The grating thump of the bass already exacerbates my rapidly developing migraine as I approach the bar, but I don't give a damn. The steadily lowering crimson sun is intent on glaring directly into my fucking retinas, stinging them. Today can in a few words be described as, "A Raging Shit Storm without an Umbrella," or, "The Effectiveness of American Politics." It's not a good day. My tennis shoes drag along the ground and my shoulders hunch beneath their wrinkled t-shirt until I grasp the door handle and pull. Why am I even doing this to myself?
Inside is a relatively soothing darkness, despite slivers of the afternoon glare peeking in through boarded up windows. At the bar is Claus, the douchebag living fossil with a heart of gold, or that's what I call him. His shining bald head lifts up and he peers under bushy white eyebrows at me. He nods, then goes back to his reading. He won't serve me until he's good and ready, and I don't have the energy to fight it today. I sit down at the stool farthest from the entrance, place my phone on the bar, and stare at it. Hopefully that's a good enough signal not to talk to me.
I dare to take a peek at the people around me. It's a pretty normal crowd, nothing really to write home about. A few faces I recognize, but make sure my body language firmly says, "leave me alone." Eventually, Claus stirs from his nook and shuffles his way over to me, stopping to refill two other patron's drinks on his way. He looks tired, as usual.
"You look like shit, twink," he says, dry as ever. I wonder if he even knows my name at all. He at the very least knows my drink order as he begins pouring, and let's be honest, liquor is the true way to my heart.
"Thanks Claus. That makes me feel loads better," I return. "Got fired today. Again. Well, third time actually, but this time was especially bullshit."
"I didn't ask." He pauses, eyes still rooted on his pale hands. "But I'm sorry to hear that, twinkle." As I go for my wallet, he leans in closer. "Now, don't worry about that. Mister Rolex and Calvin Klein over there already bought it."
I look to my left, but like, try to not seem like I'm looking to my left. There, two seats down, sits a man in his late 20's or early 30's. He looks clean and neat, with a form-fitting white button down and brown slacks. He's a bit pretentiously dressed for this dump heap of a bar, if I'm being honest. There's just a light dusting of stubble on his otherwise immaculate and well-tanned face. I can tell he's watching me in his peripheral vision as he stares ahead with picture perfect posture. He's hot, and intrigues me to the point I nearly forget that I'm having a horrible day. I look back at Claus.
"What do you think? Murderer? Cat burglar? Maybe just a date rapist?" I muse on the old bear.
"Like you would mind, you skinny slut." He chuckles and walks away to resume his book once more. As I take a sip of my drink I see the man look in my direction. I try not to stiffen my body too much and act natural but I'm certainly unnerved. Who buys people drinks anymore? Go on Grindr or something if you wanna talk to people. Can't someone just sit and be fucking miserable once in a while? I look back down at my phone and nurse my drink. There's a couple messages, mostly from nameless numbers of guys I've likely met here, and even one from my previous employer calling me an "Unsophisticated perverted freak!" What a fucking cun-
"Hi," says a voice directly behind me, startling me. I manage to not spill my drink, a small victory. Turning my head slowly, I face him and can't help but grin sheepishly; he's very good looking up close, damn. He smells lovely and masculine, stands about six foot tall, I reckon. "Do you mind if I take a seat?" he asks, then sits down beside me without waiting for an answer. What a prick.
"Hi?" I say, still very unsure about this. Though I'm trying to sound annoyed at my invasion of privacy, the guy is just too damn charming for me to be outright rude. He certainly doesn't notice my efforts as he smiles down at me. Dimples. Fucking dimples, really? I can feel my cheeks beginning to blush and try to hide it with a long suck of my drink.
"I'm new to town. This is one of my first places I've checked out." He leans in a little closer to me, "And honestly, before you came in I was feeling pretty down about my decision to come here." The flattery makes me feel butterflies, I can't help it. Damn it, stay mad Jazz! This is a bad day! Try to frown. Nope, can't at the moment. Almost involuntarily, I hold out my hand to the stranger and look into his eyes.
