Anonymous Encounters(21)

I can't even imagine how lost she must have felt, how shocked and  deserted. But the fact is I don't know because I wasn't there. I was at  the Club bar, knocking myself out with shot after shot of whisky, until I  was a sloppy mess, sinking into the depths of my chair, reeking of  alcohol.

So yeah, it's over now. My relationship with a beautiful girl, the heady  days of pleasure mixed with a real connection are gone. I booted that  hefty rump out, and fuck me, but it's time to move on. No more sweet  whispers in my ear at night, no more surprise blowjobs in the morning,  no more smiles meant just for me. It's all anonymous finger fucks from  now on out with random women, my identity hidden once more.

Should be easy right? After all, I have a lifetime of chasing strange.  But the thing is that I can't get myself to move on. My profile on  Discreet Encounters is still there, but fuck, I haven't touched it in  ages. I haven't even bothered to log in, the laptop cold and still in  its case, a lump of metal.

Because frankly, the thought of something anonymous has no appeal  anymore. It's like telling a man that he's welcome to a dried biscuit  after he's devoured a feast for the senses. Who the fuck would want  that? Who the fuck would survive? All I crave is my sweet girl, my  beautiful brunette with the bouncy breasts and always-wet twat. I want  to hear Rachel's musical laugh, to feel those caramel brown eyes on me,  alternatively inquisitive, intelligent, and oh-so-hungry. I want Rachel  and no one else, but the thing is that I can't do that to the girl. My  sweet teen doesn't deserve to live like me, Rachel deserves a life  filled with happiness and joy, and I'm a fucker who fucks strange pussy.  She's too good for this, so I had to let her go.

Throwing back another shot, I rumbled deep in my chest, looking around  the bar area with bleary eyes. Hell, I've been downing liters of whisky  every night, my liver's gonna give out at any instant, there's so much  poison in my soul. But I need it. I need the alcohol to dull my senses,  to wipe the image of the brunette from my brain before I pass out for  the umpteenth time. So I sank into the club chair once again and raised  four fingers at the waitress. That's right. Four more shots at least,  and make those doubles.

Already, I'd gulped two mouthfuls when a shadow loomed over my chair.  Fuck, what the fuck? I wanted to be alone in my misery, to wallow in the  pain and think sweet thoughts of my beautiful virgin. What was Rachel  doing now? Was she at work at the library? Were guys coming onto her,  circling like sharks around that fragrant twat? Hell, if I were a dude  I'd offer to put her into circulation, drilling that pink pussy in any  dark corner, the reading room, the children's section, wherever there  was. So who was this fucker interrupting my pain?

"Shit," came a low rumble. "You're fucked up.

It was Xander, a buddy of mine who likes his girls wet, willing and  barely legal. Oh wait, that was me. I shook my head blearily.

"I'm busy," I grunted, looking away and sinking lower into my chair. "Get the fuck away."

"Sure," drawled Xander. "Except you're gonna need someone to help you back to your suite. You want me to call some girls?"

I snorted rudely. Fuck, the female servers would never be able to hold  me up. The ladies who work here are tiny with giant boobs and sky-high  heels, they hold cock in their bodies, not drunk dudes who can barely  talk. More like I'd need a stretcher and an ambulance.         

     



 

"Naw," I grunted. "I'm fine."

Xander looked me over skeptically before nodding.

"Whatever," he said carelessly. "All you, bro, all you."

I grunted.

"Thanks. Now fuck off."

Yeah, I was a rude mofo and didn't care who knew. But Xander couldn't be deterred. Instead he threw me a curious glance.

"Sure, but let me ask you this. What the fuck is going on? I've never seen you so hammered before."

I stared at my friend, although my eyes didn't really focus. Did I  really want this? Did I really want to let on what my problems were,  sharing my troubles? Did I really want to pour my heart out to another  dude, letting him see my weaknesses? Fuck no! Even in my drunk stupor,  there was no way I was shedding the armor of an alpha so I just grunted  again.

"Fuck off."

Xander shrugged nonchalantly.

