0 comments/ 25900 views/ 3 favorites Wrong One By: SpikedChoker Another dark piece, which ends in a surprise. Feedback is greatly desired. Even if you just want to tell me I suck. --------------------------- Wandering listlessly through the club, the blonde 'bette tries to wrap herself in the solace of anonymity, while enjoying the stares of the lust-filled men. The only clear spot in the cool room is near an even colder doorway, the half-open fire escape leading to the alley behind. Leaning next to the door, finally away from the stripping eyes of the place, she enjoys the cool breeze over bare midriff, and goosed thighs. He suddenly clamps a hand over her mouth, stifling the choked cry of surprise she tries to emit. Her head pulled back by the tight hand, her neck is bared, her suddenly racing heart and gasping lungs clear in her throats movements. Both small hands rise to grip at the wrist clutching at her mouth, trying ineffectively to pry it away. A warm body, slightly damp with sweat, presses firmly up behind her, as she's pulled further up and back by the grip her assailant has on her. Her back arches to try to escape the contact from behind, as she continues her silent struggle with the man, only making it easier for him to slip a hand up her shirt, strong fingers trailing up her belly to slide over the curve of a proudly buoyant breast. Her struggles renew with stronger passion as she stares over the fingers covering her mouth, at the crowd so smotheringly close mere moments before, but now seemingly miles away, unable to help. Almost as if taunting her, her assailant doesn't head for the door yet, but grinds his hips forward against her barely encased ass, the tight jean-shorts so briefly cut, and so clenchingly tight that the erection seems to press through his pants, and right between her ass cheeks. Mauling at her tit, he slowly walks backwards towards the door, elbowing it open, and half carrying her out into the alley behind. No refuse lines it's walls, and no rats scurry about, but the street seems miles away in one direction, the roar of passing cars only a whisper to their ears. As the door bangs shut on the noise of the club, she's spun around, her hands going to his right arm, trying to tug it's attentive hand from beneath her shirt, with little effect. He marches her down the alley, towards the far, distant, dark end, groin jabbing at her butt as he goose-steps her forward. Hand roving over barely covered breasts, tweaking her nipples, cupping and stretching at the supple skin, he all-but ignores her desperate attempts to both cry out for help, and remove his offending hand. Reaching the far wall of the alley, he turns her to one side of her prison, and presses her forward against it with his body, smothering her between brick and solid flesh. Teeth biting at the back of her neck gently, through her hair, the hand finally leaves her shirt, though the relief at that is merely momentary, as the warm palm slides down her belly, to settle over the button to her micro-shorts. Squirming ineffectively, and grunting against his hand, she tugs at the arm, doing little to stop him as he undoes the button. And then his hand is delving into her minimal shorts, and below the even more minimal layer of panty, coarse fingers sliding over her sex. Grunts turn to sobbed screams as he lets go of her mouth, putting his hand on the back of her neck to press her into the wall more fully, face turning sideways against the rough brick. His fingers slide firmly over her cunt as he pulls back on it, the solid mass of his erection forcing into the crack of her ass as he grinds at it in a circular motion, driving her into the wall further. A dark chuckle sounds at her screams as he all but slams a finger between the lips of her pussy, body grinding and pressing her into the wall as he slides his finger in and out of her. "You don't want to do this..." she hisses through clenched teeth, bearing his sexual assault with grimacing indignity, and it's minimal impact on her body. He merely grunts in annoyance, and pulling his hands from her clothing he grips her shoulder to spin her around, shoving her against the wall backwards, one hand snapping out around her neck to pin her in place. A clenching of his hand doesn't quite cut off her breathing, but it restricts it enough that both her hands seem to rise involuntarily to his wrist, tugging at it uselessly. Using her distraction, ignoring her plaintive, but almost warning stare, his free hand dips to her shorts, clutching the front of the material, and tugging down her shorts and panties, bending slightly, snapping back upright to raise a fist warningly at her sudden kick to his leg. As she freezes in response, his leg slides up, planting his foot on the top of her half-lowered clothing, and using it to draw them down her legs to the ground, standing on them, and kicking her feet out until she's standing there in nothing but the half-shirt that offers little protection. So little that a few sudden, solid yanks at the front of it rip the seams