The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Abigail

The moment her footsteps retreated, everything changed. He lowered me back to my feet, his cock sliding out of my dripping pussy with an obscene wet sound.

Before I could even whimper at the loss, his hand wrapped around my throat, not choking, just holding, possessive, and pushed me down.

"Down." The single grunted command made my pussy clench around nothing.

My knees hit the cold tile. His hand guided my head, bending me forward until my cheek pressed against the floor and my ass was high in the air, completely exposed.

Fuck. He’s going to mount me like an animal. Going to use me like the desperate slut I am.

The blunt, thick head of his cock pressed against my entrance. For one second, he paused.

Then he slammed home in one brutal thrust.

"FUCK!" I screamed into my arm, biting down hard on my own flesh to muffle the sound.

His hand returned to my throat from the side, angling my face up while he started pounding into me. Not the steady rhythm from before. This was pure animal fucking. Hard, fast, desperate thrusts that drove me forward with each impact.

This is what I needed. What Drake could never give me. This raw, filthy, degrading fuck.

His other hand gripped my hip, holding me steady as he used my body. My tits swayed beneath me with each thrust, my nipples dragging against the fabric of my bra.

A rough groan, then his hand left my throat and both hands grabbed my hips, jerking me back to meet his thrusts. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed obscenely loud in the small bathroom.

My pussy was making the filthiest sounds every time his cock plunged into me. I was so soaked that I could feel my juices running down my inner thighs, dripping onto the floor.

One hand left my hip and came down hard on my ass.

SMACK!

"Ahhhhh!" The sting bloomed across my skin.

He spanked me again. And again. Over and over in rhythm with his thrusts until my ass was on fire and I was sobbing with pleasure, my pussy clenching and spasming around his pistoning cock.

His hand slid up my spine, pushing my sweater higher, then his fingers wrapped around the back of my neck and pressed my face harder against the cold tile while he hammered into me without mercy.

In the dim emergency lighting, I caught a glimpse of that tattoo again. My third orgasm was building inside me, spreading through me like wildfire.

My entire body detonated. The orgasm ripped through me with a violence that stole my breath, my vision, my mind. My pussy clamped down on his cock so hard I heard him curse above me, felt his dick throb inside me as my inner walls convulsed and spasmed, trying to milk him.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me. My fingers scrabbled uselessly against the tile, my legs shaking so violently I would have collapsed if he wasn’t holding me up with his cock buried deep in my cunt.

The pleasure kept coming and coming, each wave stronger than the last. My hungry pussy milked his cock desperately, clenching and releasing in rhythm, trying to draw his cum from him.

His control shattered, his thrusts becoming wild and erratic and desperate. He made a sound, half growl, half groan, and I felt his cock swell even thicker inside me.

"Good girl," he rasped, his voice breaking.

"Such a good fucking girl for me."

Three more brutal, punishing thrusts that battered my cervix, then he buried himself as deep as humanly possible with a guttural groan that vibrated through his entire body.

His cock pulsed and throbbed, and even through the condom I could feel the heat of his release flooding into it.

We stayed like that for a split second, the reality of what I had just done crashing into me.

I just fucked a stranger. And holy shit, it was the best sex of my entire life.

Drake’s cock had been nothing compared to this. This stranger was ruining me for anyone else and I didn’t care.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled his cock out. My pussy clenched at the loss, still spasming with little aftershocks, feeling devastatingly empty without him stretching me open.

He helped me up from the floor with gentle hands, and when my legs refused to support my weight, his arms wrapped around me.

"I’ve got you," he murmured against my temple, the words barely audible. "I’ve got you, Red."

He held me until my breathing steadied, until the violent trembling in my legs subsided to just a slight shake. I heard him deal with the condom, then he found my clothes in the darkness, helping me dress because my hands were still shaking too badly to manage buttons or elastic.

He strode to the door, pulled it open, and just like that, he was gone. I stood there in the darkness for several heartbeats, trembling and wrecked and more alive than I had ever felt in my entire life. My hand fumbled for the light switch.

Fluorescent brightness flooded the tiny bathroom, making me squint behind my sunglasses. I caught my reflection in the mirror.

Oh my god.

My red-dyed hair was messy and wild, like someone had been pulling it. My sunglasses sat crooked on my flushed face. My lips were swollen and dark red. My sweater was wrinkled beyond repair and my leggings had a noticeable wet spot where my juices had soaked completely through the fabric.

I look like I just got fucked within an inch of my life. Because I did.

"Holy shit," I whispered, clamping both hands over my mouth before hysterical laughter could escape.

My body sang with the aftermath. I could feel him everywhere. The pleasant ache between my thighs where his thick cock had stretched me, the marks his fingers had left on my hips, my breasts, my ass. The slight soreness in my throat where his hand had pressed.

My pussy still throbbed, sensitive and well used, my inner walls still occasionally clenching around the memory of being so perfectly filled.

Wait until I tell Annette. Holy fuck. I just got absolutely destroyed by a stranger on a plane. And it was fucking incredible.

I cleaned myself up as best I could, then took several deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, the flight attendant was waiting nearby with a knowing look in her eyes and a slight smirk on her lips.

"Feeling better, miss?"

Heat flooded my face, burning from my neck to my hairline. "Much better. Thank you."

She didn’t say anything else, but her expression said she knew exactly what had happened in there.

I walked back to my seat on shaky, unsteady legs, hyperaware of every eye that might be watching me, though most passengers were still absorbed in their phones or sleeping, oblivious.

When I collapsed into my window seat, I pulled my sunglasses down further over my eyes and stared out at the dark sky, my reflection in the window.

My body still hummed with aftershocks. My pussy still throbbed, sensitive and tender and thoroughly fucked. I could still smell that expensive cologne mixed with sex and sweat and something uniquely masculine on my skin.

I didn’t even know his name. Didn’t know what he looked like. All I had was the memory of his hands on my body, his cock inside me, his grunts and groans in my ear.

The tattoo. I had that too. The intricate black ink spiraling up his forearm, visible for just a moment in that faint green emergency lighting.

Would I recognize him if I saw him again? Would my body know him before my brain did? Would my pussy remember the exact shape and feel of his cock?

The plane began its descent. The captain’s voice crackled over the intercom, announcing our approach to Los Angeles International Airport.

I pressed my forehead against the cool window and watched the lights of the city grow closer, brighter. The plane touched down with a gentle bump. Passengers began gathering their belongings, shuffling impatiently toward the exits.

I grabbed my bag and followed the crowd on wobbly legs, my thighs still trembling slightly.

The terminal was bright and busy with travelers. I followed the signs toward baggage claim, checking my phone to see multiple messages from Annette.

I spotted my grandparents before they saw me. The moment Meemaw’s eyes found mine, her whole face lit up like sunshine.

"Abby! Oh, my sweet girl!"

She rushed forward, arms outstretched, and I fell into her embrace. The familiar scent of her lavender perfume wrapped around me like the softest blanket.

"Hi, Meemaw," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion.

She pulled back, cupping my face in her soft, wrinkled hands. "Oh baby, you’ve been crying. Your eyes are all red."

"It’s been a really long day."

"I know, sweetheart. I know." She kissed my forehead tenderly. "But you’re here now. You’re safe. And we’re going to take care of you."

Pawpaw hugged me next, his embrace strong and solid and exactly what I needed.

"Good to have you home, Abby."

Home.

The word settled over me like warm sunshine breaking through stormy clouds.

As we walked toward baggage claim, Meemaw chattering about the big dinner she’d prepared and Pawpaw asking gentle questions about my flight, nothing prepared me for how my life would change in the next couple of weeks.