From: pleasecain@aol.com (PleaseCain)
Reply-To: pleasecain@aol.com (PleaseCain)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: TO JOY: Ten Minutes
Date: 30 Sep 1995 14:56:26 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Message-ID: <44k3sq$mq6@newsbf02.news.aol.com>

EXPLICIT MATERIAL INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY.



Ten Minutes



He watched as she slurped another glass down

and giggled loudly in a circle of men.  He had been

staring at her all night.  It was impossible not to.

Her voice grew louder and her laughter more

boisterous and frequent as the evening

progressed.  Champagne sloshed liberally out of

her glass, and there was no shortage of gentlemen

nearby offering to fill it back up.



They were all glancing at her while she tossed her

wavy, blond hair back and thrust her partially

exposed chest out in coquettish laughter, her

blouse carelessly unbuttoned beneath the sharp,

conservative grey suit.  She was certainly used to

being the center of attention.



He resented the spell he found himself under: how,

like every other stupid male in the room, his eyes

constantly returned to the figure of this woman who

so obviously assumed the role of cockteaser.  Ah,

what he would do with the body beneath that suit,

the way her hips swayed and her ass moved in her

tight skirt, and her long, black-hosed legs flexed

while she walked to the door, her cleavage jiggling

slightly with her steps, hinting at the full, meaty

breasts within, as she placed her empty glass on a

table on her way out of the room to the hallway.  He

waited until the men's heads turned back to their

conversations, then walked out of the same

doorway, glancing at her lipstick on the glass as he

passed by the table.



She was down the hall, and obviously in no hurry,

at ease in the warm buzz of alcohol.  He fished a

cigarette from his shirt pocket as her body slinked

toward the building exit.  He had scraped the

remainder of his coke lines into the end of the

cigarette, always good for a quick headrush later.

Watching the drunk slut pass through the glass

doors, he decided that now would be a very good

time for a quick headrush.



He inhaled the potent first puff deeply and shut his

eyes.  When he opened them she was gone.  He

drew another long drag and steadied himself

against the wall.  He shut his eyes tight, letting his

arms fall while his head swirled with the quick,

ecstatic intoxication.  Long, sweet moments

passed, and when he opened his eyes again, his

left hand was insistently brushing his aroused

crotch.  He started suddenly for the door.



His heels clacked loudly down the hall, the echoes

amplifying his aggressive stride.  He flung open the

door.



The floozy was making her way toward the far

corner of the parking lot, her suit jacket dancing in

her hand while she tettered uncertainly on her

heels.  He bounded down the steps, his pace

bordering on a run as he stalked through dozens of

parked cars.  Cigarette smoked seeped fron his

mouth and nose.  He neared his prey.



He bounded past uncounted cars, and finally

emerged from behind a van as the ignition turned

on the car before him.  Without breaking stride he

threw his cigarette down; its landing was

illuminated in red when her taillights flashed on.

Music blareed loudly within, so the woman was

completely surprised when he flung the door open

and pushed her brutally down.



The man shoved her violently across the seat

before she caught her breath, and she cowered

wide-eyed and dazed before the intruder.  She

instinctively squirmed toward the passenger door,

kicking her legs as best she could beneath the

heavy body bearing down on her.  The monster

kicked against the open door for leverage and

propelled himself fully upon her, pinning his

helpless victim.  When she finally caught her wind,

she inhaled the sharp stench of alcohol and

tobacco and sweat.  She screamed.



"Bitch!" he barked.  He fumbled against her

clawing hands, and then, as she prepared to yell

even louder, he cuffed a tremendous blow across

her cheek.  She saw only brilliant white light, and

her kicking legs went limp, before he yanked her

up by her hair.



"Shut up," he spit into her face, and pulled her

nearer so roughly she winced from the pain upon

her scalp, "or I'll fucking kill you."  Her dark eyes,

filled with tears, met his.  Mascara ran down her

cheek.  Her breath was short and shallow.  He liked

this.  He smiled and then threw her down, her head

bouncing on the window.  She lay dumbfounded as

he yanked her skirt down with a ferocious tug,

jerking a few times before the tight garment cleared

her hips and was pulled from her legs.



When the thug threw her skirt to the floor and

turned to slam the door shut, she was again

peppering his head with slaps and punches,

forcing him to raise an arm to shield himself.  Even

so, with his powerful arm striking back, his free

hand clumsily but insistently tugged the sheer

hose down her legs, revealing more and more of

the fair skin of her naked thighs, knees and calves

writhing beneath him.  He ran his hands roughly up

the length of those legs which he had been staring

at all night, along the inside of her thighs, as she

landed a desperate flurry of slaps to his face.  She

tightened her legs together, so he pounded his

hand roughly between them, into her crotch, and

squeezed hard through the scant cotton panties.



She screamed in agony, and grabbed his hand

with hers, trying to rip it away from her sensitive

area.  He tugged her hand away, and with her face

now exposed, slapped her hard.  With her face

turned away, she swung wildly in the air,

connecting only occasionally and ineffectually on

his shoulders and head.  He was undeterred,

returning her blows with stinging slaps all over her

wincing face.



