42 Filthy Fucking Stories

by Lexi Maxxwell

  Three years!

  Jason shook his head at the thought. Stupid fucking bitch had ended three years worth of work on his part in 15 fucking minutes and no explanation.

  No “we’ll see where things go from here.” Not one molecule of compassion. Just a heaping steam of bullshit, and a, “This just isn’t where I want my life to go,” along with a half-hearted hug, and a “maybe I’ll see you around,” as she slipped the engagement ring back in his hand.

  Fuck her.

  It was also a Rushmore of goddamn irony her handing him his ring on the exact spot he’d given it to her six months earlier.

  Jason had even gotten right down to one goddamned knee and everything. The first memory gave birth to the second, and soon the entire proposal was flashing through Jason’s mind like he was watching a movie he couldn't’ turn off.

  Three months ahead of time he had planned the entire thing down to the minute –from the second he got her in the XTerra until he was scuffing his good knee on the front porch. He had started by taking her to her favorite restaurant, Cafe Violina, where he had ordered a bottle of her favorite red wine, from Cali-fucking-forn-I-A. Camille liked the way Cafe Violina kept the wine at the perfect temperature. She said nowhere else could they get it right.

  After dinner he had taken her for a long walk along the river, just like they had done on their first date per her goddamn request – since walking and water were two of her favorite things. The night went well, talking and laughing as they slowly strolled, finally stopping at a little cove of trees. Camille sat between a pair of trunks and told him how perfect their night had been, and how she wished it could last forever.

  Fuck. Her.

  They sat for an hour or better before deciding to take the evening back to her house. He stopped at the door, grabbed her arm, and turned her toward him, crushing her lips with a long hard kiss that pulled a sigh from her mouth. Jason ended the kiss, dropped to his good knee, then pulled the ring from his shirt pocket and said, “Camille Lansing, I want this night to last forever, and this feeling to last the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?”

  She looked confused, then took a half-step back, pausing for a long moment before pulling her eyes from his. His heart stopped beating, and it felt like he knelt for hours before she finally said, “Jason, I’m not very good at this type of thing.”

  His breath got trapped in his throat and face went red from fear.

  “I’m not sure I’d be a good wife… but let’s try it.” Her smile was thin, but her eyes seemed happy enough.

  Jason slowly stood and said, “Can I get an official yes?”

  Her laughter was music. She grabbed his head and kissed him long and hard. “Yes,” she said, her lips lingering on his.

  A honking horn shattered the memory, hardening the mush in his heart. How in the hell was he gonna banish this bitch from his head?

  A drink, that’s what he needed.

  Jason racked his brain for directions to the nearest bar, then finally remembered a club about two blocks down where he had taken Camille to dance, maybe three times before. She loved to dance, or maybe she just liked to make the men drool like they always did once she started getting drunk enough to shake her ass the way she did.

  Fuck her!

  The bitch was soaking his brain, and he needed to get the hell out of town.

  Jason stopped at the local gas station and filled the tank of the XTerra, then screeched from the station, squealing his tires as he slammed the accelerator and headed west on Route 56 toward Anselado.

  He kept driving until he saw the welcome lights blinking in neon. The music was loud enough to blare over the roaring engine, and the people milling outside meant there was plenty of pussy waiting past the bouncer.

  Putting his car in park he scanned the selection. The people outside were generally either the brave ones, the extremely drunk ones, or the ones who were pretty enough to be seen in the bright lighting of the parking lot.

  Jason pinned a mental bulls-eye on a short blonde with small tits and a bubble ass. Totally opposite from Camille’s tall slender build, dark hair and eyes. He couldn’t see this woman’s eyes, but was betting they were blue or green since her blonde hair didn’t look like it came from a bottle. She was standing by the pillars of the bar’s porch, cigarette in hand, looking bored.

  Jason stepped from the car and brushed his way by her. When inside he pushed his way to the bar, and ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer. Once the busy bartender finally set his order on the bar, Jason downed the shot, then ordered a refill before chasing the whiskey with a long swig of Miller. After the second shot of whiskey, he turned from the bar to scan for the blonde.

  As intended, the brush on the porch had peaked her interest. She was standing by the wall beside the pool tables, pretending to watch one of the games, even though her wandering eyes clearly said she was having a hard time giving a shit.

  Two drunks stumbled beside her, stopping to soak up the view. She must have made some smart ass remark because they stumbled off in the other direction. Jason heard the word “bitch,” muttered in a slur.

  He needed another bitch like he needed a second hole in his pecker.

  A table opened, giving the opening he needed to play with the blond. He slapped some money on the table, then called in a quiet holler, “Ready to play, or you happy just watching?”

  She took a long pull from her beer, grinned and sauntered toward him. She said, “You gonna teach me how to play?”

  He laughed, “So you’re hot, and a pool shark, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes and picked her pool cue. “At least I can give you points for being half honest about your intentions.” She scraped the blue chalk against the end of the stick. “Racking or breaking?”

  She had done this before, probably plenty. She had the attitude, strut, and a high tolerance to alcohol. This wouldn’t be half as easy as he had hoped.

