Cindy Braxton tilted her glass back high to get the last of her vodka and coke from the bottom, enjoying the chill of the ice cubes as they pressed against her lips. She placed it, now empty of alcohol, down on the table. The cubes probably rattled, but it was impossible to hear them over the noise inside the bar. Frank’s was busy that Friday night, full of people out celebrating this or that, getting a buzz on to see them into the weekend, Monday morning nothing more than a background anxiety they would ignore until Sunday evening.
It was the usual collection of young and old, the former almost wild-eyed in their determination to enjoy the alcohol and the company, the latter a bit more subdued, this Friday night just another one to add to the hundreds that had gone before.
At 38, Cindy hovered somewhere around the middle of the spread of ages before her, but her mentality was definitely with the older folks. She had been coming to Frank’s every Friday night for close to twenty years. Her husband, Craig, loved the place. Loved that he knew half the clientele by name, and that some of them even knew his. So, at the end of the week, Frank’s was where they went once the babysitter turned up to take charge of their two kids, sit her fat backside on the couch, and drink some of their liquor.
Cindy knew that Craig wanted to fuck Star, the babysitter. Could tell from the way he looked at her ass and tits when he thought she wasn’t looking. And from the fact he was a man and she was a young girl. Men were predictable like that; it was one of the best things about them. Show a man a hole and he’ll try to fill it, sure as night follows day.
Not that she minded her husband mind-fucking the girl. Truth was, Cindy often lay in the dark touching herself, imagining Craig and Star together. She thought about him on top of the teenager, riding hard, his face a picture of desire and want. She liked to think of him slapping the girl’s big titties, pulling her hair, calling her a dirty bitch as he emptied himself into her no-doubt tight little snatch.
It wasn’t as if she was hankering after a time when Craig fucked her like that. He hadn’t. Ever. Not once in their whole relationship. He was what the magazine articles she sometimes read called a ‘gentle and considerate lover’. He always made sure she came before he did, insisted early on that she tell him how and where to touch her, would go down on her and eat her pussy for as long as it took without complaint. It would’ve been nice if just once in a while (hell, even just once ever) he had fucked her like she was just something to fuck. If he’d treated her like nothing more than three holes, took his pick of whichever one he wanted, and pounded on her until he came inside her, wiped his dick on her panties then walked away, not giving a single shit whether she’d enjoyed it or not.
Maybe if he’d done that, Cindy wouldn’t have had to start faking her orgasms years ago, just so as not to hurt his feelings.
“Cindy?”
Craig’s voice snapped her out of her daydream. Damn man couldn’t even let her wet her own panties without fucking it up.
“What?” she asked, maybe a little too sharply.
“I was just asking if you wanted another drink, darling,” he replied, too far gone to notice any tone in her voice, his all sickly sweet and loving.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Well alright!” he whooped, turning to the other couple at the table and asking them the same question.
Tim and Stacey Hart had gone through highschool with Cindy and Craig. The two men were best friends since before they could talk, and Cindy and Stacey tolerated each other in the way that the wives of best friends had to. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other, just more that they’d never really had much in common. Cindy was jealous of Stacey never having had any children, and the peaceful life and tight ass that went along with that. Though their birthdays were only a month apart, she knew that Stacey looked at least five years younger than her. And Stacey knew it too. She liked to dress in outfits that Cindy could never pull off; a little bit sexier and a little bit classier than most of the folks at Frank’s could ever pull off. But, she was decent enough company to pass a boozy Friday night with, even if she did spend half her time looking to see who was looking at her.
Tim high-fived Craig and asked for a beer, Stacey nodded and blew him a kiss. Some wives might not have liked that, but Cindy knew there was more chance of her winning the lottery than Stacey being interested in her chubby little husband. Of the two men, Tim was the catch. Tall, handsome and arrogant coupled with charming, rich and fit. A deadly combination if ever there was one. The rumours had been around for years that he’d fucked half the town, but nothing ever seemed to stick to him. He was sleazy in a way that made women want him even though they swore they didn’t.
He’d tried it on with Cindy more than once over the years, clever enough to never outright make a pass at her (the type to always maintain plausible deniability), but at the same time let her know that he wanted to fuck her. She’d thought about it, of course, but in the end decided that cheating on Craig with his best friend would be like kicking a puppy while you were wearing steel toecapped boots. But Tim was another source of masturbation fantasies as she lay in bed beside a snoring Craig, diddling her clit with one finger, keeping as still and as quiet as she could.
With the drinks orders complete, Craig turned to head to the bar and bumped into the back of a man Cindy hadn’t noticed before. As he spun to face her husband she saw that he was built like a footballer, shaved head and a tattoo of some sort curling up and around his thick neck. He was tall too, at least six four, and his face was handsome in that rugged way a scar would’ve just added to.
