I Wasn't Horny Until He Touched Me
Copyright© 2025 by TM Yomide
Chapter 1. Wet His Touch
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1. Wet His Touch - He made me feel like a slut, then he said; "You didn't tell the cops anything, did you?" I nod negatively, still looking everywhere but his face. "Is this why you were looking at me like that earlier? You were aroused?" He asked, and I nodded again. "Want me to fuck your brains out?" He said it almost mischievously
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Crime Sharing MaleDom Rough Group Sex Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Sex Toys Squirting Water Sports Size
I’ve never had business with the Bloodhound Redheads. Not until I watched Damien punch a man to death...
But why do I feel so tight inside?
The night started like any other night, with dozens of customers coming in for dinner at Cheesy Matt. And I’ve been bone busy with six tables that never seemed to go vacant.
I noticed Damien walking in with some other red-haired guys, and that was the last I saw of him until closing hour.
Charlie was supposed to take the trash out. But like always, I had to help her do it.
The night has grown quiet, and the hassle of the day has died off. If not, I wouldn’t have heard it.
A low groan that quickly followed a soft thud.
Honestly, I thought it was that goddamn cat eating out of the dumpster in the alleyway again.
So I rounded the corner to investigate.
It wasn’t the cat that made the noise, it was Damien.
Two men lay motionless around him even as he sat atop the third, raised his fist, and delivered a skull-cracking blow. And then another, then another. Again and again, until his fist was sleek with blood, and the man couldn’t make any more grunts of pain.
I just watched a man get punched to death...
My heart thumped with a violent intensity as I watched in wide-eyed horror. Damien just killed a fucking man with his bare hands.
I wanted to sneak back around so he wouldn’t notice me. But of course, I had to step on a soda can, and now...
Now Damien is standing two feet in front of me.
His ruby red hair was disheveled, his white shirt ruffled and torn with stains of blood all over him. His chest contracted and expanded as he breathed.
He has a black eye, bloody lips, and a very bloody fist. And all I can do is stand there.
He is easily two heads above my 5ft 4” height, with his broadness overshadowing my petite hourglass frame. And he has that darkness about him like I’ve never seen before, but he isn’t doing anything.
I mean, he just killed three men his own size; what’s stopping him from snapping me in half like a chopstick?
And what is stopping me from running back into the restaurant for help?
It’s silly, you know.
How you see someone every day throughout your life, and never have a second thought about said person, until you see them in a very specific situation.
I’ve known Damien since middle school.
And I can swear the only things I’ve ever noticed about him are his ruby red hair announcing him as a Bloodhound Gang member. And then the charming smile that plays on his face every time he says hi.
But now ... now I’m frozen in place under his sexiness.
Can I call it sexiness, though?
I mean, he just killed a fucking man, and now standing aimlessly before me.
His bloody fists clenched like iron vices, his muscles so tensed they seemed to be twice their original size.
It’s terrifying, and I find myself wondering why he hasn’t killed me yet.
I have no idea how long we both stood there staring at each other. Okay fine, I’ll say it properly.
I have no idea how long I stood there, hypnotized by his stare. And I didn’t even notice when he ran a bloody finger across my cheek.
All I know is that he said something - I have no idea what - and then he left.
Leaving me reeling from feelings I can’t explain. Missing the absence of his sleek finger on my cheek and the envelope of his dark aura...
Am I attracted to him? If so, why now?
Why did I have to see him kill someone before I noticed how manly he was ... how sexy he was?
My hand subconsciously goes to the cheek he stroked, and my other hand finds its way to my chest.
Fuck, it’s so tight inside. What the hell is wrong with me?
Damien? Damien is a gangbanger, and a criminal. So why do I want him to run his bloody fingers on my cheek again?
Why the fuck do I feel tingles crawling down my bones?
Three hours later, the police dropped me off at my apartment after a million questions about what I saw, which, for some reason, I kept saying nothing.
I climbed to my apartment on the third floor and slipped inside.
Without bothering with switching any lights on, I walked straight to the bathroom.
Soap and shampoo, hot water, and a long, relaxing bath later, I’m no longer thinking about Damien’s chiseled frame or his bloody fists or how he could handle me like a real man.
I can’t even recall the feel of his touch...
Ah, goddamnit ... I’m thinking about him.
I walk out of the bath nude as day with only one thing on my radar, vodka. Cause, as it turns out, Charlie was right; only vodka can erase my experience in the alleyway.
But I wasn’t feeling like partying tonight, and I didn’t feel like getting a random fish in me like Charlie loved to say. If not, Charlie and I would probably be grinding on the dancefloor at Frank’s right now.
I just need to get drunk.
I found the half-empty bottle and went back to the bathroom for ... Wait a minute.
I turn around towards my sitting area. And there is a dark silhouette on my favorite couch.
My mind yelled Run, and my brain screamed Danger, but I was too curious. I want to know who or what was on my couch.
The switch was just a couple of feet to my left, I pushed the button for the living room and...
Damien is staring at me with those dark, soulless eyes.
My heart jumped into my mouth, and my eyes widened in fear. I just stood there, frozen in place with vodka in hand and terror in my bones.
He is dressed in a jacket and jeans - all black - with a gray beanie hat and my dicing knife playing in his fingers.
He’s going to kill me with my fucking knife.
My God, he is so hot ... I-I mean, he is so murderous.
“The police found those bodies pretty fast, huh?”
Damn, has he always sounded so husky?
He is so calm and collected, he isn’t even staring at my boobs or my hardening nipples. It’s terrifying how my nudity isn’t affecting him.
I’m kinda embarrassed ... like, wet.
Fuck, when did I get wet?
“Got nothing to say?” Damien’s voice made me blink.
“I...” I opened my mouth, but I have no idea what the question was.
“Tell me something,” he paused, “why did you look at me like that?”
‘Like what?’ I thought to myself. Actually, I wanted to say it out loud, but my voice won’t work.
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