don’t even know if he’s a criminal, for Christ’s sake. But maybe that's the thrill of it all, of letting loose in a way you haven't dared to before. Tonight, you’re throwing caution to the wind, caught up in the heat of the moment, letting yourself feel alive. And for once, you're not worried about tomorrow.
You hail a cab together and settle into the backseat, a shared, silent anticipation simmering between you as the city lights flash by. The tension lingers, thick and electric, yet you somehow make it to your apartment door without stopping to fuck in the bushes or the stairway. As you unlock the door, he follows close behind. The door shuts with a firm click, the sound lingering in the quiet, and hear the lock turn—a deliberate, quiet act that sends a thrill down your spine, sealing the two of you inside with a sense of intimacy and seclusion that makes your pulse quicken.
As soon as the door shuts, he presses close behind you, his large hands splaying across your stomach. "Mmm... you live alone, right?" he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck, his warm breath brushing across your skin.
You tilt your head, offering your neck as he nips at your skin, grinding your hips back against him. "Yeah. I kicked out my ex," you hum, not even bothering to explain the story.
He growls possessively against your neck, his arms tightening around your waist. "Well, good riddance," he mutters, his hands sliding down to your thighs, lifting your skirt to grip your bare skin. "Tonight, you're mine."
You remember that you aren’t wearing anything underneath. In one swift movement, he spins you around and lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pins you against the wall, his mouth trailing down your neck in a frenzy of kisses and bites. "Fuckin' hell, you're perfect," he grunts, his hands roaming over your plump ass as he grounds his hardening cock against your bare pussy.
"Please, fuck me," you whimper into his neck, your wetness seeping into his pants as he moves against you.
“Mmm… but darlin', I wanna taste you some more first.” With that, he carries you to the bed, practically tossing you onto it. As he unbuckles his belt, his gaze never leaves you. "Strip," he orders, the single word sending goosebumps on your skin.
You move your hands, stripping off the remainder of your clothes and discarding them on the floor. His eyes are hooded as he watches you, his gaze roaming appreciatively over your body. Once you're fully undressed, he sheds the rest of his clothing, his thick, long, hardened length bobbing as he climbs onto the bed, his large frame dwarfing yours.
You drink in the sight of his burly body, thick with hair, especially down there . You swallow hard, feeling your mouth go dry as you let out a trembling breath.
Gently, he pulls you to straddle his face, positioning you with your body facing his lower half. Gripping your thighs, he tugs you down until you can't close your legs, his broad shoulders keeping them spread wide. His hot breath fans across your wet folds before he buries his face in you, his tongue delving into your core, eagerly lapping up your nectar as he eats you out hungrily.
Your body leans forward from the sudden sensation, hands landing on his thighs to steady yourself as your hips grind against his mouth. You feel his hand sliding up your back to your head, guiding it down toward his length, encouraging you to take him in too.
He presses you further until his thick cock slides between your lips. Gripping your hair, he holds your head in place as he starts to fuck your mouth for the second time tonight, his hips pumping in and out. "Fuck yeah, just like that. Suck my cock while I eat your pussy out."
You muffle a whine around his length as his grip on your hair forces you to take him deeper, while his mouth continues its attention on your folds. Saliva drips down your chin as you slobber over his cock, his hips pushing him further into your throat.
His pace quickens, his cock slamming into you as his nether hair brushes against your nose each time he thrusts forward. His tongue lashes at your clit, his nose buried in your pussy as he devours you relentlessly. The sounds of your gagging, your mouth slurping on his cock, and his tongue lapping at your wet folds fill the room.
The lewdness of your position fully sinks in—trapped between his thighs and his unyielding grip, you’re completely at his mercy. You can’t pull away, his hands firmly holding your head as he controls each thrust, his cock filling your mouth while his tongue teases your moist sex. The helplessness only heightens the thrill coursing through you, knowing there’s no escaping his rhythm, no chance to pull back as he takes his pleasure from you fully.
Closing your eyes, you surrender to his control, letting him take you for his pleasure as he fucks both of your holes. It feels degrading, yet your slick arousal and the burning anticipation in your stomach tell a different story.
He keeps his rhythm steady, never faltering as he fucks your mouth and ravishes your pussy like a starved man. Your arousal coats his face while he continues his oral assault on your cunt, and his cock pulses on your tongue, its salty precum coating your taste buds. He holds you firmly in place, chasing his own gratification. Briefly, he pulls away to smack your ass hard, jolting you forward before he spits on your cunt.
