Note: A bit different from my usual style ;)
"Jen? Who the fuck is Jen?!"
"I... who?"
Lynn stood up, her hands balled into fists so she wouldn't be tempted to punch her boyfriend--soon to be ex-boyfriend, she thought--right in his stupid dick. He was just standing there, his mouth hanging open slightly, his cock still rigid and slick with her saliva.
"Jen. You were just moaning her name, you fuckhead."
"Lynnie, I... let me explain," he said, reaching for her.
She jerked back out of his way, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and glaring at him. "Who is she?"
It was obvious to Lynn that the wheels in Jeff's head were spinning, spinning, spinning as he tried to come up with a cover story.
"I don't know a Jen," he said, weakly.
"See, now I know you're lying to me. How long have you been fucking her, Jeff? And just give me a straight fucking answer for once, would you?"
In the end, Lynn was too pissed to even cry. A three-year relationship down the drain and she hadn't even gotten laid. She hadn't seen Jeff for two weeks, and she'd been really looking forward to getting off tonight. Now she was walking home, alone, with a slick, wet pussy and no panties. Jeff had gotten them off her early in the evening and tossed them somewhere, and she'd been so mad she hadn't wanted to stick around to search for them.
Every step she took made her skirt flutter around her, a whisper of air slipping between her thighs. It wasn't doing much to cool her libido, and she flipped through her mental rolodex to think of who she might be able to get ahold of for a revenge fuck. Jeff's best friend Roger probably would help her out, but he was out of town for business.
Maybe she would just hop on Tinder or something. She needed a good, hard fuck.
Her heels made angry little clicks on the pavement as she strode into the park down the street from her apartment building. Although it was quite late there were a few people out--mostly solo folks taking their dog out before bed, but there were a couple folks stretched out on benches, a small group of teenagers, and a couple strolling with her fingers interlaced.
Lynn didn't want to be near other people, really. Not unless they were fuckable. She turned off down a smaller path that would take her into the center of the park. Ahh, solitude, she thought. She felt herself start to relax a bit, her stride slowing slightly. Probably it was better that she and Jeff had broken up now, really. He could be kind of a jerk, and while any decent dick was better than no dick at all, well, she had never been quite satisfied in that department either.
As she rounded a bend, she saw three men standing close together, their voices low as they talked. One of them lifted his head as she approached, as if assessing whether she would pose a threat to whatever they were discussing. He was... hot, Lynn saw with a jolt. Strong jaw, artfully tousled hair, dark eyes. If she'd been a different type of person, she'd be taking that one home for a revenge fuck.
He looked her over briefly, and when their eyes met the corner of his mouth lifted, as if he could tell what she was thinking. He let his gaze drift down over her body again, slower this time. Feeling bold, she gave him a scorching eyefuck as she walked by. She kept her pace steady, her hips rolling and sending her skirt flying.
Behind her, she heard a deep voice murmur something in a language she wasn't sure was even English. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw the man clap one of his companions on the shoulder as he turned to leave the little group. Energy sparked in her stomach--maybe he was going to ask her to go get a coffee. Who knew? If things went smoothly, she might have that revenge fuck after all.
She wouldn't slow down, though. She didn't need him, and she wasn't going to make it easy. If he was interested, he could damn well catch up with her.
He caught up with her.
One hand encircled her wrist and jerked her backward. The other clapped over her mouth, stifling her little gasp of surprise.
"Scream, and I'll snap your neck." He spoke with a heavy European accent, and a thrill of delight at the sound of it rolled down her spine even as her body registered the danger. "You understand?"
She nodded frantically, and he slid his hand from her mouth to close over her throat, pinning her back against the hard plane of his chest.
"What are you doing?" she squeaked.
"Giving you what you want," he said. "I saw the way you were looking at me."
"No, I... I don't, I was just--"
But he wasn't listening. He was running his free hand roughly down her body, his thumb flicking lazily over her nipple, which betrayed her by hardening. Before she could even think of what to say, his fingers had reached the hem of her skirt and disappeared beneath it.
"No, don't," she whispered, as his fingers threaded through her bush and finally met her slick slit. The man chuckled darkly behind her.
"You American women are all such fucking sluts," he said. Lynn struggled, but his hand tightened on her throat as he unerringly found her clit and stroked it roughly. As if her body had been waiting for a signal, it tightened, bringing her straight to the precipice. No, she thought, you can't. You can't come on this stranger's fingers when he's barely touched you.