Climax - Woosang

1. (m)

I could feel how eager he was to finish, his thrusts getting rougher by the minute. Moans were ringing in my ears, yet no sound ever escaped my mouth. No matter how hard I wanted to scream, to beg him to get away from me, my brain kept telling me to stay. Maybe this is it. After all this time, even I couldn't comprehend why I kept on hoping. Hoping that one day, I would find the one that would finally make me forget.

The guy behind me kept asking me if I liked what he was doing, to which I continuously answered "yes, keep going". I shivered from disgust when his tongue started to draw lines on my neck. It had to stop. We started hours ago, and this bastard didn't even come once. Memories were coming back to me, memories of those days I absolutely wanted to forget. It flooded my brain as I started to slowly sink in those dark thoughts, again. Even his hand on my hip couldn't ground me to reality. One hand became hundreds. One voice turned to an uproar. My vision was blurry, not from tears, it had been a long time since I felt them on my face. It was blurry from the overwhelming feeling of being trapped in those arms, pushed to my limits, stuck in this room that I knew too well.

I can't even remember when I started. The first time I threw myself in the bed of a perfect stranger. I must have blacked out after it, probably even during it. That's when I decided that I didn't care about what they were doing to me, as long as they made me forget who I was, where I was, everything. Even though I never felt pleasure, at least I could make the world disappear in the comfort of a room. That's when it wasn't in a public bathroom, the back of a car, or even in a dark and cold alley. All I wanted was to give people a taste of the one thing I was actually good at, let them use me as much as they needed. Who they were never mattered, how they wanted it to go either. I was just going to say yes anyway. Because in the end, the result was always the same: they left, we'd never see each other again, and I would just fall back into the downward spiral of a life I never had the nerves to end.

As my mind kept drifting away, I felt the man getting tired: he was a lot slower, breathing heavily. Was this man never going to cum or what? I finally exited my thoughts and told him to stop. He pulled out, I grabbed his arms and exchanged places. He was now sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard while I sat on him, immediately sliding down his shaft. I started jumping up and down, hoping that it would bring him closer to his end a lot faster.

- God baby, you're good.

I held myself from making a disgusted face. He was the talking type, which made me want to slap him in the face. Why do people always have to do that? Can't they just fuck without all this getting closer shit? Seeing he couldn't stop opening his mouth to say stupid stuff, I finally exploded, suddenly grabbing his jaw, and spitting on his face.

- Shut up.

His eyes widened but I didn't care. From where I was, I could perfectly see him – which meant he could see me as well but at this point, it didn't matter anymore -, so I jumped on the occasion to scrutinize him. I didn't do that often, judging it wasn't necessary, but it happened from time to time when I was really bored. The guy was a blondie, which wasn't really my type, and I had to admit that he had a great body. The type you usually want to lick up and down. Even his dick really impressed me, and if I could feel pleasure, I'm sure he would have made me pass out from too many orgasms. As soon as I saw him at that party, I knew I wanted him. Well, not really wanted, but I had my eye set on him. I could still hear the music coming from downstairs, as well as the sound of the couples in the other rooms, who seemed to enjoy themselves. Them.

Finally, after many more minutes, the guy -whose name I totally forgot- started shaking under me. He was getting sloppy, and I sighed in relief. It was about time; I was this close to finishing him with my mouth. When I felt his cum filling me up, I slowed time, letting him finish completely, and then, when I was sure nothing else was going to come out of him, I pulled him out and stood up. He was still catching his breath as I took tissues to clean the white fluid dripping down my legs.

- What are you doing? He asked when he saw I was putting my clothes back on.

- What? You thought we were gonna hug or something? I'm going home.

- Can I at least have your number? I'll make you cum next time babe.

- No.

I slammed the door and finished putting my leather jacket in the hallway. As I walked down the stairs and to the door, I stole a bottle of vodka left unsupervised and made my way home. Another unsuccessful night that would end up in the bitter taste of alcohol.

942 words