Fantasy: Used: Cleaned Up

I ran a quick shower to clean myself up, and came back to the living room a bit later, wrapped only in a towel. I was able to take a better look at his apartment, now, and saw that it was a bachelor unit: all one room, aside from the bathroom. And it was a true bachelor’s unit, because he hadn’t really even furnished it; a television, chair, and a futon in the middle of the room, where he obviously slept. And, based on the look of it, he didn’t wash the sheets very often either.

He was sitting in the chair, watching TV and sipping a beer, and I laid back on the futon near him, in a leisurely manner, studiously avoiding any thought of how many girls he’d fucked in this very spot. I was driving myself crazy, thinking about the fact that I was just one among a large number of his “conquests,” wanting to believe I was better than them, despite all the evidence to the contrary. I wasn’t just some random slut, trolling for cock, I was sure of it.

“Still here, are you?” he asked. “Haven’t had enough?”

“I thought maybe we could talk for a bit,” I said.

He just smirked, and didn’t even take his eyes off of the TV. “Really? What would we talk about? How much you enjoyed getting your holes stuffed? If you want to keep believing you’re a good girl, maybe you should leave now, before you give it up like a bitch in heat again.”

“I’m not like the other girls you bring here,” I replied. “I’m not just some whore.”

“Open your legs,” he said. And, instinctively – as if under their own power – my legs did just as he asked. The towel opened easily, as I bared my pussy to him, leaving me as exposed as a woman can possibly be before a man.

“You might not have been a slut this afternoon,” he said, “and sure, you might not be tomorrow, but right now all you want is cock.”

Once again, I was blushing furiously with shame and embarrassment. At the way I had instinctively obeyed his command, opening myself up to him without a second thought – and because he was right. I wanted him to fuck me, here and now, on this dirty futon. To my chagrin, he hadn’t even moved his eyes from the television. Any other man would have had his eyes drawn to me like a magnet; to him, this was just one more pussy: nothing special about it, it was one in a million.

When he showed no signs of moving – or even removing his attention from the TV – I pulled the remains of the towel off, exposing the rest of me. “Please?” I asked quietly, proving beyond a doubt how right he was.

He still didn’t turn the TV off, but he got up, unzipped his pants, and came down to join me – join with me – on the futon. My last coherent thought, before giving in to the pleasure as he entered me, was to hope that he’d cleaned off his cock after fucking my ass.

I don’t know what time I left his apartment, but it was late. The Uber driver seemed a bit nervous to be in this neighbourhood, but relaxed visibly once we got a few blocks away.

I didn’t even bother to shower when I got home, just stripped off my clothes and fell into bed naked. I’d have to wash the sheets tomorrow, I was still covered in his cum and sweat, not to mention my own juices drying on the inside of my thighs, but I’d worry about that later. At the moment, all I wanted was to sleep.

I took the next day off work. I did laundry, sat at the table drinking coffee, and just generally avoided thinking about anything. Around 10:00 Michael called, wanting to know what had happened to me the previous night. He spent most of the conversation alternating between chagrin at his actions the night before, and wanting to accuse me of cheating on him. When he woke up people had obviously told him I’d left with the other dude; on the one hand, he knew me well enough to know that I’d never cheat on him, regardless of what he’d been told, but on the other, how could he not worry about it?

He finally brought himself to ask the question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to: “Did you do anything with him last night?”

“What do you think?” I responded. I could hear him breathing a sigh of relief; of course his girlfriend wouldn’t go off and fuck some stranger she’d just met. She’d just gone off with him to teach her boyfriend a lesson.

To his credit, Michael seemed to have learned his lesson. He never acted like such an asshole again, even when I dressed to impress.

And it never occurred to him, even for a moment, that I hadn’t actually answered his question.