[MF] Rebecca needs it rough and dirty

Rebecca dressed up for it; as if he was someone worth dressing up for.

A pink and white thong and bra set that hugged close to her thin body and tiny bust. A blue dress with a short pleated skirt, a matching cardigan in cashmere. It hugged her shoulders and the neck of the dress was low enough to show off her clavicle. Black pumps. Real pearls, no fakes.

She looked at herself in the mirror, ran her hand through her pixie cut, freshly bleached silver. She looked good. Like she was going for an interview at a law firm, or off for tea at an expensive hotel. It was the outfit of someone who was going to marry a banker or lawyer or high-flying civil servant. Not someone who was going to do what she had planned. She looked at her phone.

*2oclock sheffield rd social centre round the back*

That was what the message said. There were other messages above it that made her blush to review them. When she had told him what she wanted, what she needed. And he had told her what he was going to do. She was trembling a little. The adrenaline was coursing hard. She applied a little perfume. Finished her makeup, caught her reflection: she looked wide-eyed, startled, afraid, horny.

It was not her kind of place. A row of industrial units had been put up either side of an overgrown playground. A couple of grubby teens were on the roundabout drinking energy drinks. Unwashed white vans were parked on the kerb, taking deliveries out of unmarked doors.

She saw the glances, the long lingering glances. There was meaning in them. Desire, of course but anger – that she should have the temerity to come and flaunt her wealth and comfort, that she should have all she did without even doing anything, that they would have to work and break their backs for pennies while she sat at a desk or stayed at home and earned four times, six times, god knows how many more times as much. It all gave way to hatred and despair. There was nothing they could do about it, about social forces they only partly comprehended, and so they saw her body: lithe, fit, early 20s, prim, proper and wanted to own it, to use it, to show her who was boss. If only they knew, she thought, as she looked at her toes and rounded the corner. If only they knew.

The alley was narrow and in shade. One wall was the windowless rear of the social centre, graffitied, grubby. There was an abandoned skip halfway down that blocked most of the width, full of building material and rubbish, a few saplings growing out of it. The other wall was higher, the side of a three-storey block of council flats.

Rebecca stood a few steps in and wrapped her arms round her. A dog barked in the distance.

‘You Becky, then?’ He was there, at the alley entrance. He was not tall, 5’9” perhaps, and skinny. He had on a grey tracksuit and scuffed white trainers. His hair was cut short, shaved at the side, a cigarette behind his ear. He was smiling. It was a wolfish, hungry smile. His hands flexed. They were grey from building site dust.

Rebecca nodded, swallowed. The deal was it just happened, here, now, like this. It was too late to change her mind now.

‘I’ve always wanted to do a posh cunt like you.’ He walked a step towards her with his low-crotched swagger. He grabbed the side of her dress at her waist, wiping a smear of dust over the blue material. He pushed her against the wall.

‘Lift your skirt for me, you dirty little bitch.’ Rebecca breathed in hard, her nostrils flaring. They were barely in the alley. She glanced towards the road. ‘Look at me,’ he said sharply. ‘Do it.’ Her hands scrabbled to the hem of her skirt. She lifted it up above her waist. His hand was there before it was up, surprisingly large and strong, spreading her thighs, cupping her mound, pushing the fabric aside to open her slit and dip into her embarrassingly wet pussy.

‘Dirty little slut.’ He was close. He smiled. She could smell his sweat mixed with cheap deodorant. He grabbed her arm and dragged her down the alley, through the narrow gap between the skip and the wall. Her cardigan caught on a nail and tore untidily, leaving it hanging from her elbows. He didn’t seem to notice. He had her against the wall of the social centre, her dress in his fist now, up over her pale thighs and belly, his middle finger plunging back into her hole. He finger fucked her fast, deep. She cried out in confusion, in pleasure.

Suddenly he took his hand out and pushed her down by her shoulders. Rebecca wasn’t expecting it. She half collapsed, against the wall, into a drift of dust and plastic wrappers under the lip of the skip. He was pushing his tracksuit down, pushing his boxer shorts down over his skinny thighs. His cock was thick and hard in his hand.

