She looked at the mirror, adjusting her hair, frowning. The cherry red drew out her lips as she absentmindedly licked her teeth. The makeup was done well, that wonderful tone that was just too much, not the point of absurdity, but trashiness. Elegant in a way only poorer people thought of as sexy. Indeed, it was a siren call to a select type of man, the type she was looking for tonight. Her hair was likewise teased, nice a big, flowing over her shoulders. She smiled nervously at herself as she stood up to finish dressing.
First she slid into her crop top, a massacred tshirt of an old boyfriend of hers. He was so confused when she had cheated on him, but he deserved better than her. Someone would wouldn’t do what she planned to tonight. He deserved a good girl whatever the damaged thing in the mirror was looking back at her, it wasn’t a good girl. She slid her jean jacket over it, slim and short itself, it helped cover her up a bit more. With it, you couldn’t immediately tell she was braless, though she would have to remember not to raise her arms tonight or anyone looking would get a free show.
Next she pulled herself slowly into her jean skirt, zipping it up. She hadn’t originally understood the appeal of denim, but like the makeup, it called out to a certain type and advertised herself in the manner she wanted. She briefly considered a thong, but then thought better of it. Easy access was the goal tonight. Then a pair of boots that accented her figure well, with heels than made her ass appear more ample than it truly was. A cheap necklace some hoop earrings and she looked like she was ready to move into a trailer park. She smiled, that empty smile that hid her empty feeling, almost shaking. She shouldn’t be going out, but that need was too much. She felt dead inside and needed to feel alive.
She took a slim purse, with only her fake id (she was legal of course, but safer to have a fake ID and address if she was robbed) and some cash. Needing a bit of courage, she took a couple bumps, breathing hard. She then headed out to go bar hopping. She drank some as she hit a few places, waving away most of the men. Nice guys, horny guys, but none of them were what she wanted. She needed, craved something primal and dark and even abusive. Something none of them radiated.
She found what she wanted at her fourth bar, no longer playing drunk but already a bit along the way. Dancing a bit, loud, almost everyone there closer to twice her age, a man put his hand on her shoulder, firm, ordering them both a drink. She didn’t have to pretend to slur a bit as she told him she’d had too much already, but he half forced, half encouraged her to finish a few more. She laughed too loudly at his crude jokes, but she noticed that look in his eye. A look she knew well. Though he could pretend, just like she could with her smiles, he was not a nice man. His eyes were those of barely restrained violence. A real smile crept in her face as he rested his hand on her thigh, massaging it almost painfully.
When he asked her if he could give her a ride home, she nodded, letting him grope her ass as he helped her into his old Camero. She laid back, pretending, to be half dozing. She felt his fingers grace her belly, then his entire warm palm. It was all she could do to stay still as his hand slid up and under, cupping her bra. She did moan softly when he pinched her nipple. Then his hand slid down, parting her legs. The stiff denim prevented him easy access, but he touched her lips and she knew when he drew his fingers back they were wet. The car then was put in gear and he started shaking her. When she “woke”, he grabbed her hair, pushing her head down.
She was messy, but complied, in reality half out of it. Only when he shoved down and gagged her did she resist, but as he drove he would relax, only to intensify at a stop light. The windows were rolled down and she knew he was likely letting someone see or hear her, making a show of bobbing her head up and down. Eventually she slapped at his leg, almost sick and he shoved her back and slapping her. His finger at her face, the flash of barely restrained anger made her shrink.
She wasn’t surprised when they pulled up to a run down house on the outskirts of town. She told him she couldn’t really stay and he told her just to come in for a few drinks. She said only a couple, but knew it would be more. It wasn’t however, as they chatted in the living room of an alcoholic bachelor. Beer cans and the reek of soured alcohol permeated everything. She drank a few beers, chatting and kissing him, before everything began to get fuzzy. She slurred to him that she needed to leave, as he pawed her chest, before everything went blank.
Everything until morning was flashes. She remembered when she first woke briefly, to pain, real pain, as he forced himself up her ass. She cried and weakly flailed under the man as he thrust hard, making it hurt more, sharp, like he was shredding her guts. She remembered him on top of her, legs splayed. A haze of images, her being sick, slapped, choked. Nothing in focus, just a haze of moments throughout the night.
When she woke the next morning, there was a different man on top of her, thrusting into her sore cunt. When he saw her eyes open he grabbed her jaw, spitting into her face. Her jaw and mouth hurt as he gripped her throat, pushing down, shuddering inside her. He got up and left without a word. She laid there for a couple minutes, before sitting up. The simple act caused her more pain than she expected, as she glanced around the living room. She was naked, on the floor. On the couch the man from last night slept, and another on the recliner. Someone was cooking nearby. She stood up, unsteady, then her stomach gurgled. The man in the kitchen, the one who had just raped her, pointed to a door and she bolted to it, barely making it to the toilet. She clung to it for a few minutes, then went to the filthy sink.
The broken woman stared back, as she always did. She traced gently her swollen split lip, her bruised cheek. Her body was covered in bruises from the nights “fun” and she hated how she moaned as she pressed her fingertips into the bruises. She sat on the toilet, wetting a towel to clean herself up. When she used it, she cried, her ass on fire. She winced at the red as she wiped, flushing and cleaning herself up. She left the room, looking for her clothes, throwing on her tshirt before the stranger on the recliner came over to her. He pushed her down and she didn’t resist, tasting foulness that likely was why using the bathroom hurt so bad. He didn’t last long, pumping in and out before holding her head down, filling her mouth with cum. She swallowed and he walked off leaving her there.
Her ride was watching her wipe her mouth when got up, shoving her to all fours. She felt him shove in her cunt and was actually moaning as he thrust, before he pulled out, shoving it instead into her ass. She slapped at him and cried, but that only encouraged him, ramming deep like her vague memories of the night before. Her sole saving grace was that he came quickly, before wiping himself off on her tshirt. She curled up and cried, before eventually getting up again. He told her to fuck off and she did, dressing herself and calling for a Lyft. The woman that was driving eyed her carefully, asking her if she was ok. She lied, telling her she was fine, that she had been in an accident, nothing more.
Then, home at last, she walked into her bedroom, looking at the trash in the mirror before her. Her hands trembled as she slapped herself in the face, again and again, shaking, screaming at the whore looking back at her. Then she fingered herself, desperate, reaching for her drawer of toys, painfully slamming the dildo into herself. The pain was good, was needed, as she shuddered and came. After a long shower, she laid down on the bed, spent. She closed her eyes, touching every part of her that hurt, savoring the feeling once again of being alive.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/g99667/looking_for_trouble_mf_oral_anal_nc