Alley Slut

All characters 18+

***

I was already really tipsy, borderline drunk, when this guy came up to me at the bar and asked if he could buy me a drink. I said yes, absentmindedly and with a bit too much excitement, before I looked at him. I was flattered to think that on my first night out a college boy thought I was cute and wanted to buy me a drink. I certainly wasn't intending to let it go anywhere, but the attention was nice. Of course, if I'd had a little more experience in such situations, I would have assessed the creep factor of the guy offering first. That was my first mistake, and in many ways the biggest of my life.

So, it was only after I accepted that I noticed that the guy was like fifteen years older than me - way too old to be hanging out in a college bar, I thought. I'd stupidly and naively assumed that there was some kind of rule that no one over twenty-five would be allowed in, or would want to. Like I said, I was hopelessly naïve. But in fairness, it was my first time being at a bar, and everything about the experience was new. My freshman year roommate, Jess, who I'd just met the night before, had heard that the bar we were at, called the Dublin, just off campus, never checked girls for ids as long as you were a seven or higher. I figured it was worth a shot, since I was definitely at least that, if I do say so myself: blond, short and petite, but with a nice bubble butt and long legs toned from years of cheerleading and volleyball, as well as a great set of nice, perky tits, of course. And, lo and below, even though we were just eighteen, got in without needing ids.

So, anyway, before I could figure out what to say to this strange guy, I had a fresh drink in my hand and the bartender was sending a round of shots our way.

"Um, thanks, I'm Kelly," I said, nervously, after taking one of them.

"No problem, babe," the guy said, "Malcolm."

Malcolm was pretty tall, maybe six one, lanky and lean, looking like when he was younger he might have been a skater type but who didn't hit the gym a lot, with curly black hair, bright blue eyes and tattoos up and down his arms. Some girls might have found him attractive, if they were into that whole rakish and transgressive look, and didn't mind older guys. But not me. I liked guys my age who were wholesome and clean cut, like my boyfriend, Brad.

"So, Kelly," he asked, casually putting his hand on my lower back as he took his shot, "are you here alone?"

His hand was over my blouse, but the material was thin and rather sheer, so it didn't provide much of a barrier. I immediately regretted my choice of clothing: besides the almost see-through top, I was wearing a pair of tight jeans that sat super low on my hips and had big holes exposing my knees and thighs. I was trying to look hot and fun, without coming across as easy, but my heart started racing as I began to realize that maybe I was sending the wrong message. After all, I may not of had any experience being picked up at a bar, but I was wise enough to know what Malcolm's intentions were.

"I, um, no, ah, I'm with a friend," I said, trying to squirm away so that the strange older man's hand would drop away. It didn't work, and actually had the opposite effect - not only did he just hold his hand firmer in place, but first used my squirming as an excuse to slip it under my blouse. Now he was touching the bare skin just above my waistband, giving me goosebumps.

"I, uh, actually should like go find her," I continued, hoping he would get the hint.

So, with that, I tried to leave, but Malcolm held me firmly against the bar counter in place with his hand. I tried again, but to no avail. I started to panic, having no where to go, and looked up at him with a terrified, pleading glance, but he didn't notice my distress, taking the opportunity to brush my hair aside and whisper in my ear, "why don't we ditch your friend and go back to my place, babe. I promise I'm more fun than they are."

His breath smelled like cigarettes. But what I was really focused on - or trying not to focus on, I couldn't tell which - was his hand slowly making its way down my jeans, past the waistline, soon groping my bare bum. I was too stunned to say anything, and had a million thoughts running through my head, but it all came out as a nonsensical stammer.

"Guess I'll take that as a yes," Malcolm said, with an evil grin, "I have a way of making girls speechless."

Then, to my horror, he leaned forward and cut off my stammering by planting a kiss on my lips! I was mortified, and tried to push him away, but that only seemed to encourage him more, causing him to kiss and grope me even more aggressively. I wanted to scream or cry as he tried to shove his tongue down my throat at the same time as his fingers were circling in on my rectum when, at last, I was saved.

"Oh my god Kelly!" I heard Jess scream from behind us, and then felt her pull me away. This time there was no resistance, Malcolm's hand slipping quickly out of my jeans as my roommate dragged me away from him.