‘Suck it you posh whore.’ He pulled her back up by her hair and shoulder again, pulled her onto his cock. Her hands went up to his thighs, his belly, but he pulled her deeper, stretching her mouth, making her gag as it hit her throat. ‘That’s it slut, take it like a good little posh girl.’ He thrust his hips. ‘You need a bit of rough don’t you?’ He didn’t expect her to answer. He just held his cock in her throat until she gagged and then pulled her back. She looked up at him, heaving, breathing hard.

He spat in her face. She wasn’t expecting that.

‘You’ve spent your life thinking people like me are shit.’ His hand was rough in her hair. He reached behind her and pulled the zip down, pushed the dress away off a shoulder and exposed one of her breasts. He squeezed it then gave it a slap that echoed down the alley. He took his cock and put it back into her mouth, fucking her with long strokes.

Rebecca gagged. Her knees hurt from the ground. She knew her hands were filthy from her fall. But she knew how wet she was, how totally soaked her pussy was. She could feel the cool air against it where her knickers had been pulled to the side. She gave up trying to hold his cock back and took every thrust, sucking and trying to meet his thrusts. She looked up at him through glistening eyes and saw his phone out. Her eyes opened wider.

‘Gag on it like a good little posh whore.’ He held himself in her. She looked down the lens and gagged and let herself be filmed. He slapped her tits and laughed. After a second he pulled her upright as roughly as he had pushed her down, spun her so her face was against the wall. Her cheek rubbed on the rough brick. She felt him lift her dress higher, felt him yank her panties down her legs.

‘Stick your arse out love.’ She did what she was told. She pushed her ass out, stood on her tiptoes. Her dress was off both shoulders. Her bra had been ripped as she stood as well. She felt him move and his thick uncut cock pushed against her. His hand reached round her throat, squeezed.

‘Never ‘ad one this big?’ He pushed into her. Rebecca moaned uncontrollably. His cock spread her wetness open, stretching her as he put it inside. She was embarrassingly wet. She could feel it on her thighs.

‘You love it don’t you you fucking posh bitch.’ He was thrusting, using his hips and his hand as leverage, holding her against the wall. When he took her deep his balls slapped against her pussy and her clit.

‘Oh my god…’ Rebecca trembled, her legs shuddered. It was so bad. It was so good. She felt his spit hit her arsehole and then his finger start to probe as his huge cock made her eyes roll.

‘That’s it open your arse up for me like a proper little whore.’ She felt him push his finger in as he thrust harder.

‘Oh god, what if somebody…’ she looked around and he slapped her cheek.

‘Shut up, cunt and push your skinny arse back against me so I can cum.’

She did as she was told immediately, thrusting back against him. There was no condom. No protection. But she wanted it. She wanted his animal lust. She heard him grunting, working hard as he fingered her ass.

‘Take it bitch!’ He pushed deep in her and she felt him start to pulse and throb as he came. It was hot and there was a lot of it, filling her up, squeezing out around his shaft and down over her thighs. He kept fucking her until he was soft and as he pulled back Rebecca collapsed to the wall, still shaking.

She sat on the dirty ground, dress still round her waist, legs under her, cum pooling out. He reached down and picked up her panties and put them in his pocket. He calmly watched her, holding his cock.

He took a step to the side and began to piss against the wall. It was a huge stream, spattering on the bricks. She watched it, inching away from the puddle that was growing until she was against the skip and could go no further. He turned to her and shook his cock. Droplets hit her dress and her hair. Then he spat on her again, on her face, on her tits, on her dress.

He crouched down so he was almost face to face. ‘Next time I’m fucking your arse, right?’

She nodded, swallowed. He patted her cheek.

‘I always knew you posh bitches were whores.’ He stood up and lit his cigarette. He watched her for a moment more then got out his phone, put on some music without headphones and walked off down the alley.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/qar67d/mf_rebecca_needs_it_rough_and_dirty