up the sides, pulling it from her body. Another warning movement of his hand, and her sudden frantic attempt to escape stops, her hands dropping to cover herself as best she can, breathing tiny gasps through her nose, as his hand allows. Her last attempt at modesty is allowed, as he undoes his belt, opening the zipper to free his erection, and stepping closer again, the achingly ready cock sliding across her thigh, while he grasps her wrist to pull it away from her cunt. Whispered admonishments to keep silent and relax are uttered as he guides the swollen head of his dick against her slit, finally releasing her throat to grapple with her for a brief second, her rage lending her strength to fight back for a second, before he holds both her wrists above her head, pinned to the wall by one strong hand. Her eyes close as his open wider, his hand returning to her neck to grip her strongly, pulling her face up to his, his lips mashing against hers in a sudden harsh kiss, before he savagely thrusts forward with his hips. Their eyes change rolls, his closing, as hers fly open, a hiss escaping his lips as a soft cry flees hers, his body tensing again before thrusting up into her again, grinding her back against the rough wall as he shifts upwards a third time, finally settling his entire length in her. Sudden panting leaves her lips in a rush as he releases her from the kiss, pushing her head back against the wall as he dips at the knee's, drawing out of her only to thrust back in halfway. Apparently her joy is no aphrodisiac to him, as he doesn't take long setting up a pounding rhythm in and out of her with bruising force, her back achingly crushed against the wall by his body as he drives in and out of her, his breathing rapidly speeding up as hers does too. His pleasure is written all over his face as he closes his eyes, pistoning within her with ever-harder thrusts. Mere seconds, mere moments before his cum would burst into her, milliseconds before his orgasm can begin, his hold is suddenly broken as her hands are merely no longer in his, but at his ass, clamping around them with a savage strength that's painfully tight, holding him within her as he desperately tries to draw back, needing nothing more than that one last thrust, that last drive to push him over the edge. His eyes fly open in time to see her mouth snap open, fangs gleaming far larger than they should be, before she snaps forward, digging harshly into his neck in a sudden well of blood, his own scream finally echoing down the alley as hers had minutes earlier. Stumbling backwards, hands frantically alternating between the hands holding him inside her so tightly, and the head drinking greedily from his throat, he stumbles over half-dropped pants, and falls to the ground with a savage crash, half dazing himself as his head bounces. Her hands finally leave his body as she drinks in great gulps from the ripped wounds in his neck, inflicted with far more force and depth than usual, to settle on his chest, gathering his hands up in one strong fist, and pinning them above his head. Finally she leans back, letting the blood well and flow down his neck, licking her blood-soaked fangs, and looking down at his terrorized, agonized face. "You'll die, so close to cumming, and spend eternity in hell thinking of nothing but how you picked the wrong victim..." Almost sadly stated, almost like an assurance, as she pats his face gently with the hand not holding his effortlessly to the ground, grinding down on his dick once, before gripping his chin, and yanking it sideways, his scream ending as her fangs rip into the other side of his neck, blood pouring from two wounds, one set wasted, one drunk in long swallows by the girl keeping him so close to the edge that as consciousness fades, it's still all he can do to try to thrust up into her, just on more time- Wrong One I'd been at a party with my boyfriend, Rob. It wasn't any great do. Just the eighteenth birthday for Elaine, she being the last of out clique to reach that age. Not knowing what we'd be like when the party finished we hadn't taken our cars, deciding taxis were the best bet. Rob had called a taxi for him and me and we were just waiting for it to show up. The idea was that Rob would just drop me off at home and keep the taxi to take him home as he lived a mile away. I'd rather that he was dropped off with me for a bit of flirting but Rob was a little lazy at times and the walk home wouldn't have appealed to him. The taxi was just pulling up when Jordan wandered over. He's not really one of our set, being a couple of years older. He was, however, a cousin to Elaine, which explained his presence at the party. He wanted to know if we minded him sharing our cab. He only lived a couple of blocks from me so he'd just disembark when I did. Good manners suggested that we had no choice. (Rob's good manners, not mine. I'd have suggested another cab but Rob is a nice guy.) So we headed off homeward, comfortably tucked in the back seat, me in the middle. It's funny how some cab-drivers