Your Love's Whore

This is my contribution to the

Karaoke Story event

Wolf Alice are a British Band. I saw them live when I was studying in London. Your Love's Whore was the first song they played in their set. The gig was at a point when they were on the cusp of becoming more well-known, and I have followed them ever since.

This story is based on my personal interpretation of the lyrics.

🎵 🎵 🎵

Megan sat up, rearranged her pillows, and then wriggled back down into them. That was better. She started again where she had left off, one hand between her spread thighs, another cupping a full breast, squeezing a little.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember. Her lying just like this. The same bed. Matt above her, between her legs. Her raising her knees, opening.

Yes, that was good. Her fingers pushed down more firmly, rubbing from side to side. She found an already hardening nipple and pinched it. Mmm... just like that.

In her mind again, Matt kissed her. Kissed her like he had outside the bar. Then eased his hips towards her.

She gasped, both then and now, as his tip parted her and slid easily deeper. Fuck, that was good. That was what she had craved.

Megan's fingers moved quicker, her breath became shallow, little pants. She squeezed her now erect nipple hard.

Eyes tight shut, she recalled Matt starting to rock back and forth. Deeper and deeper. Her juices bathing him, lubricating him. Her body welcoming him in.

"Fuck me, Matt. Fuck me hard!"

She breathed to herself the words she had spoken aloud to him then.

Megan's hips stared to gyrate, her back began to arch away from the sheets. She bit her bottom lip. Yes, this was what she needed. Fuck, this was good...

** beep **

Shit! That could be him.

Megan grabbed for her 'phone on the bedside table. She sent it clattering to the floor. Thank fuck for OtterBox!

Retrieving it, facial recognition didn't work, and Megan feverishly tapped in her passcode. She got it right the second time. One new message.

Your $18.94 Available Balance is less than your Low Cash Mode threshold.

Fuck! Where did the money go? Right, the present for Matt. The one that she couldn't really afford. Megan threw her 'phone onto the bed. Then it started chiming again.

Teams meeting in fifteen minutes. No time to shower, she would just have to do her best to not look too sweaty and flushed.

Megan grabbed some clothes from her dresser and closet, pulled a brush ineffectively through her tangled brown hair, and flipped open her laptop.

Matt! Fucking Matt! Why was he not replying to her messages? Was he ghosting her?

Megan's colleagues began to appear in little boxes. None of them looked like they were mid-masturbation. She tried to pull herself together, to focus on work.

🎵 🎵 🎵

Her and Matt had been a thing for a few weeks now. An on-off thing, Megan thought wryly. More off than on for him, it often seemed. But she told herself that a few weeks was good. Pretty soon, she'd break her own relationship record.

It was Friday now. Megan and Matt had last hooked up Tuesday night. It had been great, everything she wanted. And then nothing. And now the prospect of another weekend without getting laid.

Then, mid-afternoon another beep. This time her panicked rush to read was better rewarded; sort of.

Hi. Great fuck Tues. Weekend plans fell through. Want to meet for a drink?

Megan bridled. Consolation prize? What had happened? Had Matt been stood up by someone prettier than her? She composed a bitter reply.

You know what, asshole. Thanks for not calling. Drop dead.

Her finger quivered with anger as she hovered over the white arrow in a blue circle. Why was she hesitating? It was the minimum that self-respect demanded, surely.

Then she thought about Matt's hands on her, his lips on hers, his body inside hers. Most of all she thought about being curled up on the couch by herself and spending an evening not finding anything to watch on Netflix. What else was there to do in this deadout town? Sometimes Megan couldn't really believe that she lived here now.

She double tapped her screen, highlighting the text and typed a replacement message.

Hi Matt. Sure. Sounds great. Where? 😚😚😚

She deleted the last three characters before pressing send.

🎵 🎵 🎵

He was late. Of course he was late. Megan scanned the room. Burnished microbrewery tanks shone dimly from behind glass, floor-to-ceiling walls in a corner. A long bar traversed one wall. The opposite wall housed dark wooden booths, one of which she occupied. In between were high, round tables and stools.

The place wasn't full. There was a buzz of conversation and laughter, but it was far from raucous. There was the normal mix of college kids, some looking like their IDs weren't totally legit, a few groups of business types, and some older singletons. The artisanal weiss beer was good, at least. It was Megan's second glass.

Then a beep.

