Getting it Over With.

I went because I was curious, not because I meant to see him.

The place had looked interesting, to be sure, a name like The Leather and Lace only meant one thing, really. I'd gotten a nice fake ID over the internet, it didn't pass the black light test but I looked about old enough. I didn't want to drink, so I wasn't really worried; all I wanted was to lose my virginity in a quick and painless method, which is to say by giving it to a stranger I'd never have to see again.

For some reason, I wasn't there fifteen minutes before I saw him. I'd found a random girl to dance with, redhead, not really my type, but as I scanned the room over her shoulder his eyes met mine like he'd been watching me. I tensed up - what was Richard Haywood doing at a sex club? He was fucking half of the school, all of the females, I mean, so I'm not sure why he'd come out here to get laid. I found his gaze unsettling, so I dropped my eyes and moved on.

I let myself get absorbed in the club, the smell of sweat and, more faintly, sex attempted to be masked by that of alcohol and perfume was almost a taste in my mouth as I let my body become an object for anyone else in the room. I let my inhibitions down, allowing older boys to come up behind me and rub against me until they decided to move on, allowing one girl to bite and suck at my neck before being distracted by the bar or another dancer, I couldn't tell. I started to doubt that my objective would be completed and that I would in fact get laid tonight.

To prove me wrong, a nice firm body took the place of the last man to dance with me, firm hands stroking my stomach and my crotch somewhat eagerly, and my chest, holding me in place. The hands were well-tanned, from what I could tell, and he wore a wide metal ring on his thumb that seemed oddly familiar to me. That ring stroked my neck for a second and then turned my face to the side, allowing the hand’s owner to kiss on my neck, not finding the moisture still there entirely distasteful.

I couldn’t help wondering if this wasn’t more than it seemed to be.

I could see those hands and that ring reaching across the kitchen table we used when I tutored him, playing with a pen, running through his hair. Should I assume that that ring is unique and that has to be him behind me, making me shiver a little with his lust, enacted on the side and back of my neck, and through those hands on my body?

I’d rather not. If he’s not going to make it known to me, it doesn’t matter. It isn’t him. I bet that’s how he wants it, so I’ll throw out my suspicions.

He herds me to the wall and presses me against it, hard. A soft fingertip presses my eyelid down so I have to close it, and he presses my cheek against it the wall as well, so I’m closer. I must admit my breathing is heavy, the wall is smooth and worn like the cheeks of many girls have been pressed against it. He makes a soft, smug sort of noise and kisses my mouth, briefly, sweetly, and then undoes my pants without even asking.

I rub back against him, I can’t help it. This is what I came here for, isn’t it? A good fucking? Still, I’m nervous as he gropes my ass roughly, easing my pants down just enough and stroking down the back of my spine that’s visible, down to tease my entrance for just a second before fumbling in his pocket. After a second his finger returns and its slick and cold – if this is Richard, I’m shocked – the idea that he would carry lubricant is maybe more than I can take. Regardless, his finger inside me feels incredible, I can’t help whimpering and rubbing back against that, either. He laughs very softly, I can barely hear him over the music, and adds more, but keeping it quick.

When he pulls them back, I whimper but only for a second as he replaces them with his cock, which, by now, is quite stiff. I moan quietly, trying to keep it down even if the club is used to patrons fucking against this wall, and no one could even hear over the music. He’s hard and rough grinding into me, biting on my neck and gripping one of my wrists, mostly for the thrill of doing it. He reaches to stroke me, too, a kindness I wouldn’t expect from a stranger or from Richard.

My virgin body can only take this for so long until I come with a whimper, spent and a little embarrassed. Whoever it is behind me takes a little longer, finishing with a quiet grunt. He stays pressed against me for a moment, stroking my cheek like a pet and fixing his own pants. He bites my ear as a goodbye and disappears back into the club, I think.

I keep my eyes closed to give him a good head start. If it was him, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to get involved.

But I have to admit, that was pretty hot.