With her eyes closed, she continued screaming,

even as she tired and her face smarted from the

blows.  Her panties were roughly pulled at, and

then they ripped away.



She scratched and pushed blindly, flailing her

head from side to side to dodge his hands.

Exhaustion was setting in, and she couldn't take

much more punishment to her face.  Her legs were

pulled easily apart with a powerful hand and his

rough knees.



"No!  No!" she protested in gasps.  "Stop!  Stop!

Please!"  She felt hard, warm flesh poke

momentarily at her naked bush.  The brute's body

pushed against hers, so heavy, and he seized her

wrists, locking them against the door above her

head.  His penis brushed down her inner thigh.  It

felt warm, and twitched between her legs like a

living creature.



"No!" she squirmed as best she could beneath

him.



"Shut up!" he barked into her ear.  "Shut up, cunt."

He bucked against her.  The cock moved clumsily

and insistently at her.  She writhed her hips away

with all her might.



"Stop, cunt!  Stop it!"  His hands jumped to her

neck, his fingers wrapping tightly around her

throat.  He squeezed.



She gagged.  Her hands pried at his.  Her head

strained at his grasp.



His cock penetrated deeply into her.  She was

warm and tight, and he watched her face as

realization flashed across it, of what just occurred,

and what will occur.  Her face, so sexy before, was

now ruined and scared and vulnerable.  It was

even more erotic to him now.  And her dainty,

smooth neck.  He had gazed at it all evening, so

smooth and shapely, so feminine, how it gently

curved from her behind ears down to the tantalizing

hint of her cleavage.  Now the delicate thing was in

his hands, in his fingers.  She was in his grasp,

and he wanted her more, all of her.  He raised his

hips and then pushed into her.



"No," she pleaded beneath her breath.  His cock

was enveloped tightly, deeply within her.  He pulled

it out slowly again.  Luxuriating in her torture, her

watched her face closely, panting on her, as he

drew himself almost completely from her snatch.



"No," her lips mouthed, and her eyes pleaded,

"please."  With a gutteral sneer, he tightened his

grip on her and pounded his dick violently in her.

He fucked her hard, ramming her forcefully,

inflicting all his frustration and rage into her, while

he watched the woman he possessed, fucking her

to death.



Her nails scratched into his forearms, and then at

the upholstery of the seat, and then fell away to

aimlessly flail against whatever was within reach.

Her head craned back, her legs kicked and

bucked, and then lifted, her knees squeezing his

body between them.



He thrusted more rapidly, his hard cock grinding

wildly in her, caught in a savage momentum, the

friction with her cunt making his rod more sensitive.

Her gasps were louder, more desperate.  Her

hands contorted and stretched over her head,

clawing frantically at the window above her head.

The long, sleek legs only writhed unconsciously at

his back, her heels spasmodically kicking and

pushing at him.  Her body had stopped fighting,

living only for the next draught of air, while he

mercilessly fucked her.



In the shadowy pall from the parking light high

overhead, her fair complexion had turned the faint

color of death.  He closed his eyes.  Hearing her

weak wheezing, he lost control.  His whole body

jerked into her, pounding her lifeless figure against

the door.  He rutted unconsciously at her, his cock

pistoning within her pussy.  His hips bucked

uncontrollably on the slut as he drove closer and

closer, then screamed as he shot gushes of cum

into her raw snatch.



"Cum now, slut! Do it, now!"



When he opened his eyes, he was leaning over

her, his hands on the headrest and dashboard

supporting him.  He wiped his drool on his sleeve,

his throat hoarse from yelling.  He pushed himself

to his knees, straightened and buttoned his shirt in

the mirror, threw his hair back with both hands.



The slut was gasping deeply, rubbing the length of

her throat and face with her hands.  Her legs

unconsciously writhed and stretched.  Her thighs

were a fiery red, and her pussy swollen and sloppy.

She did not open her eyes.  He stepped out, and

scornfully glanced down at her spent, prone body

on the seat.  He spit on her and slammed it shut.



He walked weakly across the lot.  The air was thick,

the evening muggy and quiet.  He could still hear

the car stereo as he entered the hall.



Cool air conditioning instantly resuscitated his

sweating body as he headed directly to the john

and the cold water of the sink.  He stayed there a

while to gather his wits; he had to quickly, with all

the chatty, late-night traffic at the stalls behind him.

He dried and straightened himself out as best he

could before heading out.  He went straight to the

bar for a stiff one, and was immediately flagged

down by his boss.



"Is your wife all right?"  His brows arched in

concern.  "We saw you . . . Ah!  here!"



She smiled, flushed, and sidled closely up to her

husband's arm, an ornate silk scarf around her

neck.  They gazed at each other momentarily.



"Beautiful," the elder gentleman commented at the

silk.  "Are you OK?  I was just asking about you,

and . . ."



She gulped and spoke softly.  "I'm fine.  Just

needed a little air," and smiled.