He vaulted the 6 foot fence energetically and immediately dropped to the cool dewy grass. He crouched there like a panther; panting, watching, his heart racing with the thoughts going through his head. He took a minute to review what he saw. A house in front of him lit by moonlight, just big enough and stately enough to be of good breeding, and he knew what that breeding would bring with it. He waited and watched to be sure there were no traps that he would fall straight into.
Security was not something that he had thought of until now. Until now his mind had been consumed with only the thoughts of the girl that slept a mere 70 yards or so from where he was now lying in wait.
He forced himself to look for the signs of paranoid affluence. Kennels – none that he could see. Infra red cameras – none on the back side of the house. Good. Floodlights? Well if there were, all the better to see how to enter the house. As it happened he could see none, so he was going to have to think on his feet this time. He rose to his feet slowly and took his first good look at the house. As he looked he could feel the sweat standing on him in light beads. It was a warm night and, although dressed only in tee-shirt and jeans he was sweating because he had run through the woods at the back of the house to be where he was now. There was no rush. It was the anticipation of the moment that had made him arrive sooner rather than later. As he stood there the sweat was drying on him, leaving a musky smell and a clamminess that would not have been abnormal.
He took slow steps towards the back of the house. Still waiting for a light to be triggered and unmask him from the night. None awoke, so he moved forward more certain now, sure of his intentions. It was about 40 yards across the capacious lawn to the house. It had been recently mown on the hot day that had preceded this night, and the light wind that was cooling him down now was causing light ripples on the surface of the pool he was now circumnavigating. He could imagine the scene the evening before – she would have been in the pool cooling herself, enjoying the serenity of opulence that came with wealth and stature. That was why he was here. And she was soon to know it.
He arrived at the back door. It was solid and oak, as one might expect, and secured in far too many places for him to attempt to conquer it, so he had to take a different tack. He stalked round the brick-work until he found what he was looking for. A kitchen window left on the vent latch. He withdrew a credit card from his wallet and tweaked it in the gap between the woodwork. The latch lifted impotently and revealed the access he needed. Wallet in pocket again he pulled the window lightly. These homes have good windows, but a squeaky hinge at this stage might be his undoing. He pulled carefully and slowly. A quick scan behind him revealed a bucket close by. He brought it, upended it and stood on it to allow access to the house. He stood on the window sill, again taking a moment to be sure there was nothing to trap him. No infra-reds. No feeding bowls on the floor below him. This place was good! He slowly let himself down into the threshold of the kitchen. He was in, and he knew where he wanted to be next. She had no idea.
He made his way across the kitchen to the doorway. The hall was beyond that and he allowed himself to enter the inner areas of the house. He paused again. This time it was not to look for security measures, it was to gaze upon the world that he was invading. Opulence was alien to him. He was from the other side of town and grandeur was not something he was used to. He took the pen light out of his pocket, flicked it on, crouched down again and illuminated the pictures that were on the coffee table in front of him. Sure enough there she was. Pictures of times gone by. A skiing trip. Her smile showed well cared for teeth that were as white as the snow that lay about her. A picture of her astride a horse. She was only a teenager on this one, obviously some years ago. The picture of innocence – a girl and a horse in harmony. That was not the girl he had come to rest his gaze on. That was not how she was now. Full of self-assured will and determination. Arrogance had not invaded her, but her education and parents had provided a background that had left her ready to face the plights of the world with confidence. Finally he moved the light over to a picture of her as she is now. It was a picture of the girl sat in the driving seat of her new bright red Mercedes coupe. The top was down and she was holding the keys aloft as if they were a prize she had just won. Again the smile was there. Broad and serene. The black leather of the interior contrasted perfectly with the long golden hair that hung down from her head. It was all just another sign of self-assurance and internal happiness. That was something that tonight would test.
The stairs led away to the left. Open plan and winding around in a broad radius. Just the sort of staircase that she would parade down in her ball-gowns, making the entrance of her life as she accompanying some young beau to the opera or the Summer dance. He placed his foot on the first step. No creaks yet. Experience had taught him that he would be better walking on the outer edges of the steps to avoid the treads giving under his weight and perhaps releasing a tell-tale creak. He moved his weight and mounted another tread. His heart pounded as he climbed the stairway. It suddenly dawned on him what he was about to do. No other person had done this to her before, he hoped, and he also hoped that no-one else would do it again. Was he sure? Was this the thing to be doing on a perfect summers night. The removal of innocence. Ha! He was fooling himself if he actually thought this would be the denouement of a girls innocence. That had taken place many years before in the back of some Roller or other. She was in her twenties now and, although daddy would probably not approve, she had had her fill of young men in her time. Not this one though, and not under these circumstances.