hate front seat passengers. Worried about being mugged I suppose. Shortly after we'd driven off Rob's hand started stoking my leg, just lightly gliding along it. A little daring for him, as he was stroking along the inside of my leg. I primly help my legs together while his hand traced its way slowly upwards. It's not as though he was crudely going the grope. His hand would move along my leg then reverse back down, but it did seem that his hand was going a little higher each time he did an upsweep. I casually put one hand on his thigh, just holding it there. Mind you, when his hand started slipping under my skirt and getting a little close to places where it should not go I tensed up a little. I squeezed his leg slightly, hoping he'd take the subtle warning, the result of which was for him to place his hand over mine and squeeze it. It took me a moment to twig. I'd turned to look at him and smile. I could see one of his hands holding onto that little handle above the window. I could feel his other hand holding my hand against his thigh. Unless he had three hands, that was not his hand stroking along my leg. I hastily grabbed Jordan's hand and did my best to fling it out the window, although having to move surreptitiously didn't help. If I'd screamed and made a big scene – I shuddered at the thought. Instead of just removing his hand like a gentleman, Jordan twisted his hand around and caught mine. Very casually he pressed it against himself. Against his groin, would you believe? He had an erection. I could feel it there. My god, the man was part horse. I just froze for a moment, then hurriedly snatched my hand away. A few minutes later there was a hand on my leg again. I felt like screaming at the cab driver to step on it. I wanted this journey over. This time I could tell that it was Rob's hand. It just sat politely on my thigh, about half way between my knee and too high. The politeness told me it was Rob's hand. That and the fact that Jordan's hand was starting to stroke my leg again. If I didn't do something the boys would be shaking hands with each other. I took both hands and moved them back to their respective owner's laps. Rob simply twisted his hand around and held mine comfortably. Jordan twisted his hand around, captured mine again, and pressed it against his erection. Did you notice I specified his erection, not his groin? He'd very quietly let his pet out to play. Instead of finding my hand pressed against material covering something mysterious I found it closing around something hot and hard. And I couldn't just jerk my hand away because Jordan was holding it there. I have never been so happy to turn into my street. Without making it obvious I was able to recover both my hands. Jordan looked at the taxi meter and, pulling out his wallet, paid not only the fair to this point but enough to cover the rest of the trip. Then he hopped out of the taxi and seemed to vanish. I stayed in the cab a moment longer, giving a polite good night to Rob, then I hopped out and the taxi took off. "What a wuss," murmured Jordan, emerging from the shadows he'd been staying in. "If it had been me I'd have stayed and wished you a proper goodnight. He doesn't have that far to walk." Seeing I essentially agreed with what Jordan said, I said nothing, holding my head high and not looking at him. I turned to go into my place. Jordan doesn't take hints, like being ignored. "What do you see in that guy, anyway?" asked Jordan. "He's a light-weight. You need someone stronger." "Do you mind," I snapped at him. "You embarrassed and mortified me there in the taxi. How could you do such a thing? Rob was right there next to me. How do you think he'd have felt if he'd seen what you were doing?" "By what I was doing, are you referring to the way you were clinging to my cock like grim death? I suspect that he'd have blamed you." I had a sinking suspicion that Jordan was right. Rob would have blamed me. Not that I was clinging to Jordan's cock, I might add. "I was not clinging to your cock," I said furiously. "You simply forced my hand over it. How could you do such a thing?" "Now, now, I didn't force your hand over it. I just placed your hand in a position of close proximity. You did the closing of your own initiative. And the stroking," he added quietly. "I was not stroking it," I protested. "Or if it was it was entirely accidental. The taxi was throwing us around." "So you had to hold onto something. I quite understand. As to how could I do such a thing, it was like this." That damn man took my hand and pressed it against himself. Again. He moved closer to me and I automatically backed away, not that it helped as he just kept on coming. Then I was backed up against the tree that had provided the shadows he'd been standing in. We were both in those shadows now. His arms went around me and he was holding me against him. I could feel that erection of his pressing against me, through both sets of clothing. His hands dropped down to my bottom and he lifted my skirt, his hands sliding under it. Now they were sliding