Cindy felt an instant and surprising longing for him. What would it be like for a man like that to take you? She bet he wouldn’t be asking if he was going too hard. He’d just expect you to shut your mouth, grit your teeth and take it, and God damn she’d do exactly that.
The man looked for a split second like he was going to hit Craig, but her husband put his hands up in front of him in a placating, surrendering way. Cindy winced internally as the stranger quickly decided Craig wasn’t worth the effort, dismissing him as nothing more than a minor inconvenience and, after a hard stare, allowing him to sidestep his way past.
After Craig was swallowed by the drunken crowd of revelers, the man cast his eyes over the room. Cindy couldn’t stop staring at him. His shoulders were heavily muscled, his eyes as mean as they were blue. A black short sleeved shirt struggled to contain the biceps that curved and bulged beneath it. Around his neck a black cord from which hung an animal tooth of some kind. Cindy guessed it was maybe from a wolf. It fitted that this mountain of a man would wear the tooth of a predator, because that’s exactly what he looked. Everyone else in the bar was there to party and have a good time. He looked like he was there to hunt.
Cindy was taking in what she could see of his chest, a view afforded by three open buttons, his skin lightly covered by a sheen of glistening sweat, when a feeling of almost thrilling unease swept over her. She glanced up and met the penetrating gaze of his eyes.
He was looking right at her.
Caught, she quickly looked away, pretended to brush a spec of something off the table.
When she looked back a few seconds later she was both excited and nervous that he was still looking directly at her. There was a power in his look and she froze, like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights.
The man didn’t smile, didn’t nod, didn’t do anything other than stare.
Cindy felt her heart racing in her chest. Maybe it was so loud the man heard it, because his eyes flicked downwards, and suddenly he was staring at her breasts. She automatically lifted a hand to cover herself, feeling naked and vulnerable, but he shook his head no, an almost imperceptible movement, and without knowing why she dropped her hand back onto the table.
“Cinders!” Stacey called over to her, shattering the moment. “I need to pee.”
Cindy smiled and nodded, although inside she was bristling with indignation at the interruption. She glanced back at the man, who was now looking over at a group of young girls just old enough to be allowed into the bar. All those fresh, tight young bodies, or her wrinkled, slightly sagging one; it was hardly a difficult choice.
Cindy didn’t need to pee, but knew that friends went to the toilet together, so she got up from her stool, brushed down the skirt of her dress, and followed Stacey towards the bathrooms. As the pair passed the man he didn’t even glance in her direction.
Two hours – and six vodkas – later, Cindy was feeling drunk. Craig, Tim and Stacey had hit the bar even harder, and were talking too loudly about things that only alcohol could make seem important. Her bladder was full, and she’d been holding it for long enough that it was getting uncomfortable. She’d said to Stacey she needed to go ten minutes previously, and had been told that she’d go with her in two minutes.
“Stacey!” she shouted above the noise, eyes wide, almost pleading.
Stacey either didn’t hear, or just plain ignored her.
“Bitch,” Cindy muttered under her breath, getting up and squeezing past Craig.
The bar was at its busiest now, the crowd so thick that she had to navigate a less than direct path through a mass of drunk bodies. The bathrooms were at the end of a corridor accessed via a door to the left of the bar and it took her a full five minutes to reach it, by which point Cindy was genuinely frightened she might pee herself. She jiggled her thighs in attempt to calm the urgency.
When she opened the door to the corridor she almost wept.
There were six women standing in a line outside the ladies. It was a queue that she knew wasn’t going to move quickly. If Stacey was here and as desperate to go as Cindy was, she would barge her way to the front, yelling that it was an emergency, but Cindy just wasn’t built like that.
She saw that there wasn’t anyone waiting outside the gents though.
Not liking the idea, but knowing it was either that or wet herself, Cindy rushed past the line of waiting women and pushed open the door to the men’s bathroom, praying and hoping that it would be empty inside.
It wasn’t.
As the smell of urinal blocks assaulted her nose and the brighter lights of the interior stung her eyes, Cindy saw there was one man standing peeing.
It was the big man from earlier, she realised.
He turned to look at her, not stopping pissing as he did. She couldn’t see the penis that he clearly had in his hand, but she knew it would be substantial.
The shock of seeing him had momentarily pushed away the need to pee, but a second later it came flooding back, almost literally. Cindy nearly ran over to the only cubicle and pushed the door open. It was mercifully and surprisingly clean inside. She slammed the door shut behind her (noticing with distracted dismay that the lock was broken) pulled her skirt up, her panties down, hovered over the seat and emptied her bladder, with not a moment to spare.
The relief was so intense that she couldn’t help but give a little groan of satisfaction as she peed.