"Fine but whatever it is, you better fix it," he rumbled. "Because the  way you're going, you're never gonna get it up again," he said eyeing my  crotch. "Dude, ever heard of erectile dysfunction? With all that liquor  you're gonna be an eighty year old man getting up to pee ten times a  night, balls burning with no way of producing live swimmers."

I jerked. No way. No fucking way. Besides, one of my secret desires was  that Rachel was already pregnant, I'd creamed so many times into that  hot twat that surely, one of my guys had done its work? Surely, the  fertile teen was already seeded with my virility, about to bloom with  child?

But right. That was all lost to me. I'd kicked her out, booted the  brunette back rudely to the surface of the earth, so I just grunted  again, signaling the waitress.

"Naw, I'll be fine," I slurred drunkly. "S'all good."

Xander shrugged again as a blonde waitress appeared, dressed in nothing  but a purple g-string and silver stilettos, boobies swaying  tantalizingly. And as she bent over to place a drink before me, I  smelled what could only be described as wet twat. Oh yeah, female  essence is fucking pungent and I've got a nose like a bloodhound, I can  scent it from miles away.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I should have been turned on. I should have been  ravaging the woman right now, pulling her into my lap and forcing her to  sit on my dick like a good club member. But instead, I merely tweaked a  stiff nipple and tucked a hundred into her g-string.

"Thanks baby," I slurred, squinting at her. "Thanks."

The blonde tittered, wiggling her ass at me.

"Daddy, thank you," she intimated, shooting a coy look. "But you sure  you don't want to tip me another way?" she asked lightly. And without  losing a beat, the woman reached down and pulled the crotch of her  g-string aside, showing us those puffy pink lips, dripping and  delicious. But Club girls don't stop there. They're selected for their  slutty ways, their love of sex, and this blonde was no exception. She  tilted her hips up and put a finger on each labia, spreading those  nether lips.

"Daddy," she cooed, showing off that gleaming hole. "Roll up the  Benjamin and stick it up here?" she asked coyly. "Push that cash into my  twat?"

And I couldn't take it anymore. I should have been on it, after all, who  misses a chance to stick money up a gorgeous blonde's pussy? Who turns  down the opportunity to fuck a ten, a woman so physically perfect she's  like a Barbie?

But the thing is I didn't want it. The waitress disgusted me, she was so  skinny, her bones so small that for sure she had osteoporosis. I like  my girls heavy, I like ‘em flush and curvy, and right now, I only wanted  one twat, one set of great big boobies. I wanted brown curls and a  sweet laugh rising into a moan as I rammed that pink pulsing cunt, as I  squeezed that giant butt and caressed meaty thighs. Oh fuck, I just  wanted Rachel and seeing this woman bare herself had a strange effect.  Because I felt angry and repulsed, absolutely turned off by the slut.

And maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the desperation, but I did  something I've never done before. I raised a hand to smack that woman,  to beat her down, to shame her for not being Rachel. How dare she? How  could this random female think that she was better than my girl, that'd  I'd even want to smell her twat when all I wanted was my best girl's  cunt? How could she think she was attractive with those bony limbs and  dry skin? With a roar, I literally rose to my feet, hand raised in the  air.         

     



 

But Xander came to the rescue. The big man jumped up and grabbed my  wrist, wrestling it behind my back as the girl cowered before us,  shrieking, trying to shield herself with a tiny notepad.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Xander grunted, twisting my arm painfully. "What the fuck asshole?"

I can't imagine it was easy, I'm a huge dude, and drunk, even more impossible to control.

But I was an animal on the rampage and fought back, movements sloppy and wild, lurching this way and that.

"Fuck you!" I roared. "Look at this slut! Look at this fucking ho, showing us that rancid cunt!"

Xander shook his head with disgust, biting out to the girl, "Leave," before turning back to me.

"Sit down," he barked. "Get yourself together, you're such a fucking embarrassment."

But I lurched around, stumbling like a mofo, before literally banging into something and collapsing on a nearby couch.

"Fuck you," was all I said in reply, waving a hand. "Drink, I need a drink."

Xander shook his head with disgust.

"You're such a fucked up fucker," was all he said in return. "Water," he commanded to someone I couldn't see.