He turned as he climbed. He looked up the stairs and could see in the pale moonlight a set of doors that led from the landing. He was getting so close now. His palms started to sweat with anticipation and he placed them on his tee-shirt to wipe away the evidence of his nerves. He felt his chest under the cotton. He was trim and well toned. He had taken time and effort over the years to make himself how he looked. Strong and agile. Muscles to stretch the fabric of his tee-shirt just so, and to make him as proud as he needed to be when walking along the beach front. It was this self-assurance that carried him on now. Reaching the top of the stairs now he decided on his next move. The master bedroom had to be at the front or the back of the house, he had decided, and that left three options. A quick calculation led him to discount the door that was to his left as being the bathroom (that looked out to the side of the house). Well, one of them at least – the one for the guests. Hell! What if she had company? He was going to have to be extra careful. He decided there was nothing for it but to try the doors in turn. He went for the door in front of him. That led, he had surmised, to one of the bedrooms at the front. He slowly opened the door and snaked his head round the wood. The curtains were open. He could see a freshly made double bed and flowers standing on the night table next to it. The scene was beautiful and he was relieved to find nothing to disturb him yet. He was also disappointed as his heart was racing so fast now that he in one sense wanted to get to his target as soon as he could. However the suspense was adding to the moment and he closed the door with a smile on his face, ready to try his luck again. He moved down the landing to the other door that led to a front-facing bedroom. He looked down at the handle. Could this be it, he thought. Am I going to do it now? Yes.
He pushed down on the handle and it squeaked. Not a lot, but nevertheless there was a noise, and that was what he didn’t want right now. He paused, gripped the handle tighter, and moved it down again, but making sure it moved flush with the door, minimising any chance of metal rubbing against metal. He slowly opened the door. No moonlight. My god, he thought. I’m actually doing this! His head stretched round the door and looked in. He could make out a double bed from the light of the clock radio that was sat proud on the night-stand. What he could also make out was a suitcase on the floor at the foot of the bed and two people causing bumps in the duvet. His heart nearly stopped there and then. He froze completely. There was nothing to give himself up, for the moment. The urge to breathe had departed him for the moment, and he was transfixed with the situation. Firstly, there were guests in this house. Secondly he was in immediate danger of waking them RIGHT NOW. That was neither in his game plan, and certainly not in the fantasies that had rocked him for some time. However this was not a time to be put off. He had come to do what he wanted, and making noise was not what he wanted her to do anyway. He would be safe if he went carefully.
He breathed again. Lightly and shallowly, but he replenished the air in his lungs and stalked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He moved so slowly it hurt, but he knew that the game could be up so soon if he did not tread as carefully as he knew how. The door came to its frame and he released the handle to stay the door, taking care not to repeat the squeak that, he realised, nearly gave him away on entering the room. This was not going to put him off. He was just going to have to make sure she understood there was no noise to be made. But then force was on his agenda. It always had been since he had started to envisage this scenario so long ago.
He spun around. The door to the rear bedroom opposite him now. He knew what was on the other side. He steeled himself and lowered his hand to the handle. He had never done anything like this before. She was special and he wanted her to know it for sure. He put weight on the handle. It gave way, releasing the door to open under his will. No squeaks emitted. Perfect. There was a half-light this time that met his face. Neither full moonlight, but not the heavy curtains that had been placed to service the guests needs in their room. He looked for the windows to see what he was presented with. There were two windows in this room, bedecked with curtains made of a sheer fabric through which a small amount of light was pervading. The moon was on the other side of the larger of the windows, and he could make out that these curtains were red. He took a second to let his mind wander to how these would look on a sunny morning, waking her with a glow of warmth about the room to make her feel foetal in her refuge.
But this was night, and the moon was keeping watch. Actually it was providing enough light to allow him to see fairly well into her bedroom. He scanned the scene, and found the usual things in place. A wall decked with wardrobes, as would befit a young woman with money to spend on all the clothes she wanted. A door, undoubtedly leading to the en-suite which again befitted her abode. A chest of drawers with more pictures on it. There was also a small arm-chair in the corner. He wanted to savour the occasion, so he allowed himself a moment again for his mind to dance across the myriad of scenarios that arm-chair would throw up. He could picture her dressing herself, sat on the edge of the chair, pulling up the stockings on her long svelte legs. He could just about feel the silky smoothness of her skin. He almost saw the rising sun on the other side of those red voile curtains as she pulled on her knickers and prepared herself for the day with its forlorn daydreams and fantasies. He started to think of her undressing herself. Oh yes, he wanted to think of that too. But he stopped himself. This was not a time to get carried away. This was a time to focus. He had played this scenario out many times in his head. He knew what he was doing, and he had to stop himself from deviating from his plans. He brought himself back to the time at hand and moved like a cat into the room.
It all started last autumn, in a bar on the other side of town. His side of town. When she walked alone into Amigos, it was like a light being turned on. He happened to be looking in the direction of the door as she entered his world, and perhaps if he hadn’t seen her push open the door and walk in, she might have slipped into the crowded bar completely unnoticed. She would have been able to get her drink and hide in the corner without raising anyone’s attention.
There was nothing special about her clothing. In fact she was wearing similar clothes to a lot of people in this bar on the wrong side of town. It was not that which gave her away and sparked his attention. She wore a man’s shirt, plain and unassuming; her dark blue jeans hugged her hips perfectly, and her slightly shabby pumps finished the disguise. No, it was not the clothes that gave her away. She had done her best to try and fit in to the world to which she was visiting. It wasn’t her hair, perfectly scraped back into a long pony tail, tied up and decorated with a small piece of ribbon. It wasn’t even her make-up, so delicately applied and understated that it really should have raised alarm bells. She was just in the wrong place. She didn’t belong. She knew it and he knew it, but her disguise was good enough to fool the other people in the bar that weren’t looking, and who didn’t know a fish out of water when they saw it.
