SCREAM FOR ME, KARLEE 2

KARLEE

He didn’t give me time to adjust.

Once he was fully inside me he started thrusting in hard, deep strokes that drove me into the brick wall with every impact. The air left my lungs in broken, muffled sounds against his hand. My cheek scraped harder against the rough surface. My tits were crushed against the cold brick. Every time he bottomed out I felt it all the way up in my stomach.

“Fuck, you’re still tight,” he growled against my ear. His voice was low and rough and close. “Taking it like you were made for this.”

I shook my head again, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. I tried to say no, tried to tell him to stop, but his palm stayed sealed over my mouth and the words came out as desperate, wet noises. My hands pushed uselessly against the wall. My heels kept slipping on the damp concrete. The position left me completely powerless — legs forced open by his thigh and my own panties still stretched around my thighs, dress shoved up around my waist, ass pushed out for him to use.

He fucked me harder.

The wet sound of his cock slamming into me filled the narrow alley. It was filthy and rhythmic and far too loud in the quiet. I could still hear people at the mouth of the alley — a couple laughing, someone talking on the phone, the distant bass from the club — so close that the risk made my stomach twist with fresh panic. At the same time that same risk sent another rush of heat between my legs. My pussy clenched around him against my will.

He felt it.

“There it is,” he muttered. One of his hands left my hip, reached around, and shoved between my body and the wall. Thick fingers found my clit and rubbed in rough, tight circles while he kept thrusting. “Getting so fucking wet for a stranger in an alley. You sick little slut.”

I whimpered against his hand. The dual sensation was too much. His cock stretching me open on every stroke, his fingers working my clit without any gentleness, the cold brick against my cheek, the very real chance that someone could turn their head and see us — it all crashed together. My legs started shaking. An orgasm was building fast and hard and I hated how much I needed it.

I tried to fight it. I tried to stay dry and scared and angry. My body didn’t care. The pleasure kept climbing no matter how hard I shook my head or pushed back against him. He rubbed my clit faster, fucked me deeper, and the sound of my own wetness grew louder and more embarrassing.

“You’re gonna come,” he said, almost like he was stating a fact. “You’re gonna come on a stranger’s cock in a dirty alley while people walk right past. And you’re gonna do it with my hand over your mouth so no one hears what a whore you are.”

The words pushed me over.

The orgasm hit me like a punch. My whole body locked up. A long, broken scream tore out of me against his palm as my pussy clamped down on him in hard, pulsing waves. My vision blurred. My legs almost gave out. He had to hold me up against the wall while he kept thrusting through it, dragging the climax out until I was sobbing and twitching and completely overwhelmed.

He didn’t stop when it ended.

He kept fucking me through the aftershocks, using my still-clenching pussy while I hung limp and shaking between him and the brick. My panties had slipped lower and tangled around my ankles. One of my heels had come off. I could feel his cock getting even harder inside me, the thrusts turning shorter and more brutal as he chased his own release.

“Gonna fill this tight little cunt,” he grunted. “Take it. Take every drop.”

He buried himself as deep as he could and came with a low, guttural groan. I felt every hot pulse of him flooding me, thick and deep. He stayed locked against me, cock twitching, until he was empty. Then he pulled out slowly. I felt his cum immediately start to leak out of me and run down my thighs in warm, sticky trails.

I thought he was done.

He wasn’t.

He spun me around so my back hit the wall this time. My legs were so weak I almost slid down. He shoved my dress up again, gripped his still-hard, shiny cock, and stroked it roughly while staring at my messy pussy. A few more pumps and he came a second time — thick ropes of cum landing across my lower stomach, my bare pussy, and the tops of my thighs. He even aimed higher and painted a few streaks over the front of my dress.

I stood there trembling, dressed half-torn, one shoe missing, his cum leaking out of me and dripping down my legs, more of it cooling on my skin. My chest was heaving. Tears and mascara streaked my face. The alley still smelled like sex and trash and damp brick.

He tucked himself back into his pants and looked at me for a long moment. I still couldn’t see his face clearly under the hood, just the hard line of his jaw and the wet shine on his fingers when he lifted them.

He reached out and pushed two fingers through the mess on my pussy, scooping up some of his cum, then shoved those fingers into my mouth.

“Clean it,” he ordered quietly.

I was too wrecked to fight anymore. I sucked his fingers clean, tasting both of us. When he pulled them out he wiped the rest of the wetness across my cheek, marking me.

Then he leaned in close — closer than before — and spoke right against my ear.

“Next time you take the shortcut, Karlee… wear a longer dress.”

My blood went cold.

He knew my name.

I stared at him, heart slamming for an entirely new reason. He stepped back, pulled the hood a little lower, and walked away down the alley like nothing had happened, leaving me half-naked, used, and shaking against the brick wall with his cum still running down my legs.

I stayed there for a long time after he disappeared, trying to catch my breath and make sense of the fact that the stranger who had just fucked me in an alley… knew who I was.