42 Filthy Fucking Stories (43 page)

Lindsey knew that it was only a few minutes until he would climax for the second time, and hoped his next load would land in her mouth.
   

She screamed as he continued to thicken inside her.

Her nerve endings, still on fire from the first fucking, threw her body into another seemingly endless series of orgasms.

He withdrew for a moment as her body quivered, then flipped her onto her back. Supporting himself with his well-muscled arms, her soldier leaned over her, kissing her for a long moment, then slowly eased his stiffened cock into her until she once again felt his balls, warm and aroused, nuzzled against her piping-hot pussy.

Because every inch away from him deepened her pain, Lindsey wrapped her legs around his back, locking her ankles together and pushing herself into him as hard as she could.
 

He met her thrusts and two became one.
 

Fuck it. He could cum in her mouth later.
 

She slapped herself faster against him; their rhythm so exquisite it was nearly unbearable.
 

They came in tandem. Her soldier flooded her hotbox with more of his batter, heaving and groaning and crying her name. He collapsed to the sheets, his breath rising and falling like the roll of a tide.
 

She lay there heaving beside her soldier, as they both quickly breathed their way to sleep, hoping the memory would last her forever.

X

Lindsey woke the next morning to brilliant sunshine streaming through the thin gauze of her bedroom windows, and stretched her arm to feel for her soldier beside her.
 

The sheets were still warm, but empty on his side of the bed. She turned and smiled at the indentations in his pillow, and in the memory foam mattress topper beneath the sheets.

She ran her hand across the top with a lingering caress, remembering the afternoon and evening before. After peering over the edge of the bed to the floor where they’d left their hurriedly removed pile of clothing, she frowned.
 

There was nothing there.

For a moment, Lindsey thought he had regressed, hopefully only temporarily, to his barracks neat military ways, placing everything in the laundry hamper. She sat up and stretched, then swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, savoring the pleasant throbbing inside her pussy, her dull ache still pulsing after getting pounded for hours.
 

She smiled, then went to the bathroom and pulled her short robe from the hook and slipped it over her shoulders. On the bedside table, Lindsey had placed a photograph of her and her solider, smiling from the edge of a mountain where they’d stopped to take picture in the middle of a hiking trip the year before.
 

Lindsey stared at the photo for a long while, then down to the letter folded in a square envelope.
 

She ran her fingers across the top, and burst into tears.

Turning it over, Lindsey slipped the piece of paper from the envelope, and unfolded it. Through blurry eyes she started to read:
 

Ma’am, the army regrets to inform you that your husband was killed in action.
 
Our deepest condolences go out to you and your family...

She held the letter to her chest, and continued to cry.

All Lindsey had left were the memories.

XXX

Anything But Average

Fuck him.
 

Lisa
wasn’t
average.
 

Yet that’s exactly what Brent had called her. He may as well have called her boring, or predictable. He described his new girlfriend as
stunning
, a second before calling her average, right in the middle of his pathetic breakup she never saw coming.
 

After two years together, the surprise split was a slap in the face. Lisa sure as hell hadn’t been average when Brent first moved to the city and didn’t know a soul, and she wasn’t average when she helped Brent get the job at
Crumbs,
the bakery owned by her brother. He sure didn’t seem to think she was average any of the approximately one million times he’d filled her mouth with cum, either.
 

There was pretty much nothing Lisa wasn’t willing to try with Brent, but Brent wasn’t willing to try with her. She supposed pussy must be pinker on the other side of the fence. A few hours earlier tears were leaking from Lisa’s face like water from a busted faucet. Now, Lisa was ready to show him, and the world, exactly how average she wasn’t.

After pulling herself together and leaving Brent’s apartment with a final FUCK YOU!, a hard slap across the face, and no look behind, she climbed inside her Corolla and headed straight to
Yummy’s
, the sluttiest shop in the mall, catering to teenagers with nicknames like “fingercuffs” or “mayonnaise jar.”
 

Lisa bought the tightest, lowest cut black dress she could find, and a pair of 5” stilettos to match. The shoes made her feel hot on the outside, and on fire inside. Her pussy was already pounding as she imagined herself primping at home.
 

She hit the salon next, trading $100 and shoulder length hair for short, cinnamon colored layers. She got her nails done next, and then off to the make-up artist, with an order for her to make Lisa look pretty, but slutty. The artist, a cute girl in her late 20’s, slightly older than Lisa, with metal in every part of her face, smiled, said
sure thing
, and then went to work.

When she was done, Lisa looked at herself in the mirror. She wanted to cry.

Lisa didn’t look slutty at all. She looked smoking hot and confident, maybe even stunning. Anything but average. Her hair was the perfect color to frame her pale china doll skin. Her eyes were dark, wide, with heavy mascara, and full red lips.
 

Lisa raced home and went straight for the bed, horny as fuck from her day of getting gorgeous and flushing the average from inside her, not that it was ever there at all.

Stupid fucking Brent.

Her cunt was already hot, but her anger at Brent was fueling the fire and making her burn. She moaned as she slipped the smooth glass inside her slit, and then tilted her head with a soft moan, slipping the dildo in and out of her soaking pussy, sending tremors up and down her body. She slapped her left hand against the mattress as warm fluid flooded her thighs. She pushed the glass deeper and seeped juice from the flesh of her folds. Lisa screamed, then withdrew the dildo and pressed a flat hand against her dripping slit and held it there with pressure, before plunging the glass back into her oozing hole, and moving her other hand to her tits.
 