Amigos was filled with working people. They got on with their business in a way that was comfortable and relaxed. She was not relaxed, but she couldn’t help looking the way she did. It was her best effort, but to him it didn’t work. She let the door close behind her, taking a minute to get her bearings. She spied the bar and moved towards it with determination. It was obvious she didn’t know anyone here. She didn’t do that tell-tale craning of the neck one does when visiting a local. She was looking for no-one and no-one was looking for her. That was what was making her stand out. But she wasn’t even a newcomer to an area, as they more often than not attend a new bar with someone; a friend or colleague, maybe even a neighbour; just someone who would be able to break a bit of ice and to help her meet new people. No, she was alone, and she was a tourist. He knew this from seeing her in his previous life. He had once worn the trappings of affluence too, before he had cast them off like she had now. His world had been one afforded by his parents, which he had chosen to kindly turn down in favour of working for his living. His private school education had given him the qualifications to rise to management, but the building site on which he worked was where he belonged. He wanted real friends, not the friends that are bought by throwing parties, or sucking up to at the round table meetings his father so regularly attended.
It had been a long time since he had seen her last, but she had never left his mind. It was a world ago. He had seen her from afar – friends of friends, or was that friends of daddy’s friends, as she grew up in her mansion. Whatever it was, she had always been far too aloof to mix with his sort. He would see her out riding one of her horses whenever she came back from boarding school. She never noticed him – he was just that much younger to never quite fit in with her circle of friends. Then as he grew up he rebelled against the claustrophobia that seemed to pen him in to the world above the populace. He knew there was something else for him, so made himself a misfit and dropped out of society when he was able to get his first job and provide for himself. This sealed the end of any hopes he had harboured of winning her beauty as her own. After all, his desire for her was always tinged with a hint of disgust that she had never noticed him – that she was always above him. There was an inverted snobbery that made him want her to see what life was like down in the gutter. Those sewer rats could actually be good friends – better friends than those high class snobs that she pretended to like. But she would never be seen dead in the wrong bar or restaurant. She had her world and that suited her very well, or so it seemed. She would have her shopping excursions to Paris or Milan, and her make-overs would always keep her looking pristine for her continual parties, events and social gatherings.
But now she was here, and her breeding was showing through her disguise to those that were looking. And he was looking. Her flaxen hair was still well maintained and conditioned. There were things that she was not going to give up, even for her disguise today. After all, she had her world to return to when this was all over, and over it would be. As every tourist knows, an essential part of visiting somewhere is leaving it, unless of course you are planning to stay there for ever, and this girl was definitely not cut out for staying.
He left the bar that evening having not talked to her. She sat there all night looking, but he didn’t know what for. Perhaps it was a man, perhaps it was a woman, but it definitely wasn’t for anyone she knew. And this set his mind racing. Had wanted her so much as a teenager that it hurt. It hurt in all sorts of ways. Passion, longing, lust and arousal, but also jealousy of the forbidden and the jealousy of the girl who for so long had managed to ignore and show contempt for this man who just wanted to love her. He only wanted to bring her pleasure because he wanted her so much . His only desire was to bring her pleasure – to make her come in the best way she had ever felt – the best he had ever made a woman come. Because he wanted to make her his.
He wondered for quite some time what it was that she was searching for, and then it dawned on him. What if she was looking for anyone? What if she had finally decided to throw off the trappings of her world for more of a purpose than just being anonymous in a bar. And that troubled him. What if she had found someone? What if that opportunity to make her his own had passed him by? This was not going to happen!
He spent the next few weeks of his spare time tracking her down. He looked through the phone book. Stupid, of course. Someone of that stature doesn’t list themselves to the commoners – just to the chosen few. Then county hall, parish records, voting records, and finally a humble up-market department store finally served to tie him to her address. Her abode. It was not affluent. It was modest, by her standards. A well preserved detached house in the suburbs. Not the mansion that daddy could afford for her, by any stretch of the imagination. He had little doubt that daddy had somewhat of a hand in this, but that didn’t matter. The address on the bill he had managed to cajole an assistant into giving him (a long lost brother was the story) read ‘Miss’. And that ‘Miss’ was all he needed to know. If married people go out and seek out liaisons, it is in a much more discreet location than a local bar where anyone could be watching. Married people seek out escorts or people of the night who guarantee discretion. No, she was alone. She was looking for ‘anyone’, and that turned him on. He had placed himself on the right side of the tracks for once. His luck had placed him in the right situation, at the right time, and he was not going to let this particular situation pass him by. He knew where she lived, and he was going to give her ‘anyone’. Although this ‘anyone’ knew how to make her scream. And beg for more.
Sara paced the floor of the hotel room, thinking of the pleasure that undoubtedly lay ahead of her. Every detail had been planned months in advance; every piece of clothing, right down to her beautiful, hand-made lingerie that had been specially chosen..
Sara looked out of the 10th floor window, watching the passers by scurrying about their business. “If only they knew”, she thought. Anonymous bodies going to & fro, in and out of shops & offices, failing to see the aching look on Sara’s face as she dreamed of what would follow that evening.
She sat down on the soft bed, smoothing out the silk of the cover. The bed was in the centre of the room and had been chosen very carefully. It’s four posts were solid mahogany and would withstand anything that was asked of it.
Sara laid down on the bed, her thoughts kidnapped by the demands of her fantasy world. The room was hot & sticky. It was difficult to determine if this was because of the hot summer sun, shining through the windows, or from the heat that started to generate between Sara’s legs. Sara played the sequence of events though her mind, not that she needed to. She had thought of nothing else for weeks. She began to feel the unavoidable throb that was the start of a promise of undeniable pleasure. The heat began to rise. A trickle of sweat dripped down between her heaving breasts.
