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Room 669
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Room 669 Your hands had never been bound before. Even now, hours after he'd tied you, the welts were still visible. You rubbed your wrists for the hundredth time and pulled your cuffs down low to conceal them. You had a presentation at work today, and this was the last thing you needed the Board to see. Your hands trembled as you smeared on your lipstick. "Will you let me bind you?" In hindsight, it had been rather foolish, but the risk only fueled your desire. He could have suggested anything and you would have done it. Stupid, but you'd have been unable to stop yourself. You glanced at the clock. Time to get a move on. You grabbed your keys, made your way downstairs and marched to the subway. You found an empty seat, and as the train rolled out of the station you thought about him again. There had been plenty of empty seats at the hotel bar last night, but he had taken the one right beside you, cutting you off from the other customers. You knew he wanted you then. He was hot and you were open to seeing where this would go. He started a casual, friendly conversation that engaged your interest as small talk led to suggestive innuendo. After sharing a few drinks, he startled you when he said “ I'm staying in room 669. I'm going up to take a shower now, if you're interested, come up. If not, you have a pleasant evening.” You smiled. He beckoned the barman over and settled his tab. As he slid off the chair, he gave you one last look. "669. I think you'd enjoy me." And then he was gone. Without a backward look, he left the bar. From where you sat you could see him summon the elevator. When he turned to face the door our eyes made contact for just a sizzling second. Then the door closed and he was gone. Your mind was a muddle. You couldn't remember how long it had been since you'd fucked someone. The sensible voice in your head was quiet now, and all you could think of was how good it might be, and how stupid it would be to walk away from such an opportunity. And yet you knew nothing about this man. The risk was all yours. If you were thinking straight, you would reproach yourself for even considering it. You couldn't blame the wine. You'd been perfectly sober when he walked into the bar, perfectly in control. But from the second he'd sat down beside you, you'd known where this was going. "669. I think you'd enjoy me" The barman probably knew exactly what was going on and you hated him for that. You stared into his eyes as he ran your bill but his poker-face was in place and he gave nothing away at all. You signed your tab and said thanks, slipped ten bucks under your glass, and headed for the ladies' room as nonchalantly as you could manage, determined not to embarrass yourself by sprinting for the elevator. Inside, you stood in front of the mirror, your heart thumping against your ribs as you touched up your makeup. You were still kidding yourself that you wouldn't go, when you knew otherwise. Wild horses couldn't have stopped you. Your panties were sodden, your nipples were so stiff they ached. You barely recognized this stranger who stared back at you, face flushed, eyes sparkling, shiny lips parted with desire "669. I think you'd enjoy me". As the elevator lights blinked past each floor, your anxiety increased. Your palms were sweating and you kept wondering what would happen on the other side of that door. Room 669 was situated at the far end of the corridor. You paused outside, staring at the little spy-hole, not daring to knock. You were suddenly very aware of how foolish this was -- and the weight of all the risk hit you at once. But you wanted what was on the other side of the door. So you knocked. There was no look of surprise on his face, no “I knew you would come”-- nothing. He simply smiled pleasantly and stood aside so you could pass through. "Nice suite," you said, for something to say, something to cover the awkwardness. "Make yourself comfortable." He pointed to the bottle of wine nestled in an ice bucket by the television. "Pour us both a drink. I'm going to have a shower. You want one?" "I'm good thanks." "Take your clothes off and wait for me." He had already uncorked the bottle. Your hands were shaking as you poured two glasses. You got a warm buzz as yet more alcohol entered your system. You weren't' drunk, just comfortable. It was a pleasant suite. And there was a large, black sports bag on the bed. Other than that, there didn't seem to be anything else of his. While the shower hissed in the background, you walked to the window and pulled back the sheer curtain. The room should have had a sweeping view of the valley, but it was dark, and you entertained yourself by figuring out what landmark was marked by each cluster of lights. It was impossible, but it killed a little time. Funny. Admiring the view, you were comfortable. Looking back into his room, you felt lost. The shower stopped. And you were still dressed. Take your clothes off and wait for me. You kicked off your heels, and as quick as your hands would allow, you pulled off your pants, hose, and panties. And yet you still had on your blouse which still kept everything modest. For some reason, you couldn't remove that. You pulled your bra out through your sleeves and draped it over a chair with the other clothes. He emerged from the shower wearing nothing but a crisp white towel around his waist. He kept in good shape, and your eyes followed the flow of his damp chest hair down whittling down toward his mid-section. His legs were long and firm, and he was drying his hair with a second towel. He said nothing about your blouse, but picked up his wine glass and took a sip of it, gazing at you over the rim. You wondered what he was thinking. He put the glass down, walked over, and kissed you on the lips. His kiss was gentle at first, not probing, and your skin tingled as his mouth grazed yours. You tasted the wine on him and inhaled the strong, woody musk of the shower gel that oozed from all his pores. His hands remained resolutely on your hips, not moving. "Take off your shirt." You