Nymphomaniac's night in the city

The bar is dark and eerily quiet. It is one am in the morning, so most people have retired to their homes.
But I and a few gentlemen are still enjoying the ambience of the place;

Of course, each one of the men has visited my table, their starry eyes pious for a quick fuck or maybe...yes for a quick fuck. All have been rejected and their forlorn faces had stirred vanity in me, but only because once a upon a time, there was no choosing.

The pulsating in my jewel reminds me of the events of earlier and my fingers tentatively reach down, eager to find the remnants of the fuck.

My hand comes out sticky and perfumed with the most exquisite fragrance of me and all my men.

But I am still hungry;
Ravenous.

The men left in the bar are not up to par with my usual type.

The door of the bar abruptly opens and the chilly November air hits my scarcely clothed body intensely.

My jewel feels the hit the most and she leaks in appreciation.

A man walks past my table and sits at the table in front of mine;

My nipples pecker, from the cold and him.

My next prey.

I do not have to go to him, he makes his way to me.

I watch his pants grow tighter below his belt and my jewel grows slicker, hungrier;

It is not long before we are both panting and moaning in the back of his car;

My black skirt is hunched above my thighs and the sounds of my naked bum hitting his hairy thighs adds melody to the quiet night.

We finish together.

Exhausted, I make my way out of the car and I contemplate going back to the bar, for my last victim of the night.

I am now hurting and the decision is made for me.

I walk back home, sedated.

Tomorrow again, I think.

And I smile to nobody but the hope of who my preys will be on the morrow.

I put the knife back in my bag and I wipe my hands off the man's putrid redness with my mother's new handkerchief.

Mother is right, knives are too messy.