You moan around his cock, feeling your pussy clench as his spit slicks you. Your eyes roll back as he shoves himself deeper down your throat, laughing darkly at the effect he has on you. He returns to feasting on you with renewed intensity, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pulls you closer, burying himself further, as if he could sink even deeper.
You can only muffle against his dick as you feel your release building, your legs starting to shake while your hips buck against his face. Sensing your climax approaching, he doubles his efforts, flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit while sliding two fingers deep into your cunt, curling them to press against your g-spot.
Your body writhes under his touch, but his hold on your hair and his cock in your mouth keeps you restrained. Your release builds to the breaking point.
His mouth clamps over your folds, his tongue lashing against your swollen bud as his fingers continue to pound into your heat. It’s enough to drive you over the edge, and you convulse, coming in his mouth as your hips rut against his face, chasing your high.
He moans into your core, savoring your taste as he swallows every drop of your essence. He continues to lap at your cunt, prolonging your orgasm, his fingers still pumping in and out of you.
Even after you’ve released, he keeps thrusting his cock into your mouth, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure. He gives you three deep, powerful thrusts before finally lifting your head to allow you to catch your breath.
He pulls away from your entrance, his face glistening with your juices. Lifting your head off his cock, he lets you breathe, smirking down at you, his cock still hard and throbbing. “Not bad, doll. You took my dick well.”
You slump against him, too exhausted to care as your face rests on his wet length, panting heavily.
He chuckles at your state, his calloused hands caressing and gripping your back. His hand slides down to slap your ass hard before squeezing and kneading your plump flesh. “Up. Face me.” His voice is low, commanding. He wants to watch your face as he pounds into you, to see you take all of him in.
You’ve already come twice—first when he fingered you at the bar—and now you’re too drained to imagine going for a third round. You’d always thought your limit was just once, nothing more; it had always been that way with your past lovers. But Stan seems determined to push you beyond what you thought possible. You feel like if your body takes another pounding, you might just burst like a fire hydrant—yet Stan appears intent on making that happen.
Without waiting for your reply, his powerful arms effortlessly flip you onto your back, his heavy gaze locking onto yours. Settling between your legs, his thick hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he aligns himself directly with your opening. "Look at me," he orders gruffly.
You shake your head, feeling too exhausted, too sensitive. "Stan…" you whine.
His fingers slap across your cheek, then hold your jaw firmly. It’s more of a forceful nudge than a smack—not enough to hurt you, but just enough to jolt you out of your grogginess. "Look. At. Me," he growls, his dark eyes boring into yours as he slowly pushes into you, his gaze intense, unwavering, demanding.
Your face contorts with pleasure as he moves slowly, your lower half squirming as you grip your sheets. "Fuck! Stan… t-too much… ahhh…”
He ignores your pleas, continuing to push deeper into your tight, spent core until his cock is fully sheathed within you. He holds still for a moment, his gaze never leaving yours, ensuring you feel every inch of him. “Fuck… you’re taking me so well.”
You continue to squirm, your movements only pressing your body harder against him, adding more friction to your sensitive clit as it rubs against his thick hair. Just when you think it’s already too much, Stan’s other hand moves down between you, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it to heighten your impending orgasm. You mewl, “Stan, please… I-I’m gonna cum if you keep—”
He shushes you, his grip on your jaw tightening. “You’re doin’ so good. Mmm… such a good doll for me,” he moans. He begins to thrust into you, his powerful hips snapping back and forth, his thick length filling you completely, stretching you to your limit.
“You’re too big…” you whimper, your mouth forming a breathy “O” as your eyes drift shut. He snickers down at you, loving how blissfully dazed you look on his cock.
Suddenly, you shriek as your orgasm swells—it barely took a few thrusts. “Shit—I’m gonna cum again… please…” you moan loudly, your hands gripping his wrist between your thighs.
His pounding grows more forceful, his grip on you unyielding as he watches you build toward release, feeling your walls begin to flutter around him. A wicked smirk crosses his face. “Yeah, that’s it, come on my cock like a good little cumslut.”
You don’t hold back, crying out as you come around him, your legs shaking and feeling light-headed from the consecutive releases. But he doesn’t stop fucking you, not even pausing for a break. “F-Fuck… Stan, please…” you mewl, your sensitivity overwhelming.
He ignores your pleas, his thrusts never slowing down. If anything, they grow even more brutal and relentless. His fingers on your sensitive nub keep up their steady motion. He feels your pussy loosening around him, and he loves it. He loves how thoroughly fucked-out you are, barely able to hold onto his cock.
