2: Fucked in his Car

IMANI

I drank. I've never been that much of a drinker. I only drank whenever it was necessary, and that was only when I needed to prove to other girls and acquaintances that I could drink, that I was a cool girl.

But now, even though I didn't need to prove anything to anyone, I couldn't help but drink. It was the only way to dull the ache in my chest, it was the only way for me not to feel what I was feeling, it was the only way for me to forget that I've been pranked and betted on and treated like dirt again.

No one will ever love you. You're just an ugly, fat girl; no one will ever want you.

All my life, I've always wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to prove to her that I was capable of being loved and wanted… Of having friends, a man who'd worship the ground I walk on, and everything that I've always wanted.

But no matter how hard I tried, it always ended in a disaster. I always ended up getting discarded and treated like trash, ridiculed, and churned out.

No matter how hard I tried, it was never enough.

My eyes burned, and I had to tilt my head back so I wouldn't cry. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't weak.

And I wasn't going to cry.

I drank the remaining contents, and I staggered to my feet. My curfew starts in less than an hour, and I didn't want to incur Mom’s wrath again, so I needed to get home.

I got outside and I realized that it was dark. I wasn't used to staying out this late. Even though my curfew was 10 pm, I always made sure to be at home by 7 pm. I stood at the bar's entrance and looked around for a taxi, even though it looked like there were hardly any around, while ignoring the catcalls and whispers from the men around.

It became increasingly disturbing, and some even walked closer to tell me their obscene intentions and how much they intended to pay me for the night. I turned them away until some felt they didn't have to demand, they could take. Walking away wasn't an option. The road between the bar and the main road was deserted. I couldn't risk going on that road alone.

I tried to wave down the taxis that drove past, but none stopped until one car, which couldn't be a taxi, glided to a stop right in front of them. I instinctively shifted back, certain that the cat stopped for something else, but when he wound down the glass and I saw who it was, my breath hitched, and my blood thrummed faster.

“Looks like you need a lift,” his voice was equally as velvety as it sounded back in there. I wanted to turn him off, but I couldn't risk staying here any longer.

And besides, I wanted to enter his car. I could still feel him in between my thighs, his thick length and his eyes as he drank me in and gazed at my lips like they were the most desirable thing in the world.

He was here, offering me a lift, and I knew what that meant. He wasn't the only one whose five-minute rocking had an effect. I knew that, and it made me feel emboldened.

Someone might want me afterall.

I entered the car, used my seat belt, and zoomed off. Everywhere was silent except for the soft hum of the engine and AC. My heart was pounding, my palms clammy, and my throat dry. The car felt smaller than it was, and it felt like this stranger was everywhere. I wasn't looking at him… I was forcing myself not to look at him, but I could still feel him.

“So did you pass your dare?” his voice, even though it was low, echoed through the entire car and made me sit up. I didn't know that was possible… How could his voice affect me that much? How it made wetness spring to life down there.

It was unreal.

“Did you pick me up to talk about the dare?” I didn't believe I just said that. I cringed inwardly after the words left my mouth. It wasn't me. It was definitely the alcohol, and the sting of the betrayal, and the desperation to hold onto something that I wasn't as undesirable as they've always made me believe.

“No, I picked you up to fuck you.” His reply was curt and straight to the point, like he was pointing out the weather. My heart stopped and started pounding again. It was so loud I thought he could hear it.

This was where I bolt. I was supposed to get out of the car, run, and never look back. But instead, the alcohol and the adrenaline rush of doing this with a stranger, the freeing feeling of doing this, being myself, loosened my tongue and made me turn to him.

“Really? Why?”

He chuckled, a slight, amused sound that ignited a fire in my lower stomach. He glanced briefly at me, and the street lights made me glimpse the slight surprise in his eyes.

“Because you're hot,” he spelt out like he just pointed out a certified fact like today's date, while my heart accelerated even more, “your lips could send a man to his early grave, and no one has ever ridden me like that. And while you were on my lap, riding me like that, that's the last thing we'd both do, all I could think of was you riding me with no clothes on.”

I smoothed my palms over my lower thighs. They were bare, courtesy of the short black gown I wore. I wanted to say he was lying, that he said those things to get into my pants, but I guess he knew he didn't have to dash out flatteries to get any girl. He could get as many girls as he wanted simply by glancing at them.

And who was I kidding? I wanted to get into his pants much more than he wanted to get into mine.

“So why don't you show me, Kitten?” his voice was darker now, huskier even, and that was when I noticed that the car had stopped, and we were in a deserted tunnel with the flashlights still on.

“Show me just how good you are at riding without clothes on?”

I watched him, mesmerized as he unbuckled his belt, loosened it, and lifted his hips to drag his trousers down. And that was when I saw it, long, springing up, thick, bulging, and all veins.

He wrapped his hand around it and he stroked… Once, twice, thrice… and that was when it stretched to what I assumed was its limit. The throat dried, my lips parted. My pussy actually ached with a pain that was so intense I knew the only cure was having him in me, filling me up, stretching me, and turning my insides inside out.

I swallowed.

“There's a condom in the compartment.” He pointed towards it, and by the time I fished it out, he had reclined his chair. I put it on for him, even though I expected nerves to set in. My need only grew and abated when I settled on him, and I felt him stretch me to the limit.

“Oh god,” the moan slipped out and was drowned by his harsh groan. He didn't do anything, just leaned back and watched me as I moved. As I rocked him, bounced on him, and stroked his length till I was a moaning, whimpering, and screaming mess.

Till my tummy tightened, and my legs started shaking, till I came apart with a violent scream and a body that collapsed on him. I remained like that for a minute or two, breathing heavily, body trembling, and when he lifted me off him, I thought it was to discard me, but instead, I was moved and shoved against the driver's seat, so I was now on the seat while he was above me.

And then, he was inside me again. This time, in the most obscene way, with his hand around my neck, choking just enough to make me dizzy-headed and to heighten the pleasure of the way he was slamming into me.

“Pleaseeee,” I choked, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes from the intensity of how good it felt. The car was cramped and should have been uncomfortable, but the last thing I felt was discomfort.

I felt like I was teetering on the edge of something that was intoxicatingly powerful, something that was pulling me apart in the most beautiful way.

His strokes were relentless and savage. His hand around my neck was tightening and untightening with the right amount to make me gasp, choke, and back.

And when he withdrew all the way out to slam back in, I screamed and jolted and cried. It was too overwhelming, and when I came apart again, this time with him and his hand tightening around my neck, it was in a string of unintelligible sounds. At the same time, he groaned in colorful languages, and he remained buried in me till he was gone, emptying his seed into that condom.

My breath was still ragged, heart still pounding, and body slick against it when I felt that familiar searing pain on my wrist. It was so startling that I cried out, and I stared at the dull red mark that was forming around my left wrist.

I didn't need to look at the time to know that it was 10 pm.

And my sweet mother was calling me home.