Lisa squeezed and rubbed her breasts while she hungrily thrusted with her dildo, screaming at the edge of total satisfaction. Her mind went blank. Brent disappeared and she was no longer average; she was a gorgeous girl at the peak of a sexual high, shaking her entire body.
 

She cleaned herself off, put on her new slutty clothes, then stared in the mirror a final time with pouted lips and said, “Average, my ASS!”
 

With her tight dress and heels, Lisa looked stunning. Her breasts practically fell from her dress, and her curvy hips were an invitation to the perfect bubble of her ass.
 

She grabbed her keys from the hook and flew out the door.
 

Lisa drove to the
Rusty Nail
, a trashy bar she’d passed a million times but had never dared to even think of going inside. It was beyond seedy, but exactly the sort of dive where Lisa could be stared at, appreciated for the fine piece of ass that she was, and maybe even forget about that asshole, Brent.
 

She pulled into the lot. A neon sign flickered, casting the parking lot in pale light. A line of old cars and Harleys, along with a large van, which she assumed belonged to the band, sat in a disheveled row, with carpets of broken glass around them.
 

Lisa stepped from her car, and the two guys smoking at the entrance of the
Nail
whistled and yelled as she sashayed by them. It looked to Lisa like they hadn’t been there long. They were far from drunk, which meant she was far from average.
 

The place was packed, Lisa got mentally undressed from a few of the sketchier looking guys, while getting nasty stares from several of the women. She enjoyed them all, and felt the drip in her slit that comes from being desired.

The bartender said, “What can I get you, gorgeous?”
 

Lisa was stunned. She had never been called gorgeous before. “A Corona and lime, please.”

“Sure thing,” the bartender said, handing her the beer. Lisa turned towards the stage, two seconds before she smelled the guy behind her. She turned to face him, just as a fog of alcohol soaked stench slapped her in the face:
 

“You here alone?” the man slurred with his hand on her thigh.
 

“Please don’t touch me!”
 

Lisa came to
The Rusty Nail
to get stared at, and maybe even leave with someone so she could get a little dirty. She wanted anything but an average night, but dirty meant dirty on her terms, and that didn’t include a horrible smelling drunk.
 

“I said, stop it,” she repeated, but the guy kept coming.

“Aww, come on baby, don’t be like that,” he slurred.
 

Lisa took a step back and he took one forward. A tall man with massive shoulders and lots of leather grabbed the man’s hand and twisted it away from her thigh. “The lady said to get your grubby hands off of her! I suggest you step the fuck from the bar before me and my friends get angry.”

Lisa smiled at the five large men, standing behind her protector, staring at the drunk.
 

“Whoa! Alright, I’m gone!” he swayed his way to the door.
 

“Thanks,” Lisa smiled.
 

“No problem,” Massive Shoulders said. “Just be careful who you let near your drink. We’ll watch out for you, long as you’re here.” He held out his hand. “I’m Chris, you have any more trouble, and you’re welcome to come sit with us.”
 

Lisa thanked Chris, and then offered to buy him a round. He shook his head, but she smiled and insisted, then called the bartender over and told him to put Chris and his friends’ next round on her. “That’s for your help,” she said.
 

“Not necessary ma’am, really.”

“I want to,” she said. “And please, call me Lisa.”
 

“Alright Lisa, like I said, just holler if you need anything at all.” He tipped his head, and then headed back towards his table. Lisa ordered another beer, this time with a shot of peppermint Schnapps, then sipped the Schnapps slowly, making her chest as hot as her cunt, while watching the band’s sound check. She looked to the stage as the guitar player slung his six string over his neck, then turned and tapped the mic.
 

Lisa stared at the guitar player, suddenly hungry for dick. Her hot pussy was getting hotter. Staring at the guitarist was putting a glimmer in her slit.
 

Lisa shifted in her seat, suddenly burning, not sure if she wanted the guitar player to see her staring or not. He had long, shaggy hair, tumbling in dark waves just past his shoulders. His chest was small, but muscular, its definition clear beneath a form fitting long sleeve shirt. His jeans were so tight, clinging to his crotch and legs like a coat of paint, that when he turned to pick up a dropped pick, Lisa’s face bled crimson just from looking.

He looked out toward the audience and locked eyes with Lisa. She imagined she looked ridiculous staring at him, as if he was a piece of meat to be devoured. Lisa blushed again and turned her head.

It turned out the guitarist was also the lead singer. He turned to his band mates, nodding to the drummer, who counted them out until they started to rock. The music bounced, the first tune designed to get the bar hopping. It worked like a charm.
 

The crowd moved in a sea toward the stage. Lisa continued to stare, slowly swaying her hips on her chair, in time with the beat. She called the bartender for another drink, and then looked lazily around the room. Her buzz already had her relaxed as the band drifted into their second song.
 

This second song was slower, but with an edge. The singer’s voice was Eddie Vedder and Johnny Cash. Lisa set her drink on the table and glanced up again. He was staring at her as he belted the chorus. She blushed, but didn’t look away. Neither did he.

The next number was heavier, and Lisa could feel the joint starting to get rowdy. Women were laughing hysterically, as men swore loudly over their pool games in the back. A second group of bikers joined Chris’s party, doubling its size, and volume.
 

Lisa was growing restless as she cast her eyes across the sea of people. She hadn’t talked to a soul, other than Chris and the bartender. What was the point of getting all dressed up and driving out to a seedy bar, if she was going to drink alone? She could do that at home.