This erotic short story was written for SnakkOmSex. If you would like to read Norwegian language stories click here.
For more English language stories click here.

So, I was halfway through this crappy microwave burrito at the Spar on Hvidovrevej when I first spotted her. Hvidovre, just a stone’s throw from Copenhagen, Denmark, isn’t exactly the place for thrills, ya know? But that little corner shop by the Netto, it’s my spot for late-night snacks after dragging myself through a long shift at the warehouse. It was almost 11 p.m., those annoying fluorescent lights humming above me, and the cashier, some guy named Jens who always looks like he’s half asleep, was just scrolling on his phone behind the counter. I’m standing there, gnawing on this pathetic burrito, when she walks in. Tall, kinda skinny, with this messy bun of dark hair and a worn-out leather jacket that’s clearly been through some shit. She didn’t seem like she fit in this dead-end suburb, but hell, who does?

I’m Kasper, by the way. Thirty-two, a bit out of shape, working grunt jobs at the DHL sorting center down by the harbor. Not much to brag about, but I pay my bills and keep my tiny flat on Enghavevej decent enough. Life’s been a slog since I split with my ex a couple years ago. Haven’t really messed with dating or hookups since then. Too much damn effort. But that night, something about this girl grabbed my attention. Maybe it was how she moved, sharp, like she had a plan, but didn’t care if she was late for it. Or maybe I was just bored out of my mind. She snagged a pack of Tuborg from the cooler and a bag of chips, then headed to the counter. I’m not gonna pretend I wasn’t staring a little. Her jeans were tight, torn at the knees, and she had these beat-up boots that looked like they’d trekked across half of Sjælland. I pegged her for late twenties, maybe. Hard to say. Didn’t look like the type to crack a smile easily.

When she turned her head just a bit, I caught her name on a lanyard poking out of her jacket pocket. Sofie. Probably worked at one of the shops around here, or maybe the hospital. Hvidovre Hospital isn’t far, and half the folks in this area seem to be nurses or orderlies or something. I didn’t say a word at first. Just kept chomping on my burrito, acting like I wasn’t sneaking glances. But then she fumbled with her wallet and dropped her chips. They hit the floor with a loud crunch, and she muttered some curse in Danish, something about how this was just her luck. I couldn’t help it, I snorted. She shot me a look, not mad exactly, just irritated, like she was daring me to say something stupid. “Rough night?” I asked, wiping my hands on my jeans. Real smooth, Kasper, real friggin’ smooth. She just shrugged, picking up the bag. “You could say that. Do you always eat trash this late, or is this some special occasion?”

I grinned, kinda thrown off by her attitude. “Nah, just a Tuesday. Spar’s got the best gourmet stuff, ya know.” She smirked, just a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth, and paid Jens for her stuff. I figured that was it, just a quick back-and-forth before she’d disappear into the cold November night. But nope, she hung around by the door, popping open one of the beers right there like she couldn’t care less about the rules. Took a long swig, then glanced back at me. “You live around here, or do you just creep around convenience stores for kicks?” she asked, her voice flat but with this glint in her eye I couldn’t quite figure out. “A few blocks over,” I said, nodding toward Enghavevej. “You?” “Close enough. Rent’s cheap, even if the place stinks of mold half the time.” She took another sip, then tilted the can my way. “Wanna split one? I’m not downing all six on my own.”

I hesitated for like half a second. I mean, I didn’t know this chick at all, and for all I knew, she could be completely unhinged. But I was wiped out, already a little buzzed from the couple of beers I’d had at home, and honestly, I had nothing better to do. So I nodded, chucked the rest of my burrito in the trash, and walked over. She handed me a can, and we stepped outside into the chilly air. The street was dead, just the odd car cruising by on Hvidovrevej and the faint rumble of the S-tog off in the distance. We leaned against the brick wall of the Spar, that flickering neon sign above us, and drank in silence for a minute or so.

Her name was Sofie, like I’d figured from the lanyard. Didn’t give a last name, and I didn’t bother asking. She worked night shifts at a 24-hour kiosk near Friheden Station, which explained why she was out buying beer this late. Said she hated the gig, but it paid better than daytime stuff, and she wasn’t big on sleeping anyway. I told her about the warehouse, how I spend my days hauling boxes and dodging forklifts for peanuts. Real high-class life, ya know. She laughed at that, a short, rough kinda laugh, and I felt this weird little twinge in my gut. Not like some sappy romance nonsense, just… something. Like maybe this night wasn’t gonna be another dull one.

