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I look at her, and I know I want her.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen her tonight; I got here about four hours ago, and she was already here when I walked through the door. She hasn’t danced at all. She’s done nothing but watch the crowd, her dark eyes glittering with the reflection of the club’s lights.

I caught sight of her every once in a while, and I kind of wondered if she was waiting for someone, or maybe got stood up…but the DJ’s been good, the guys have been cute, the drinks have been free, and I’ve had more important things on my mind.

Until now. Right now, there’s nothing more important in the whole world. Right this second, I look at her, and I know I want her.

I want to fuck her. The thought has actual weight inside my head, like my mind is a piece of cloth stretched taut and the need to have hot, dirty, kinky sex with her is a stone that’s been dropped onto it. My nipples suddenly go achingly stiff inside my shirt like the temperature in the room has gone down by about thirty degrees, but I feel almost feverishly hot. My pussy feels even hotter than the rest of me. It feels like all the blood in my body is rushing right between my thighs, and my clit is swelling and throbbing and pulsing like a second heartbeat.

I just stand there for a couple of seconds, torn between finishing the dance with Tom and the sudden, urgent need to jam my fingers into her cunt and listen to her whimper as she jills me off until we both cum. It’s not even a contest. I don’t even know Tom’s last name, and my pussy is making all the decisions for me now. I walk away in the middle of the song, ignoring Tom’s confused pleas for me to return. Listening to Tom isn’t going to get me fucked any faster.

And I am going to get fucked. I realize that as I head towards her table, almost shoving people out of my way in my haste to get over to her. We’re not going to have a conversation, talk about going someplace quieter for a cup of coffee and then make an actual date for tomorrow night. We are going to rut like bitches in heat. I hope to hell she’s got more self-control than I do, because I know that if it’s up to me, I am going to sit on her lap right here in the club, pull down my top so she can grab my titties, and grind my pussy against hers until the cops show up.

I know this isn’t normal. I know that I’ve never done anything more with another girl than a drunken kiss with Sally Jo Kowalski in the limo after prom. I know that I didn’t even come here planning to have sex with a guy, let alone french-kiss another girl while my hands roam all over her body until my fingers find her hot, tight, juicy cunt and spike my way inside until she moans into my mouth. I know I haven’t had nearly enough to drink to feel this way. But none of that knowledge actually matters. It’s not important next to the sheer unstoppable force of my desire. She’s making me want her, I’m sure of it; I can see it in the little smile that quirks at the corner of her mouth and the hungry look in her eyes. But all that makes me think of is how fucking hot that mouth would be clamped around my pussylips and how fucking sweet those eyes would be framed by my thighs. I am totally in the grip of my arousal and I can’t fight it. I don’t know how to fight it. I don’t want to fight it.

I get to the table and she stands up. She doesn’t ask for my name and I don’t ask for hers. Names don’t matter, and anyway we can’t talk with my tongue in her mouth. I kiss her before she can say a word. She tastes like bourbon, all smoky and sweet, and I press my lips against hers as hard as I can in order to get as much of her flavor as possible. I feel weak at the knees, and I lean against her to steady myself. Then I lean against her just to lean against her.

She breaks the kiss. I wouldn’t have been able to. She takes my hand and drags me off the dance floor, into the shadows of the rest of the club. I see people watching us, and I want to give them a show, but she keeps her head and keeps us moving. I’m so glad she’s taking control; I’m stupid with lust right now. All my thoughts are moving slow except for the ones involving her naked body. Those keep coming and they won’t stop. I want to tongue-fuck her until she cums all over my face, I want to feel her fingers pinching and twisting my nipples until I scream, I want to absolutely fucking rape her like she’s raping me. She’s taken the word “no” out of my vocabulary and I just don’t care.

The club is too crowded tonight. She keeps looking for a place where we won’t be seen and she can’t find one fast enough. I have never wanted to be fucked so bad in my whole life, and even the parts of me that understand that she is making me feel this way don’t care. It’s so fucking hot. It’s like being inside a sex fantasy, the way that every touch is the perfect touch and every kiss the perfect kiss. I find myself praying she’ll do this to me all night, and then do it again tomorrow night and every night. I realize that I’ll remember this moment every time I masturbate for the rest of my fucking life.

She drags me into the restroom, and the wait for an open stall seems like an eternity. It’s actually about forty-five seconds, but my pulse is racing with anticipation and every second ticks off two beats of my heart and I feel those heartbeats like a riding crop smacking into my clit. I don’t even know how I know what that feels like, but I’m suddenly consumed by the mental image and it makes those last ten seconds feel like sheer fucking torture.

