*All characters are 18+. This is fiction for erotic entertainment only; I do not condone nonconsensual sex.*
Fucking asshole thought she was some kind of fucktoy, telling her not to wear panties. Yeah, right.
Sarah had managed to slink out of that restaurant and avoid Sam for the next month. She kept on the pill; she was one of those lucky girls who stopped having a period while on the pill. Who didn't love that?
She even (mostly) stopped thinking about him. Classes were going great, this summer was perfect, and there was this guy in her chemistry course who was funny and smart.
She was ready to file the whole experience away as temporary insanity when her friends invited her to this party.
Sarah had been turning down parties. Most of her friends weren't taking classes, so they did whatever they wanted. A few had jobs but they still had more free time than she did.
"Come on, Sarah! We love you, girl, but you're turning into a hermit. One night won't hurt. Please?" Liz blinked puppy eyes at her.
Sarah sighed. "I guess a Saturday is fine."
"Woo!" Mindy cheered. She was rummaging through Sarah's clothes, shaking her head at most of the offerings. Then she excitedly pulled out a slip of cloth. "Ooh, wear this! I didn't know you had stuff like this!"
'This' was a tiny dress that made her look like a whore, but she loved how it fit. Black, almost sheer lace with an open back meant she couldn't wear a bra, and the thin, tight material meant panties would be too obvious.
Sarah blushed. "I've never actually worn that anywhere. Are you sure?"
"Yes! It'll be fine--it's just us girls and our boyfriends and a few other friends. Live a little!" Mindy shook the frail strips of cloth wildly.
Liz nodded. "Especially if you're going to stick your head back in your books after this. You gotta wear it at least once. Maybe you'll finally get laid. What's it been, like half a year?"
Sarah hadn't told anyone about Sam. How could she explain something she didn't understand herself? She pushed him out of her mind.
It would be fine. The party was at one of their nearby parents' homes and sounded small enough.
She went. She put on the dress that barely covered her breasts and hugged her body down to mid-thigh, just enough to highlight her ass. After a small hesitation, she decided not to wear any sort of underwear; G-strings were just not comfortable. If she leaned over, everyone would see her naked rear. So, no leaning then.
As the night got darker, more and more people showed up. Most of them she knew or at least recognized, and her dress fit in with the almost-lingerie theme.
It was a large house with two floors, though they were supposed to keep the second floor clean, please--hopeful words from the parents before they left. Someone (who was she kidding, it had probably been Mindy) spiked the drinks.
She had to admit the party was a good idea. It had been too long since she had this much fun. The dancing, the games, the gossip. She really had been turning into a hermit.
And the boys who got a little handsy, well, it was kind of a thrill. None of them did more than an "accidental" brush against her boobs or a quick ass grab. She did her own share of "unintentional" rubbing against a few hard cocks.
When she bumped into a table and turned too quickly, making her head spin, she decided she needed a break. Too much of that spiked slushy, probably.
Sarah stumbled up the stairs into an empty hall where the music faded to soft bass, then she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.
She just needed a minute. 'Just us girls'--thanks, Mindy. Eh, she should have known better and it was fun, so--
"Hello, Sarah," a voice purred in her ear.
She almost screamed.
But that voice, that scent. Heat rushed to her core, and her eyes flew open.
Sam leered over her, a hand pressed against the wall, his body almost touching hers.
She couldn't move. A month of suppressed desire shot lightning through her body, and she wanted him, needed him. Her heart jumped, her breath quickened, her toes curled into her little kitten heels, and it was all she could do to form even a few words.
"What are you doing here?"
Please fuck me
, she almost said, the alcohol flushing her body making her words come out in a breathless rush.
Sam raised a brow. "You're not the only girl who loves what I do to them." He gently brushed her hair as she stood there, mesmerized. "But you are the only one who came looking for me."
Her face flushed, both at the implication that he'd raped other girls, and that she was the sluttiest of them.
Sam's hand slid down her waist, rubbing at the thin, lacy fabric. "I like this. Wear it again next time."
This outfit wasn't doing her any favors. Her eyes widened as her half-drunk brain remembered what he'd said a month ago.
"Stop touching me. Get your hand off of me--" she said, trying not to let him find out that--
He cupped her mound and chuckled. "You don't think it's obvious you're not wearing anything beneath this delicious dress?" His fingers gently explored her swollen flesh. "And you're already wet. Mm. Miss me?" He smirked.
She was pinned to the wall by her own lust, and he'd hardly needed to do anything. Her heart raced, her chest heaved.
She shook her head, the motion a little dizzying. "Stop, please. I'm done with you, I don't want--"
Sam slipped a finger inside her and leaned into her ear. "We both know what you want."
Her hips bucked involuntarily, her eyes fluttering closed as her slick heat welcomed him back.
Not again
, a too-tiny voice in her head whimpered. She gasped.
He stroked her slowly, played her like an instrument with his fingers, the soft thrum of pleasure in the back of her mind growing into a crescendo.
Sarah whimpered, her breath coming in starts and stops until he pressed his lips to hers, his tongue coaxing a different tune but in perfect harmony with his thumb strumming her clit, his two fingers curved and pressed into her wet sheath.
She grabbed at him blindly, not sure what she was doing, not thinking about what she was doing. His free hand pinned her left arm above her head while she held on to his waist.
"Come for me, Sarah. Come, you beautiful girl," he murmured.
His voice weaved through her spine, elevating the tense heat that his fingers were furiously stroking into her. Her hips spasmed against his fingers, thrusting against his flattened palm for more pressure, heat and need building in her core until that first wave of pleasure broke.
Her pussy clamped. She shattered.
His lips caught the scream erupting from her throat, reformed it into a stretched-out whimpering moan, a lament to ecstasy. She milked his fingers, pulsed and squeezed wave after wave of bliss.
Her legs quivered and became weak. He caught her, leaning in close to press his hard cock against her stomach through their clothes.
"That's my good girl," he chuckled.
