I Left the Bar With a Stranger, and Everything Went Wrong

That night we were at a hotel in downtown Sheffield celebrating a good year for the company. My husband, Daniel, almost never drinks, so after two glasses, most of a bottle of wine, and then the champagne, he was tipsy and more talkative than usual.

I blame the alcohol for what he said. With a thick tongue, he confessed that night that he missed my former lover. Daniel had been the one who pushed me years ago toward Marcus, the man who truly taught me what desire was and who, although there was nothing left between us now, still came by every week to see the twins.

The bottle ran dry and I went to the bar to order a couple of coffees before heading upstairs. A guest waiting there asked me if I wanted a drink.

—No, thanks, I’m with my husband —I told him.

He followed me back to the table and completely ignored Daniel as he came over to me with a brazenness that made me uncomfortable. My husband’s look, however, told me that if I wanted to play along with the man, he wouldn’t object.

I didn’t like the guy much. He was quite a bit younger than me, probably in his twenties, short and nothing special. I tried to be polite, introduced Daniel, and made my wedding rings on my left hand very visible in the hope he’d get the hint.

He took it as an invitation to stay. The coffees arrived and he glued himself to my seat. He introduced himself as Vince. He was aggressive, yes, but also a good conversationalist. It turned out he had several websites and, as luck would have it, we were looking for ways to promote the business online, so we ended up talking about that.

Then the cheeky bastard started stroking my thigh under the table. I made a move to push him away, but I saw the excitement in Daniel’s eyes and stayed still.

Encouraged by my silence, he slid his hand higher, to the hem of my skirt. I was just about to really protest when Daniel excused himself to go to the bathroom. I think that was his way of giving him the green light.

As soon as my husband turned his back on us, Vince pressed against me. He pulled me in with one arm, kissed me on the mouth, shoved his tongue all the way in, and hiked up my skirt enough to slip a hand between my legs. He rubbed my cunt over my panties with two fingers, pressing my clit with the pad of his thumb, while he bit my lower lip and whispered, “You’re soaked, slut.”

It was humiliating. People at the nearby tables could see what was happening, and still, I don’t know why, my knees parted on their own.

This shouldn’t be happening here.

He pushed the fabric aside and started stroking the lips of my cunt with his fingers, slow, testing my reaction, sliding up and down my wet slit. His mouth covered mine, his other hand had found its way under my blouse and was pinching my left nipple, twisting it between his index finger and thumb until it was hard as a stone. I knew what Daniel wanted, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go that far. Then he pushed one finger inside me, knuckle deep, and a gasp slipped out of me. He added a second finger, curved them seeking my spot inside, and started pumping his wrist, making a wet slapping sound even I could hear over the music.

Several heads turned when he said, loud enough for the people nearby to hear:

—This is screaming for a proper fuck. Leave your husband and we’ll take care of it.

Lots of eyes followed Daniel when he came back. By the time he sat down, half the bar was already watching us, waiting for the show. Vince turned his head toward him and said:

—Wait here. Your wife and I are going to have some fun. I’m going to fuck her good and proper.

The shame was much worse, and much more arousing at the same time, than the first time I’d gone off with someone else. For the second time in my life I was walking away from Daniel on the arm of a stranger, only this time well over a dozen people knew exactly why.

My heart was pounding and my stomach was in knots as we left the bar. His hand slid over my lower back in a proprietary gesture and he squeezed one of my ass cheeks over my skirt, openly, so the people left at the bar would see. The way he treated me made it clear he wasn’t a nice man and, for some reason I still don’t understand, that made me want him in an almost sickening way.

***

In the room he slammed me against the wall as soon as the door closed. He ripped at my blouse, a button popped off, and he yanked my bra down without unfastening it, leaving my breasts bare over the underwire. He bent down and took one nipple fully into his mouth, sucking hard, tugging with his teeth, while his other hand shoved my skirt up to my waist and tore my panties off in one sharp pull that burned the skin at my hip.

He turned me around, pressed my palms to the wall, and kicked my legs apart. He knelt behind me and bit my ass, one cheek and then the other, before shoving his whole tongue up my cunt from behind, licking me from bottom to top, soaking me through. He was fucking me with his tongue deep, in and out, then he moved up to lick my asshole with the tip until my knees buckled. I was shaking, my forehead pressed to the wallpaper, moaning so loudly they had to be hearing me in the hallway.

