My pussy walls fluttered wildly, trying to adjust to his immense size, trying to push him out and drag him in deeper at the same time.
He didn’t give me a second to breathe, just pulled back until only the head remained notched in my hole and slammed home again harder, balls slapping my clit with a wet, sloppy noise.
He fucked me like punishment. Like he worshiped me.
Each thrust punched the air from my lungs, drove my hips into the wall, scraped my nipples raw against wet fabric. His hand clamped over my mouth again, three thick fingers shoving between my teeth so I tasted leather and salt and rain. I bit down hard, but he only growled and fucked me harder.
The other hand dug bruises into my hip, fingers spanning almost my entire waist, holding me exactly where he wanted while he rutted like a beast. He made it so I couldn’t verbally protest, couldn’t tell him no or stop.
But the truth was… I didn’t know if I would have.
His cock dragged over every sensitive spot inside me until I was sobbing around his fingers, drooling, mascara no doubt running black rivers down my cheeks.
“Gonna breed this cunt,” he snarled, pace turning brutal, hips snapping so hard the impacts jolted up my spine. “Pump you so full my cum it leaks out of you for days.” He grunted like an animal. “Every step you take tomorrow, you’ll feel me dripping down your thighs and remember who owns this greedy little hole.”
He pulled me away from the wall and bent me forward even more so that my back was all but parallel with the ground.
“Come for me. Squeeze that tiny cunt around my cock and milk me.”
His words detonated inside me. My orgasm hit like a freight train, violent, ripping through every nerve. My body clamped down in ruthless spasms, milking him like he demanded, trying to keep him buried forever.
He cursed, low and vicious, hips stuttering, and then shoved impossibly deep and held inside of me.
I felt the first jet of cum like a brand, hot and thick, flooding my insides. Pulse after pulse, he emptied himself into me, grinding slow and filthy, making sure every drop stayed deep. The sounds were sloppy, his seed sloshing out of where we were connected and making a mess.
My walls fluttered around him, greedy, drinking him down while I shuddered and sobbed and wailed into his palm.
This was wrong. This feels right.
When he finally pulled out, the sudden emptiness made me whine. A gush of cum followed, thick and obscene, pouring down my thighs in heavy rivulets, mixing with rain and my own slick.
I looked over my shoulder, his skull mask still on, making this entire encounter even more degrading. He watched his cum drip for a long second then shoved three gloved fingers into me without warning, fucking his spend back inside, curling hard against my g-spot until my legs gave out and I came again, squirting around his hand, soaking his wrist.
Only then did he step back.
He zipped up slowly, deliberately, the sound loud in the sudden quiet. I braced my hands on the brick in front of me and used it to balance myself and straighten.
Before I knew what was happening—again—he spun me, pressed my back to the wall and the cold skull mask to my forehead almost tenderly.
“This isn’t over, babygirl,” he rasped, voice still distorted, still deadly. “Run home. Lock every door. Pretend you’re safe. I’ll be inside before you stop shaking.”
He released me, and my knees buckled. I slid down the wall into a puddle, panties a destroyed mess on the ground, pants around my ankles, his cum still leaking in slow pulses from my swollen cunt.
By the time I dragged myself upright, my teeth were chattering and he was gone, swallowed by the dark.
I was crying, and high all in the same breath. Finally, I stood, righting my jeans, and stumbled home, every step a messy reminder of what had just happened to me, every heartbeat echoing his promise.
Because I knew he wasn’t done.
2
The next night, he broke in through my window like my worst nightmare—or the fantasy I’d begged for.
I’d left it cracked six inches, just enough for the summer air to drift in and cool the sweat on my skin. That was the lie I told myself while I stripped for the shower, heart already racing.
Truth was, I’d been wet since I’d woken up that morning, thighs slippery every time I remembered the alley, the brick scraping my cheek, and the way he’d flooded me and left me leaking his cum all the way home.
I was sore everywhere, and a sick and twisted part of me wanted my pussy to be even more sore with the after-effects of his raw and hard fucking.