We polished off the first beers pretty fast, and she cracked open another for herself. Didn’t offer me a second, which was cool, I wasn’t gonna push it. We kept chatting, mostly about random crap around Hvidovre. Like how the new kebab joint on Gammel Køge Landevej charges way too much, or how the kids here keep scribbling the same lousy graffiti under the station overpass. Nothing deep, nothing life-changing, just… easy. Weirdly comfortable, I guess. But I kept noticing little things about her. The way her fingers kept tapping on the beer can, restless. A small scar on her knuckle. How her eyes would flick to mine every now and then, like she was trying to figure me out. Then she hit me with something outta nowhere. “You got a girlfriend or something?”

Hey, you don’t strike me as the kinda person to be out by yourself on a Tuesday, munching on junk food like this.” I let out a little laugh, rubbing the back of my neck kinda awkwardly. “Nah, I’ve been single for a bit now. Not really on the hunt either, y’know? How ‘bout you?” She just shook her head, taking a slow pull from her beer. “Same here. Too much damn drama. But, like, sometimes you just… need somethin’, right?” She didn’t go into details, but the way she said it, low, with this sorta edge, got under my skin. I wasn’t sure if she was hinting at what I thought she was, but my stupid brain jumped there anyway. I shifted a little, suddenly way too aware of how close we were, the cold wall pressing into my back, the mix of beer and her cheap perfume hanging in the air. “Somethin’ like what?” I tossed out, trying to sound chill. Pretty sure I sounded like an idiot instead. She didn’t reply right off. Just stared at me, her face giving nothing away, then flicked her empty can into a bin a few feet off. Nailed it, of course. “Dunno yet,” she said after a beat, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. “Guess it depends.” Depends on what? I wanted to ask, but I kept my mouth shut. I ain’t smooth, alright? Last thing I wanted was to sound like some creep. Still, there was this… vibe now. No mistaking it. Something heavy, kinda charged, just sitting there between us, even if I couldn’t quite name it. My heart was thumping a bit faster, and I tried telling myself it was just the cold or the beer, but nah, I knew better. I hadn’t felt this kinda pull in forever, and part of me was curious, hell, eager, to see where it might go, even if another part was yelling at me that I’m a total moron for even considering it.

“Wanna take a walk or somethin’?” she asked out of the blue, nodding down the street toward the quieter stretch of Hvidovrevej, where the shops fade into those boring-ass apartment blocks. “I’m not ready to head home yet, and I’ve got more beer.” I should’ve said no. I mean, I had an early shift the next day, and I barely knew this girl. But did I say no? Nope. I just nodded, pulled my jacket tighter against the wind, and started walking beside her. The streetlights threw long shadows as we went, her boots scraping on the pavement, the bag of Tuborg clinking in her hand. I had no clue what I was getting myself into, but for the first time in months, I didn’t give a damn. We kept going down Hvidovrevej, passing the shuttered barber shop and that little Netto with the busted shopping cart always out front. The wind was biting at my face, but I barely felt it, too caught up in this weird tension building between us. Sofie didn’t talk much at first, just kept her hands in her pockets, her shoulder brushing mine every few steps. Felt accidental, but I wasn’t so sure. The only sounds were our footsteps on the cracked sidewalk and the clink of those beer cans in her bag. I kept sneaking looks at her, trying to figure out what the hell she was thinking, but her face didn’t give me squat. Just that same half-bored, half-curious expression she had back at the Spar.

We veered off the main road onto a quieter side street, Slotsvej, where the streetlights are dimmer and the apartment blocks look even more beat-up. There’s this tiny park area there, more like a sad patch of grass with a couple rusty benches, right by the old community center that’s been boarded up since last summer. She stopped by one of the benches, dropped the bag of Tuborg on the ground, and plopped down, stretching her legs out like she owned the damn place. I hesitated for a sec, then sat next to her, keeping a little space. Didn’t wanna seem too pushy, y’know? She grabbed another beer, popped it open, and handed it to me without even asking if I wanted one. I took it, our fingers brushing just for a split second. Her hands were cold, rough at the tips, probably from whatever grunt work she does at that kiosk job. I muttered a quick thanks and took a sip, the cheap lager tasting bitter and kinda flat now that the earlier buzz was fading. She didn’t open one for herself this time, just leaned back on the bench, staring out at the empty street. “So,” she said after a minute, her voice slicing through the quiet. “You’re not gonna ask what I meant back there?” I damn near choked on my beer. “Uh, which part exactly?” She turned her head, giving me this look like I was the dumbest guy alive. “You know what part. Don’t act clueless, Kasper.” I shifted, my jeans scraping on the cold metal of the bench. My face felt hot, even with the November chill, and I knew I wasn’t hiding a damn thing. “Alright, fine. What’d you mean by ‘somethin’?”

