I heard a dull thud accompanied by a grunt from the dark alley adjacent to the bar I frequented every Friday night. Somewhat anxiously, I shrugged off the immediate effects of a pitcher of Bud and stumbled through a mountain of refuse to a huddled form leaning against the brick wall with her naked legs open obscenely. She was snot-slinging drunk, the apparent victim of amorous exploitation. Her dark shiny hair was a tangled mass shrouding her make-up smeared face and her mini skirt lay lifelessly around one of her ankles. Any trace of underwear had vanished.
Wrapping my arm around her I asked if she was alright. After a vain attempt to stand she gazed at me with half-open big brown eyes and nodded and groaned before dropping her head forward in a drunken stupor. Repositioning her to a more presentable position, I staggered back into the bar and sauntered up to to Arnie, the bartender, to disclose my findings. He stopped wiping the counter top deep in thought. Then, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, he revealed her name as Cheryl, a hippie type first timer that offered her charms to all the males until a a slime ball dragged her out after several shots of Southern Comfort. I thanked him, and rather than call in the local authorities, decided to get her home to sleep it off.
I asked her if she lived nearby or if she knew of someone who could come get her. Again struggling to regain her grip on reality, she queried if my bed was big enough for two. Although not drawn towards a inebriated bed mate, the close proximity of my apartment and my throbbing headache prompted me to take her home. I gently eased her to her feet as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, and we staggered down the now quiet street beneath the harsh glow of the street lights. Somehow we made it into my disorganized flat and stumbled into the bedroom.
She collapsed onto my unmade bed, and I staggered into the adjoining bath to splash water on my face and unload my beer bladder. Killing the lights, I half stumbled across her prone form to an open area of the bed and dosed off immediately with the room spinning around my head. Before the euphoria of sleep bathed me in its warmth, I felt my body pulled onto my back, my jeans ripped unmercifully from my body and the vaguely familiar sensation of a naked pair of thighs bearing down on my own. A thick bristle of matted pubic hair pressed firmly against my unresponsive cock and pressed the lifeless flesh along the length of her moist slit. The smell of bourbon and sex filled the air as her passion fueled sighs filled the silence. Her soon to follow explosive orgasm arrived as the blood began to fill my cock, bathing my package with a spray of her feminine essence. She collapsed on my torso and within moments was lost in her dreams. I fell asleep to the sound of her gently snoring in my ear.
Morning arrived with brilliant glare on the shades, a killer headache and a soft warm hand on my exposed cock. Barely awake, she gently tugged on on my sensitive flesh while her breath caressed the head with a warm breeze. The blood surged through my groin as my nerve endings awakened to her sensual massage. The stench of booze and disorganized mayhem about me faded as I eased her up to gaze into her deep brown doe eyes. She positioned itself almost automatically on top of me as my cock slipped between her fleshy folds and into the moist warmth of her core. She was tight and driven, quickly climbing to her mindless orgasm as I savored the delicious cock caress.
She was a wisp of a girl, her breasts were small mounds of firm flesh capped with large puffy brown nipples. With a small frame clearly revealing the underlying bone structure and a face crowned with delicate features that emphasized the beauty of her eyes. She came quickly; her muscles tightening visibly as her manicured nails dug into my shoulders. "Oh Gawd," she whispered as her vaginal walls gripped my cock, inducing several weeks of my essence to erupt deep into her core. I clung to her hips tightly as she rode her long and intense orgasmic wave to its resolution. Slowly she eased herself from my expended organ and disappeared into the bath as I lay in my spent euphoric world.
She emerged from the shower with beads of water still dripping from her long hair and studied the pile of remnants of her clothes with disdain. I eased myself past her into the shower and let the hot steaming water sooth my aching head and wash the remnants of sex from my body.
"You OK," I queried as I toweled myself off?
"Yeah," she sighed, "Got any clothes?" I pulled some t-shirts from the dresser and started to get dressed. "You got anything to eat?" I gestured towards the kitchen and advised her to help herself. Soon eggs were frying and toast was being buttered. She ate hurriedly and set out a second plate for me. I offered to take her anywhere that she needed but she said her Mom was on her way. Apparently she had used the phone while I was soaking in the warm. As I stepped to the table and offered my appreciation, she suddenly dropped the skillet into the sink and hurried over to me, yanking my swats down and dove face first into my groin. Her tongue and lips were skilled and I soon found myself humping her face, deriving extra pleasure from watching her cheeks inflate with each thrust. I came quickly pumping a few short spurts down her throat as a dull ache engulfed my gonads. I was drained.
She rose with a satisfied smirk and wolfed down the rest of her food noisily.
"May I call you Cheryl?" I queried.
"Yup," she offered between mouthfuls.
"Thanks for a wonderful night - maybe we. . ."
"Yeah, thanks for putting up with me. " She paused from eating and stared me in the eye; "Look, you're a nice guy, but I really don't want to get involved with anyone, OK?"
"I see," I paused and swallowed, "You have a Sister by any chance."
"No; no sex starved friends either." She paused and stared into empty space before speaking again. "I was happily married until after the birth of my Jenny when my sex drive headed south. Jeffrey, my husband, convinced me to go to the fertility clinic on 6th and after their treatment I became a nymphomaniac, scaring him away and almost losing Jenny. To avoid further commitments and complications, I go out several nights a week and scratch my itch."
"You might want to reconsider your methodology," I offered briefly recounting the spent heap I'd encountered the night before.
"That wasn't the first time," she muttered after downing the last morsel of food on her plate. A car horn sounded outside and she leaped from her chair and with a quick peck on my cheek she was gone. I sat in stunned silence and tried to wrap my head around the last twelve hours. Finally I rose to set about my normal weekend routine. The dull ache in my groin lingered menacingly.
