Speaker 1: It's Monday, September fifteenth, in time for your daily fuck.
Speaker 1: The bass is a physical force in this dive bar,
Speaker 1: a vibration that works its way up from the sticky
Speaker 1: floor through the soles of my feet and settles deep
Speaker 1: in my chest. The air is thick with the smell
Speaker 1: of stale beer, sweat, and electricity. I'm pressed against the
Speaker 1: lip of the low stage, my hands flat on the dusty,
Speaker 1: vibrating surface, and my eyes are locked on him. He's
Speaker 1: the basest, a feral creature of tattoos and raw energy.
Speaker 1: His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, his
Speaker 1: jaws clenched, and his eyes are dark, dangerous pits. He's
Speaker 1: not playing the bass so much as attacking it, his
Speaker 1: fingers a blur of callous precision on the strings. Every
Speaker 1: so often, his gaze finds mine, and the swirling chaos
Speaker 1: of the marsh pit, the world narrows to the two
Speaker 1: of us. It's not a flirtation. It's a challenge, a
Speaker 1: promise of violence and pleasure. The sweat is dripping from
Speaker 1: his face as he plays, his body a coiled spring
Speaker 1: of frantic energy. I decide right then and there that
Speaker 1: I need to feel that same energy all over my body,
Speaker 1: inside it. The final chord of the song crashes through
Speaker 1: the bar, a wall of feedback and distortion. The crowd roars.
Speaker 1: He doesn't bow, he doesn't even put his base down properly,
Speaker 1: just lets it fall against a man with a screech
Speaker 1: at two long strides. He's at the edge of the stage.
Speaker 1: He reaches down, his hand wrapping around my wrist and pulls.
Speaker 1: I stumble onto the stage, and he drags me wordlessly
Speaker 1: through the curtain behind the drum kit. There are wristles
Speaker 1: and shouts that follow us. Presumably this happens a lot.
Speaker 1: I don't care. The noise of the bar is instantly muffled,
Speaker 1: replaced by the ringing in my ears. We're in a grimy,
Speaker 1: cramped back room. The walls are a mess of appealing
Speaker 1: ain't and graffiti, and the air smells like old sweat
Speaker 1: and warm electronics. The moment the curtain falls shut, he
Speaker 1: shoves me against the wall. The rough plaster scrapes against
Speaker 1: my back. His mouth crashes down on mine, a brutal
Speaker 1: kiss that isn't about tenderness but about possession. It's a
Speaker 1: clash of teeth and tongues and I give back as
Speaker 1: good as I get, my nails digging into the muscles
Speaker 1: of his shoulders. This is a masduction, It's a collision.
Speaker 1: His hands yank my dress up around my waist with
Speaker 1: a single rough motion. I hear the rasp of a zipper,
Speaker 1: and then his hand is between my legs, his fingers
Speaker 1: pressing into my soaked panties. He hooks a thumb in
Speaker 1: the waistband and rips them down the side. Wrap your
Speaker 1: legs around me. His words are hot and ragged against
Speaker 1: my ear. I obey, leaping up as he lifts me,
Speaker 1: his hands on my ass as my thighs lock around
Speaker 1: his waist. He poises the thick, hardhead of his cocket
Speaker 1: my entrance, and then slams into me without any warning.
Speaker 1: A scream is to horn from my throat, a sound
Speaker 1: of pain and pure, unadulterated pleasure. He's huge, filling me completely,
Speaker 1: and he merely starts fucking me with a frantic, punishing rhythm.
Speaker 1: He pounds into me like he's trying to drive me
Speaker 1: through the wall, the impacts punctuating the wet, slapping sound
Speaker 1: of her body's colliding. My hands scrabble for purchase against
Speaker 1: the graffiti covered wall. As he rides me. His hip's
Speaker 1: a powerful, relentless piston. This is sex as dirty as
Speaker 1: the floor. I can't think, I can't breathe. I'm nothing
Speaker 1: but sensation. The friction is building. An unbearable fire inside
Speaker 1: me going to come, and it's going to be as
Speaker 1: messy and loud as the music outside. My orgasm hits
Speaker 1: me like a lightning strike, a full body convulsion that
Speaker 1: makes me luck. My legs tighter around him. I scream
Speaker 1: his name, though I don't even know it, the sound
Speaker 1: swallowed by the thin wall. My climax pushes him over
Speaker 1: the edge with a final, deep grunt. He drives himself
Speaker 1: into me one last time and comes with a worse
Speaker 1: that feels like he's rearranging my insides. He lets me
Speaker 1: slide down the wall. My leg's weak and trembling until
Speaker 1: my feet hit the sticky floor. He's panting, his forehead
Speaker 1: pressed against mind, his body's still covering me. He pulls
Speaker 1: out of me slowly, and I almost collapse without another word.
Speaker 1: He turns away, grabs a warm beer from some random spot,
Speaker 1: cracks it open. The encounter is over. I pull down
Speaker 1: my tress. My body is humming and raw. My ears
Speaker 1: are ringing, my back is scraped, and I can still
Speaker 1: taste his sweat on my lips. It's the best show
Speaker 1: I've ever seen. Reas