She didn’t answer right away, just kept looking at me, her eyes narrowing a little like she was sizing me up or deciding something. Then she shrugged, cool as hell, and said, “Sometimes you just need a fuck, y’know? No strings, no bullshit. Just… get it outta your system.” I blinked, not expecting her to lay it out like that. My throat went dry, and I took another swig of beer just to do something with my hands. “Yeah, uh, I get that,” I mumbled, sounding like a complete dumbass. “Been a while for me, though. Kinda rusty at this point.” She let out a quick snort, sharp and kinda amused. “Don’t gotta be good at it. Just gotta want it.” Then she shifted closer, her knee bumping into mine, and I swear my heart just about stopped. Not in some sappy, romantic way, nah, just straight-up, dumb adrenaline. I could smell her now, not just that cheap perfume from earlier but somethin’ else, cigarette smoke stuck to her jacket, a faint hint of sweat. It wasn’t sexy like in the movies, just… real. Raw, I guess. Made my pulse kick up even more.

“You want it?” she asked, her voice all quiet, like she was daring me or something. No smile, no flirty vibe, just those eyes locked on mine, waiting for me to chicken out or say something dumb. I swallowed, my throat tight, mind going a million miles a minute. Part of me wanted to crack a stupid joke, brush it off, you know? But the other part, the part that hadn’t gotten any action in over a year, was yelling at me to just go for it. “Yeah,” I croaked out, sounding rougher than I planned. “I do.” She didn’t say a word after that, just gave a quick nod, like that was that. Then she got up, snatched the bag of beers, and tilted her head toward the darker side of the park. You know, over by those bushes and the low wall near the old playground nobody messes with anymore. “C’mon. I ain’t doing this on a damn bench where some drunk can trip over us.” I stood up, legs feeling all wobbly and weird, and trailed after her. Half my brain was screaming this was a bad idea, middle of the night, out in public, barely even knowing her, but the other half? Didn’t give a crap.

We got behind that wall, outta sight from the street. The ground was all uneven, covered in old cigarette butts and smashed-up Red Bull cans. She dropped the bag with a thud, turned to me, and stepped in close. Like, real close. I could feel the heat coming off her, even through my jacket, and my hands were itching to just… do something, anything. She didn’t wait for me to figure it out. Just grabbed the front of my jacket, pulled me in, and kissed me hard. Her lips were rough, chapped, tasting like beer with a little salty edge, and there wasn’t a damn thing gentle about it. It was sloppy, teeth knocking together a bit, her tongue pushing into my mouth before I could even catch my breath. I let out a groan without meaning to, hands finally moving to grab her hips through her jeans. She was all sharp angles, lean and hard, pressing herself against me while one hand slid up to the back of my neck, fingers digging in. We stumbled a little, my back slamming into the rough brick wall, and she didn’t let up for a second, kissing me like she was desperate for it. I could feel myself getting hard already, my dick pushing against my jeans, and I knew she noticed ‘cause she ground her hips into mine, rough and on purpose. “Fuck,” I mumbled against her mouth, and she just hummed, sounding kinda smug about it.

Her hands were quick, yanking at my jacket zipper, then shoving under my shirt to get at skin. Her fingers were cold as shit, making me flinch, but I didn’t care one bit. I tugged at her leather jacket, trying to get it off her, but it got stuck halfway down her arms, and we both fumbled with it, breathing heavy and awkward. She cursed under her breath, “Fucking thing,” and finally shrugged it off, letting it drop to the ground. Underneath, she had this thin black tank top on, no bra, and I could see her nipples poking through, hard as hell, maybe from the cold, maybe not. Didn’t matter. I wanted to touch her, taste her, whatever she’d let me get away with. I slid my hands under her shirt, pushing it up, my rough palms scraping against her skin. Her stomach was flat, a little slick with sweat even though it was chilly out, and I moved up to her tits, cupping them, running my thumbs over her nipples. She hissed, arching into me, and started grabbing at my belt, yanking it open with a loud clink. My jeans were halfway down my hips before I even realized, and her hand was on me through my boxers, stroking hard and fast over the fabric. I groaned again, louder this time, head tipping back against the wall. “Shit, Sofie, ” “Shut up,” she muttered, but there wasn’t any real bite to it.