"Jesus! How drunk did you get to let some random guy make out with you and feel you up?" She asked, clearly shocked but in a somewhat playful, sisterly tone. "Are you crazy? I was only gone for like ten minutes! How are you going to survive your first semester, you whore!"

I couldn't focus on her words, however, or figure out how to respond. Everything was spinning so fast that I just collapsed in her arms and started sobbing.

"Oh, it's okay sweetie," she cooed, her tone shifting from chiding to patronizing, "it happens to everyone. No big deal. Best to get it out of your system before school starts anyway, I guess. I won't tell anybody, I promise."

"It's - it's not that," I cried.

"What is, then?" She asked, before continuing, "oh right, your boyfriend. Don't worry, babe. What happens at the Dublin stays at the Dublin. My lips are sealed - but you're lucky I was here to keep you from going any further!"

"No!" I cried, "It's not like that - Jess, he, that man, he forced me against my will! I feel so violated - it was so awful!"

"Oh, no I wouldn't go that route, hun," Jess said, matter of factly. "He won't believe you, and even if he says he does he'll always be suspicious. Best just not to say anything - there's no need to, no one knows you here yet anyway. Just don't make a habit of it, girlfriend, or it'll get back to him for sure!"

At first I didn't understand what Jess meant, but then I realized that she thought I was lying, or proposing to lie to Brad, about what just happened. She actually thought that my assault was voluntary and I was trying to spin it!

"No, Jess!" I shouted indignantly, "I'm being serious. That guy, Malcolm, he just came up to me and started grabbing and kissing me like I was some piece of meat! It was horrid! I swear!"

"Oh," Jess said, looking confused. "But, I mean, you like let him, right? I mean, like, it's not like he came up and jumped you in a dark hallway or back room or something. Like, you were just letting him go at it right there at the bar, right? I mean, he even gave you his name. Like, I don't know, you don't want be one of those girls cries wolf and ruins a guy's life because she's embarrassed she got too sloppy, do you?"

I was shocked and crushed by my roommate's response. Suddenly all of my emotions were overcome by and channeled into rage. Fueled by that rage and the alcohol, I uncharacteristically lost control and snapped.

"Fuck you, Jess!" I screamed, pushing her arms off of me, "I wasn't letting anyone go at anything and I'm not a liar or a whore! I was just actually assaulted! Some friend you are!"

Then I stormed off, not sure where I was going as everything started to blur, just wanting to get away from the bar and everyone in it as fast as possible. As I turned around, I saw Jess roll her eyes at a girl passing by and mouth 'drama queen' while making a hand gesture implying that I was wasted. That pissed me off even more. What a bitch! I was a mixture of furious, weepy and distraught as I exited the bar and slumped up against the outside brick wall, not sure what to do with myself. I felt like a mess.

I hardly had anytime to catch my breath, much less sort through my thoughts, before I heard someone say, "whoa, you look like shit. What happened?"

I looked up at the speaker with a glare, filled with anger which quickly morphed in fear and anxiety when I realized who it was: Malcolm. I wanted to scream at him to go fuck himself; that he was a vile, disgusting, filthy human being; that I was going straight to the police station and hoped that they locked him up forever and that he rotted in a jail cell. But nothing came out, my jaw just hanging agape, paralyzed due to the combination of the flood of emotions I'd experienced in the last fifteen minutes and the unbelievable audacity that this horrid man had in his relentless pursuit.

"Well, whatever it is, I'll help you forget all about it babe, when we're back at my apartment like we talked about," he said, before grabbing me by my arms and pulling me up, then proceeding to carry me away before I even knew what was happening.

That was when I went berserk, screaming and yelling obscenities and stringing together sentences that made no sense. I slapped him and pounded on his chest as hard as I could, but he just squeezed me tighter and put his hand over my mouth, laughing as he said, "oh, so you like it rough, huh? What, you can't wait till we get back to my place to get started, and want to get down and dirty right here? Alright, babe, I'm game if you are."

Then he carried me around to the back of the bar, to an alley with a couple of dumpsters, and set me down on the asphalt, against the back wall of the bar. While I was still flailing around like a madwoman upon being dropped like a pile of trash, I felt him grab the bottoms of my jeans and yank as hard as he could, my ass, now protected by just the thin layer of fabric afforded by my panties, landing on the cold gravel. I was suddenly jerked back to reality, and regained a semblance of control over myself, immediately moving my hands to cover up my underwear, but it was too late - he'd already grabbed either side and ripped the garment apart like it was nothing.

