S.H.I.T: After the Club

by Pixy

Copyright© 2017 by Pixy

Flash Sex Story: A flash story with no plot to speak of and even less characterisation,about what happened to a girl after a night at a club.

Caution: This Flash Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Drunk/Drugged   NonConsensual   Rape   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Gang Bang   Oral Sex   .

The bass of the clubs music was audible outside, as the man and woman staggered from the club. He had his arm round her possessively; she gyrated to the bass, her mind adding its own tune to the deep thump. He laughed, she giggled.

He hailed a cab.

They slipped inside, all arms and legs. He gave his address to the driver.

He kissed her. She kissed back. Both smelling of the alcohol they had consumed but neither noticing. He was hard. She was still dancing to the beat.

He kissed her as the lights flashed by the windows, hands stroking, teasing, keeping her fire alight, but not too bright. Nothing was certain. Not yet.

He placed a hand on her leg, and then slightly higher, apart from another giggle she made no response. He kept up the gentle kissing.

Unheeding of the driver, he touched cotton. Her legs parted further. She was damp. He applied gentle pressure. She moaned. He slipped a finger under. She was smooth, but for a small trimmed patch above. His finger slipped inside, she groaned into his mouth. Now it was certain.

He paid the driver and led her into his flat. Two beers were opened; he led her into his bedroom. They kissed. They drank. They touched. They drank some more.

His hand was under her dress, in her panties. Now he touched the areas he had been carefully avoiding, feeding the fire of her desire. She wanted release. It was easy to remove her dress. Her bra. Her panties. She helped, desperate to fulfil the need for pleasure within.

He removed his own clothes. Kissed her. Kissed her neck. Kissed her breasts. Bit them, sucked on them.

She made no move to hinder his entrance, urged him on. Her mind still moving to the bass of the club, the beat of their bodies, the thundering of the blood in her veins.

He thrust hard, driving into her. The climax of the hunt. Sweat dripped off him onto her, she didn’t notice.

She dipped in and out of consciousness, the beat, the booze, the sex. All intermingled.

She was young. She was pretty. She was meat. The end was near. He grunted and came inside her. He leaned down and again bit the flesh of her breast. Harder this time, deliberately bruising the pale skin. The last few drops trickled out of him and he lay beside her. He held her, they kissed again. Her breathing settled, deepened. He gave her a few minutes and slipped from her embrace. She didn’t stir.

He lifted his unfinished beer and took a swig. It was warm and flat. He put it back down and left the room. His two roommates were lounging in the living room; one popped the cap on a fresh beer and handed it to him. It was cold. He raised it in thanks, and then waved the beer in the direction of his room.

His two roommates quickly stood and entered his room.

Things were so fuzzy. She was drunk, she was tired, she couldn’t focus, on anything. There was someone above her. In her. Her vision swam, she couldn’t make out the face above her. She tried to focus. It was hard. Too hard. She stopped. Went with the flow.

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