She shoved my boxers down just enough to get my dick out, her grip tight, too tight at first, making me wince a little before she eased up. I’m not some huge guy or anything, just average, but I was so hard it almost hurt, pre-cum already slicking things up as she worked me with these quick, no-bullshit strokes. I could smell myself now, that musky, sharp scent mixing with the damp dirt and some faint garbage stink from nearby. Nothing fancy about this, just raw and desperate. I fumbled with her jeans next, popping the button, dragging the zipper down. They were tight as hell, sticking to her skin, and I had to yank hard to get them past her hips. Underneath, just plain black underwear, already damp when I brushed my fingers there. She sucked in a sharp breath, her hand on me pausing for a split second, and I rubbed harder, pressing through the fabric, feeling how hot she was. Shaved or trimmed short, I couldn’t tell yet, but damn, the thought made my mouth water. I wanted to get down there, taste her, but there’s no room or time for that kinda thing out here in the open.

She pushed my hand away, shoved her own jeans and underwear down to her knees, and turned around, bracing her hands on the wall. “Just do it,” she said over her shoulder, voice all tight, like she was done messing around. Her ass looked pale in the dim light, small but firm, and I could just make out the shape of her pussy from this angle, glistening a little. No condom, no nothing, and yeah, I knew that was stupid as hell, but my brain wasn’t exactly in charge right now. I stepped closer, my dick brushing against her, and gripped her hips, trying to line myself up. I pushed in slow at first, just the tip, feeling how tight and wet she was, and we both groaned at the same time. It was awkward as fuck, the angle all wrong, my jeans still half-on and catching on my thighs, but I didn’t give a damn.

I pushed in deeper, feeling her tighten around me, and just started moving, not soft or slow, nah, just rough and desperate. Her heat wrapped around me, so tight and wet, and I could feel every damn inch as I went all the way, my hips smacking against her with this loud, sloppy sound. She let out a low grunt, kinda rough, her fingers clawing at the crumbling brick wall to hold herself steady. I grabbed her hips tighter, probably hard enough to leave bruises, and really started going at it, fast and deep, no real rhythm, just pure want. My jeans were still bunched down around my knees, rubbing my skin raw with every thrust, and the cold air was biting at my bare ass, but I didn’t give a shit. All I could think about was her heat, the way she pushed back into me, matching every move like she needed it just as much. “Harder,” she snapped, her voice all strained, head tipped down so her messy bun was falling apart, sweaty strands of hair sticking to her neck. I didn’t hesitate, just slammed into her with everything I had, the sound of us crashing together bouncing off the wall in this grimy little corner of the park. My balls were already tight, aching way too soon if I’m honest, but there was no slowing down. Her breathing was all over the place, little moans slipping out every few thrusts, not fake or over-the-top, just real, like she was losing it right along with me.

I slid a hand around to her front, fumbling through the tangle of her pushed-down jeans to find her clit, and when I rubbed at it, clumsy but hard, she jolted, a sharp “Fuck” hissing out of her. Her grip on me got even tighter, pulsing like crazy, and I could tell she was right there. I kept going, rubbing messy circles, my other hand digging into her hip so hard my knuckles ached. A few seconds later, she came, her whole body shaking, a deep groan ripping out of her as she slumped against the wall. I could feel her throbbing around me, even wetter now, practically dripping, and it was too much. I didn’t even get a chance to say anything, just grunted some nonsense and pulled out at the last second, barely, finishing all over her ass and the back of her thighs. It was a mess, hot and sticky, way more than I figured, glinting a little in the dim streetlight, mixing with the sweat on her skin. My legs were trembling, breath coming in harsh bursts, and I stumbled back a step, almost tripping over my stupid jeans.