Sorry, babe. With you in ten. 😚

Megan stared at the emoji, her annoyance rapidly evaporating. Her fingers flickered over the screen, composing a reply. She reviewed her work.

That's OK. I'll get you a beer. An IPA, right? 😚

Focussing on the message's end, she told herself, 'don't chicken out, it's all good,' and sent it.

When Matt appeared, a second beer was waiting for him. He leaned and kissed Megan's cheek before sliding into the booth next to her.

"Sorry, Megan, I had to talk to a friend who was having some problems. You met Ben, right? All good now."

They clinked their glasses together, and Matt took a large gulp from his. He sat silently for a few seconds, Megan waiting on what he might have to say.

"Want to get out of here, your place is close, right?"

Megan nodded and finished her second glass quickly. There wasn't much of it left. As she stood, the room span a little, and Matt took her arm.

"Hey! Did it go to your head? Want to sit down?"

"I'm good. I just stood up too quickly, I think. Let's get going."

🎵 🎵 🎵

It had started raining lightly and, despite having run most of the short distance, they were both wet by the time that Megan closed the door to her modest apartment behind her.

Neither really needed the excuse to get undressed, and soon their bodies and tongues were intertwined. The distance to Megan's bedroom had been greater than their urgency allowed, and the couch would have to do for now.

Matt's hardness brushed against Megan's wetness and she sighed deeply. But two beers wasn't enough to make her reckless.

"Hold on!"

She twisted under Matt's body and reached for a drawer in a small side table, locating the sachet she wanted quickly.

"Want me to put it on you?"

Matt nodded. He moved to sit on the couch and Megan knelt between his legs, tearing the small packet open.

"Maybe, maybe, you'd like me to..."

Matt smiled and Megan placed the condom on the floor and grasped him, steering his tip to her lips. Softy enveloping him, she sucked gently, her head moving slowly up and down.

"The condom," Matt whispered urgently.

She retrieved it and rolled it down his length.

No sooner was it in place, than he stood, picked Megan up, and deposited her with her hands on the back of the couch and her knees on the seat, facing away from him. She moved her thighs further apart to accommodate him, and breathlessly waited for the moment of penetration. It was such a release as he parted her lips and slid into her yielding depths.

Matt was clearly in a hurry, and Megan tried to keep up, slipping a hand between her legs as he pounded her. Maybe the latex sheath would delay him long enough for her to...

"Fuck, Megan. Fuuuuck!"

Matt gripped her waist and forced himself as deep as he could as he gave in totally to the demands of pleasure.

It's OK, Megan told herself. I can finish off later.

"Come to bed, Matt. We can cuddle."

"Sorry, babe," as he spoke, Matt disengaged and started to pick up his clothes. "I have an early start tomorrow."

He found his second sock and kissed Megan briefly.

"Can I use your shower?"

Megan nodded. When he closed the door, she tried to reach the peak she also craved, but was too worried about Matt returning. Later, or maybe sooner, when he was gone.

Matt took longer in the shower than Megan would. So much for sexual stereotypes. When he finally emerged, she got a peck on the cheek and a "see you round, babe." And then she was alone again. Looking for the TV control, beginning to scroll endlessly through inept Netflix recommendations. 'Well,' she told herself, 'at least you got laid... kinda.'

🎵 🎵 🎵

A hour after she had showered, Megan gave up. Almost limitless streaming shows, and none she wanted to watch. Lying in bed, the earlier part of the evening was grating on her as well. She felt used. Used once again. Why did she put herself through it? Was she so weak-willed? Was she so needy?

Megan got out of bed and stood in front of the aging, stained mirror that she has found in a thrift store. She normally slept in just a T and panties. Unceremoniously, she pulled the former up and over her head, and the latter down her legs, stepping out of them.

She surveyed herself critically. Not bad I suppose. Too tall. That went without saying. But nevertheless

carrying too much weight, for sure. But there had been a lock down just a year ago, right? And the upside was that her breasts were bigger. Megan was pretty sure her breasts would not disappoint most guys. She even had proof, Rate My Rack couldn't lie, could it? Her mound was smooth and hairless. The salon was expensive, but it was pretty much expected to be pube-free nowadays. There had been that hook up where the phrase 'scouring brush' had been mentioned. Never again.

