Trashy Bimbo Whore

You protest. "No, please, don't. You're too big."

It's just token resistance. You don't really expect me not to do what we both know I'm going to. I spread your firm, little arse cheeks. You grab a pillow, grip it hard and bury your face in it. I spit on your arsehole. I didn't bother to bring lube and you haven't even suggested it. You try to relax. Most girls would tense up, but you know from experience that it only makes it worse on you. I press my cock against your puckered hole. No fingers to start you off. I'm going straight in, I know you can take it. You bite the pillow.

I ram my hot, raging hard dick into you arse. All the way in. You can feel my scrotum on your pussy. You try to move forward, you try to get away, but there's nowhere for you to go. It's agony for you. The pain in your arsehole is unbearable. You scream into the pillow. It wasn't the size that hurt you. It was the speed. Your anus was suddenly stretched with such force.

I rest there on top of you, with my cock all the way inside you. All the way up your arse. I'm waiting for you to settle down, to stop struggling.

Finally you relax a bit. You begin gently sobbing to yourself. It's not that bad. I'm sure you've had worse. I grab your hair and pull your head up out of the pillow. I pound you, hard! Hard in your tight back door. Not like I fucked your pussy. I don't think I could fuck you that hard again, even if I wanted to. But this time it's much faster. Frantic even. I want to come. I want to come in your arsehole. I want to fill you up with my spunk. You sob and cry as I wildly thrust in and out.

At last, with one final, powerful thrust forward and a sharp tug of your hair, I spasm and shoot my second load into you.

I'm totally spent. I let go of your hair and rest on top of you. My cock goes soft inside you. Minutes pass. You stop crying. I roll off you. My limp member slides out easily. I lie down next to you on the bed, not thinking, just breathing.

I watch you wince as you get to your knees. You look at my cock. I'm covered in cunt juices, spit, semen and a little blood. Then you manage to do one last thing to surprise me. You bend down and lick my cock. I can't help but laugh. You smile dumbly and lie down next to me. We don't touch. We don't say anything. We just lie there.

At last I sit up and get off the bed. I walk to the bathroom , take another piss, then wipe myself down with another towel. I wash my hands, but don't shower. I want this funk on me for as long as possible. I'll have to shower when I get home though. My wife will be asleep, so as long as I'm careful not to wake her, she'll never smell it.

When I come back into the room you are in the mini-bar again. You take out another bottle. Gin this time. You take a swig. I give you the towel and say,

"Clean yourself up and get dressed. We have to go."

"What? Can't I grab a shower first? I'm a mess...my make-up. I'm not ready!"

"Sorry. Not my problem. We need to go."

"For fuck's sake," you say out loud to nobody in particular.

You finish the gin, wipe yourself down with the soiled towel as best you can and get dressed without further protest. I get dressed too.

Before we leave I look around the room. The carpet has holes in it where we dropped the dog ends , as well as the ash smeared into it. The bed is dishevelled with wet patches, a combination of seminal fluid, virginal discharge and blood. The pillow cases are stained with your make-up and damp with tears. The grooly wine bottle lies on the floor with the two disgusting towels. Not to mention the strong smell of cigarette smoke. I suddenly have a pang of conscience. I feel sorry for whoever is going to have to clean this up. I leave a twenty pound note by the telephone. It's not enough, but the hotel is going to charge me for the clean up so fuck it.

We get in the lift and go down stairs. I notice that the wet patch on your top has dried and left a crusty white residue. You do look a fucking state. For the first time this evening I feel bad for you. Not for what I did to you in the room, but for making you go out looking the way you do now.

There aren't as many people as there were before. Just the two receptionists and a couple of people at the bar. Before they stared at you, now they gawp openly. Disgust and shock are obvious on their faces. I don't bother to check out. We just walk straight to the main entrance and out to my car. You are having a slightly more difficult time balancing on those heels now. Your legs are weak and your nether regions still very sore after our exertions upstairs. I have to admit my legs are a little wobbly too and my aching muscles make it painful to walk.

I'm satisfied though. I did what I had planned to do. I used and abused you. I did what I had been fantasising about since the moment I first laid eyes on you weeks ago. I bought you. I had you. I owned you in a way few men will ever own a woman. I fucked you in a way that not even you will forget. No matter how many times you were screwed in the past, or how many times you'll be banged in the future, you'll always remember this one.

We get into my car. I don't bother to offer you a lift anywhere. I just drive you back to the spot where I picked you up. You are probably going somewhere to score now. Whatever your drug of choice, you deserve it after what I put you through. Before you get out of the car I give you another twenty quid. The same tip I left for the hotel cleaner. As you open the door and climb out you say,

"Thank you."