Can You Please Just Fuck Me And Leave?

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By Lauren McAllister

I went to this sleazy pick-up bar with some girlfriends one Friday night because, well, it was Friday Night. There were a few cute guys who hit on me during the evening but I was probably too sober at that point to be interested. Unfortunately, by closing time, and after a few more Cutty Sarks and ginger ale, I was very interested but all those would-be-one-night-stand swains had either already hooked up or fucked-off home. Shit! And what was lift was thin groin gruel, if you get my meaning. As the bartender was calling everyone to drink up and get the hell out, I had a very quick decision to make. I scanned the room for the least objectionable penis-wielding hombre remaining in the hostelry. Then, I scanned the room one more time, far more carefully, stupidly optimistic that I had to have missed something more appealing on my initial search. Alas, nothing even half as appealing was on offer. Sigh. Since I’d spent the previous weekend licking my workmate insensate, I really felt like more masculine company. So, despite my incredibly reasonable reticence, I took the plunge and made a beeline for the closet Adam’s apple.

“Hi,” I smiled.

“Hey babe,” he winks, “why don’t we get out of here and I can introduce you to a really nice mattress I know.”

Jesus Christ, what an asshole. I took another quick survey of the room. Shit! It was either this pinhead or my girlfriend. I suddenly wished that I were way, way more bi that I actually was. I rationalized, as any horny, half-drunk idiot would do. “He’s bound to be the kind of guy who fucks ‘em and leaves ‘em. I can just get a quick, hard orgasm out of this Neanderthal prick and then he’ll just scurry off back to his cesspool and leave me in peace.”

“Sound’s like a plan, I hear myself say. Where the hell was my pride?! I’m sooo much better than that – even partially sober! But I wasn’t and it was one o’clock in the morning and short of getting boned by a park-bench hobo, this was pretty well my only option.

Now, there’s no way I wanted this twit to know where I lived, so I have two choices. I could either risk going back to his place or I could let him schtupp me over the hood of his car and take my chances that he didn’t drop a load in me before I’d even gotten wet. That’s what was going through my mind as he led me out of that seedy drinkery and into the under-lit parking lot.

“So, where do you live, sweet cheeks?”

Do I really want to do this? If only I hadn’t had that last Manhattan Iced Tea. “Why don’t we go to your place?” I suggested coquettishly. “Or maybe you have a car?”

Prince Charming stuck his hand down the back of my jeans and poked his finger into my butthole. “There’s nothing to eat at the “Y,” and I’m going to be as hungry as a bear after I’ve finished doin’ to you what you so obviously need doin’”

Is it impolite to dump a guy who you’ve already let stick his finger up your ass? At that moment, I was praying that he at least had a backseat, ‘cause those front bumpers can really make a mess out of your shins while you’re taking one for the team.

Not only didn’t he have a car? He didn’t even have fucking bus fare!!!

“Guess what I’m gonna do to this sweet piece of pussy when I get her back to her place,” he quizzed the driver as I’m digging through my purse for change and wishing it were a gun.

This quickly became a nightmare beyond measure. He drags me to the back of the bus and has his grimy hands up my shirt in seconds.

“OW! A little softer, baby,” I implored him as he force his way under my bra and attempted to squeeze the poor little nipple’s head off my tit. After a minute of painful groping and squeezing, I took the goddamn thing off (my bra, not the shirt) and just let him go to town while the other scandalized passengers looked on. This was really not my night.
”I’ve got a little something special for you, when we get to your place,” he smirks. “Wait ‘til you feel this thing I got when it’s stuffed up between your legs.” And the he jams the biggest tongue this side of Gene Simmons into my mouth.
GOD! It was absolutely disgusting and it was everywhere at once.  Painting my teeth, squeegeeing the roof of my mouth and poking halfway down my throat. While it was flopping around in there like a nicotine-strained halibut, I was desperately trying to figure out where to take this stupid fuck, other than my apartment.

That’s when I thought of Gerald. Poor Jerry was a really, really nice guy I used to date but then I got bored and threw him to the curb. Oh blessed circumstance! He only lived a few blocks from me.

Shit, now he had my shirt tucked up under my chin and he was showing the girls off to the other bus riders. “Look what I’m getting’ tonight! She picked me up in a crummy bar!”.