  They were on their third game before he knew it. She beat him the first time because he was too busy checking her body for defects to keep his eyes on the game, but he had nailed the second, once his dick approved her round ass for fucking. They were finishing the final game, and Jason was planning on making his move after the last shot.

  She bought them each a shot for losing the last game, then handed Jason his. They grinned at one another as they downed their shots. Jason set his empty down, then leaned against the pool table.

  “So, do you want to get out of here? I mean, go somewhere, talk, enjoy the moonlight…”

  She grinned, then ordered another shot from the girl as she gathered their empties. “Where were you planning on taking me?” she asked. “You aren’t local, I’ve never seen you here before.”

  “Does it really matter?” he asked.

  The waitress returned with her shot. The blond paid, downed the shot, then let it rattle through her system before she said, “No, not really.” She set her stick back on the wall and grabbed her coat. “Let’s go.”

  Jason lead her to his truck and, out of habit, opened her door. “Aww… and you’re even a gentleman.” She rolled her eyes as she climbed into the passenger side.

  The liquor was doing a lot of the talking for him. Jason leaned into the car door and said, “Darlin’, I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

  Her alcohol fueled laughter was muffled as he shut the door. Jason gave himself a pat on the back for making her laugh, then rounded the car and opened his door. He climbed inside, then looked at her with his most serious face and said, “You aren’t some sort of serial killer I should be worried about right?”

  She erupted into another fit of laughter. Jason felt suddenly happy. He couldn’t remember the last time Camille had laughed at anything, let alone something he had said. It was in those few seconds before turning the engine when he finally realized that all the signs had been there all along, he had just chosen to ignore them.

  Fuck. Her.

  He cursed himself for thinking about her again, a
nd started the car.

  “I think that’s supposed to be my line,” she finally said, pushing the thought through her giggles.

  “What?”

  “The serial killer line. I think I’m the one who should ask that.”

  They pulled from the parking lot and onto the highway. “You know the nearest hotel is the other way, right?” she said.

  Jason’s shock made her laugh. She said, “Honey, if you think you’re the first man from out of town, who drove to the first bar on the way to anywhere but where you’re coming from, to hook up with a chick for the night, you’re crazy.” The “zy” of crazy left her mouth with a slur.

  Anger rose inside him for a reason Jason couldn’t explain. Maybe he was mad at himself for being so obviously heartbroken, or maybe it was because she had called him out. Either way, she was ruining his mood. He pouted, driving faster as she hummed along with the radio.

  “I’ll tell ya what I usually suggest,” she suddenly said casually, as if he were her John and she was a whore suggesting a new position. “Take me to the place that reminds you of her the most. Fuck the shit out of me, then leave that place with the memory of amazing revenge sex.”

  He laughed. At first it was more of a mocking laugh, but it turned into an all out, belly buster that went on long enough to make his sides hurt. Jason had forgotten what it felt like to laugh straight from the gut. He looked over at her, still laughing. “You are the strangest woman I have ever met,” he said, choking the words through his laughter. “And one of the sexiest.”

  “Yeah, I get that sometimes,” she said, smiling. “How far away is the place?”

  “About a half hour up the road.”

  She nodded and they rode the rest of the way without any words; the radio playing a soundtrack to their awkward silence. He pulled into the parking lot for the river trail and put the car in park. They sat for a minute, staring at the water. Memories flooded his mind until he finally broke free, then turned to stare at the woman beside him looking back at him, as if she were sorry for the memories she could clearly see on his face.

  She opened her door. The cool night air was a crisp kiss on his skin as it rushed into the car. Jason opened his, and they walked together in silence until they came to the small grove of trees.

  She undressed, set her clothes in a makeshift bed and laid down on top of them. He took her cue and stripped to the skin, then laid down beside her. Instinct and a hard dick overtook him, and he turned, raised himself and came down on top of her hard, crushing her into a whimper. No gentle foreplay like he had given Camille in the same spot, no gentle giant inside him.

  Anger and frustration throbbed in his body as he roughly explored the moist depths of her pussy with his hard fingers. She moaned and the sound made him angrier. He put his free hand over her mouth and pinned her head to the ground as he pounded her now slippery hole with his fingers.

  She twisted and turned under his weight, reaching over to his cock and stroked it as hard as his fingers had plunged into her pussy, pulling on it. The friction sent a shock through his body, and sent a surge of adrenaline through him so powerful he could no longer take it. He lifted his hand from her mouth, and bracing himself above her with one hand he took his dick from her hand, then knelt before her.

  Jason picked up her head and shoved it toward his cock. She obliged and began long, fast strokes with her hot, wet lips, licking the tip of his dick, then swallowing his shaft to the base.

  He felt his length move through her mouth to where her throat started, faster and faster until the cum started building inside him. She must have felt the throb that comes before the blast, because she pulled away, trading her mouth pussy for her wet soaking real one.

  She arched her back as he entered her, thrusting his cock into her hard, almost violently, as he surrendered all control. She met each thrust of his with thrusts of her own, arching her back and slamming her body against him over and over again. The moonlight drenched them in blue light as he grabbed her tits and pinched her hard nipples, pounding his hips harder and faster against her, fucking the shit out of her just like she had suggested, as each movement flushed his memory and rinsed the place, and Camille, from his mind.