He fucks you through your orgasm, his rhythm unwavering. "You’re doing so good, sweetheart," he grunts, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he continues to pound into you.
Your strength fades, your body spent from his unforgiving pace. Yet somehow, your body starts building toward another climax, for the fourth time.
"You're so loose now... like a well-used toy," he taunts in a low, mocking tone. "Just a hole for me to fill..."
You sob softly, your walls clenching around him. Turning your face away with a whimper, his hand leaves your jaw only to tangle roughly into your hair, tugging your head back, forcing you to look at him.
“Look at me while I use your pretty little fuckhole," he murmurs with a tender, soothing tone that ignites something inside you. His voice carries a soft, raspy affection, contrasting sharply with his words. His pace slows, but his thrusts grow deeper and more deliberate.
You gaze at him with half-lidded eyes, completely consumed by euphoria as his fingers continue to circle your now-swollen bud. Your release builds again, his demeaning words pushing you closer to the edge.
"So fucking pretty… look at ya, all used up and wrapped around me so nice," he murmurs, voice dripping with disdain, a wicked smile on his face as he looks down at you. "Nothin’ but a greedy little hole, ain’t ya?"
Too exhausted to respond, you simply nod, eyes lidded with pleasure as you mewl in agreement, your brain turning into a pile of mush from the overstimulation.
He sneers, his face contorting with gratification as he picks up his pace. "You love bein’ used like this… my little cumrag, just for me to use over and over…” His voice darkens, his words grow harsher in rhythm with his movements.
His smile widens, hands tightening in your hair and on your thighs as he drives into you with increasing intensity. His assault on your clit never ceases, pushing you closer to the edge. He loves how lost you are, so consumed by pleasure that you can barely form coherent words. You can only look up at him through your lashes, with soft sounds escaping your lips as you nod in response to him.
"Good girl," he whispers, "Now, cum for me one more time."
A scream tears from your throat as your fourth release crashes over you. His fingers on your nub slow their movements as your body shudders, juices splashing onto his stomach while you mewl his name.
He roars his approval as you come, his own release following close behind, barreling through him like a freight train. He buries his face in your neck, teeth sinking into your skin as he pours himself into you, his hips jerking with each hot spurt.
Afterward, you're a shaky, whimpering mess, eyes shut as you pant heavily, trying to catch your breath. "Fuck..."
He pulls out, his cock still twitching, glistening with your juices as he gazes down at you in satisfaction. The sheets are damp, a puddle of your fluids beneath you. He stands up, not bothering to clean himself off before reaching for his phone. "Stay like that," he commands, his voice rough from his own orgasm.
You barely have enough energy to move an inch, your eyes still shut as you catch your breath.
He grabs his phone from his pants and returns to bed, his weight shifting beneath you.He snaps a few pictures of you sprawled out, legs splayed, and remnants of him still in you, before tucking his phone away for safekeeping.
You hear the clicks of his camera, but it doesn’t bother you; in fact, you find it quite hot that he plans to keep those for himself.
Despite your exhaustion, you push yourself up on your hands and see him gathering his clothes from the floor. "Aren't you going to stay for a while?" you ask softly, hopeful.
He picks up his clothes one by one but pauses when he hears you. Glancing in your direction, his face still flushed from your shared release, he scoffs and raises an eyebrow. “And do what? Cuddle?”
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and cough slightly. “Well, yeah… also, it’s getting kinda late…” you murmur, biting your lip and awaiting his response.
He smirks at your eagerness to snuggle. “You’re right, it is late. But ain’t the cuddlin’ type. Besides, it’s not like you’re my girlfriend or anything,” he says, his voice coming out a bit too harsh.
You roll your eyes at him, a bit hurt by his words even though you know you shouldn’t be. “Well, duh, we just met. Besides, you don’t have to be my boyfriend to cuddle with me… it doesn’t hurt to try,” you say, smiling softly at him.
He can't help but take in the sight of you—disheveled and beautiful in a way only he gets to see. Your cheeks are flushed with a pink tint, your lips slightly swollen and red, strands of hair sticking up in all directions, and the bite marks adorning your neck. To Stan, you look breathtaking, and somehow, this raw, undone look only makes it harder for him to say no.
You notice how he softens slightly in the dim light, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks and marked skin.
He lets out a low chuckle, his gaze softening at your plea. With a sigh, he sets down his clothes and walks over to you. “Fine, but just for a little while.”