"I'm Jazz. Lived here all my life. Not offering free tours at the moment, though." There's a twinkle of humour in his eye. Fuck, his eyes are pretty. Bright cerulean, so bright in fact part of my brain wonders if he's not wearing colored lenses.
"Oh, you're closed for business?" His lips curl into a smile, "What about pleasure?" I feel his eyes bear down on my jawline and neck, inspecting me. I pause.
"I could be persuaded," I relent to him. His thigh touches against mine and I feel its warmth through his velvety soft pants. I'm fairly sure it wouldn't take much for me to be persuaded at this point. My dick is already stirring in my jockstrap.
"My name's Ben." He takes a sip of his drink and licks his full lips, eyes me up and down. I want to see the lust in his eyes as I strip for him. Feel his hands dance over my skin. I suppose I really just love to be chased after, and I know how to get men to play my game. "And I know how to get what I want," he concludes.
I jerk my body to face him, my cock fully hard now. Hopefully it's visible. Leaning back, I place my hands behind my head and ask, "What is it that you want?"
"You, Jazz. On your knees in front of me, completely naked and exposed. Submissive to me." He says it quietly, through gritted teeth. He lewdly palms his crotch. Fuck yes, I found a freak. I'm certainly a certified slut, but I'm not exactly an experienced kinkster. Excitement courses through me as I imagine myself blowing Ben, and who knows what else? A quick look back at his pants, and I see him toy with the imprint of a huge cock. My mouth waters and I lick my lips. His eyes follow my tongue.
"Do you want another drink?" Ben questions. "Maybe back at my place?"
The dread of the day behind me completely forgotten at this point, replaced with sexual energy and desire I slurp down the rest of my drink entirely too fast and lock eyes with Ben once again. I crack a wry smile.
"Let's get the fuck out of here."
His place is just a few blocks down Elysian Fields Avenue. The sun's made its way steadily out of sight below the buildings to the west. The twilight soothes my anxiety and previously aching head. A cool breeze from the Mississippi River fans over me, rustling my hair. Even though I really am a hoe, the excitement of the unknown makes my heart race. I met this guy maybe 20 minutes ago, and he's already leading me back to his place like a lamb for slaughter. He's walking quietly beside me with a confident stride.
We take a left on Chartres Street, and his place is the first house on the left. Ben keeps a firm hand on my ass as he unlocks his door, revealing a dark interior. There's certainly a hint of nervousness in my chest as he leads me into his space. He doesn't turn on the lights once we're inside. Instead, Ben wraps his hand around my throat and presses me into the wall. My breath staggers and my cock swiftly hardens at his show of raw dominance. His lips part my own and he runs his tongue along mine, then down my throat. His hand gropes around my hips to my ass and squeezes.
"Strip for me baby," Ben requests. At least, I think it's a request? My shirt is soon on the floor at his feet, and I reach for his. An iron grip stops me. Then he pulls me in closer, until his lips touch my ear. "You first, boy," he growls.
Relenting, I reach down and tug off my bottoms, then my socks and shoes. My erect dick strains between us. The lighting is dim, but I can just barely see him standing in front of me, still fully clothed. Suddenly, I feel weirdly vulnerable, completely naked with a clothed stranger. But it fucking excites me. Before I can make a go for taking off his shirt again, he shoves me to my knees on the hardwood floor, and I wince.
"Just like I wanted you," Ben taunts, seemingly more to himself than to me. "Sweet, obedient, and submissive on your knees. All for me," He grabs a fistful of my hair and presses my face into his bulging erection. As quickly he's come onto me, and even with how unsettled I am with this entire situation, I can't help but feel extremely turned on. I mouth around his cock feeling it twitch between the fabric and my lips. Moans above drive me to continue my attention, until I whine with impatient desire for his raw cock. Ben chuckles above me, but obliges and opens up his zipper.