As she lay on the bed, she tried to ignore the feelings that were starting to wrack her body. “Not yet. Not yet”, she told herself. She rolled over on the bed and lay face down on the silk. She pushed herself into the bed and felt the fabric of her knickers gently rub her already swollen clitoris. Slowly she gyrated her body, rubbing herself against the bed, but still managing not to touch herself. Her juice was now flowing, and she could feel the hot wetness between her legs. Quickly she rolled on her back in an attempt to stop the pulsing that now wracked her body.
“Just think of those people outside”, she thought to herself. “What if someone realises what you’re doing?” She looked out of the window from where she lay on the silk, her moistness consuming her. She could see office blocks across the street from her. She could see the offices through her window, the curtains for which she had omitted to close. The thought of someone seeing her on this bed, her intentions so obvious, made her heart jump, just a little. In fact the thrill of someone sat quietly watching her made her feel hornier than ever. Sara lay there, her skirt hitched up above her thighs; her stockinged legs apart.
“Just this once”, she thought, as she let her fingers slowly move down her moist body to her waiting, perfectly trimmed bush. Gently her finger touched her magic button, and a wave of pleasure was injected into her body. Slowly she moved her fingers over her clit and down, down still further to the soaked crevice of her cunt. First she slid one finger into the waiting void, and then another; deeper and deeper.
The heat was becoming unbearable. She stopped herself, slid her fingers away, and looked around the room for something to cool herself down with. “This can’t go on”, she scolded herself. Sara moved towards the mini-bar. She opened the door and was immediately kissed all over by the cold air that rushed to escape onto her body. She shuddered ever so slightly, the draft having moved so quickly and so devastatingly over her skin. Her nipples immediately stood erect. Her skin became alive and sensitive, as if awakened by the contrast that hit her like an invisible wall. After the thrill had subsided she looked into the mini-bar and found miniatures and mixers, all freezing cold and frosted with ice.
She reached in and picked up a can of coke, ripped off her blouse and put her hand into the cup of her bra. Her nipples were pert and hard, and a charge of electricity went through her body as her hands felt the little buds. She pulled off her bra and rolled the freezing cold can across her aching breasts. The ice on the can was almost excruciating on her so-erect nipples, but the pain soon blended into pleasure that only served to abandon herself further. She held the door of the mini-bar open, letting drafts of white cold air run between her legs. Her cunt was hungry now; desperate to be fed. It just wasn’t enough, and she could fight it no longer. She needed more, and she needed help to satisfy this need within her. She looked again at the open bar and, replacing the Coke, took out a bottle of Perrier.
“This should do it.” She smiled. But dare she use it? She had never done anything like this before. She looked around the room, as if checking for voyeurs, almost wanting there to be a secret pair of eyes feasting themselves on this scene of decadence and abandonment. Of course the window had the potential to supply any of this, and steeling herself to the reality of the situation she slowly put the tip of the ice cold bottle on her clit. The effect was unbelievable. The chill of the cap on her most sensitive place was a revelation, but all she could think of was introducing it to her warm crotch in the most dirty of ways. Carefully she moved the bottle down towards her aching cunt. She felt the neck touch every wave of flesh from the hood of her clit down toward the soaking labia that were swollen and naturally apart, ready for the introduction of a solid, phallic object.
Finally she could resist no longer, and gently moved the now warming cap into the void that was so desperate to be filled. She rose slightly to help her bottom find the edge of the bed, which she fell backwards onto; one hand caressing her engorged clit and the other working the bottle in and out of her soaked haven. She pushed it further and further, a little at a time to enjoy the sensations of the cold bottle against her electrified labia. The still very chilled water in the bottle was serving to re-cool the glass, and so carry on providing her with ever more sensations; waves of cold thrill mixed with moments of ecstasy and lust.
Finally when she had taken the full length of the object into her, release came like lightning bolts from a storm cloud. Her head thrust backwards and she inhaled so sharply and deeply it sounded like she was in real pain. But it was not pain she was feeling. The pleasure came and it came. It seemed to last for ever, aftershocks wracking her body. Slowly the throbbing subsided. She withdrew the offending article from her dripping pussy, and smiled a very warm smile towards such an inanimate object. She lay thinking of what she had done, and nonchalantly cracked the seal on the bottle. “I need a drink”, she thought to herself, and put the neck of the bottle to her lips. The smell of musk wafted up her nostrils, and served only to remind herself of why she had come to this room at the Plaza. She was here to meet a stranger.
She was here to have a liaison with a man who wanted to take a stranger with not a word spoken. She was here to be taken in any way that the man wanted to. She was here with no questions and no demands. All she had to do tonight was to make the situation as right as she wanted it. After all, it was Sara that called the agency and demanded the man, the time, the place, the secrecy and the silence. Her instructions were most specific – no talking, no questions, no kissing on the lips, no pleasantries, no fumbling, and definitely no geeks. She wanted a god; a being to come through her hotel room door and take her like she had never been taken before.
As she hitched herself up to sit on the bed once again, she looked out of the window. There didn’t seem to be any lights on or staring eyes to crack her solitude, and she honestly didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed. She took another swig of water, and thought to herself “Well, boys, if you did see that, store it in your memory well, because floor shows like that don’t often come for free.”