Climbing onto the bed behind you, he pulls you into his arms. His hands roam over your body possessively, fingers gently tracing the marks he’s left on your skin, his expression softening as he admires his handiwork.
You nestle into him, sighing contentedly, your smaller frame fitting snugly against his broader one. He presses his face into your hair, inhaling the scent. He feels content—a feeling foreign to him, it catches him off guard. He’s used to the cold emptiness that usually fills his chest, but with you in his arms, he feels… warm.
His past flings and one-night stands had always been brief and transactional. They’d leave right after, or he would, exchanging half-hearted goodbyes before the warmth even faded from the sheets. He used to wonder if it would ever be different, if he would ever want someone to stay, but after a while, he stopped thinking about it altogether. But now, with you here, lying against him as if this is where you belong, that numbness unravels, revealing how deeply he craved this kind of intimacy. Your soft breathing fills the silence, grounding him in a way he didn’t know he needed.
His fingers begin to play with your hair as he rests his head back against the pillow. “You’re right,” he mumbles, “this isn’t so bad.”
You giggle softly. “See? We don’t have to be in a relationship to enjoy a good cuddle. I liked what we did... it’s different from what I thought I’d like,” you confess quietly, playing with the hairs on his chest.
Your ex never explored anything beyond the basics, but you always knew you wanted more. Now that you’ve finally gotten a taste of what that’s like, you feel like you can’t get enough.
“Heh, glad ya enjoyed it,” he replies, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Maybe next time, I’ll introduce ya to some more.” His tone is suggestive, his hands wandering possessively over your body.
You look up at him, your eyes twinkling with excitement. “You... want to do this again with me?”
He chuckles, eyes darkening as he looks at you. "Oh, definitely. We've barely scratched the surface." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I think you’re capable of a lot more than you realize."
Your heart flutters at the kiss. "Maybe we’ll just have to wait and see," you murmur, then ask curiously, "What do you do for a living, anyway?"
He stiffens slightly at your question, his fingers pausing in their gentle tracing along your back. He’s not exactly proud of his current occupation, especially since you seem like a nice, decent person with a stable job by comparison. So, he lies with practiced ease. “I own a tattoo parlor. Why do you ask?"
You smile, nodding in understanding. "It makes sense. You kind of have that bad boy vibe."
He relaxes at your response, smirking. "Bad boy, huh? And what does that make you for liking me?" His fingers wander down to your backside, pinching it gently.
You yelp at his touch before giggling. “What do you think that makes me?” you ask, biting your lip to hide a smile.
"Well, considerin’ you’re layin’ here all naked and sprawled over me, I’d say that makes you quite the little minx. But I like it. A lot." He chuckles as you swat at his chest playfully, feigning a huff.
He chuckles, his hands wandering possessively over your body. “Aw, c’mon, I’m just bein' honest here, sweetheart. You’re a natural. And I’m glad I’m the one bringin’ it outta ya. You’re a good girl who likes bad things. And, well, I just happen to be real bad.”
“Maybe,” you reply, lifting yourself slightly to look him in the eyes. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “But you’re not all that bad.” Even though you’ve been all over each other since the bar, you both realize this is your first kiss.
Somehow, Stan’s heart squeezes at your words. He wants to believe it, but he’s too much of a self-saboteur to accept it, even if it’s coming from someone as sweet and perfect as you.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, you mumble into his chest, “Wanna order some food?”
“Mmm, pizza or maybe Chinese?” he suggests, his hands still roaming over your body.
“Ugh, pizza sounds good right now,” you groan, your fingers unconsciously playing with the tips of his mullet, loving the soft feel of his hair.
He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I think we’ve both worked up an appetite.” He pulls out his phone and dials the number for the local pizza place.
You stay content, snuggled against his neck as he orders, your fingers idly playing with his stubble.
He finishes ordering the pizza and sets his phone down on the bedside table, wrapping his arms around your waist once more. He nuzzles into your hair, his voice muffled as he speaks. “They said it’ll be ‘bout 30 minutes, so we’ve got some time to kill…”
Gently, he pulls you into his lap, and you find yourself straddling his waist. His hands rest on your hips, steady and warm, as he brings you down for a soft, sensual kiss that deepens with every passing second, sending shivers through you. You cup his stubbled face, feeling the roughness under your fingertips, and breathe into him, letting your mouths move together slowly, almost too intimate. Your lips lap over his, savoring each kiss as he holds you close, your bodies pressing tighter with each shared breath.
In just a single night, you find out you can handle climaxing five times.