1. So I Had A Bad Day


    Date: 10/21/2015, Categories: Hardcore, Interracial Sex, Author: ova9bbc, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    My dark, glittering eyes surveys the room, flicking from body to body. My lips curl in a snarl of disgust. It has been a bitch of a day and all I want now is a quick drink, a hot fuck and a few hours of sl**p, preferably in that order. Too bad the only ones out on a Saturday night are the college teenyboppers. With a snort I remind myself that while they might look good, they generally don't know how to really please a man, how to take a good hard fucking and make him come back for more. All they seek is their own pleasure and if they don't get their rocks off, they became incessantly whiney. Thank you, no. My head already hurts enough without that drama. No, tonight is all for me. If the world is gonna fuck me, I am going return some of the favour. I chuckle darkly, ordering my drink and slamming it down. I don't drink at all, but I am entitled this time. And one drink, the limit I'd set for myself, would take the edge off my day and off my conscience. This also ensures that I am far from d***k. I quietly hiss as the gin burns its way down my throat. Then I turn to browse the offerings again, halfway resigning to fucking one of the barely twenty something bubble-butted bobble-heads, as I refer to them. Almost growling my frustration, I start to step towards a table of co-eds when a soft voice seems to cut through the fog of noise. It slithers over my eardrums. Soft, slightly sad and definitely older than the rest of this college crowd, the tone is entrancing, even while ...
    the words are lost to the clatter of a busy bar. I stiffen, every sense on alert now, scanning the crush of revelers to find the owner of that sexy voice. At the end of the bar, I find you. Head dipped dejectedly, you bite your lip. Staring into your drink, you are stirring the ice with a cellophane-topped toothpick. With a sigh, you pull your sleeve back and look at your watch. Dropping some bills on the bar by your still-full glass, you slip off the stool—and right against me. Your elbow jostles my arm. The clear fluid in my hastily purchased second glass splashes my shirt, drenching me, plastering the light silk to my body in a cold rush. This makes me hiss in anger. Mortified, you fumble an apology, face beet-red, even in the dim light. Grabbing some napkins, you try to swab off the mess. Tears fill your eyes, trembling on the lashes and threaten to slip down your flushed cheeks. With a low growl, I grasp your hand in my wrist, fingers easily encircling you, feeling your pulse pounding as you whimper in distress. "Just...stop," I grunt out, teeth grit in frustration even as my dick hardens. Sad, vulnerable and just a little frightened, you appeal to my mood as nothing else could. Your eyes hold a world-weary wisdom. In other times I might have tried to ease your obvious pain a little. Tonight I just don't care. "I'm sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Here, please... let me pay for... Oh, I'm so sorry," you stammer, mindlessly riveted by my dark, piercing, infuriated gaze. ...
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