He threw me onto the bed on my back, spread my legs wide, and went back down to my face. He sucked my clit with his lips closed, tugging, while he pushed three fingers inside me and pumped them fast. I felt the first orgasm rise through me like a wave, and when it burst I drenched his face and hand, screaming uncontrollably.

When I finally came down and went to unfasten his trousers, he stopped me.

—I don’t use condoms. Any problem?

I told him yes, I did have a problem. He shrugged and walked to the door.

—Then I’m leaving. You decide whether I stay or not.

I was so worked up, my cunt swollen and aching for the cum I wanted inside me, that the mere thought of being left frustrated tightened my chest. I asked him not to go. He came back with a smug smile, pulled his trousers down to his knees, and took out his cock. It was hard, thick, with a purple head and a fat drop hanging from the tip. He grabbed my hair, knelt me in front of him, and shoved it into my mouth in one thrust, down my throat. He made me swallow it whole until gagging surged up and tears sprang to my eyes, and even then he kept going, holding the back of my neck with both hands and fucking my mouth to his rhythm.

—Suck it good, slut, like that, baby —he panted, looking down—. You’re going to swallow every last drop.

When he saw I was on the verge of vomiting, he pulled out, made me stand up, and threw me face down on the bed with my ass at the edge. He positioned me on my knees, spread my cheeks with both hands, and rammed his cock into my cunt in one dry thrust, all the way to the root. I screamed into the pillow. He started fucking me from behind with animal haste, his hips slamming into my ass so hard the bed hit the wall. He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, and called me “whore” and “slut” with every thrust. He never once cared about me, he was doing his own thing, and when he came he did it inside, holding himself deep, spilling into me with growls while his nails dug into my hips.

It wasn’t even half as good as I’d expected. Vince fucked in a hurry, chasing only his own satisfaction, with none of what Marcus had taught me. I didn’t come with him inside me, I was left frustrated, with his cum dripping down my thighs and a bitter taste in my mouth. Even so, at that moment I convinced myself that repeating it couldn’t hurt.

I didn’t want Daniel in the room and he got nasty when I insisted he come up. We argued. I got angry, told him I wasn’t going to leave my husband outside, and, summoning my nerve, pretended I was going to leave. Only then did he give in and let Daniel in.

The next morning we did it again before leaving. He woke me with his already hard cock rubbing my ass, spread my legs from behind and put it in my cunt like that, while I was still half asleep, as Daniel watched from the armchair. He fucked me slowly this time, enjoying it, knowing my husband wasn’t looking away. He made me get on all fours, mounted me again, and ordered Daniel to come closer and see up close how his cock went in and out of my open cunt. He came inside me again and made me clamp my legs shut so nothing would run out while he dressed me. In the elevator, with several people glancing at us and me feeling his cum sliding down inside my panties, Vince told me he wanted to see me again. After a quiet talk with Daniel, I offered for him to come by the house the following weekend. I admit I was the one who opened that door. That’s the hardest thing for me to forgive myself for.

***

Marcus took the twins and that first weekend wasn’t too bad overall. Vince was charming when it suited him. He spent a good part of Saturday at the neighborhood pub promoting his websites to the locals, who turned out to be porn sites, and joked in front of several people that I could be his next star. That comment left a knot in my stomach I couldn’t quite make sense of.

During the week I talked it over with Daniel. Between us we came to the conclusion that it was pure bravado, a clumsy way of trying to seem interesting. I decided to give him one more chance the following weekend and, if he didn’t improve, to cut it off cleanly. I sent the twins to my parents’ house.

Saturday was tolerable. Sunday after lunch everything started to go wrong. Vince ordered Daniel to sit in the chair in the bedroom and watch while he and I did it. He ripped my clothes off in front of my husband, threw me on the mattress, and forced my legs apart. He put his cock in my mouth first, all the way down, and held it there until I started choking. Then he mounted my face and made me suck his balls while he jerked off over me. He was rough, too rough, and when he grabbed my left breast and squeezed savagely, twisting my nipple between his knuckles until it crunched, I had to bite back a cry.

