Cold Encounter A Flash Story

© Copyright 2021 by Millie Dynamite

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic incestuous sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously--any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events or locales are entirely coincidental. This story does not condone rape, spontaneous sexual encounters with strangers, or unprotected sex. Racism is wrong. If you aren't smart enough to know that, you have a problem.

Cold Encounter

The cold of the night clawed its way inside me. My face pushes against the cold, rough, hard bricks of the building, chaffing my tender flesh from the relentless brushing of my left cheek against the nodulous surface. Up an inch, down, up then down, as my body lurched from the hard thrust from behind me.

My hands pressed to the wall, clutching the edges of the bricks as if I might possibly prevent my falling if he let go of me. I feel my jeans and panties bunched around my ankles. The man's knees pressed into the back of mine, the roughness of bricks grinding into my own knees, all the while he pumped into me.

His long, hard strokes sent agonizing shards through my guts, like shards of glass cutting along the inside of my asshole. And still, the pleasure mingled with the pain, the terrible wrenching ecstasy of gratification. The humiliation ate a hole inside me. One shouldn't enjoy this.

He drives his disgusting prick into my guts, deep thrust, one after another -- tearing, ripping muscles around my rectum, God awful, agony from the invasion of my ass. Waves of orgasmic pleasure shudder through my body. Screaming for him to stop, tears roll down my face, and he keeps pumping. I'm a rag doll in his hand's ad his relentless fucking pushed me to the edge of reason, the point of insanity, the verge of pleasure, and beyond.

After an eternity, thick streams of cum flood me. His discharge mingles with my blood. The nastiness leaks from my sphincter around his cock. Some trickles over the flesh between asshole and pussy. Some dribbles down my legs while more spatters over the cobblestones. Even more lands in thick sprinkles on my jeans and panties.

All the while, he whispers in my ear, "When little bitches have boy haircuts, dress like boys, and act tough, they get fucked like the boys. Especially monkey, Jungle bunny, cunts."

A wrench agonized pleasure ripples through my body and mind as his big, nasty, white dick rips into me, cutting, slashing up my shitter. My belly rubs over the bricks. It hurts. He holds me in the air, clutching, digging his thick fingers deep into my waist, fucking me, fucking me, harming me, pleasuring me.

Tears run from my eyes. My left cheek erupts as the salt of my tears gets into the scratches. My breathing is shallow and fast. Each thrust drives the air from my lungs. With each withdrawal, I suck in a new breath, I near the point of hyperventilation. Despite his discharge, the man forced his cock into me, all the way, until his balls bounced off my pussy.

The man pulls my top until my bare chest is exposed to the fridge night's air and cold, rough bricks. My nipples and ample tits mash against the coarse building, more discomfort, more pain. And still, this angry stranger pounds into me.

"How old," he asks, pumping harder than before, his hips thrust, his whang gouging me.

"Nineteen."

His second burst of cum floods me, one thick discharge after another flooding inside my guts, followed down leaking in a slow, steady stream of disgusting cum, down my legs or trickles to the stones below.

Wrapping one arm around me, he lifts me up, somewhat, and steps away from the wall. I hang at an angle, dig my fingernails into the mortar between bricks. His other hand assaults my pussy. A fat finger burrows in my hole until it finds the resistance of my hymen.

"Oh, motherfucking-motherload. Oh, good lord, a sweet cherry pie," he growls into my ear. "Nineteen and a nigger virgin, how strange and pleasant to find. Always love busting monkey cherries."

Pulling his cock from me, a giant splatter of cum and blood falls to the ground. He cleaves my pussy, the fat cock head thrust inside me, tearing my muscles, shredding my hymen, driving further inside, as he rocks his hips in violent shoves.

Goddamn, motherfucking, hillbilly, peckerwood's having his way with me. And to my eternal shame, I'm getting off on the abuse, the pain, and his racist comments.

He fucks, deep hard, hateful, with no regard to my pain. I'm on fire, and yet, I'm freezing. The cold invades every joint of my body. Everything is pain and pleasure, all mixed together inseparable. The awful slapping, slapping, smack, whack, his hips pounded against my body, his balls beating my pubic area, harder and harder. Pleasure overwhelms me, scurrying over my body, diving into my mind, with shame holding its hand.

I cry, scream, beg, and he ignores it all. The bastard keeps fucking, fucking, humping like some mad dog fucking a bitch in heat. Like a dog fucks your leg, he just keeps fucking me. Another heavy load of cum burst from his cock. The disgusting lacquer coats me inside, floods me, running down, mixing with blood. The appalling, viscous fluid escapes in small gushes as he withdraws. Squishing sloshes fill the air as he pounds inside.

Everything hurts. The pain is unbearable, but I must endure. I have no choice. And the pleasure makes the unbearable, bearable. Though it all, the rapist keeps fucking me. Hammering away, he strikes his cock deep inside. I hate him. I haven't seen his face, the mask hides it, but still, I hate his guts. I want the white bastard dead.

I have to escape, must get away from here, from him. The snow is falling, big fluffy wet flakes. They drift in this direction, ride up in the air, then drop that way in a slow twirl. Landing, at last, on the cold sidewalk. It's sticking now. I watch the snow and visualize my daddy's mountain cabin at Christmas. The snow-covered peaks, thick patches of snow hanging heavy on the limbs of the pine trees.

I smell the fresh mountain air, see a bunny hopping around, searching for a blade of grass to eat. A deer peeks from behind a bare aspen tree. How beautiful her big doe eyes are, how beautiful her body is. I feel safe and warm for a moment. I crash to the cobblestones and feel a hot fluid flow on my face. It stings my eyes, assaults my nostrils, moves to my back, down on my ass, the fucker pissed on me.

"Coon bitches are all whores," shaking his cock. Digging a five-dollar bill from his pants pocket, he tosses it at me, puts the pale, thick, disgusting '

thing

' back inside his pants. "I hate fucking tomboys. Loathe skinny, Sambo, whore tomboys, most of all."

I pull my panties up, then the pants. Sitting up, I pull down my top and scan the alley for my coat. I run to it, pick it up, put it on, and rush from the alleyway the opposite way from him. I rush back to my room, a cold, barren room in an abandoned house. I get the bucket, sneak through the damaged fence into the next yard.

Their still up doesn't matter. I need water. Turning on the hydrant, I fill the bucket and return to my room to clean and change. I don't know what I thought when I ran away from home. But this has been the most brutal month of my life. Still, my mom is dead, and daddy killed her. I'm not going back.

I wash, wash my clothes, and then put clean ones on. I'm afraid the washed clothes are going to freeze. I move to the fireplace, pile crumpled newspaper in it, then the wood on top. I light the fire, it takes a few minutes, but soon the warmth radiates over me. I get the can of beans, open it with my knife, and set it on the grate above the fire.

I won't go back home. Even being raped is better than having to breathe the same air as my father. Rape hurt, but maybe now I can just put it behind me. If I can survive rape, I can handle fucking for money. Despite being made to fuck, I enjoyed the fucking. Yeah, fucking for money would be a breeze.

Gazing at myself in a mirror, I realize I'm a beautiful black 19-year-old woman. Clutching the five dollars tight in my hand, I understand men, white men, will pay me for fucking.

God in Heaven, how they're gonna pay!