The noise of the bar was making it hard to hear, and Chloe was examining her reflection in the mirror as she fingered a shot of whisky. The surface of the bar was sticky, and so was the floor, and the smell made it seem even more of a cheap dive.
And that’s what was making her clit tingle.
She knocked back her drink in one, and clunked it down, letting the bartender know she needed another.
Beside her, Patrick stroked the condensation off of his tall glass of Coke. The shift had been hard, and he wanted to unwind a bit before going home to his wife and kids. So she’d bought him here, hoping she might meet someone she could hook up with after he’d left.
Bad idea, as it turned out.
He was on edge, and that put her on edge too.
And so they sat there, in silence, the cacophony of their surroundings like white noise in their ears, making it even more awkward to talk. She wanted to scoop up her jacket and purse and sweep out of there, maybe go home; but more than that, she needed a cock.
Why was she like this?
She didn’t know, and she didn’t wanna analyse it. She was tired of the guilt; she was entitled to do whatever she pleased, especially if it pleased her.
And especially after a shift like the one they’d just had.
It felt like the whole city was on edge after the latest of these Southland Slayings. It was all over the news, twenty four hours a day, and it put folk in a scared mood. Which meant itchy trigger fingers, and explosive arguments.
No wonder Patrick needed to unwind.
He didn’t have an outlet for it like Chloe though, and she felt for him because of that. But there wasn’t much she could do except sit here and listen.
Shame the noise was preventing that.
Patrick fiddled with his stirrer for a moment, pulled it out, sucked it dry, then plonked it back into his ice filled glass. With that, he stood up, gave her a look, and left.
She didn’t know if the look was annoyance, regret, or what; and to be honest, right now, the way her clit was making itself known, she didn’t really care. They’d talk it out next shift.
She knocked back her new drink, and span round on her stool, spreading her arms out beside her along the bar, and looking about the place to see who was here.
Her vest top was a size too small, and she swelled around it, her cleavage full and swollen, her nipples poking hard through the flimsy cotton. There were no faces here she recognised, which made it even more exciting.
The possibilities of it all were getting her wet, and she squirmed a little on her stool thinking about it. And the idea that she might not be able to hook up, that people would be too on edge to take any risks; well that made her slump a little.
Then she saw the face looking out from the shadows in the corner booth. His piercing eyes were bright, even in the dim light, and they were fixed on her, filled with lust and desire.
Chloe didn’t need a second invitation; she never needed one.
She got up from the stool and sauntered to the booth, sliding in beside him, feeling the shadows enclose them and she sidled closer and let him feel her leg pressing against his thigh.
He didn’t baulk, always a good sign.
She glimpsed his lap, noting the bulge there, framed her cleavage for him and licked her lower lip, not saying a word. They always spoke first.
Yet he said nothing.
And made no effort to disguise the fact he was staring at her tits.
Which made her nipples poke harder and more forcefully through the cotton for him, which just made him stare more.
And her clit really began to sing with the attention.
She dropped her hand to his thigh and stroked it, getting higher each time until she tickled at his trapped bulge with the lightest of touches of her thumb.
And still he said nothing.
She felt her breathing grow deeper, felt her body responding to his presence, his smell, his body, and his proximity. Her fingers curled around that bulge now, feeling his heat, feeling him stiffen in her hand, feeling his shape grow and expand to her touch, and she hovered her face so close to his, so wanton, so teasing, knowing she would never let him kiss her.
And still he said nothing.
Her fingers pushed the denim of his jeans tight around his trapped erection now. It was so big, so hard, and so alluring. She wanted to drop her head under the table, take it out, and feast on it, as she slipped her hand inside her panties and give her clit the attention it was demanding.
And still he said nothing, the heat of his breath on her face now.
She pushed her mouth to his and kissed him hard, deep, wet, her tongue pushing into him and exploring him with a desire that made him grow even bigger in her hand.
He sucked her tongue so hard she let go of his cock and bought her hand to his face, stroking it tenderly as he did so.
It was enough.
She broke from the kiss and took his hand in hers, leading him out of the back door and into the alley way.
The exposed brickwork was crumbling, garbage was piled high, and hardly any light seeped in from the street at the end of the alley. It was so grubby and disgusting it made her sigh with delight.
She lead him along for a few feet, and then stopped, turning to kiss him and pull him back so that she was leaning against the wall, her legs stepped apart, as one hand stroked at his bulge and the other squeezed his ass. All the while, he kissed her hard, breathless, rough, eyes open, staring lustfully into hers.
It was too much.
She pulled her face from his and stared him deep in the eyes, tearing open his belt buckle and yanking his fly apart, loving the sound of the buttons popping, before she reached inside his shorts and fished out his giant, rock hard, red hot prick.
