Amy grunted.
_ugggh…uh_
_ugggh…uh_
She grunted in step with whats-his-face thrusting into her from behind. Each thrust pushed her forward onto the bed, and she grunted.
_ugggh…uh_
_ugggh…uh_
Dan…(or was is Dean?) Was ok at this. His dick felt fine. But what Amy was really relishing was the physicality of it all. How she felt utterly exposed and naked on his bed. How the previously chilly room was now hot. How he used his body to push into her, moving her forward with each thrust. How she held herself in place by digging her nails into the white sheets.
“God, Amy, you look so fucking hot.” he said it quietly, to himself. But she heard it, and the compliment rippled through her. _yessss. that’s the stufff_. One of her grunts became louder and her hips pushed back into him, showing her approval of his words.
Dean (or was it Don?) got the message. Kind of. He started pushing harder into her. Faster. His hands moved to Amy’s ass and gave it a squeeze. “I can’t believe this is happening” he told himself.
***
It made sense that he didn’t believe it, for a few reasons. He wasn’t a “player.” He wasn’t the kind of guy that had a one-night stand every week, that got all the girls on tinder.
And Amy just hadn’t seemed like the kind of woman that would do this. She was too pretty, too timid, too smart. They had talked at the bar for what seemed like hours, and in that short time he had developed what he would embarrassingly call a “crush.”
They had talked for hours at the bar, and the bar had closed early, and they had ended up at his house, drinking on his couch.
He kissed her, with her glasses still on. He wondered if she’d let him touch her.
She had.
He’d wondered if she’d let him take her scarf off.
She had.
He wondered if he could put his hands on her thighs, over her winter tights, under her skirt.
He could.
Every time he thought he’d gotten to a boundary, she let him through. Even though she offered no resistance, he went slowly. I mean, of course he did. She was shy, petite…she _must_have been prudish, right?! She wasn’t some easy slut. She was a writer, into poetry, sweet, not slutty.
***
And yet, here they were, on his bed. She, lying prone on his mattress, totally naked, him behind her, pushing his inexperienced-though-not-quite-virgin cock into her. God, she was _gorgeous_. What waist. Impossibly narrow. Her upper back toned. Her ass small but perky, bubble-round.
Don (or was it Dan?) kept pushing his dick into her and she kept grunting.
_ugggh…uh_
_ugggh…uh_
Even though the guy remembered every minute of the past few hours, Amy was actively trying to forget it. He had been sweet and nice and _fine_, but that’s not what she wanted. She wanted to be used, she wanted to be taken, she wanted to be a notch on a bedpost. The less she thought about Dan (it wasn’t Dennis, right?) the more she could give in to feeling like… like a disposable piece of ass. Like a fucksleeve. Like a rag. _That_ is what she craved.
“Amy, I’m close” he said, pumping in and out of her, squeezing her bubble butt. “Oh god baby, I’m close”
Amy shoved herself backwards, penetrating herself onto his dick. She wanted him to cum, she wanted to _make_ him cum. He wanted her to cum because of _her_.
She turned around quickly, tried to catch a glimpse of him. She saw his chest, glistening with sweat, but focused on his face. His face looked almost like he was in pain; he was trying not to cum, but he couldn’t hold it. He couldn’t stop himself, especially when he saw her beautiful, _too_ beautiful face looking back at him, as he saw something in her green eyes that he hadn’t seen until now. A hunger, a lust. Her lips were turned into a scowl, almost angry, almost…manipulative.
_what the fuck_ he thought, and then he couldn’t help it and he closed his eyes and his fingers dug into her glutes and he started to cum inside of her, oblivious, at least for now, to the fact that he was bareback, that he wasn’t supposed to have cum in her.
“uuugnnnnnngghhhhhhaaaghhh”. The sounds came from deep in Amy’s throat. She closed her eyes, and dug her red nails into the mattress. The image of Dan/Dean/Don/Whoever’s face was vivid in her mind. The look of almost fear and disbelief at cumming inside her. Then she imagined his dick–it was a nice dick, let’s be honest, she had enjoyed sucking it. She imagined his dick inside of her. He imagined his balls contracting, and she imagined his cum spurting out of it, and into her pussy, splashing against the constricting walls of her vagina.
She imagined that her pussy was massaging his cock. She imagined that she was milking it, and when she heard him say “oh my fucking GOD” she felt of a wave of elation. He liked her.
_He likes me, he likes me, he likes me, he likes me_ she thought
_He wants me, he wants me, he wants me, he wants me_
_I’m wanted, I’m liked, I’m loved. I’m wanted, I’m liked, I’m loved. I’m wanted, I’m liked, I’m loved._
The guy fell onto the bed next to her. “God Amy! You’re fucking INCREDIBLE” he panted, and he looked at her face. Their faces were close, and they both were awash in post-sex glow. “You’re fantastic” he said, his pulse finally slowing.
Amy felt… full. Her soul felt full. _Maybe I’ll call him again_ she thought. _Maybe I’ll spend the night_
“I’m going to go clean up” she told him, and got off the bed and tiptoed to the bathroom.
Dave watched her perky butt jiggle to the door and felt elated.
It only took her a minute or two to wipe herself clean and pee, but something happened in those minutes. The sense of peace, of fulfillment, that had felt so warm and fuzzy had begun to disappear. Like there was a crack in her chest that tranquility was draining out of.
By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, it was gone. In it’s place was just a sense of hollow. Of empty.
“I…should go” she said.
“…Oh” said Dan. It was shocking and it hurt, she could tell. “Ok.” This only made her feel worse.
***
Amy closed Don’s apartment door behind her and walked to the elevator. Tired, drunk, empty, gloomy. _I should just go home_ she told herself. _yes. Just…home. Take a bath. Go to sleep. Wake up early and and go for a jog. Be healthy Amy, for fuck’s sake. Go home. Ok, I will. i will, i will, i will_.
And then she got into the elevator, and she took out her phone, and she felt her fingers start to work the keys. It was like she saw it happen, like someone else was in control of her hands: someone else was flipping through her contacts. Someone else was writing a message, the same message four times to Rick, Seb, Jake and Jon.
She saw the checkmarks turn green next to two of the four messages she sent:
“Awake?”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/uw9zed/mf_her_first_onenight_standof_the_weekend