I yanked it back down and forced myself to smile. “Save something for when we get to my place, lover.” By “my place,” of course, I meant poor, poor unsuspecting Jerry’s place.

Knock. Knock. “My roommate like me to knock,” I lie to idiot-head, who is swigging liberally from a hip flask. I hear tentative footsteps approach.

“Hello?” comes a tired and confused voice from the other side of the door.

“It’s me Debbie, your roommate, let me in.?

“What… Who?… What time is it?”

“I’ll explain everything as soon as you let me in.”
The door swung open and Jack-Off Lad slaps Jerry on the shoulder and says, “I hope you’re not too sleepy, buddy, ‘cause I’m going to have this bitch screaming the house down like her cunts on fire.” And with that eloquent declaration, he staggered off in search of someplace to piss. That, fortunately, left me alone with Jerry to explain a few things that might be of interest to him. Things I didn’t even understand.

“What is going on? Who is that asshole?”

“Some world class jerk I picked up in a bar.”

“Why is he here? It’s two o’clock in the morning. I have to work!”

“Listen, I was afraid to take him back to my place. I don’t want him knowing where I live. I just need to fuck him, cook him a meal and send him on his way.”
”Cook him a meal?”
I was quickly losing this debate (not that I had any right to win it). Now was the time to offer up the one currency that girls have that is worth more than all the gold in Christendom. “I’m in a huuuge bind, here. You let me do this and I will come over every day for a week and suck your cock.”

“Shit, I just pissed all over your furry little rug,” came a voice from the other room.

“Hell, I will come to your office and blow you, if you want. I’m begging you.”

“Get in here bitch! I’m as hard as a crowbar.”

“He’s got his piss-dripping dick in my bed!” Jerry’s face folded up in understandable disgust.

“Two weeks. That’s fourteen wonderful, wet suck-fests where I will swallow every drop and let your cum slide slowly down my throat while I’m busily licking your head clean. Remember how good I am?”

“I wish I didn’t have to remember,” he sulked.

“You won’t, ‘cause I’m going to be right there on the end of your glorious knob, anytime you want.” I gave his nuts a tender squeeze just to reassure him that I was serious.

Jerry reluctantly nodded his head. I soul kissed him, drew a deep, calming breath and headed of to face my fate. When I got into the bedroom, I had to take another calming breath. His woman wand was as massive as his tongue. I nervously removed my clothes as he stroked it and watched me.

“That thing is going to put me in hospital,” I estimated while took off my Le Skinny jeans. And to think I spent an hour shaving for this cretin.

Yank! I was down on the bed and he was down on pudenda in the blink of a drunken, obnoxious eye. At first it was somewhat bearable. He was licking me in all the right places and I had my eyes closed, fantasizing about Ewan McGregor. Then, he slid the tip of his lingual snake into my whoopee hole and it began to slither up inside me like I’d just been penetrated by a big burrowing toad. Ewwwww! What a gross unholy feeling. But, just laying there and being completely creeped out was not an option. I had to start to get turned on and in a hurry. That was the only way I was going to get wet and loose enough to take in that subway sandwich he was wielding.

After he came up for air, I slapped as much Vaseline as I could find in my purse onto my poor puss-puss and prayed for the best. At first, it felt like I was giving birth in reverse. Painful doesn’t even begin to describe trying to get than ginormous head to go where it obviously wasn’t welcome. Is this what he meant by me screaming the house down? After a couple of minutes of groin stretching excruciation, I felt something mercifully give way between my legs. Thank God! So far, I’d managed to check a couple of inches off my to-do list and I hadn’t heard anything ripping. I looked down. What a mistake that was! There were still soooo many more inches to go. Where was I going to put them all? A couple more of the little buggers slid in. By now, I wasn’t sure whether I was getting turned on or dying. My hands gripped the mattress as El Longo began to maneuver it in and out of me. Now that he was actually doing some work, he started sweating like a pig. Big rivulets of perspiration were cascading off him, splashing onto my tits and dribbling down my sides and onto the bed. Unfortunately, this was the least of my problems. Deeper and deeper he went. I didn’t even know hoo-haws went up that far. I’m desperately trying to catch my breath. Trying not to pass out. I swear, Linda Lovelace’s life started to flash before my eyes.