She put the bottle down on the night stand, and looked around the room. She was sufficiently together now to gather her clothes up and dress herself. She put on her bra and blouse, so specially chosen, and she knew that the buttons and catches wouldn’t remain undisturbed for long. She glided to the window and took a look out at the world below, and wondered how many people below had fantasised about an event such as this; to absolve themselves of all responsibility and will. For she had set in place such a fantasy, and tonight it was going to come true. She reached up and drew the veiled curtain across the window. It was the only protection she was going to have tonight, and her fingers held onto the edges of the curtain a moment longer than they would have in any other circumstance. The curtains happened to have a red tinge to them, and they cast a red glow over the hotel room like her own room at home. That made her feel safe. But letting go of them made a strange mix of anxiety and passion flow through her. This was really letting go, she thought to herself. She was going to do it, and she really was going to abandon her self to a stranger. She flattened the sheets into a perfect smoothness that would befit this most perfect of situations. Then she carefully lay herself down onto the sheets, and took a brief look at the clock on the night stand. Nearly time, she thought, and she wandered off into her fantasies and dreamt of what would actually happen tonight. Her writhings had made her more drowsy than she imagined, and although she never knew it, she found herself asleep on that bed, bathed in a red glow, still moist between her legs, and expectant of a man who would come into her room and make her feel like the woman she always dreamt of.
He closed the door behind him. He almost felt the sneck as he gently released it in the latch. His heart was still in his mouth, and he allowed himself a moment to survey the scene again. After all, this was not a moment to be squandered. He was alone in the room of his ultimate fantasy, and she was going to know that he was there to bring her what she wanted. The glow that lit the room was one of serenity and beauty, and this was what pervaded him as he stood there. His eyes moved around the room. The trappings of class and money were everywhere to be seen. But his eyes only alit on one thing. There was a woman there on the bed and, was that silk she was lying on? Of course it was, but that would just be natural for a woman of her stature.
He had to steel himself against the situation he found himself in. He was not born to this type of activity, and he found his hand being raised to his closed mouth just to stop his breath from entering the room of his desire. He wanted her so much. She lay there asleep, unknowing of his presence, and unaware of his attentions to give her what she wanted when she least expected it. Or so he thought. He closed his eyes. He was here for a purpose. A purpose that he had laid himself intent on a long time before he found himself in this room. And he was going to carry it out, because not only was it what he wanted, but it was what she wanted, he was sure.
He removed his hand from his mouth and lowered his head. The toe end of his right foot moved to the heel of his other shoe, and prised the shoe off his foot. His foot made the slightest of rubbing noises against the canvas of his shoe, and he made it a quick motion that was inevitable if he was to maintain his secrecy. The opposite happened, and he suddenly stood there in his bare feet: his feet the first part of his body to match the nakedness of her skin under those silken sheets, that betrayed her nudity. His eyes became transfixed on her. Her form under those covers. The roundness of her bottom raised to his view. The smooth arches of her back lying so tenderly under those covers. Nothing stood in his way but silk. Perfection was what he wanted, and it seemed to be presenting itself for him right in front of his very eyes.
He moved his hands to the hem of his tee-shirt and pulled it over his head with one movement. His lithe muscles again flexed over the flimsy material of his shirt, and as he removed it, (his arms flexing to the ceiling of her boudoir) if only she could see, he looked like the god that she so desired. He stopped, holding it for a second, and let it drop vertically to the floor without a sound. He moved silently towards the side of the double bed that she was on and stopped opposite her undulating torso. He stood for a moment, watching her slowly rising frame as she breathed in. Then he watched as she breathed out and the silk reformed around her like her best friend covering her up as she rested. It softly billowed round her and the serenity of her sleep made him more passionate than ever. He had to have her. But there was a right way to do everything, and patience was, after all, a virtue.
He reached down his own undulating torso to the only entrapments left that held him from the same nudity that she offered. His hand fingered the button of his 501’s and effortlessly flipped the button through the hole that held its station. The zipper was easier. He held the left side of his jeans and flipped the zipper upwards. That released the mechanism, and the zipper flew to its zenith without effort. As he continued to stare at her beautiful body, not more than 18 inches away, he stooped down to guide his jeans to his ankles without noise. His penis, already aroused by the situation, sprang from its cage and presented itself in front of him, ready for the purpose for which it was intended tonight. He stepped out of his jeans, again without noise, and stepped away from them, moving slightly towards her head.
His mind raced. What was going to happen was inevitable now. He had played it so many times through in his head, he was certain that his plan was what she wanted, and she was going to know that her man had arrived tonight. He gently sat down in the space between her shoulder and the side of the bed, and she stirred.
She rolled over gently onto her back, lines furrowing her face. Was this the end of his plan? Was it all going to end now in an awakening? A scream that would not only wake the people in the spare bedroom, but also shatter his life? To be unable to show her what he was, and who he was, and what he could offer, was not an option. As her breasts rubbed against the silk of the sheets, and her back flattened down onto the bed, he made his move. His cupped right hand, ever so gently and carefully, lowered onto her mouth.
