Women Seeking Women #44

Night drips thick in the back room, cigarette smoke hanging like guilt. August 13, 2008. She catches him by the throat before the lock even clicks, dress slit so high it barely counts as fabric. Their mouths crash first—teeth, tongue, breath sour with whiskey. Her hand’s already inside his fly, fingers cool then hot as she pumps him twice, three times, feels him swell. He spins her, pushes her chest to the crates, rips her panties sideways, not bothering to pull them down. Two fingers shove inside her slick cunt, knuckle deep, twisting until she groans. The zipper’s down; he’s in. One thrust to bury the length, balls tight against her ass, the angle slamming that spot that makes her knees buckle. No pause. He fucks her hard, hips snapping, crates scraping the concrete. Sweat stings his eyes. She pushes back, demanding more. Each slap of skin echoes, wet and obscene, until they break together—her walls clamping, his cock jerking, come pulsing hot inside her. Cigarette ash falls on discarded stockings. Somewhere a radio crackles a lost signal. It’s done. They’re gone. The room still smells like sex and tobacco and mistake.