"Ah! Nooooo!" I hollered as my pussy was exposed to the cold night air, and to my assailant.

"Please, please, please," I whimpered, begging, "don't do this Malcolm, please, please don't! I have a boyfriend. Please, please. Don't."

"Shhh," Malcolm whispered, leaning up against the wall of the bar so that he was next to me, putting one hand over my mouth again and the other on my mound, "I'm not gonna do anything you don't want, okay? So don't you worry about a thing. Just forget about your boyfriend and enjoy yourself."

I felt his fingers start to play with the folds of my pussy lips, surprisingly gently, as he spoke, and then felt him slip a finger inside, causing all of my muscles to tense rigidly. I refused to admit to myself that the tenderness of his touch and finesse were in fact quite pleasurable. Even so, he still had his other hand over my mouth, and started to try to push his fingers into it, but I clenched my teeth as tightly as I could, denying him access.

"Don't fight it," he was whispering in my ear, "we both know you'll give in eventually."

I would have told him off, or to go fuck himself, but I was afraid that as soon as I opened my mouth he'd push his fingers in. So instead I just tried to tense every muscle in my body and not respond to him at all, despite the fact that his skillful fingering of my pussy was producing sensations that my body desperately wanted to react to.

"Oh fuck," he continued whispering, "yeah keep squeezing like that, babe. You're already so tight, it's going to be like a vise around my cock if you do that while I'm railing you. Your boyfriend must have a real tiny dick. Shit, I can tell that you need this bad, huh?"

I couldn't hold out much longer, so I squirmed, as if trying to get away, but also attempting to convey my protest in whatever way I could. At least, that was what I told myself. Alas, my body was betraying me - whatever this awful man was doing to me down below, it felt amazing, and the squirming only enhanced the sensation. I was both disgusted and infuriated with myself for this fact.

"Oh, yeah," Malcolm continued, in his mock-cooing tone, "you're getting nice and wet for me aren't you, babe? Your body knows how much you need this, even if your mind won't admit it. It's okay, you can tell yourself you didn't have a choice, but we both know the truth don't we?"

I glared at him as nastily as I could, but just then he slipped another finger inside me, and I felt my eyes go wide, to great comic effect, I imagine, and let out a sharp gasp.

Then Malcolm leaned forward, smiling, and said, "god, you're just the most adorable little thing, aren't you?" And once more, he moved in to kiss me. I tried to push him away at first, but it was just too much. As his fingers explored my pussy ever deeper, I opened my mouth in another gasp, and reluctantly welcomed his tongue inside my mouth. I was too exhausted to do anything thing else, but also too revved up not to respond. He won - he wore me down. I had already reached my lowest point of shame and disgust, so I lacked the will to fight it anymore, and figured I had nothing else to lose by giving into my body's wanton desires. My dignity was already gone, but at least I maybe could get an orgasm as a consolation prize - like he said, I could always tell myself I didn't have a choice, which was true enough, right?

So I kissed him back, passionately, as all of my pent up emotion went into erotic overdrive, using my tongue to battle lustfully with my assailant's, who had gone from being, in my eyes, a creepy old pervert to a sex god. I ran my hands over his chest and under his shirt as he pinned me to the wall, and was surprised to find myself enjoying the soft smoothness of his skin. His stomach was taunt, but not super defined like Brad's or the other jocks I'd dated. But nonetheless I found myself becoming more enthralled by his body and persona, turned on more and more by the taboo nature of getting fucked behind a bar by some random, aggressive, tattooed louche almost twice my age. It was as if, freed from any sense of responsibility, I could let loose my inner slut, without judging myself for it.