He did not press. He did not want to wake her any more than she was already stirring, but it had to be done in self defence, almost. This was the moment. It was upon him, and soon he had to be upon her, or the game was up. He knew this, but still he wanted to take as much time as possible. He moved his left hand to the corner of the sheet and pulled it towards the middle of the bed. It revealed a naked body that was the stuff of his dreams. He pert breasts were perfection and, strangely he thought, her nipples were erect, even though it was a warm and sticky night. He continued to move the sheet to reveal her mound and the bush that hid it. Again it was perfection. Perfectly trimmed and waxed. Just how he liked it, and just how he imagined it to be. He couldn’t help himself. He let go of the sheet where it had come to, clear of her torso, and cupped his left hand. He moved it over her mound, perfectly shaping it to her pubis. It rested on her bush and he moved his fingers to touch her lips, very slightly. To his amazement her right leg moved slowly to the side and crooked itself at an angle. Not only did he now have perfect access to the lips he so wanted to touch, but he could have sworn they were moist!
He allowed his fingers to rest a bit more firmly on her lips and, sure enough, she was damp between her legs. Was she aroused already? What on earth had she been dreaming while he was playing cat-burglar and entering her house? What has she dreaming now he was furtively planning to enter her?
His middle finger got the better of him, and he decided to investigate further. As he held his breath he worked his finger up and down, and very soon felt her labia give way to his firm digit. He found her clitoris, fully engorged and erect, and made tiny and gentle motions around it. A very quiet and subconscious groan seemed to emanate from her mouth under his right hand. It was more of a sigh, but he felt it nonetheless. Encouraged, he investigated further, and his finger moved from her clitoris to her clitoral hood, and he worked it very tenderly to circle her clit. He moved his first & third fingers to her lips again and parted them, ever so gently, to allow his middle finger access to the holy grail. Her lips parted with ease, and his finger moved into her moist tunnel as the shaft of his finger rested against her clitoris at the same time. Her back arched, and he pressed his hand firmly onto her crotch now. He was home, and she was loving it. This was more than he could have hoped for!
Still she did not seem to wake, but her dream had obviously encapsulated what was happening to her at this precise moment. He decided that he was definitely on the right track, and that the time had come to go further. He removed his warm hand from her even warmer crotch. He removed his other hand from her mouth, as she was not going to scream at this stage, he was sure. Instead he quickly looked for her hands. He gently took her hands in each of his and moved them above her head. With this leverage he lifted his body and placed a knee between her already parted legs. The other knee followed and he lowered himself down over her, gently resting his weight just over her sleeping torso.
As he stared into her face while she dreamt, the motion of his body must have been too much for her and her eyes, squinting, opened. Ever so slightly at first, but she looked up at him nonetheless, and for a moment he did not know what to do. There was a gentle spasm went through her neck muscles, and he felt her neck rise a little from the pillow. He quickly got control of his urge to look worried or unsure. She looked, it seemed for an eternity, into his eyes, and all he could do was stare right back at those peering, wondrous, but nevertheless perfect eyes of hers. He neither looked sternly or menacingly, but simply looked at her, and at the same time found the presence of mind to smile just a little. After a second she smiled back, and slowly closed her eyes again. Her neck rested back onto the pillow, and her smile remained. This time she was not going to dream. He was there and she was with him.
He craned his neck downwards to taste the lips that had just smiled at him. He kissed her on the lips, and this time her neck spasmed the other way. She recoiled! After entering her house, her room, and penetrating her with his fingers, she recoiled at his kiss! He was not going to be undone, and he pressed his lips to hers in the best way he knew how. He kissed her with the passion that had welled up from years of repression, years of yearning, and weeks of sheer lust. After a short while he felt her give way. Her lips met his in the most amazing and mutual kiss imaginable. That kiss had created and sealed the bond that was never there between them. It was there now, and there was no going back. Her eyes remained closed and she released her head back onto the pillow and turned her head away. The glow from the moon may have cast a red hue over the room, but all he could see was a green signal, and his heart was full.
Without a moment’s hesitation he released the pressure on her hands and in stead moved them with his, one in each of his own. He moved them with him as he bent his legs and his back to move his head down her body. Her hands followed his to her hips, but his head went further. He lowered it to her mound, and stretched his tongue to meet her clitoris. It found its mark at first attempt, and again her back arched to meet his reaching head. He rested himself down to give her pussy the attention it deserved, and moved his elbows to part her legs enough so he could reach not only her engorged clit, but also her lips and her waiting vulva. As he worked his tongue through every crevice of her most private parts, his mouth was filled with the most sweet juices he had ever tasted. He lapped them up as he pleasured her, and he could hear her gently moaning with delight at the thrills being sent through her body.
This was getting too much for him, he was aching to sink his cock into her and actually watch her as she writhed under him, but he was enjoying this too much. He carried on. He moved his tongue, his lips, and indeed his whole mouth on her juicy fruit, tickling and devouring; rubbing and exploring. He paid attention to her motion. He listened to her moans. He worked with her to pleasure her as best he knew how, until he felt her shiver under him, and her lips contracting rhythmically round his tongue, most sensitively inserted into her. It was then he knew it was time. He held on to her hands, and pressed them into the bed for leverage. He raised himself up slightly, and gently kissed his way up, over her bush, over her belly and up, towards her chest. She writhed under his kisses, and he knew it would be tickling her at this point, but he also knew that there was both little she could do about it right now, and also that she would not be ticklish for long. He moved her hands to rest above her head again and, move forcefully now, clasped them much more tightly and pressed them firmly into the pillow. She was not going to get away. Not now.