He turned me over, put me on all fours facing Daniel, and shoved his cock into my cunt in one brutal thrust, without warning. He fucked me while looking at him, smiling, spitting on my back. Then he pulled out, spat on his cock, and pressed it against my asshole. When I realized what he was going to do I tried to pull away, but he jammed one hand into my nape and pushed. He forced it into my ass, dry and hard, and the pain shot all the way up to my throat. I screamed, and he kept driving in, deep, while he hissed insults through his teeth.

—Hey, come here —he growled at Daniel with contempt, without stopping fucking me.

When my husband didn’t move, Vince hit me. Hard. His open palm across my face. The pain cut off my breath. Daniel jumped up and grabbed him by the shoulders.

—That’s enough, Vince. Stop.

What happened next is still hard for me to tell. Vince twisted free, knocked Daniel over with a shove, struck him on the floor, and pulled a switchblade from his jacket pocket. He pressed it under his chin.

—Do what I say and no one gets hurt. Much.

The man who had walked into our home as a one-night whim had become a real threat, with a weapon in his hand and my husband on the floor. I begged Daniel to do what he wanted. I only wanted it to end without anyone ending up in the hospital.

Vince finished what he’d started. He forced me to finish sucking his cock while Daniel watched from the floor with the blade pointed at his throat, and he came on my face, over my lips and cheeks, growling for me to swallow whatever landed in my mouth. Before leaving, he saw the photo of the twins on the dresser, picked it up, looked at it for a few seconds, and set it back in its place with a smile that froze my blood.

—Cute kids —he said.

—Next week you come to Sheffield alone —he added at the door—. None of your coward husband. And don’t even think about telling anyone about this, or I’ll find you.

***

We had never lived through anything like it. We were terrified. We talked about calling the police, but we had invited him ourselves, there were no marks to prove much of anything, and we were terrified he might have friends willing to retaliate. So we kept quiet. And we started living in fear, which is the worst way to live.

The following Saturday I went alone. As soon as I arrived he greeted me coldly, looked me up and down, and said “good,” like someone inspecting merchandise. He took me to a dirty, run-down flat, with a bed that smelled of damp and neglect, and there I understood what I had gotten myself into. He ripped my clothes off as soon as we walked in, threw me onto the mattress, and fucked my cunt and ass in turns, without rest, coming inside both times and forcing me to lick his cock clean between one and the next. He used me again and again, without the slightest consideration, and when I asked him to stop he got even rougher, slapped me, and shoved it into me from behind again while he pressed my face into the mattress so I wouldn’t scream.

—You’re mine now —he told me—. You’re going to work for me. And you’d better bring in money.

What came next was a nightmare that lasted for weeks. He forced me to prostitute myself with clients he chose, sitting in my own car and collecting after each one. He emptied my purse, took my keys, left me an old box of condoms, and told me everything I made was his. I went along out of fear, because of the threats, because of the knife he pulled at the slightest excuse. I had to suck cocks in back seats, let men fuck me against the passenger door, swallow the cum of guys whose names I never knew. I spent whole nights freezing on that street, with the taste of other men’s semen in my mouth, counting the hours until I could go home.

Daniel sat in the car for hours, helpless, too scared to call the police and too broken to leave. It cost him dearly: he came home with a swollen face and two cracked ribs, and a look in his eyes that took a long time to fade. Seeing him like that hurt me more than any blow.

***

I started taking the morning-after pill every time I came back, knowing it wasn’t the right way to use it, but with no other option. Daniel and I stopped touching each other, paralyzed by the fear that Vince would find out anything. The relationship, what was left of it, had become two frightened people sharing the same dread.

The longer it went on, the worse everything got. Vince started staying from Friday to Monday, always with some friend hanging around, always with a new demand. Some nights he put me with two of his mates at once, one in my cunt and one in my mouth, laughing from the doorway while they filled both ends with cum. I came home exhausted, empty, sore all over, and with my panties stained, hoping the phone would ring and that on the other end there would be any voice but his.

There was a night when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore. I had promised myself that would be the last time, that the next day I would tell everything, that I’d rather have the scandal than keep living like that. I cried silently so as not to wake anyone, my face buried in the pillow, repeating to myself that there had to be a way out.

And there was. But that part of the story, what Daniel and I did to get rid of Vince, I’m not ready to tell yet.

To be continued…