She stayed still for a moment, braced against the wall, just breathing. Then she straightened up, slow and stiff, pulling her underwear and jeans back up without even bothering to clean off. Didn’t seem to care about the mess at all, just zipped up and turned around, face all flushed and sweaty, hair a complete wreck. I was still half-hard, dick just hanging out, cum dripping onto the ground, and I felt like a total moron standing there, trying to yank my boxers and jeans up with shaky hands. The air stank of sex now, sharp and musky, mixed with the damp dirt and stale beer from the bag on the ground. Not hot or romantic, just raw. Real. “Guess that’s that,” she said, voice flat, brushing her hair back with one hand. No smile, no lingering glance, just straight-up matter-of-fact. She bent down, grabbed the plastic bag with the last couple of Tuborgs, and slung it over her shoulder like nothing had even happened.

I didn’t know what to say, still catching my breath, my dick finally tucked away but the front of my jeans damp with… well, whatever. I wiped my hands on my jacket, feeling gross and drained, and just nodded like a dumbass. “Yeah, uh, guess so,” I mumbled, scratching the back of my neck. My voice sounded off, thick, like I hadn’t spoken in forever. I wanted to say something more, maybe check if she was okay or ask if she wanted to grab a drink somewhere less sketchy, but the words wouldn’t come out. And honestly, she didn’t look like she wanted to hear them anyway. She was already stepping away, adjusting her tank top under her jacket, her boots crunching on the trash-littered ground. “See ya around, Kasper,” she tossed out, not even looking back as she headed toward Slotsvej, her figure getting smaller under the flickering streetlights. Didn’t sound like she meant it, just something to say to kill the awkward silence.

I stood there for a sec, watching her go, the cold finally hitting me now that the rush was gone. My legs felt like jelly, my back sore from leaning against that stupid wall, and I could still feel the ghost of her heat on me. But there was no warm, fuzzy afterglow or big meaningful moment. Just… over. I glanced around, making sure no random late-night dog walker had stumbled on us, last thing I needed was cops showing up, and started walking the other way, back toward Enghavevej. The park was dead quiet now, just the faint hum of a car on Hvidovrevej somewhere far off and the rustle of leaves skittering across the ground. My shift at the DHL warehouse was in, like, six hours, and I knew I’d be a total zombie for it, but I couldn’t muster up the energy to care.

My head kept replaying bits of it, her grip, the way she hissed when I touched her, that wet heat, but it wasn’t some deep, thoughtful thing. Just flashes. Physical. Done. I stopped by the Netto on the corner, the one with the busted shopping cart still sitting out front, and realized I’d left my half-drunk beer on that rusted bench back there. Didn’t feel like trekking back for it, though. Instead, I ducked inside, the fluorescent lights hitting me hard after the dark, and grabbed a cheap pack of gum from the rack by the register.

So, Jens wasn’t there tonight. Instead, some kid who looked bored out of his mind was slouched behind the counter, barely even looking up as I handed over my cash. I tossed a piece of gum in my mouth, minty, but fake as hell, and stepped back out into the freezing cold. Walking those last few blocks to my place, I was chomping down too hard on the gum, probably looking like an idiot. Then I saw this scrawny stray cat dart across the street, skinny as anything, and it slammed into a trash bin lid. Made this huge clang. The thing just froze, staring at me with one creepy yellow eye before it took off down an alley. I kinda snorted, shook my head, and kept going, my boots scraping against the sidewalk.

Tomorrow, I just know I’ll be stuck sorting packages at work, and Sofie’s face is gonna pop into my head. Probably at the worst damn time, too, and I’ll be half-hard, feeling like a complete moron. Gonna curse myself for even thinking about her. But right now? Man, all I want is my bed. I just wanna forget this whole stupid night. Got to my door, and of course, the key got stuck in the lock again. Had to jiggle the thing for a good minute before the door finally creaked open to my dark, musty-ass flat. Smells like mold in there, always does. Didn’t even bother with the lights, just kicked off my shoes and faceplanted onto the couch, still wearing my jacket like I give a crap.

Somewhere down the hall, I could hear a neighbor’s TV blasting through the paper-thin walls. Some late-night infomercial, probably about a blender or some other junk nobody actually needs. I shut my eyes, gum still in my mouth, and thought, hell, I’ll probably choke on this thing in my sleep. And wouldn’t that just be the most pathetic way to go out? Seriously.