Recognition

Sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. Stains on his shirt and liquor on his breath but he's the one. He's the one who lined up outside the booth and was the lucky number to get to take my virginity. The man with whom I just couldn't help myself. The man who knows that he had me.

Would he stop me? On that street? Would he smile and gesture to me, leading me to a nearby alley and pressing me up against a hard brick wall as his hands are everywhere and his lips are on my skin?

Undressing me roughly, tearing just a little bit at the edges of my fabric. Ripping enough of the seams that when he let me free to stumble out of here everyone would know I was nothing more than a dirty whore who liked to get fucked by strangers in alleys,

Would he be gentle with me? No, even now with my mouth on his cock he is thrusting a little with impatience, eager for me to drain him of his tension.

In that alley in three days time he would be even more brutal, presing me face first up against the wall and rutting into me like an animal. Fucking me hard while my bare breasts scraped against the brickwork and leaving a litany of micro abrasions on my skin that would be like the finely tuned work of a master monk creating a manuscript.

But ours would be a book of lust, written out on my skin and there for everyone who passes me to see. Because between the burn on my skin and the rips in my clothing and the scent of dirty sex radiating off of me everyone I passed on the streets would know what I did, would know who I am.

They would know I like to get fucked, that I live for it. And any cruel bastard who wanted could take advantage of that, leading me on to something truly divine as I give myself over to hellfire and damnation. As I become someone truly unbound, a woman in wanton need who would take on all comers.

I can't fuck this cock. I won't fuck this cock. I want to fuck this cock.

But a part of me knows my first time needs to be special even though I'm terrified that if I do give in, whoever it is, that it will change me. I know it will and I'm worried that it will make me and I don't know what type of person I want to be.

But I think I know what type I don't want.

I think I need it to mean something. I think I need it to be meaningful. Needs to be more than just carnal, needs to be deeper than that.

But just because I won't give up my cunt that easily, doesn't mean I can't find some satisfaction of my own.

I've taken a little more than half of him by now so I let the hand pressed against my lips fall to my body instead. No sense in letting this stranger have all the fun when I can have a bit of myself. Still keeping one hand on his cock. Still keeping my lips on his cock. But taking the chance to slide my other free hand up and down my body, teasing out a heat that had been brimming beneath my skin since I woke up this morning as I indulge in the sin of wreckless pleasure.

Chasing my lips up and down his considerable length while my hand is untethered from that rhythm. A confusion of sensation on his body and his cock while my own hand focuses on myself.

And it's hard, keeping three separate timings in my head at the same time. But it's worth it and I'm good at multitasking and I let it just happen, my bodies natural inclinations determining things as I move without sense or meaning, as I move to the beat of my own drum and let need be my perfect guide and mistress.

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