I Need It Bad
I needed to be fucked. Badly. It had been a long day, the final day of a long, difficult work trip, and I needed release. And not the kind you can give yourself. I know. I tried. Several times. No. I needed to be FUCKED. I needed to be taken, pounded, made to scream and beg. Damn I was horny. And I was stuck in town until an afternoon flight home the next day.
My name is Kirsten. I am 25 years old; a true redhead. Not flaming red, more reddish, but clearly more red than anything. I work out consistently, and I weigh in around 128 - shooting for 125 which would be a good weight for my 5'3" height. I'm a respectable 32C up top with a firm ass. Nice build overall if I can brag a bit. Cute face; "critically cute" I've been told.
I have been exploring my sexuality since breaking up with a long term boyfriend, and usually I have had no trouble, well, finding some trouble. This trip had been different. I was very busy, getting back to my room exhausted most nights. In addition, the hotel bar was pathetic. I had thought about seducing a bartender, but every night the bartender was a woman. Not that I'm against women, but, as I noted above, I needed to be fucked.
Throwing the wet towel on the counter after stepping out of the shower, I ran my hands over my body as I assessed myself in the mirror.
Having lost a couple pounds, I could tell that working out was toning my body in all the right places. Cupping my tits, I smiled as I looked at my tight nude body.
"I'd fuck me." I thought to myself.
I quickly dressed in some nice fitting jeans, form fitting white tee shirt with nothing underneath, and a black cropped jacket. I slipped on a pair of black boots and checked out my look. Hot. I was grinning as I headed out the door determined to get laid.
The hotel was located on a river, with the historic downtown just a couple blocks up from the water. I had already checked out the places along the main drag the first couple nights I was in town, and they looked like typical tourist places. Tonight I was after something more local and gritty.
I was a nice evening, and a fair number of people were out and about. I followed the riverwalk, passing by some upscale restaurants, shops, and a wine bar. On the river side, boats were tied up in the few provided docking spaces scattered along the boardwalk. As I came to the end of the walkway, I noticed a couple guys disappear down a flight of stairs underneath a more populated bar/restaurant overhead just across the street .
I was curious, so I crossed the street and headed in the direction of the stairs. Just above the descending stairs was a wooden sign nailed to wall with the name of the bar along with an arrow pointing down. At the foot of the steps was an old wooden door. I skipped down the stairs and walked though the door.
The place was small and clearly local. The bartender, along with the only person sitting at the bar turned to look at me when I came in, then turned back to their conversation. The wooden bar ran down the entire left side of the narrow space, with a juke box just to my right. A few tables were arranged along the right side wall. Just past the end of the bar, at the end of the room, was a table with a bench facing out with a couple chairs facing the wall. I could hear the clack of pool balls, and I could see light spilling from another room on the left past the bar.
The guys I had seen enter the bar were not in the front room, so I assumed they were the ones shooting pool. I stood at the bar and ordered a beer. I'm not a huge beer fan, but it was that kind of night.
At the end of the bar, the other patron looked up, muttered a brief hello, then turned back to his drink. He was a little older, and a little too beat down and worn out looking for what I needed.
I paid for my beer and drifted over to the juke box, I fed the machine a couple dollars and scrolled through the selections. Picking out The Stones first, I followed that with some Ramones, The Who, Lou Reed, more Stones, and some then Stevie Ray Vaughn. I was looking for another selection when one of the guys I had seen enter the bar earlier appeared at my side.
"Nice". He said smiling at me.
I smiled back as I checked him out. A brief inspection was enough to know he at least met the minimal standards for my evening. I decided immediately to plunge in feet first. "You mean the songs or something else?"
His gaze drifted over my body, focusing on my chest before looking up into my eyes. "Definitely something else."
I blushed and diverted my eyes. Still, this is what I needed. Aggressiveness, a cocky attitude. Someone who probably wanted to fuck as badly I as needed to be fucked.
"Well then." I held out my hand, "I'm Kirsten."
"And I'm Rob." Rob shook my hand, not letting go as he asked, "Waiting for someone?"
Rob was about 6'3" - I'm guessing - dark hair, blue eyes, and a smile that was just a little off. He was wearing jeans, work boots, and a tight tee shirt tucked into his pants. Tattoos were visible on his well toned arms.
"Solo tonight. Just hoping to have a little fun." I said suggestively, my heart racing, my pussy tingling.
"Then come on." He turned and walked away, assuming I'd follow behind him. I have to admit I was a little peeved that he assumed I was simply going to do what I was told, but, yes I did follow. I was too horny not to.
We walked through the main bar and into another small room. It was just large enough for a pool table along with a few barstools shoved up against the back wall. On the left side of the space, doors to the bathrooms stood slightly ajar. Another other guy was lining up a shot.
"Andy!" Rob called out causing his buddy to miss his shot badly. "This is Kirsten. Kirsten, this is Andy."
Andy's head came up with a pissed off look on his face until he focused on me. A wicked grin crossed his face, "Kirsten. Well hey."
I nodded as I took another swig of my beer. To be honest, Andy kind of gave me the creeps. His hair was dark like Rob's, but messier, maybe a little greasy. His face was covered with stubble, not just a five o'clock shadow, but more like he had not bothered to shave in a couple days. Wearing a button down denim shirt not quite tucked into worn out jeans, he was a bit unkept in his appearance. Somewhat menacing looking to be honest. A cigarette dangled from his lips. He just seemed a little oily.
His eyes were almost emotionally blank, concealing more than they revealed, and if I had ever felt that someone was undressing me with their eyes, it was this guy.
Andy put down his pool cue, stabbed out his cigarette, and grabbed a couple empty bottles, "Anybody need another?"
Rob nodded. "And another one for Kirsten."
My beer was still half full, but I socked back another gulp, and before Andy got back, I was ready for another.
I won't go into the more boring details of the next hour or so. We drank, we talked, we shot pool. Rob told me that he owned one of the cabin cruisers docked along the boardwalk, and that the guys were in town to do some fishing.
As more beer disappeared, I began to flirt shamelessly. With my short jacket draped over a stool, my stiff nipples were easily visible as they pressed against the thin fabric of my shirt. The guys got bolder, touching me suggestively as they "helped" me line up my shots. Rob was steadily assertive in his approach while Andy was a bit more aggressive. The two styles clashed, but touched on my very different yearnings and desires. My need to get fucked had grown to a fever pitch with each suggestive comment, with each non-discrete touch, with each finished drink. While I had initially been considering seducing just Rob, the idea of fucking both of them slowly took hold of my mind despite Andy's inherent creepiness. Andy added something just a little dangerous that was really making my pussy wet.