stopped breathing. He took a step back and just watched you. You had hoped he would take it off himself, maybe after you both were rolling around on the bed, but no. He wanted to do this by the window, and with a good few feet between us. Your heart raced -- terrified -- but so turned on. Slowly you raised the blouse over your head -- not to tease him, but because you were shaking so much. You couldn't have managed the buttons if you tried. After the blouse fell to the floor, you crossed your arms over your chest. "Put your hands by your side." Trembling, you did as he asked. He studied you for a moment, unashamedly staring at your imperfect breasts. You thought them a little too big, and you wished the nipples sat a little higher. His eyes swept unchecked over your body, from your lowered eyes to your locked legs. It was a miracle your knees didn't give way beneath you. "Will you let me bind you?" You felt giddy and aroused and unsure of yourself all at the same time. Your nod was almost imperceptible. You were sure he caught it but he didn't move. "Yes," you said. There was a tremor in your voice. He grabbed the bag off the bed and pulled some rope out from inside. "Put out your hands." You did as you was told, and he wrapped the cords around your wrists. The rope was secure, but not so tight as to cut off your circulation. When he was done, he led you to the bed. "Lie down on your belly." Using your knees, you climbed up the bed toward the pillows. You couldn't quite get comfortable, but he reached over you and arranged things carefully so your neck wasn't strained and your hands were comfortably looped over your head. Then you felt him position himself between your legs and heard a slight 'pop.' You tried to turn to see what the sound was. "Just relax." The smell of baby oil was unmistakable. You closed your eyes as he rubbed the lotion into your shoulders, lifted your hair to massage your neck, then down over your back and along your arms, all the while rubbing in a firm, sensual, circular motion that left you yearning for more. Every now and then his hand would catch the sides of your breasts, perhaps by accident, perhaps not, and you would groan into the pillow. After a while, he shuffled back. You heard him splash more lotion into his palms. His experienced hands fanned from your upper buttocks to your waist, then drifted, down, down again, covering every sensuous centimeter of skin which reeled under his touch. Your alert mind tracked every movement, always conscious of exactly where he was, yet longing for him to venture south to more exotic pastures. But he was in no hurry, and he lingered a while in that territory until there was no stress left in your body and you became one with the bed and his hands. Ever so gently he teased the folds of your butt, rubbing the oil all around. But though you caught your breath he only pressed his finger at your opening -- he never pushed inside. And then his fingers brushed your clit. you were an erotic fireball, and you moaned into your pillow. Tease that he was, he stopped and resumed caressing your butt cheeks. You yearned for him to touch you again, but he had his own agenda and you could do nothing but lie there and want, want, want. You arched up to him, anticipating every touch, drowning in the desire he provoked in you. You were ready to beg him to fuck you. Your pussy was awake now, and it demanded attention. But still, he just stroked and kneaded and worked you into an ecstatic fury. He must have decided the time was right because his finger ran the length of your slit. You almost levitated off the bed and thrust back hard to trick his hand inside you. But he was in control, and you had no choice except to submit to his gentle brushes and tender probes. Somewhere in your head, you were aware of your bonds and the slight burn where you fought against your restraints. But you were beyond feeling pain. There was only him, and the delight his fingers elicited on your clit. Round and round he caressed that engorged button until he had you squirming on the bed like an angry snake. By the time your release came, you were savage, screaming out at the top of your lungs, oblivious to the sleeping souls in the rooms around us. Then, and only then, did he flip me over. You vaguely registered a hearty, sheathed cock lowering down between your legs and when he entered, you gasped. Your pussy enveloping his dick and sucking him into your wet and dark abyss. Every thrust sent an echo of that orgasm through your body, and you wanted to hold him, to tear at his muscles and pull him into you. His mouth was on yours. His kiss was as deep and penetrating as his cock. Your body arched as flesh teased flesh, and when you closed your eyes you focused on his dick, pulling on your pussy folds, then sinking back in to connect with your womb. The aroma of sex was heavy in the room, your mutual sweat permeating the air and circling around your bodies. His fucking became hard and determined, and your delight intensified as his cock thickened and he pulsed his cum inside you. Down, down and down you both cum, your head free of all thoughts and concerns. There was only the memory of your mutual orgasms, still hanging in the room like a delightful fog. As your breathing became normal, He kissed your mouth, neck, and nipples. You groaned a little as his cock slipped away from you. You felt the loss of it -- and the certainty that at least for now, and perhaps forever, this moment was done. With a gentleness that surprised you, he untied your wrists, lightly rubbing the skin where the cords had chaffed. He kissed the inside of your wrist, and opened your palm, kissing that too. you melted. You had forgotten you were naked. you didn't mind that you were, anymore. "You are beautiful,' He said. For once, you didn't argue. As the train rattled through the subway tunnels, you closed your eyes and remembered that final moment. You still had today to get through. But then there would be tonight. And room 669. |
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Wow that was hot... Loved it
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