Excerpt for Hammering The Dirty Teen's Ass by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Alex Hunter

Copyright 2017 Alex Hunter



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WARNING: This story is intended for a mature audience only! Contains explicit, graphic sex and language. Not intended for individuals under the age of 18. All character are over 18 years of age.












The last time Megan and I hooked up she wanted me to treat her like shit. So I did, smacking her around and pulling her hair and forcing her to choke on my cock. It was a punishing session, borderline brutal, and I took things farther than I’d ever taken them with any other girl before.

But at the end of the night Megan let me know that I hadn’t been rough enough with her. I’d come close—closer than any other man had, she’d said—but didn’t take things quite far enough. Then she told me that the next time her friend was in town, she’d show me how it was done. That was almost a week ago. I hadn’t heard from Megan since. Which wasn’t that big of a deal, really. After all, we normally hooked up just about once a week, so it wasn’t like anything was amiss. But I’d so been looking forward to seeing Megan brutalize her friend that it had seemed like longer.

Which is all a long way of saying that when my phone started to ring, late on Saturday night, I got pretty excited. And when I saw from the readout that it was Megan calling, I was practically giddy. It was finally time.

I answered the phone with a calm voice, trying to stay level, knowing that if I gave Megan anything by way of an opening, she’d pry it open and make me regret it.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Not much,” Megan replied, sounding as calm and casual as always. Keeping her wits about her at all times was one of the things she strived for. The way she saw things, emotion was the enemy. “What about you? Anything going on?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Are you busy tonight?” Megan asked.

“Nope,” I said. “I’m just hanging out.” Waiting for you to call, I said to myself but not aloud. No reason to give Megan more ammo to use against me. She talked more than enough shit without me providing her with extra fodder. “Why?”

“I was hoping you could come over. I’m feel like getting the shit fucked out of me.”

“Is Carrie going to be there?” I said without really thinking things through.

“Not tonight,” Megan said. “She’s still out of town. She’ll be back next week. We’ll set something up then.”

“Okay,” I said, trying not to let my disappointment shine through.

Megan picked up on it though. “Don’t sound so fucking upset about it,” she said.

“I’m not,” I lied.

“Sure you’re not,” she said.

“No, really,” I said. “I’m not disappointed. Not at all. I was just looking forward to it, that’s all.”

“And you weren’t looking forward to fucking just me?”

“No,” I said.

“So you weren’t looking forward to fucking me?”

“I mean, yes. I was looking forward to it.”

“Are you sure?” Megan asked. “Because you don’t really sound like it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, trying hard to pull my foot out of my mouth.

“Because I could always call someone else—”

“I’m positive,” I said. “I would love nothing more than to come over and fuck the shit out of you tonight.”

“That’s good to hear,” Megan said. “Because I have something special planned. A nice little surprise for you.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t be so fucking lame,” she said. “If I told you then it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it?”

“No, I guess not,” I said.

“Trust me. You’ll like it. I promise.”




I got myself cleaned up a bit then hopped in the car and made my way over to Megan’s house. There were butterflies in my stomach, but I was more excited by the anticipation of what perverted acts we were going to engage in than nervous about seeing her.

Megan and I had a purely physical relationship. She wasn’t the kind of girl I saw myself in a long-term relationship with; we didn’t get along like that. She knew it as well as I did. We’d talked about it many times before.

The key to our chemistry was tension. Due to our age and personality differences, we were on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to most things. We were like one of those rock band that made great music together because we didn’t get along, not in spite of it. The tension between us was what fueled the music, so to speak; it’s what made the sex great. Take away the tension and replace it with harmony and the spark would be gone. The sex would have still been good, just no longer special.

Which is why we didn’t hang out at all outside of the proverbial bedroom. We knew that if we did, we’d either: 1) Hate each so much that we wouldn’t even want to get together for a hate-fuck session or: 2) We’d start to get along better, which would lead to an emotional connection, which would lead to us seeing each other as actual human beings with dreams and feelings and all that crap, which would lead to harmony instead of tension, which would lead to the end of the great music we made together. And neither of us wanted that.




Twenty minutes after she’d called me, I knocked on Megan’s door. She answered it wearing what I thought of as her “elegant slut” outfit. A white, long-sleeve, designer blouse with black polka-dots, white panties, and black leather ankle boots.

Megan opened the door without so much as a word of greeting, then stepped aside to let me in. She had an annoyed scowl on her face, but that was her default expression and it didn’t bother me in the least. If anything, it was a good sign. It meant the tension would be ratcheted up.

Replying to her silence with a brief nod of my head, I walked inside, stopping almost immediately. When Megan closed the door and turned around I was right there, inches away. It was time to do our little dance.

“Well, well, well, getting started right away tonight, are we?” Megan said, her scowl having shifted in an insolent smirk. “No wasting half the night talking about some bullshit I don’t want to hear?” 

“I figured there was no reason to waste any time,” I said, looking down on her.

I wasn’t a huge guy—right around 6 feet tall and 200 pounds—but I towered over Megan. Even though her personality was huge, making her seem larger than life in many ways, physically she was a tiny girl, barely over five feet and right about half my weight.

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