A stall opens up, and she drags me into it and slams me up against the door so that she can stick her tongue into my mouth. I feel her body pressing against mine, holding me helpless while she yanks my skirt up and rests her hand against my pussy. I can’t stop myself; I hump her fingers like the needy, slutty, horny girl I am. She loves it, I can tell. She loves the feel of my hot, wet pussy through my panties, she loves the shudders that rack my body as I wiggle against her just to see if I can push her off of me, knowing that it’s so fucking hot that I can’t…and she loves it most of all that I’m so fucking turned on that I can’t stop myself from rubbing my cunny off on her hand. She could make me beg for it, and I would.

I hear myself grunt into her mouth. I sound like an animal, like a mindless beast presenting itself to be fucked. She leans back a little, just enough so that she can pull my top down and get at my tits. I hear buttons snapping off and falling to the floor, but I don’t care how I’m going to get home with my dress utterly ruined. All I care about is that she’s able to nuzzle her way down my neck until she finds my breasts and wraps her lips around my nipple.

My left hand slides into her dark hair, pressing her head closer to my tits. My right hand is shoved down her dress, and is gently squeezing first one nipple, then the other. I don’t even remember doing it. The last few minutes are a haze of lust. She’s still got her hand between my thighs, and I can feel her fingers pulling my panties aside so that she can get at my pussy directly. My juices leak out all over her hand, and I know she’s going to make me taste them. I can’t stop myself from wanting that. I can’t stop myself from wanting anything anymore.

She moves her mouth to my other nipple. They’re so tight and hot with arousal that it still feels like she’s sucking on them even when she’s not. I can smell myself now, the musk of my pussy drifting up to fill my nostrils, and it just makes me thrust my hips into her hand even harder. I think I came once already. It’s hard to tell. Everything’s just a blood-red mist of pleasure.

I twist her nipple three-quarters of the way around and that’s all she can take. She stands up straight and steps into me, jamming her cunt against my thigh and my cunt against hers. I’m pushing back against her now, as hard as I can, wanting to feel every inch of our flesh pressed together. She wriggles up and down, getting as much of the fabric of her skirt out of the way as she can without moving away for even a second. I know I’m smearing my juices all over her dress, and I want to lean down and lick them off, but that would mean breaking contact between my pussy and her leg and that’s just not physically possible right now.

She doesn’t kiss me right away. She grabs my hand and slides my index finger into her mouth, slowly and sensuously, like she’s giving it a blowjob. I cum at the sight of it. She cums when she feels me shiver against her leg. Then we both cum again at seeing each other’s faces at the moment of orgasm.

She pulls my finger out of her mouth and lets my hand go. I know exactly what she wants, and I want to give it to her. We kiss again as I reach around her back and slide my hand into the waistband of her panties, feeling around for the crack of her ass.

She shudders as I shove my finger into her asshole, not even trying to be gentle. She doesn’t want gentle. Neither do I. She pounds her hips into mine, slamming me back into the stall door over and over in a driving rhythm. She wants me to cum again. She wants to force the orgasm out of me, making my body respond to her urgent touches and caresses without even giving me a chance to build up to it.

And she does; my pussy clenches and I groan like metal under stress as she rips the scream from my mouth and into hers, and forces me to cum. I buck and shake under her touch, the orgasm just going on and on until I don’t even remember what it feels like not to be ravished by a strange woman in a public place. I stop thinking about anything but pleasure. She’s fucking my brains out, and I love every second of it.

And then it’s over, just as suddenly as it started. She lets go of me, takes a step back, and I’m instantly sated. I feel sweat and musk drying on my skin, I let my hands fall away from her body and disentangle themselves from her clothes, and I let all my weight rest on the stall door to keep from falling over. I’m shaking from the exertion. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon.

She looks about like I feel. Her hair is plastered to her body with sweat, her dress is soaked through and her nipples are outlined clearly by the damp fabric. She has a dopey, blissed-out grin on her face and I know I must be wearing the exact same expression. I feel like I should hate her, but I think I love her a little instead.

There’s a long, awkward pause. I don’t know what to say after something like this. Finally, though, I feel like I have to say something just to break the silence. “Um…hi,” I say, the words sounding stupid in my head. “My name’s–”

She presses her fingers to my lips. I taste myself, just like she wanted me to. She smiles an almost-cruel smile, and shakes her head. I’m almost afraid for a moment as I realize she’s not finished with me yet.

Then the fear falls away, and I drop to my knees. Shaking with lust, I pull her panties to one side and begin to urgently lap at her hot, wet cunt.


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