Head hair was equally as problematic. Thick, curly, but not in a cooperative way. Megan pulled her locks away from her face. More difficulties. A bit lopsided, maybe. Jack had said that about her; he didn't hang round long. And then the scarring. The teenage years had not been easy, and there was an unevenness to her skin. Kelly had said 'pock-marked', that had been an unkind exaggeration, but still. He'd just been a drunken one nighter, and yet found time to mention her slightly troublesome complexion.

But Megan was still annoyed and depressed. Maybe she wasn't the perfect girl. But if someone would take time to get to know her... Then, in her experience, they were seldom around long enough to discuss Proust. However, one thing she was sure about was sex. She had a few tricks up her sleeve. She'd never had any complaints. A slight smile played across her face.

Still, she cursed herself for doing just the sort of things that had made her sad for so long. It hurt her to think that she'd chosen, once again, for this pattern to go on.

** beep **

Fuck! Who now?

Hey, babe. Going to sleep. You're a great fuck. ❤️

Megan smiled to herself at the heart. She grabbed a pillow to cuddle and snuggled down to sleep.

"I'm happy now."

🎵 🎵 🎵

When Megan woke on Saturday, the first thing she did was to check her 'phone. No message. But no problem. He said he had to get up early, he's probably busy. What time was it anyway? 10:18am. Wow! Sleepy head.

It was a gray, rainy day and Megan had no real ambitions for it. She rang her Mom and had a brief catch-up. A vastly sanitized version of her life, safe for parental consumption. She checked her social media accounts, things that she had joined for no real purpose, and which she persisted with for equally flimsy reasons. The quantum of interest she had in quasi-friends' apparently perfect lives was asymptomatically close to zero.

But, it brought to mind something. At least according to their timelines, many people were doing well. Even the single ones didn't seem unhappy, or unfulfilled. She reflected that not everyone was hollow, not like her. Some people appeared to do perfectly well by themselves. Not Megan, she had a void. A void that needed to be filled by someone. It was just how she was.

Dismissing these thoughts, and deciding that she might as well try to do something productive, Megan picked up a paperback copy of

Tess of the d'Urbervilles

. It had come from the same thrift store as the mirror, fifty cents or something ridiculous. She had bought it in a short-lived drive to self-improvement through literature. Maybe trying to resurrect her time as an English major. Distractedly she leafed through the pages, thankful that the lot of womankind was so much better today.

But she couldn't focus. Brunch maybe? The local deli did excellent bagels, and then perhaps a post food nap. She had been up late, and anyway her energy levels had felt low recently.

Stepping onto the street, Megan realized that she had left her umbrella upstairs. Well she had her raincoat. Should be fine. Still, she was pretty wet by the time she got to the deli. The rain had eased a little on the way back. Megan toweled her hair dry, and then sat in her small kitchen diner munching.

** beep **

Megan saw Matt's name. Five texts within 24 hours. She was honored.

Meeting with Ben and another friend later. Wanna come? Wear something sexier than normal.

Sexier? Megan's wardrobe didn't really extend to sexier. Still, she messaged her acceptance and then pulled a few things out to try on. A hour later, she settled on skinny jeans and a burgundy, backless halter top. She'd bought it when her breasts had been a size smaller, and they swelled against the material. Maybe that was no bad thing. Did she dare not wearing a bra? Maybe she did.

So, time for that nap, a shower, and then head out.

🎵 🎵 🎵

It was a different bar and a different crowd. If anything Megan felt overdressed with the preponderance of clubwear. The girls all seemed young and decorative, and... well, available. She felt herself stooping, trying to not let her height make her stand out. Then she saw Matt.

He was with Ben, sitting on a curved seat, wrapped round a circular table. But it was neither Ben nor Matt that she paid most attention to. Sitting between them, and dwarfed by the two guys, was a smaller figure. A smaller blonde figure. A smaller blonde figure around whom both Ben and Matt had an arm.

Matt saw Megan and waved. She half expected him to self-consciously disengage from the girl, but he didn't. Not knowing quite what else to do, she walked to join them. The blonde stood as Megan approached, Megan towered over her. The girl was wearing a gold minidress. Backless, loose around her chest, tight around her ass. And short, so desperately short.

"Hi, I'm Sherry, Ben's girlfriend. Pleased to meet you, Megan."

