You wore pink eyeshadow, as instructed.
You were sitting–legs crossed, revealing just a hint of thigh beneath your short, pleated skirt–at a table alone, stirring your latte? tea? something. I watched you carefully from across the cafe, flipping absent-mindedly through East of Eden. Of course I couldn’t focus on Steinbeck right now. But I caught you looking. The flicker of recognition as you saw the book I held close to my face.
You got up to leave, sashaying now in a flirtatious manner as you set your oversized mug on the counter. A skirt so tight I could see the individual curve of each ass cheek. I could imagine my hand slipping beneath your hemline and groping your plump flesh.
The sun was peeking barely above the horizon as I followed you out the cafe and down the sidewalk. It was bustling–a crowded downtown strip on a Thursday night–but it’d be quiet where we were going. Destination: a parking garage next to the courthouse. After 5 PM it was deserted and far from the bars and cafes of West Third. A silly place to park if you were going to Cafe Mocha.
But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? The long walk away from the smell of roasted coffee beans. You walked block after block, glancing over your shoulder occasionally to see if I was still following. I was. But I was taunting you, sometimes crossing the street or dipping into an alleyway only to reappear a few seconds later.
I closed the distance quickly once you were in the garage. Underground. Four stories. You were on the lowest level. Your heels–pink like your eyeshadow–clicked against the concrete as you entered the stairwell. I waited a few beats, peeking through the long rectangular window until you crossed the first landing. Then I opened the door and let it slam behind me. My feet fell heavily, deliberately as I followed you down.
We hadn’t discussed the specifics of *when* I’d snatch you, so I was enjoying the pursuit, knowing that your pulse must be pounding, your mind racing, wondering when you were going to feel a hand wrap around your neck.
I waited until you had your keys out and were a few steps from your car–until maybe you were starting to feel disappointed, perhaps thinking I chickened out. But in a flash I had one hand reaching around to grasp your stomach and the other covering your mouth.
“Don’t say a fucking word. If you make even a peep, I’ll choke you out.”
I pushed you forward, bending you over the hood of your Camry like a cop. My waist pushed against your skirt, so tight it was riding up, exposing the pale, U-shaped curves of your lower asscheeks.
My hand fell from your stomach, two fingers shoved between your thighs. “A thong. Fitting for a whore.”
I withdrew my hand, slipped it into my pocket, and produced a small switchblade–as discussed. I pushed the cold metal base against your upper thigh. “Feel that? Know what it is?” I pushed harder, digging the handle into your soft flesh.
I flipped the knife open and dragged the dull edge beneath your skirt. Sliding under the band of your thong, I flicked my wrist outwards, cutting it. Moving quickly, I retrieved the knife and then pushed two fingers roughly into your slit.
“Tight fucking bitch,” I growled. “Wouldn’t have guessed it.”
You clenched around me, squeezing my second knuckles as I slid further inside you. I spread my fingers apart, turning their “L” shape into a “V.” While I fingered your slit I leaned in close, pushing my erection against your ass cheek and biting at your earlobe.
“This is going to be fun.”
I was caught in the thrill of the moment. This was going to be fast and rough. No point dragging it out. Keep it concise. Never dull.
The clanking of metal. Belt unclasped. Cock out, precum-wet dip slapping against your ass. Little speck of that sticky stuff breaking off against your smattering of freckles. Thumb across the base of my shaft, pushing it down, dragging the sensitive head until it was propped under the curl of your ass. A shift of my hips. Now it’s between your thighs, bouncing up with each pump of blood. My breathing heavy on your neck. Cock up. Push. Push. Push. Spread those tight fucking lips. Hand at your neck, wrapping through your hair. Pressing your face against the cool metal of the hood. Shoving you hard as the rim of my head clears your entrance. Inch after inch. Digging deep.
“A slut always fucks without a condom.”
My hand was around your throat bending you back from the hood of the car while my dick met your cervix. “Should I fill your womb with my cum?”
“N-no-! Mm!”
I shoved you back down.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Silence except for heavy breathing. Small whines and moans from you. Balls against your wet lips. Hand digging bruises into your ass. Car shaking gently beneath you.
“Fine, fine. You wanna play it safe, huh? I can do safe sex.” I snatched you up by the hair, spun you around, pushed you to your knees.
“Open that fucking mouth.”
You did so demurely. Half-heartedly.
A slap across your pretty cheek that echoed in the empty cement garage.
“Don’t be cute,” my voice lowering into a growl, “I know you’ve sucked dick before. Is that how you do it? Looking like you’re half-asleep? Does it look like this will fit in your mouth if you only open that far?”
My cock swayed back and forth–thick and red and wet with your cunt. I dug my thumb and forefinger into your cheeks, forcing your tongue out. Then I firmly pushed my hips forward, dipping my rimmed cockhead between your lips while pushing you back against the wheel well.
“How’s your pussy taste?” I sneered while driving my rod past your uvula. “Let me get deep and this’ll be over soon. You think I can cum from something weak, gentle? I need to go fucking **hard** to finish.” I squeezed your nostrils shut with one hand and cupped your chin with the other, holding you in place while I increased my speed.
Rougher and rougher. One palm spread wide across your skull. The other pressing on your cheeks, feeling them puff out to make room for my cock. You started to gag, spit bubbling up around my shaft. I was going to cum.
A jerk back, cock breaking free from your throat with a long whip of saliva. An immediate burst of white at your eyebrow. Another at your nose. Then your cheek. Then your forehead. Dick back into your mouth for you to clean.
“Better this way anyway. Only an unabashed cocksucker would take a load on the face.” I pulled my cock from your lips, tapped a final bit of semen against your forehead, and zipped my pants.
I leaned forward, grabbed your chin, “Have a good night, bitch. And don’t forget your place.”
***
I gave it a few minutes. Ducked into the stairwell, caught my breath. My pulse was pounding. My cock sore, but satisfied. I looked through the door’s window and saw you leaning on your car, looking light-headed. I returned–this time gently, calmly. I kneeled down and lifted your chin, “You did good. Are you okay?”
A nod. Still dazed.
“Should we get some ice cream?”
Your eyes brightened up and you smiled. “Mhm!”
I grabbed your hand, helping you up, and walked you to the passenger door. My cum was still drying on your face, I could see the slight sparkle beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. I gave you a wink, “Don’t clean that off. Maybe someone will notice. You can tell them you got fucked stupid by a stranger. They’ll think you’re just like any other slut.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/12cpsq2/a_stalker_a_slut_a_parking_lot_a_plan_mf_cnc_ds