"We have reason to believe that man first walked upright to free his hands for masturbation."

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Straight Fiction: Sometimes You Just Really Need to Get Fucked!

By: Brindle Chase

Life gets so hectic at times that I forget to relax and enjoy it. I'd stop to smell the roses, but it seems like there is a bill collector behind every bush. Work and no play makes me cranky, and I didn't have time for relationships.

We all feel that need to get laid, to let off some steam. I'm not a slut, but I can be, when I need it badly enough. Like everyone else, I have a threshold and when I hit that cap, I need to get some. This was one of those times.

A flat tire on the way to my dead end job was just the start. My boss had reamed me for something I wasn't even involved in. I lost one of my best clients and my favorite team got eliminated from the playoffs.

Enough already. When I got home and made a cup of noodles, and the depression and loneliness hit, I decided I needed to get fucked.

I went to my wardrobe and picked out a teeny tiny miniskirt and matched it with a spaghetti strapped satin halter. Only a moron wouldn't see my outfit as a desperate plea for some cock.

I did my hair in loose spirals, and did my makeup in lady of the evening fashion. I looked pretty good when I took the time, so I did. I even added glitter. Some lucky son of a bitch was in for a wild ride.

On a whim, I went driving downtown until a flashing neon sign caught my attention. There were people lined up down the block waiting to get in, so I figured it was a hot spot. Perfect.

The place was jumping. Heavy pulsing music blasted to a thumping bass drum while bodies thrashed and ground against one another in a blur of flesh on the endless dance floor. It was wall-to-wall with people wanting the same thing I did.

I turned down three offers of various indulgences before I could even worm my way up to the bar and order a cosmopolitan. I needed some liquid courage first and then I'd decide just how low I felt like setting the bar.

I'm not that picky. As long as he's clean, his looks don't matter all that much, but it's always nice if he just happens to be attractive too. Gentlemen were my favorites, but tonight I just wanted some bad boy to ring my bell. This place was crammed with them. I felt like a kid in a candy store with a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

Every seat in the place was taken, so I took up residence by a pillar near the main dance floor. The industrial techno just kept going and I couldn't tell when one song ended and another began.

Another three come-ons failed to impress me, when I noticed a guy watching me. He was sitting at one of the booths along the far wall. The flashing lights made it damn near impossible to see what he looked like, but I was so horny by then, I decided he was the one.

I ducked and weaved my way through the undulating crowd and stopped in front of his table. His eyes went up and down me like a leopard eyeing its prey. I flashed him a smile and slipped into the booth next to him.

He had longish dark hair he kept in a shag, a neatly groomed goatee and sexy full lips. I couldn't place his nationality, but he was definitely part black. I couldn't tell what color he was in the alternating blue, red and green lights, but he was a few shades darker than me.

"What's a sweet young..."

"Shut up," I said, cutting him off. I didn't want him to ruin it with a stupid pickup line.

He arched an eyebrow and gave me a 'what the fuck' look, but I simply scooted closer. The little round table at the booth's center was perfect. I was so needy, I wanted him right there. Throwing caution to the wind, I met his look with a catlike grin.

"Don't talk, just fuck me."

He seemed shocked by my statement for a split second or two and then said, "Uh, that works for me," and then tried to introduce himself.

"I don't want to know your name. I want your cock, nothing more," I yelled over the music. A name to go with his face would make it personal. This was raw animalistic need, not a prelude to something more meaningful.

I moved my hand to the fly of his pants and found his cock beneath the slick fabric. It grew hard almost instantly as I stroked it. My eyes spoke my desire as I gazed at him.

"Just fuck me, here. Now."

I leaned into him and he took my lips with his. He was probably completely confused that he didn't even have to work for it, but I didn't care. I hadn't picked him for his ability to sort out a puzzle. The dilemma I had presented him with was quite simple: Fuck the girl or don't fuck the girl.

His hand slipped up my top and crushed my tit, kneading it and I purred. I loved to be manhandled sometimes. I slid across his legs and straddled his strong thighs.

He worked my breast out the top of my halter and sucked my hardened nipple into his warm wet mouth. I loved it. The silk fabric was tight across my tit, holding it in place for him, like an offering.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. The booth was in the darker back of the bar, but there were people all around. My pussy was all the wetter for the anxiety I felt that others might see me fuck this stranger.

Four snaps later, I had the fly of his tight jeans open and his thick, dark hard-on slid into my hand when I pushed his boxer briefs down. He was smoldering hot and I wasted no time. Who knew how long it might take for someone on staff to notice us. Getting thrown out, or worse, arrested, only added to my excitement.