Chloe had no idea if she could get her hands around it, let alone fuck it.
She swore breathlessly, and cupped his swollen balls in one hand and wrapped her fingers around the top of his shaft, starting to pump it hard, watching it as she did so. He grunted and sucked for air, tensing as she teased his cock in ways that pleased him and got her so fucking wet out here in the filthy alleyway.
She felt like such a cheap whore as she pumped away at this giant cock belonging to a man who wouldn’t speak to her, to a man with no name, a man who buried his head in the nape of her neck and bit into her flesh with such venom she hissed and swore, gripping him harder.
He grew bigger in her tight grip, and bit down harder, his hands snaking up under her vest top and pawing at her naked tits, finding each nipple and pinching it tight, twisting it from side to side, pulling it, making her swear again, making her clit ache for more and more here in this squalid environment.
Chloe didn’t want to let go of this massive prick, and he didn’t seem to want to let go of her tits and nipples, pawing and massaging them roughly as his teeth bit along her shoulder. And yet she needed to rip open her own jeans now, to plunge her hand inside her damp panties and relieve her clit, give it some attention before she tried to fuck this beast.
That cock stiffened and swelled in her hand, and she knew she would have to fuck him soon, otherwise it would just be a mess all over her wrists.
And so reluctantly, she let it go and yanked open her fly, rolling the denim and panties down her legs until they dropped with gravity to her ankles. Her high heels clicked on the concrete floor, and he pushed her vest top up to expose her tits. The cold air stiffened her nipples and tickled at the heat of her swollen pussy, and as he began to feast on one of her tits, she frigged her clit with speed and precision, getting herself ever closer, her breath loud and busty now.
This silent stranger was just what she wanted, and his massive cock was just what she needed inside her.
She pulled down his jeans and shorts, and slapped her hand on his naked ass, pulling it closer to her, feeling the heat and stiffness pressing into her, wanting it so badly, but unsure if she could take it.
His face continued to feast on her tits, and she moaned to him about how badly she needed to be fucked right now.
The tip tickled at her wet, swollen lips, and with one powerful and painful thrust, he pushed deep inside, filling her up with his cock, making her gasp and swear and yelp and moan.
It made her dizzy how wonderful it felt.
And then he started to fuck her, and everything became a blur. She could feel her tits heaving with each powerful thrust of his hips, feeling her pussy take so much more than she ever thought she could.
Her whole body was one giant nerve ending, pulsing with desire and electric arousal, his cock teasing every inch of her, his mouth sucking hard into her neck.
She wanted to come so badly, feel it consume her, but the intensity was too much, and it just washed over her in waves more powerful than any orgasm.
This was the fuck she had been craving all her life.
Pushed up against a wall by a stranger, pounding at her body like there was no tomorrow.
And then she felt how close she was to coming.
Knowing now she was ready.
And it did consume her.
She lost time, and when she came to her senses, he was still fucking her, more slowly now, breathless, tiring, struggling to keep up his previous intensity.
He was grunting and gasping for air, his teeth gritted tight, like he was running a marathon.
So slow now.
No energy left in him.
Her passion and desire for him drained as quickly as his energy had done. He was pale, almost lifeless, barely holding her, his cock shrinking.
She wasn’t even going to get her prize of a come-filled hole.
He stood up and looked her in the eye, nothing left in him, and smiled forlornly, before a flash and lunge, and he hissed as he suckled back into her neck, his erection gone now but still inside her.
But he bit hard, enough to make her gasp with pain.
And then another blur of light, a loud swoosh, and a hooded man slammed into her lover, taking him away from her with a vicious swipe.
She swore and nearly screamed, watching the two of them tumble to the ground, pawing and clawing at one another, fists flying, mouths biting, a tumble of fury and violence.
Automatically she pulled her jeans up and pulled her top down and forgot everything that had been happening moments before, as two giant men fought on the floor of the alley.
The hooded figure got the upper hand, pinning his knees on her lover’s arms. Her lover hissed and spat, trying to bite, but unable to get a clench on anything.
The hooded man slammed down a parade of punches, cracking his fists into bone, subduing the rage of her lover.
And Chloe didn’t know what to do.
Her training deserted her, and she just stood there, watching as the hooded man pulled out a weapon of some kind, held it in both hands above his head, and slammed it down into the other man’s chest.
The noise it made was sickening.
He’d stabbed him right through the heart.
And when he climbed to his feet, the hooded man turned to look at her, just as the corpse at his feet vanished in the blink of an eye.
“Hello Chloe,” he said from under his hood, breathless.
“What the fuck is going on?”