  Jason felt no guilt or sadness, just the raw, savage energy of revenge sex, and undiluted lust for the blonde bitch writhing beneath him.

  Fuck. Her.

  Her entire body shuddered as she came hard. Her tightening pussy wrapped pressure around his dick, driving him wild with a raw need for release.

  He pounded her harder, looking away from her and into the trees.

  Every thought vacated his mind, and his drunken mouth spewed Camille’s name as he flooded the woman beneath him with spunk. Jason wasn’t even aware that he had said her name, just kept emptying his yogurt into her hungry cunt until he was done, then fell into a crumpled heap beside her as she shook her way through her orgasm.

  She stroked her pussy in circles, her clit swollen from the hard rubbing. Using her free hand to squeeze her right tit, she softly moaned. She came once more, then stopped shaking as she lay beside him, not touching him until her breathing returned to normal.

  The blond laughed, cracking the silence of the still between them as she started to dress herself. “Feel better?” she asked, in the same causal tone she had used to suggest revenge sex.

  Jason could only stare, unsure what he should say to this woman. She was staring down at him, hands on her hips, a wide smile lighting her face as much as the moonlight. What was there to say?

  “I guess,” was all he could manage.

  She laughed. It felt as if she were mocking him, at least a little. She sat back down beside him, curled her knees to her chest, then turned to him with understanding eyes. “My name isn’t Camille by the way. Close, but a little off. I’m Collette.”

  He hadn’t known her name, and didn’t care to put a name with the face. He dressed himself and they quietly walked back to the XTerra.

  Jason wasn’t sure if he would feel better or worse in the morning, but he was glad he’d gone for a ride and met the hot blond with the bubble ass. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to forget Camille, or if he ever would, but fucking his pain away with one stranger after another would be a helluva good start.

  Fuck. Her.

  XXX

  A Professor Popped My Cherry

  I was a good girl, who had never really given too much thought to sex. I was concerned with good grades and a brilliant future. Men, and relationships, would have to come second. Not that I wasn’t interested. Like every other girl, I could appreciate a good looking guy and would get the same glisten in my slit as any other warm blooded woman. I had read about sex plenty, and my body would have an involuntary reaction whenever I turned the pages and let the movies play out in my mind, but I never thought to do anything about it. The dull ache usually disappeared on its own and in reasonably little time, and my wet panties would simply get washed with the rest of my laundry.

  I guess I was late maturing. My parents raised me strict Catholic and sex was taboo. Of course, I didn’t share their beliefs, but I was smart enough to humor them. I was the model daughter, keeping peace in the house with perfect grades and appropriate dress.

  For 18 years, I never drank, did drugs, or dated.

  For the last four of those years, I waited for college.

  I knew there was a lot of life to live if I could only put miles between me and my family, so when it came time to pick colleges, I chose ones that were as far from our home in the suburbs of Raleigh, NC as possible. I looked at Harvard, Yale, Brown, Dartmouth, even UCLA. I eventually settled on Brown University in Rhode Island.

  Brown wasn’t as intimidating as Harvard or Yale, and not as far off as California. I’m an east coast girl, and the west coast was just too different; something I discovered when my father indulged me by taking me to visit UC Santa Barbara. The weather was warm and the skies were gorgeous, but nobody waved and everyone’s smiles seemed pinned to t
heir face.

  School drew nearer, and after packing my few belongings into my smoke colored BMW 650i on a hot August day, I was off to the land of the ivy leagues. I packed only my books, laptop, and one small box of warm weather clothes.

  The weather wouldn’t last up north. My mother and I had gone up in July to secure and furnish the off-campus apartment with everything I needed, including clothes and toiletries. Daddy gave me a platinum card, in case I needed anything else.

  Once at school, I quickly settled into a new routine – going to classes, studying, and reading every evening. I had never been especially comfortable around my peers in high school, and college wasn’t any different. All anyone wanted to do was party, which still seemed silly to me, even far away from home and my parent’s watchful eyes.

  I was slightly disappointed in myself though, I had retreated to a far off school so I could “sow my wild oats” if I wanted, but was doing the same thing I’d always done. I wasn’t sure how to meet new people, and quickly found myself mired in my old routine.

  That all changed so quickly one Friday night, that my life and pussy would never be the same. I was in the library studying, like usual, wrapped in an oversized book, sitting in an oversized chair, completely oblivious to my surroundings. A throat cleared, and I turned to see a man standing beside me, just inches away.

  I nearly jumped from my chair.

  “Oh my God, you scared me!” I squealed. My hand was over my chest, trying to calm my rapid breath.

  “My apologies” the man said, a slight grin flashing across his handsome face. He was about 5’10” tall and muscular, his sandy brown hair was messy, but framed his face well. He was older, and attractive, though somewhat tired looking, too. His clothes were tailored, but rumpled, as if they’d been working all day and were just as tired as he was.

  “Daniel Smith” he said, holding out his hand. I shook it lightly.