It's too dark to see it, but I feel the hot and heavy dick hit my lips. Precum smears down my jaw onto my bare chest. Damn, this guy is ready to fuck. I start licking all of his sweet juice up, and inhale his musky scents between his legs. Once I've layered his dick with my saliva, it's time to suck it down inch by inch. Playing with his balls, I take his dick head into my mouth and run my tongue all over it. I can tell he loves the attention to detail. Before long, his hands are back on my head guiding my pace. Taking control away from me.
"Fuck, boy. You keep that up and I might have to keep you forever. How would you like that? Be my permanent slave boy." I roll my eyes at his dirty talk word choice, but whatever, the dude's sure got enthusiasm as he fucks my face. He pushes me down further with each thrust. In no time at all, my mouth is full of cock and his huge head is bearing down on my throat. I moan onto his cock as it tries to penetrate deeper. The head is just so fucking thick, there's no way it's going to fit. Still he is attacking from every angle trying to find a weak spot, meanwhile I'm running out of air. Jesus Christ, dude, slow down!
When I get desperate, I pull back and he lets me go. I sputter and cough to clear my airway, then feel the sting of Ben's palm across my cheek. The fucker just slapped me in the face!
"Don't stop unless I tell you to stop, slut," Ben spits. Okay, actually, on second thought that's fucking hot. Please keep talking to me like that. I nod my head vigorously and swallow his cock again. Before I can get my rhythm started again, he jerks my head up, looking into his eyes.
"What was that?" He scoffs at me, "Answer me with `Yes Sir' whenever I speak to you."
"Y..yes Sir?" I manage to get out. What is this, the fucking military? I can tell it's some kind of weird game he's playing. I mean yeah, missionary sex gets boring sometimes, I can understand that. But `Yes Sir'? Ehh whatever, I'll go with it for the sex I suppose.
Ben's cock is thrust back into my throat as he sneers, "That was pathetic, boy. You've got a lot of training to do if you wanna be a good sub for me." Ouch, dude I'm a literal champ at taking dick. You'll fucking find out soon enough. I'm able to suppress my gagging for the most part as he uses my face. See? A fucking dick champ. He doesn't even acknowledge what I'm doing well though. All a part of his game, I'm sure.
In between thrusts deep into my neck, phlegm flies down my naked body and aching cock. Ben's breathing is staggering and his balls are tightening up in his sack. I can tell he's getting close.
Fuck, and so am I. Using my own throat slime as lube I viciously beat my cock in time with him. But he fucking kicks away my wrist, stopping me.
"Put your hands behind your fucking back, bitch," he commands me, "You're not cumming yet." With a muffled whine, I begrudgingly obey him, abandoning my leaking dick.
"Good boy," Ben grunts above me. "Now get ready to take this nut down your fucking throat." Oh fuck yes. I try to answer him with a `Yes Sir', playing by his rules, but he never removes his cock from my mouth. Instead, he pressed my head against the wall. With nowhere left to move, he has complete control of my hole. Ben moans and thrusts harshly for two more pumps all the way down my thrussy and he's cumming HARD. I feel his hot and thick jizz flowing directly into my stomach.
For the last few squirts he pulls out slightly for me to taste, and I savor every last drop. We heave as we recover from the rough face fucking. Ben leaves his cock in my mouth, pinning me into the wall until he catches his breath. He wipes the rest of my spit off on my cheek and lifts me up by the armpits. His arms wrap around me gently and he runs a soothing hand through my hair.
"That's a very good boy," he whispers in my ear gently. I'm still very pent up, and expect my reward for being such a good boy. Ben lifts my chin and kisses me softly. We can both taste his fresh load between our lips. "Let's head upstairs. I want to show you my playroom."
Before I can respond, or even think, he grabs my wrist and leads me up the narrow staircase towards whatever in the hell the "playroom" is.
Hello, happy to be back writing again! Please consider donating to Nifty to keep the archive alive or like I will have significantly less material to jack off to. That would fucking suck. Do it for me <3 Thanks for reading. Part two is coming soon.
Love and glitter,
Pup Tracer