Her dreams carried her away from the moments that had preceded. Sara moved beyond the hotel room and to a deserted beach. Alone and caressed only by the rays of the sun and the gentle sea breeze that drifted over her. There she lay, naked on the beach, serene and undisturbed. Her eyes were closed, but she was awake. She was listening to nature and listening to the sea as it lapped the shore. She lay there for hours, it seemed, and she was aware of the tide coming ever closer up the gently shelving golden sands upon which her beauty was lain. The sun was strong, though, and as she lay there she remembered, as her lips seemed to tighten as they dried out, that she had not put any sun screen on her lips. She had remembered the rest of her body, which was currently enjoying the benefits of the coconut oil that made her feel so moist and smooth. Her lips seemed to tighten, but past experience seemed to be telling her that they would soon recover, and she allowed herself to continue lying there.
Soon afterwards she felt the arrival of the sea as it gently lapped against her legs. It seemed to glide over her and around her like silk, but it also seemed to move quite fast, as it was no more that a few seconds, in dream time, that it started to lap at the top of her thighs. This, she thought, would not be an unpleasant experience, and she moved her legs to allow the innocent sea access to her privacy. Her leg crooked to an angle, and the sea responded. It seemed to know what to do to her. The wavelets tickled her lips and washed through her into her most secret folds. It even seemed to enter her so gently. She wondered if it was the coconut oil she had liberally applied to her pussy before-hand that was making her lips so accessible to the fingers that the sea was moving upon her. This was heaven. The sun baking down and the sea tickling her to wondrous pleasures. The innocence and abandonment of the situation made her want to stretch herself. She needed to stretch herself to complete the offering of her body to the natural forces that were surrounding her and making her feel so whole. Her hands moved above her head and she groaned again. The situation was divine and she never wanted it to change.
But the sea was drawing closer, and the lapping had somehow changed to a more forceful feeling between her legs. She knew she must move eventually and, resigned herself to ending this bliss. “Regret is an integral part of happiness. You can not have one without the other, for all good things must come to an end.” Her thoughts, though rational and correct were unwelcome, like the sea that was now bothering her. It seemed to be pressing her down. It seemed to be pressing her hands down into the sand. Her hips seemed to be getting pressed as well, and she opened her eyes, squinting to protect her eyes against the sun.
It had grown dark. The sun had been replaced by a feint glow of red. The sounds of the waves had been replaced by noises of, was it breathing? The sea had vanished, and was replaced by a pair of firm, large and warm hands that were pressing her hands into the pillow beneath that supported her head. In a split second panic set in. She wanted to get her bearings! What? Where? How? But it was gone in a second. The face that looked at her was not one that frightened her. The eyes that stared sown at her did not hold an unfamiliar gaze. They were the eyes of a stranger, but they were also the eyes of a man certain of his intent. He stared at her. He seemed to dare her to scream, but she knew exactly what was happening. She had obviously fallen asleep on that hotel room bed, and he had acquired a key to let himself in. He was under instructions, and was carrying them out to the letter. No foreplay. No pleasantries. No fumbling. Just make her feel like a real woman. He smiled gently down at her, and she was at peace. She smiled back as if to acknowledge what they were both there for, and to give her consent to whatever he wanted to do. Inside she reproached herself for even holding on to that last vestige of control, but it was not something she was used to – letting go, and old habits do die hard.
She lay her head back onto the pillow and relaxed. Then the unthinkable happened. He kissed her. He actually dropped his head and kissed her. It was the last of all things that she expected, he being a professional. He kissed her and she recoiled. That was too personal. This was meant to be a business arrangement and he broke the rules. But his kiss was good. Very good. And it got better. Her revulsion subsided, for this reason and one very important other. The other reason was that she could actually do nothing about it. Her hands were pressed into the pillow, and her hips were pinned to the bed by this man’s torso. She was powerless. She loved it. He had been more professional than she could believe. She was thinking of kissing being foreplay, not actually part of the game itself! She gave in and responded to this meeting of mouths. He tasted sweet and she enjoyed the passion that seemed to be flowing between them. Indeed he seemed to be exuding more passion than she could believe. His kiss was that of a lover, not of a stranger, and she wasn’t sure how that made her feel. But she knew it didn’t matter how she felt. He was in control, and there literally was no getting away from that.
She was finished with this, and released his warm lips from hers. Sara lay her head back down onto the pillow, and stifled another smile by turning her head away from his gaze. She was turning her back on control. She was turning her back on her will, and released him to do as he wanted. He seemed to take a sign from that, as it was intended, and immediately moved her hands away from her head, but still very tightly clasped in his own hot hands. They were heading downwards, and so was he. Bliss!! She could hide no longer, and he was about to search and explore the most intimate and secret parts of her body without the slightest recourse that she could show.
Sure enough, his tongue immediately met her clitoris, and she arched her back with pleasure. This man was good. Most men can’t find a girl’s magic button with a map and compass, but this man only needed the feint glow through curtains and the passion of experience that had brought him here tonight. Her pleasure continued as he gave her the most amazing head. Now his tongue was rubbing her clitoris, and now he had his tongue exploring her lips to the ultimate degree. She could control herself no longer, and his efforts brought her through wave after wave of ecstasy until, eventually she again arched her back as he thrust his tongue into her opening for one more time, and she came so strongly she wanted to scream. She did not, however, and although a tear almost surfaced from her firmly closed eyes, she remained silent. This was his control, and she was not going to influence it at all.
