Just Fck Me - Hard and Fast
[ooc: All prompts for this community will be rated NC-17. Read at your own risk.]
Hard, fast, and fucking hot that’s how he wanted it. He was a free man after twelve years in prison and he was not feeling patient. Charlie was feeling raw. The world was new, the world was scary and he was not ready to charm a woman and then be considerate to her feelings. He needed a woman who would ignore his scars, his tattoos. He needed a woman who wouldn’t ask him questions about what it was like and how it felt to get out.
What he wanted was a pro. Not a street walking junkie or a desperate runaway but a pro. One who would moan at the right times, touch him in all the right ways and fake one of the best orgasms of her life while he used her body. That’s what he wanted, a woman he could use. Most of his connections were still behind bars but within half an hour and a few calls, there’s a knock on his hotel door and a curvy red head on the other side.
He didn’t usually like red heads, despite his own coloring. What he liked were blondes, long, leggy blondes named Jennifer. But his wife was remarried and that emotional wound was still bleeding. He couldn’t go with a brunette either. Connie was a long, leggy brunette. Connie was also his lawyer and the woman who saved him. He couldn’t take any more complications. He needed a faceless red head who would be gone after he was done.
She walks in, he closes the door and then he’s on her. He pushes her down on the bed, no kissing, no intimacy. His hand goes up her short, short skirt and he starts getting her ready. He’s hard and ready just from the smell of a woman. Something so alien in the world he’s been living in. Even female Cos don’t smell like the woman moaning underneath him. Nothing in prison smells like this. Sex smells like fear and anger. This smells like fucking, sweat and arousal burning his nose with each heavy breath.
Once he’s pretty sure she’s ready all he does his hike her skirt up and shove his jeans down. She’s quick enough to get a condom on him, but it’s about all the consideration he gives her. He’s rough, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise while he works in short, shallow thrusts. He should be nicer, he should be considerate but it’s been twelve years. Twelve fucking years where he's had nothing except porn magazines and sex that is just victimization. Charlie needs a woman to start burning away the taint of prison.
What he gets is an orgasm that shreds his soul. The pleasure of it hurts, hurts, fucking hurts and doesn’t fix anything. Physically, he’s sated, drained. Psychologically, he’s still screaming. Even sex, hot, rough, satisfying sex didn’t make him feel like he was out. He pulls away from the red head and collapses on the other side of the king sized bed, curling tight into a fetal position. The tears are helpless and hot, the sobs the ugly sound of a broken, shamed man.
“Don’t worry honey, all the convicts do that their first time.”
Hard, fast, and fucking hot that’s how he wanted it. He was a free man after twelve years in prison and he was not feeling patient. Charlie was feeling raw. The world was new, the world was scary and he was not ready to charm a woman and then be considerate to her feelings. He needed a woman who would ignore his scars, his tattoos. He needed a woman who wouldn’t ask him questions about what it was like and how it felt to get out.
What he wanted was a pro. Not a street walking junkie or a desperate runaway but a pro. One who would moan at the right times, touch him in all the right ways and fake one of the best orgasms of her life while he used her body. That’s what he wanted, a woman he could use. Most of his connections were still behind bars but within half an hour and a few calls, there’s a knock on his hotel door and a curvy red head on the other side.
He didn’t usually like red heads, despite his own coloring. What he liked were blondes, long, leggy blondes named Jennifer. But his wife was remarried and that emotional wound was still bleeding. He couldn’t go with a brunette either. Connie was a long, leggy brunette. Connie was also his lawyer and the woman who saved him. He couldn’t take any more complications. He needed a faceless red head who would be gone after he was done.
She walks in, he closes the door and then he’s on her. He pushes her down on the bed, no kissing, no intimacy. His hand goes up her short, short skirt and he starts getting her ready. He’s hard and ready just from the smell of a woman. Something so alien in the world he’s been living in. Even female Cos don’t smell like the woman moaning underneath him. Nothing in prison smells like this. Sex smells like fear and anger. This smells like fucking, sweat and arousal burning his nose with each heavy breath.
Once he’s pretty sure she’s ready all he does his hike her skirt up and shove his jeans down. She’s quick enough to get a condom on him, but it’s about all the consideration he gives her. He’s rough, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise while he works in short, shallow thrusts. He should be nicer, he should be considerate but it’s been twelve years. Twelve fucking years where he's had nothing except porn magazines and sex that is just victimization. Charlie needs a woman to start burning away the taint of prison.
What he gets is an orgasm that shreds his soul. The pleasure of it hurts, hurts, fucking hurts and doesn’t fix anything. Physically, he’s sated, drained. Psychologically, he’s still screaming. Even sex, hot, rough, satisfying sex didn’t make him feel like he was out. He pulls away from the red head and collapses on the other side of the king sized bed, curling tight into a fetal position. The tears are helpless and hot, the sobs the ugly sound of a broken, shamed man.
“Don’t worry honey, all the convicts do that their first time.”