across my bottom, and I do mean my bottom. He'd slipped them inside my panties. "Stop that," I squeaked, feeling slightly panicky, mainly because I could also feel my panties dropping down. "I don't think so," Jordan replied and he was kneeling in front of me, panties still in his hands. He took them right down and then lifted an ankle to take them off. When he stood up he'd taken them right off and was holding them. "Put these somewhere," he said, giving me the panties and I hastily stuffed them into my bag, my face burning. Now he was standing there again, one hand on my bottom holding me in place, the other on my mons, damn him, rubbing it. Rubbing more than just my mons if I'm honest. I'm squirming about under his touch, pushing at his chest, absolutely feeling that hand touching me so very personally. After a very frustrating while that monstrously intrusive hand decided to move around and clasp my bottom. With both hands around my bottom he pulled me flush against him again, which left me with two unanswered questions. How had he managed to make my skirt stay hitched up and when had he unzipped himself. The reason I wanted to know was because I could feel his cock pressing against me. If I'd thought having his hand touching me down there was a bit too personal you can imagine how I felt having his erection touching me. He reached for one of my legs and lifted it, hooking it around his waist. My god. I'm right open to him now and his cock is there, pressing against my mound, my lips. "You can't do this," I gasped, scared of what might happen. "Then I suggest you tell me to stop," he said, speaking very gently, "because I'm going to keep going until you do." To my fury I found myself standing mute. I knew he'd stop if I said so, but I couldn't bring myself to actually say so. I wanted to hit him and I wanted to hit myself, but I still didn't say anything, just stared at him with my eyes wide open. I could his erection probing gently against my lips, seeking the right spot. There was a little rush of feeling as he located it, his cock easing past my lips, with them closing eagerly around him. "Not so fast," I pleaded, afraid of what was coming. Too late. Far, far, too late. There was a sharp pang of pain and my request for him to move slower finished with a squeak of shock. I glared at him reproachfully and he just grinned and winked - and pushed in a little deeper. Jordan seemed to settle into a sort of gentle rocking motion, each movement pushing him a little deeper. I was breathing hard, savouring this new sensation, feeling him coming into me, taking me. He started kissing me, tasting me, his mouth moving on mine while his cock continued on into me until at last I could feel his groin pressing against mine. He felt wonderful. I'd never felt anything like this before and I wanted more of the same. He just held himself there for a few moments, his hands at my blouse, undoing it, pushing my bra aside. His hands were on my breasts and I didn't say a thing, just letting myself feel him touching me. The rocking motion started again and I lost track of everything but that gentle movement. How could such a gentle motion carry such authority, letting me know who was the master? The whole thing was too much. I was just feeling him in me, subtly sliding back and forth, his hands still at my breasts, petting them, teasing my nipples. Time was passing. How much time I didn't know and didn't care. What I cared about was Jordan and the way he was making me feel. It took a while but eventually I found that something had changed. It took me a few moments to understand. Jordan was no longer gently rocking with me. He was driving into me, his cock pushing home hungrily, and I was responding to his need, pushing hard to meet him and take him. The feelings down there had changed, being stronger, more passionate, strange sensations filling me and demanding satisfaction. There was pleasure, a lot of pleasure. I couldn't describe it. It was just there and growing by the moment. I was gasping, clinging to him, feeling something rising within me and wanting it now, now, now. I climaxed, and I could feel Jordan climaxing as well, his excitement adding to my pleasure. I shuddered, holding him tight, not wanting the feelings to end. "You do realise that you're going to have to drop Rob," Jordan told me. I nodded, wistfully. Rob would be devastated. He's basically a very nice guy. I pointed that out to Jordan. "Then pick a nice girl from among your friends and point her at Rob and he'll get over it fast enough," Jordan said. "I couldn't just foist someone else onto Rob," I said, horrified at the thought. (Elaine popped to mind. She's basically a nice girl and she likes Rob.) "Whatever," said Jordan. "Just make sure he knows that he's now the ex. I'll pick you up tomorrow. I'll give you a call to let you know when." Arrogant sod, I thought. Maybe I could set up a double date and get Elaine and Rob along. Jordan will keep cutting me out with Rob and Elaine will be there to sympathise. That should work.