Reckless

A Sinful Saturday Short

The week had been merciless.

Her latest Tinder exploit had fucked her brains out on Monday night and blocked her by Tuesday morning. She’d thought he was the one, the reliable booty call who’d come running whenever she texted “now.” He’d rearranged her guts for hours, left her limp and gasping and stupidly hopeful. Then, while he was pulling on his pants, she’d noticed the faint tan line on his ring finger. Married. Of course he was married. He must have grown a conscience somewhere between the third and fourth orgasm. Fuck him.

Life had been hard lately. Rent was overdue, credit card statements lay unopened on the kitchen counter like little white bombs, final notices crammed the junk drawer until it wouldn’t close. And her job was eating her alive with endless overtime, a boss who dissected every email for sport, coworkers who smiled sweetly while trashing her in group chats she wasn’t supposed to see. By Friday night, she was hollowed out, nerves frayed to threads, thoughts looping in the same ugly circles she couldn’t escape.

She needed to disappear. Needed to burn the week to ash.

She’d heard about places like this, seedy adult theaters downtown where no one asked questions and the screens played nothing but raw, relentless porn. She almost turned back three times on the walk there, the neon sign flickering like a warning. But she paid the bored clerk, slipped inside, and chose a seat toward the back, middle of the empty aisle.

The theater was dim, the air thick and heavy with the scent of musk. Her heart raced as she looked around. Only a handful of men scattered through the rows, shadows in the flickering light, eyes locked on the screen where a woman was being taken by three men at once, cocks shoved in her pussy, ass, and mouth. Merciless.

Her heart hammered. This was insane. She was insane. But the sounds were already working on her. The wet slaps, muffled moans, the low grunt of men taking exactly what they wanted just did something to her. Heat pooled low in her belly, chasing away the chill of the week for the first time.

Tentatively, she let her hand slip under her skirt. She just needed release. Just enough to take the edge off. Her fingers brushed over her panties. She found a wet spot waiting. She circled slowly, letting her fingers brush lightly over the fabric, a thin layer between her fingers and her throbbing clit. Her eyes closed, sinking into it like it was the only real thing left in the world.

The seat beside her creaked.

A man had sat right next to her. Big, shadowed, silent. She froze, hand trapped between her thighs, cheeks burning with shame. She yanked her skirt down and stared straight ahead, pulse racing. Where had he come from? What if he’d seen? He had the whole fucking theater, and he chose to sit by her. That was on purpose. What was his game?

The screen moaned louder as the electric sex changed from performance to greed. She risked a glance.

His hand was inside his open fly, stroking slowly. His thick, hard cock was sliding through his fist in time with the action on screen. Her gaze slowly raked up his body and found that he was no longer watching the screen. He was watching her. Their eyes locked and she let out a surprised gasp.

She should leave. She had no business being here. Only the lowest of the low would be here.

But she was here. Was she the lowest of the low, or was she just in desperate need of human touch, of release? The stress of everything going on in the world weighed upon her, and she just needed a little escape, an adrenaline rush. She wanted to feel alive again, feel that touch of real danger instead of getting stressed over spreadsheets and words on a screen. This was no different than hooking up after meeting on a dating app, right? These men were here for the same reason she was. They were all looking for something that was missing, desperately searching to scratch that itch they all had deep down inside them.

This man definitely had an itch to scratch.

Slowly, her thighs parted again, almost on their own. Her fingers found her clit once more, rubbing in small, secret circles while she watched him watch her. The eye contact was electric. Their gaze was hungry, wordless, intoxicating.

He stood without warning, towering over her, cock still out, glistening at the tip. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. What if the others in the room saw? Her eyes darted around the room at the handful of men. They were all watching the screen. She knew what all of them were likely doing.

She stared up at him, eyes wide and glassy with nerves, pulse hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat.

He didn’t ask. He simply reached down and gently, firmly hooked his hands behind her knees. One smooth pull and her ass slid forward until it barely clung to the edge of the seat, legs splayed open for him like an offering.

Her skirt bunched uselessly around her hips. He shoved it higher, exposing her completely, then hooked one thick finger into the crotch of her soaked panties and yanked them aside. The cool theater air hit her wet pussy, and she shivered, a tiny, helpless sound escaping before she could stop it. She was exposed, and the thought of it sent a thrill throughout her body.