She was just finishing when she heard the footsteps approach, and stop the other side of the unlocked door. The music from the bar was dull and muted. She could hear him breathing.
The door of the cubicle started to open inwards.
Cindy put her hand on it, shouted that there was someone using the toilet, but the person pushing was much too strong for her to stop. The edge of the door scrapped her knee as she fumbled to pull her panties up with one hand before her nudity was revealed. They weren’t fully up by the time the door was fully opened, one side of them a few inches low on her thigh.
He filled the entire space of the doorway.
That was the first thing her panicked mind noticed. The second was that his trousers were still unbuttoned, and his penis was still out. She had been right; it was thick, meaty, and growing in size by the second.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice deep and rough.
A dozen thoughts tore through Cindy’s mind, filled with conflicting emotions.
She did want to.
She didn’t want to.
She hadn’t wiped.
She did want to.
He might not care if she didn’t want to.
She did want to.
Someone could walk in at any minute.
Fuck, she wanted to.
She wasn’t the type of woman who fucked strangers in bar bathrooms.
She wanted to be.
Tonight, she would be.
She slowly, hesitantly, did as she was told, and turned to face the wall.
There was no hesitation from him.
He reached roughly up her dress, grabbing the back of her panties, pulling them down so forcefully that the material burned the skin at the top front of her thighs. She heard them rip a little. A large, powerful hand gripped the back of her neck and pushed her forwards and down, until she was bent over. Two seconds later both of his hands were on her hips, holding her in a vice-like grip, his fingers and thumbs digging painfully into her flesh.
She felt it between her legs; the head of his cock bumping against her pussy as he blindly tried to find her hole with quick, sharp thrusts. A couple of failed attempts and then he was inside her, the thickness of him stretching her wide, the length of him filling her completely, her pussy complaining at the sudden violation.
Cindy kept looking down, and let it happen.
He fucked her hard, and he fucked her fast. She guessed his cock was a good nine inches, and about as thick as a can of red bull. Her hole wasn’t used to it, and the deeper and harder he went the more she hurt.
But he didn’t care.
One hand released her hip, reaching under her until he found her tits, gripping one completely in his hand and squeezing it so tight that she knew it would be bruised in the morning.
He fucked her like they were animals. Him taking her whether she liked it or not.
The bathroom was filled with dull, meaty slaps as his pelvis banged against her ass cheeks. She felt his balls bang against her clit a few times. He fucked her so roughly that each forward thrust forced her up onto her tiptoes slightly, his weight and strength lifting her body.
She knew he was close to cumming when he released her tit and held her again by both hips, drilling his fat cock in and out of her now tender pussy.
He went faster, and deeper, and faster, and harder, until he grabbed her by the shoulders, grunting like an animal, pressed into her and emptied his balls inside her, cumming so much that she felt the force of his ejaculation and his cum flood her pussy.
As soon as he was done with her, he pulled his cock out of her pussy, and she felt him wipe it off between her ass cheeks, rubbing the tip of it hard against her asshole. She could feel his cum running out of her no doubt gaping pussy hole and down her thighs.
Without a word to her, she heard him zip up, buckle up and walk away. A few seconds later the bathroom door opened and closed.
That was it.
It was over.
He had used her for what he wanted. She probably didn’t exist to him anymore.
The whole fuck had lasted only a couple of minutes. Cindy’s tit hurt, her pussy hurt, her thighs and shoulders were cramping. She hadn’t cum, and he hadn’t shown any interest in her needs at all. She had just been meat, there to be fucked and cummed in.
And it had probably been the best experience of her life.
The bathroom door opened again, and she quickly turned and closed the cubicle door. It wouldn’t be him, and she didn’t want anyone else to see her in the state she was in.
As the newcomer whistled and peed at the urinal, Cindy Braxton used tissues to wipe the stranger’s cum from her thighs and fixed her clothes as best as she could in the enclosed space.
She knew she wouldn’t clean all of his cum, but that was okay. She wanted to keep some of him inside her for as long as possible.
Hopefully she’d be able to rub some of it into her clit later as she lay beside Craig, diddling herself in the dark with the cream of a stranger who had treated her like an object, and made her feel more alive than she ever had before.
It was a feeling Cindy knew she needed to experience again.
As cleaned up as possible but with her pussy throbbing so much it felt like he was still inside her, she pulled the cubicle door open and stepped out into the bathroom.
Tim was leaning against the countertop that held a little row of three sinks, his hands in his pockets and a wicked smile on his face.
“So,” he said, his voice hard. “I’m thinking that if you don’t want Craig to hear about what his darling wife just did in the men’s room, then you’re going to have to be real nice to me from now on, huh Cindy?”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rjei4x/sometimes_you_just_want_to_be_used