As he was widening out my vaginal canal to the point that it could accommodate light street traffic, I began to think (between teeth-gnashing waves of untold agony) what a shit I was to dump Gerald. Pump. Pump. He was a really good guy. Pump. Pump. If, by some miracle, I lived through the cunt crushing crucible, I vowed to give him the very best blowjobs I was capable of giving. Pump. Grunt. Pump.

Oh my God! Was that grunt what I thought it was? What I was sooo wishing for? “Come on, baby,” I managed to force out of my tortured, traumatized face. “Fill me up. Fill me up with you delicious man goo.”

“You’re a fucking whore, aren’t you?” he barks.

Now, I just fucking hate this kind of boudoir talk. Dirty talk to me all you want but don’t start calling me a fucking whore! I could feel my blood start to boil.

“You fucking slut!”

My blood may have been boiling but my coochie was in flames. “Yeah, babe. I’m you’re fucking slut whore.” I sooo needed this shitbag to pop. “Give your filthy little cum dumpster what she deserves, baby. Fill her slimy vadge with your manly semen. It’s all yours. My slut cunt is all yours, daddy!”

I almost threw up from self-revulsion but it did the trick! Monstro the Merciless heaves one into me that almost pierced a lung and screamed something unintelligible in my ear. And then it happened. It was like I’d squatted down on Old Faithful. Jesus, his nuts could have held a four-day rain. There was cum everywhere. It gushed out of me and all over Jerry’s sheets. It ran down the inside of my legs and… well, let’s just say, it was the perfect ending to a Fairy-tale Night.

And getting that thing back out was no picnic. As he removed his belongings from my premises, it was like I’d just been fucked with a rasp. Unbelievably sore doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Of course, Vlad the Impaler didn’t even ask me if I’d cum or not. I hadn’t. But I had survived this horrific ordeal and what with the advances in medical science, there was a very good chance that my pussy might one day heal. Dickweek just rolled off of me and mentioned how hungry he was.

I didn’t even know if I could walk, as I gingerly sat up in bed. “I wonder if Gerald would cook him some… “ NO! I had to do this myself. This was totally-and-in-all-other-ways my fault and I was going to cook this imbecilic fucktooth some food and get him out of there, even if I had to get Jerry to fireman’s carry me to the stove.

Eggs, bacon, coffee, toast and lots and lots and lots of wincing later, his triumphant post-coitus feast was prepared. Just sitting, watching him inhale what he didn’t spill onto his shirt and the floor was utterly nauseating. Smiling admiringly at him, almost permanently broke my spirit but then he got up, stuffed that goddamn tongue into my mouth one last time and skedaddled.


Jerry looked at me, extremely unamused.

“Listen,” I suggested between cross-eyed yelps, “you are not going to want to go in there until I do some major cleaning and disinfecting.” I batted my eyes with all the come-hitherness I was still capable of. “Get me back to may place and I’ll let you sleep in my bed. Maybe you could lightly dab some medicated cream on my labia for me.”

Sure he still wasn’t happy, but I think the labia part may have sealed the reluctant deal.

True to my word, I sucked him off before he left for work the next morning and that seemed to leaven him mood a little more. Let’s face it, a good sloppy blowjob always leaven’s a man’s mood, no matter how dark the clouds are that hover over him. It’s just the way they’re built.

That human piss-pot actually showed up at Jimmy’s apartment a couple of days after “the event,” looking for seconds but Jimmy told Bozo the Cock Clown that I’d died from internal injuries and the police wanted to speak to him. He was gone before my sweetie could find a pen to write down his phone number.

That’s right! After a lot of apologizing and oodles and oodles of noisy hummers, Jimmy is “my sweetie” once more. And, I’m really treating him right, this time. He gets anal, sex in clothing-store change rooms, the closet at his parent’s house, anywhere he wants. I’m even going to bring over a workmate next week and give him a threesome because that saint of a man deserves it.

In fact, he’s such a caring wonderful guy, I just know, no matter whose the baby is; he’s going to be the greatest dad in the world.

Don’t you just love happy endings?
The End

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