Thwack. Thud. Squeak.

The sounds of the adjacent squash court filled my ears and danced with the vibrations in my temple. My fucking boss and my fucking job, my fucking ex with his perfect fucking wife, the endless fucking holes in my fucking life. Thud. Thud. Thud. I stood in lonely silence, but the noise inside my head was deafening and relentless. 

I pulled my sodden top over my head. Sweat cooled on my skin and fell in droplets from my matted hair. My breaths were slowing, but my chest kept rising and my heart rate galloping. After thirty-odd games I was still no calmer, tension dug into my shoulders and an animal spirit roared in my stomach, desperate to get out. I could have screamed, but I didn't. I was burning from inside. 

Rattle. Creak. Click.
The cubicle door opens and locks behind me. I start to turn to look around, but you're already in control. You push me against the wall and plant your hungry mouth into my shoulders, a thousand kisses deep. You bite down hard, a sublime pain running like lightning from my neck to my feet. I feel the soft hair of your chest against my skin and your hardness pushing into my back. It makes me feel vital, wanted and alive.

Hiss. Fumble. Rustle.

My sighs evaporate into thin air as you grapple with my shorts, pulling them down my legs and exposing my hot cunt to the still, sweaty air. You prize my legs apart and insert two rigid fingers, which grind against the tense walls of my pussy. You frig me hard, panting in my ear and your dick boring into the back of my leg. Again, I turn to look around and you push my forehead into the cold, synthetic dividing wall behind me. I open my legs wider to take you in, desperate to be used and enjoyed. 

Gasp. Sigh. Grunt.

You inhale sharply as you place your round, swollen head at the portal of my vagina, your manhood poised at the swollen, fiery gates of my sex.

A jolt of electricity shoots down my thighs, my mouth wide and agape and dry. You insert yourself inside me, your hand pushing me more firmly into the wall. It hurts. I wouldn't ask for any less or any more.

Slap. Bang. Whack. 

You fuck me hard and fast, with all the lust and hunger and desire I crave. I feel you batter my cervix, your hardness swelling and grinding against the tight, muscular grip of my walls. A hand gropes greedily at my tits, crudely tweaking and pinching a hard nipple between thumb and forefinger. A sharp pang of agony and ecstasy passes through my body and into the world, my silence at last breaking free. I shriek and another hand grasps to cover my mouth. Your skin tastes of rubber and sex and me. I bite down on your fingers. 

Smack. Moan. Roar.

I feel you thrusting harder, your balls slapping sharply against the backs of my legs and bestial grunts shrouding my ears. I yelp as your cock thuds into the back of my cunt, a thrilling exhortion on the cusp of pleasure and pain. You dig your thick, calloused fingers deep into the soft flesh beneath my ribs, my tits crashing together in the violent fury of your passion. I sense your orgasm as your thrusts grow shallower and quicker, your breath filling the tiny space around us. I feel you release your load, your fucks slowing and your cum gradually beginning to ooze and drip down my standing legs. 

Thwack. Thud. Squeak. 

The sounds of the squash courts fade slowly into the background, like a departing train.

'Same next week?' is all you say as you close the door behind you, my face still pressed cold against the wall, my mind left silent and at peace. I am yours. I belong.

'Yes,' I whimper to the floor. I don't know if you hear, but I know you'll be here.