I met him at a house party. He looked like trouble tall, smirking, arms covered in tattoos. I knew the second I saw him I was going to fuck him. Not flirt. Not date. Just get ruined. We barely talked. I asked him if he smoked. He said, “Only if you ride me first.” I laughed, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the upstairs guest room like it was already mine. I didnтАЩt even close the door. I pushed him onto the bed, climbed into his lap, and kissed him as I needed to. He pulled my dress up, yanked my thong to the side, and slid two fingers in like he was checking how wet I already was. I was soaked. Dripping. Practically begging without saying a word. He didnтАЩt waste time. He lay me back, pulled my dress off, shoved my knees up, and went down on me like he had something to prove. I was grinding into his mouth in less than a minute. Moaning, twitching, and grabbing fistfuls of the sheets while he sucked on my clit like he was starving. Then he just stopped, looked up at me, and said, “You’re not gonna come yet. IтАЩm not done playing.” He flipped me over, bent me in half, and slid his cock in so fucking deep I lost my breath. I wasnтАЩt ready. DidnтАЩt matter. I cried out, clawed the pillow, and let him rail me like heтАЩd been waiting his whole life to do it. He fucked me hard. Not fast, not sloppy just deep, heavy, filthy thrusts that made me feel every inch. My legs were shaking. I was whining like a bitch in heat. He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back, and said, “Say it. Say whose pussy this is.” I couldn’t even speak. My brain short-circuited. He smacked my ass and slammed into me again, rougher this time. I think I said his name. I think I begged. I honestly donтАЩt remember. All I know is when I finally came, it was fucking violent. My legs gave out. My back arched. My pussy clenched so hard I made him growl into my neck as he unloaded inside me. He filled me up as he owned me. Not one drop wasted. We were both shaking, sweaty, breathless messes. When I finally sat up, my thighs were soaked, my voice was shot, and I could barely remember what room we were in. I never even asked his name. DonтАЩt care. He did what I needed him to do. And my pussy still twitches when I think about it.
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