As she leaned forward across the table to shake Megan's hand, the top part of her dress billowed and Megan saw a pair of tiny, but pert breasts. Then Sherry's body convulsed as Matt slapped her ass hard.

She squealed. "Matt. Keep your hands to yourself."

Ben roared with laughter. Apparently this was a pretty normal evening.

Sherry pulled down the hem of her dress, which had ridden up enough to strongly suggest that she was probably pantieless. She wriggled back down between the two men.

"Sit Megan, I'll send Ben to get you a drink. Champagne OK?"

Ben departed, offering a mock salute.

Megan felt a pit open up in her stomach, but did as Sherry asked, settling with some distance between her and Matt. She was unsure how intimate she wanted to be with him right now. Unperturbed, Matt leaned over and kissed her lips. He smelt strongly of wine.

"Like the top, Megs. Your tits look great, but the jeans?" Matt pulled a disapproving face.

Sherry tried to be helpful. "I could take you shopping, babe. Help you show off that body. I wish I had breasts like you. Not these pancakes"

As she spoke she cupped her breasts and pushed them up. Matt guffawed and Sherry punched his bicep. "Ignore him. Just message me, Megs. Here, Matt send her my details."

Megan wasn't too sure how she had become Megs, but whatever. Sherry gave her 'phone to Matt, who tapped in an access code, and started to type. Clearly he and Sherry knew each other well. Megan felt her 'phone vibrate in her back pocket, and pulled it out. "Got it, thanks."

Ben came back, juggling four glasses of champagne. Megan drank half of hers in one go. It helped her anxiety a little. Finishing the glass helped more.

Sherry held her glass out. "Looks like you needed that. Here, have mine. I have to go pee anyway. Wanna come with me, Ben?"

The two headed for the restrooms. Ben with his hand on Sherry's wobbling butt. It seemed to Megan that they both went through the male door.

Megan felt Matt's arm round her and turned her gaze away from the restrooms. As she did, Matt kissed her, his tongue probing her mouth deeply. His hand between her jean-clad thighs.

Megan felt disoriented. A glass and a half of wine, quickly consumed, had left her a little woozy. But she decided to go with the flow. She finished the second glass and grabbed Matt kissing him back passionately. Whatever questions she had, they could wait.

The evening went surprisingly well once the alcohol had lowered Megan's inhibitions and calmed her nerves. Ben and Sherry had returned, both flushed and Matt has made some ribald joke at their expense.

But Sherry was nice. She was smart too, not the bimbo that looks might have suggested. Still Megan was jealous of her petite figure and flawless skin. Then the smaller girl seemed to take every opportunity to compliment Megan, especially her breasts. Megan blushed and hoped that her hardening nipples were not too obvious.

The other three had clearly drunk a lot before Megan had arrived. They proceeded to drink a lot more. After her initial two glasses, Megan slowed down, but was aware that she was some way past her normal maximum. Some time around 1am, they decided to leave.

An Uber arrived and asked for Ben Jackson. Sherry kissed Megan on the cheek, before crawling into the car, her bald pussy brazenly displayed to any passerby. Ben tried to kiss Megan on the lips, but she deflected him and he almost fell into the Uber after his girlfriend.

As the first car pulled off, a second stopped. Megan and Matt spent the short ride making out drunkenly in the back.

🎵 🎵 🎵

Back at her apartment, their clothes were soon adorning the furniture and rug. Matt and Megan formed a writhing tangle on the floor of the living room, heads between each other's legs. Then Matt decided it was time.

He manhandled Megan into the kneeling position she had adopted yesterday and stood behind her.

"Condom, Matt. In the drawer."

"No need, babe. Just relax. You're clean, right?"

Before she could answer, Matt bent forward and parted Megan's butt-cheeks, licking at her ring.

"Wait! I... No. I don't... Not there..."

Megan's voice tailed off as an entirely novel tingling took hold of her. As Matt's tongue lapped at her tightest hole, Megan began to lose control. She was drunk, but not so drunk as to be unable to say 'no'. Instead she breathed 'yes,' and started moaning.

This seemed to energize Matt, who pushed his tongue inside Megan's ass. Wow! That was different. Different and good. She pushed back against his face.

Knowing what was next, Megan turned to look at Matt. "Do it. I want you to do it."

"Have you ever...?"

"No. Not ever. But I want to. I want to with you."

"Do you have lube?" Matt shook his head. "Off course you don't. What am I saying."