Eventually (I had lost track of any sense of time) I felt Malcolm starting to move, and not wanting to become disconnected from the blissful union of our bodies, I wrapped my arms tightly around him, letting him pick me up and press me against the wall without his lips ever leaving mine. As we kissed, violently and passionately, I realized that somehow he'd managed to get his cock free from his jeans, because I felt its huge, bulging head pressing up against my naked thigh, and gasped out of pure desire as I felt it's warm thickness pulsating just inches from my fertile teenage pussy. I couldn't help looking down at gasping when I saw how big and hard it was, by far the biggest I'd seen. I had touch it - I was so focused on how veiny and powerful the massive tool felt throbbing in my hand that I didn't realize I was unconsciously positioning it so as to more easily enter into me.

"That's right, you want this dick to fuck you hard, don't you?" Malcolm asked, cockily, finally breaking our kiss.

"Uh huh," I moaned deliriously, trying in vain to find his lips again with mine, needing to feel his tongue wrapped around my own.

"Not yet," he said pulling back, teasing me, "I want to hear you say it. Say 'I want you to fuck the shit out of me Malcolm.'"

I said it, just like he asked, without any shame or hesitation. I was beyond all of that at this point - just a bundle of pure erotic lust that needed to be satisfied. Of course, this fact also made it so that I didn't notice that Malcolm recording my declaration on his cell phone.

"You got it, babe" he said, grinning, and then thrust his erect member into me so fast and hard that I thought I was going to need stitches.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, in the most amount of pain I'd ever felt as I felt like I was being ripped apart.

But Malcolm didn't stop - instead he just kept grinning at me like the devil as I stared with a mixture of awe, lust and terror into his villainously stunning bright blue eyes, and he kept pounding me harder, faster and deeper. The coarseness of the brick scratched my soft, naked flesh as my head banged up against the wall (both of which I barely noticed, so intense was the sensation coming from between my legs). At one point while driving into me, Malcolm moved one hand so that it held my arms back over my head, while with the other pushed up my blouse, tore apart my bra, and started mauling at my breasts, forcefully tweaking and pinching my nipples in a way that almost sent me over the edge. At this point, my entire body was basically being supported by his cock, incessantly drilling into me.

By now, the pain between my legs had started to give way to pleasure, and soon every stroke of his impaling tool sent waves of euphoria through my body, all emanating from my poor, swollen, being-pounded-into-oblivion snatch. My legs started to shake uncontrollably, and I was ever more delirious, taken to levels of pure, raw sexual bliss the bestial likes of which I had never known.

"Oh my god!" I yelled, the pleasure becoming too much to take, "I'm cummmmmming!"

It was like an earthquake. Never before had I experienced an orgasm of such magnitude or intensity. It felt like it went on for ever, each crescendo of ecstasy I thought would be the last, only to be followed by a more powerful wave. As the last wave crested but my pussy was still spasming and vibrating on his cock, I saw Malcolm smiling as he pulled entirely out of my gaping pussy and then ram back in, watching with mischievous pride as I moaned while my tight teenage snatch struggled to swallow his massive cock completely.

Then he looked me in the eyes and just said, "my turn." With that, he picked up the pace even more, now truly impaling me on the full length of his member, which went far deeper than I even knew imaginable. Even though he still had his shirt on, I dug my nails into his back, hanging on for dear life.

"Wait," I panted as he mercilessly bounced me on his tool like a rag doll, "I'm not - not - on - on - on the pilllllll."

He didn't say anything, but I knew he heard me, because immediately after I said it a huge smile came across his face, and he stared deep into my eyes while executing one final thrust before I felt his hot cum fill me up - one, two, three, four, five pumps, maybe more, I lost count, launched directly into my womb, each thick and voluminous. By the time he was finally finished, I was exhausted, wrapping my arms and shaky legs around his back, clinging to him as tight as I could even as he was trying to get away as quickly as he could. In my delirious state, I couldn't fathom our bodies being apart, so even when I felt him start to get soft, I squeezed my pussy muscles, trying to keep him inside, which just made him laugh coldly. He eventually got me lose and propped me against the wall, which I immediately slumped down, my bare ass on the asphalt again, this time with his warm spunk gushing out of my snatch, as Malcolm zipped his pants back up.

"That was fun, Kelly," he said with a wink as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and started to walk away. "You're one of the best little college sluts I've picked up at this bar. I'll find you next time I need a nice, tight cunt to pound and there's no fresh meat around."

I barely heard him. My eyes were already halfway closed, and in my wanton and disheveled state, I fell into a deep sleep about ten seconds later, right there in the alley.