True Sex Stories: I Go Clubbing

From the club to his apartment...to an evening full of orgasms.

Several showers, a long run, and a workout later, the words from the day before remained visible on my skin. Instead of my normal clubbing attire, I chose a tight pair of jeans and a chest hugging tank top. The collar rose nearly to my neck in the back, but the tops of my tits spilled out the front. The outfit left little enough to the imagination, but it crucially managed to hide the graffiti that marked me as bitch and slut and cunt. It was a girls' night out with the friends I have made at the university. The stated goal of three of the five of us was to pull.

The club we went to was jammed on a Saturday night. The lights pulsed with the heavy, throbbing beat. Raising my arms in the air, I insinuated myself into the teeming mass. I started the evening with my friends. We danced and had drinks together, and then I returned to the floor alone. I danced dirty, doing a grind with my hips and ass, rubbing up for half an hour against a dozen men until I found one who fit. We moved together, this guy and I.

Three, four, five songs later, my back was to the man. His arms wrapped my body. They caged me before him. The top of my head elevated to his chin.

The hands followed my curves, the touch hovering over the fabric of my clothes, never making contact, holding me though, holding me tight, holding me close. The hands passed over the thighs and the pelvis. The hands lifted above the abdomen. The hands floated over the chest where it swelled and dipped. The hands rose with my shoulders and fell with my arms. The hairs on my forearms bowed and stood as his touch went past. The only point of contact between us was my ass, when I bumped him in time to the pounding bass.

I turned in his arms, and he touched me. Pushing firmly between the shoulder blades and at the small of my back, he brought my body against him. My fingers looped into his belt to pull him nearer. I stuck my hands in his back pockets and spun my hips, pressing my pelvis at his. We smiled at each other. I let go, then he let go, and we danced. Perspiration ringed the border of the tank top and made the gray go dark.

In the half beat between one song and the next, his head dipped fractionally down. I stood on my toes and took advantage. He covered my mouth in response. My lips parted for his tongue, and I made room for him in my mouth. I dragged my teeth over his tongue as he pulled away from the kiss. He sucked on my lips and bit them. His leg threaded into the space between mine. I lowered my weight onto his thigh.

We danced some more, going through the motions of simulated sex in the throng of people. My breasts brushed against his chest through our shirts. I rubbed my pelvis at him, and his erection pressed back at me through the denim. He groped my tits. His hands smoothed over my ass. He tugged at the back of the thong, which peeked above the low-rise jeans, and twisted his fingers into the string. The pull at my cunt made me moan.

He moved like a picture book in the strobing light.

Would he do?

He looked at me like a predator, the hunting cat's gleam in his eyes. My touch ascertained the exact dimensions of his cock.

Yes, he would.

"You wanna go?" I shouted at him. I didn't know his name then, but I didn't need to know.

Outside, we introduced ourselves and determined that his place was closer than mine. We took a cab, making out indecently in the backseat during the twenty minute drive. I liked his accent. I liked how he touched me on the stairs, the kisses we shared up against the wall. He had roommates, who were drinking and eating in the common area of the flat. We said hi and disappeared into his bedroom.

Once the clothes were off, he asked about the graffiti on my chest. I sat on the bed and covered myself with my arms self-consciously. I told him that another lover liked it. He shook his head at me. I reached for his cock to change the subject. My fingers ran along the shaft and raised it to a full erection. He thrust it at my face. "Chuparme la polla," he said. His hands threaded through my hair, and he brought my head down over him. I gagged as he unsuccessfully attempted to force his way into my throat without any preparation at all. The saliva spilled down the sides and rained onto the sheets. "Slow down," I suggested, clutching his thighs. I twisted my face and pouted my lips as he slid three-quarters of his length into me. My fingers ran over my slit. They dripped with the wetness between my legs.

"Condom?" I asked, during a short respite from sucking.

He found one.

The cock stretched me open. I brought my knees back and splayed my thighs to take him in. Pushing my weight off his chest with my arms, I rode him. Gradually, the equilibrium between us shifted. It flowed from me to him. I played with my clit as he fucked me from beneath. His strong hands clutched my tits. He came before I could. I masturbated myself to an orgasm after his balls had emptied.

The second time he fucked me, it was from behind. He noticed the word scrawled on my back and called me la perra. He held my wrists behind my back and hauled me over the cock. I angled my ass up at him as he entered and wiggled my hips for more. I felt so full inside. His cock made me complete. I whimpered when he withdrew and gasped when he drove the length back in. His balls slapped my buttocks as he pounded me. My hands twisted free from his grip, and I clutched the sheets and barked like the bitch dog that I am. This was a hair pulling, shoulder biting, nipple twisting, howling at the moon sort of a fuck. I came almost as we started and kept on coming until he completed.

I slept an hour or so, and woke to him maneuvering himself on top of me. He kissed me roughly as my legs opened automatically for him. We paused long enough to pull one more condom over his erection. And then he was in me. He is a tall man and powerfully built. I felt it when his cock bottomed out and his chest landed on me. My breasts flattened at the impact. I kissed his throat and sunk my teeth into his shoulders. Fingernails raked his back. I squeezed his ass with both hands and squeezed his cock with my cunt. I swore at him and pleaded for him to fuck me harder. He pulled my legs over his shoulders and took me faster and deeper. I was a rag doll for him. The alarm clock blinked 4:22 when we started. It read 4:39 when he sprawled next to me, exhausted from his exertion. It was seventeen exquisite minutes of sex that left me panting and sweaty and sated.

I slipped out of bed about three hours later without waking him. A used condom showed under the blanket. As I dressed, I noticed the bite marks and scratches that covered my body in the mirror. Thankfully, the clothes concealed most of it. The bus and tube rides of shame weren't bad at all. The bath in the morning in my own apartment was absolute bliss.

Republished with permission from Leah Lays London. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.