He removed himself from her crotch, and moved himself back up her body. He was tickling her as he went, planting kisses that were far too delicate on her soaked lips, her tummy, and her breasts. It was killing her, but she played along. His intentions were clear, and they were not to drive her into fits of giggles. His intentions were much more sincere and, as her hands were moved with his, back to their start-point above her head, she knew that his full purpose was about to be played out. His hands clasped ever tighter round her own. Not enough to cause pain, but enough at least to stop her wriggling. His elbows descended onto her own and the capture was complete. He had pinned her down and she was in no position to escape.
He was in no mood to stop now. He had estimated her perfectly. Her abandonment to a stranger was sublime and arousing. Her orgasm at the touch of his tongue was indescribable, and the expectation of how his cock was going to feel as it parted her soaked lips was something he just could not wait any longer for. He pinned her elbows to the bed with his, and lowered his erection to her pelvis. She was making no attempt to get away from him, and had shown no revulsion to him in any way, apart from the kiss, which was, after all he had done, still only a kiss! His cock felt like it was about to burst, and needed something to hold it all together. She held the answer. He manoeuvred his pelvis opposite hers, and pressed his glans up against her moistness. Her lips parted company so easily. Waves of pleasure travelled up
her vagina and into her womb. They spread out into her stomach like lightning bolts finding earth. Her thighs also received the same feelings, and she shuddered again. Surely any woman would hate this feeling. She was being violated by a complete stranger! She felt him press his hips again, and her lips were being parted further. He was slowly pressing his member into her and she could feel every ripple of his dick as it invaded her. That was nothing compared to the end of the line. As his cock was pushed home, his pelvis met hers, and her clit was there to meet his pubis and hairs in a perfect meeting of bone to bone. Her clit was alive again. Recovered from the previous orgasm and ready for the delights that were now being meted upon it. She felt him lie there upon her, gently pressing her clit for
a short while, enjoying the feeling of warmth around his cock and waiting for the urge to come straight away to subside. The dry orgasm passed, but his cock throbbed inside her as the spasms quickly subsided
almost bringing her to an orgasm right there and then. She wanted him to make her come again and again, but she had the feeling that he was going to make her wait. She ached for him to pump himself into her with all his might and make her beg for more, but all she could do was lie there at his mercy. She felt him start to withdraw his tool from her, and again the sensations from her vagina sent shivers up her spine. He was pulling himself out of her, and then, all of a sudden, he rammed his cock into her fully again. He gyrated his hips against hers and her clitoris was made alive by the hair rubbing against it. He withdrew slowly again, and once more rammed himself into her. His pulses of slow withdrawal and lustful banging gradually speeded up, and with each thrust of his pelvis
he could feel himself getting closer to orgasm. The waves of pleasure that were flowing up the shaft of his cock were driving him wild, and the heat that was being generated by her lips against his balls was almost too much to bear. It was all he could do to keep slowly bringing himself back from the edge and then ramming himself into her. It was no good. If this was to go on he would have to stop and take a time out. He slowly withdrew himself from her and immediately the lust that was driving him straight towards the edge abated. In stead he took a different tack. Still clasping her hands in his, he moved each hand in turn to the tops of her shoulders, on each side of her neck. He pressed them into the sheet there, and used the added purchase to lower himself again, but this time to her breasts that were waiting, pert and round. His lips closed round her left nipple and his tongue immediately went to work on it, playing and teasing it mercilessly, flicking it and sucking it so gently and yet so firmly. She writhed again under him, so he closed his teeth around her nipple and gently moved them against the soft flesh that was made erect and so inviting. He bit, gently at first, and then he closed his teeth a bit more to make
the pain that she felt was just on the right side of pleasure, but she didn’t care. She felt his tongue flick her nipple as he bit, and waves of pleasure mixed with bolts of pain seared through her chest and flooded her with heat. She wanted him so badly now. She just wanted to grab him and drive his cock into her pussy. She wanted to be on top and to sink herself onto him, but this was not the scenario that she found herself in. She was being taken, and she was loving it. His teeth released from her left nipple, and his tongue drew a line across her breasts, mixed with kisses on the way, until he met the other nipple. He commenced the nibbling and biting that was driving her so wild before, all over again, and she would have begged for him to just impale her again. Her nipples were the centre of attention, and she was getting more and more aroused. She was starting to feel like she could come at any moment, just from the pleasure / pain that was flooding through her, until
he moved his hips again whilst still biting her, and his manhood presented itself at her gaping crack, oozing with juices. He pressed himself firmly into her again, and this time he did not stop. He thrust into her, full length, his pubis pressing her clitoris in unison with every thrust. He was at the limit of his endurance and he was going to
come at any moment if he didn’t stop. It did not seem that he was going to, and there was nothing she could do about it. This man was going to make her come again, and she was powerless to resist. His cock was sliding in and out of her, again and again. His hands were pressed up against her shoulders, her hands held prisoner by his tight grasp. She was powerless and being forced to come. It welled. She felt it coming. She felt it coming towards her like an inevitable tidal wave after an earthquake at sea. It was coming and there was nothing she could do about it. She recoiled even before
the first wave hit him like a freight train. His pre-orgasm that he had stifled before had only served to prime his cock. It spasmed and throbbed a good half dozen times before a final recoil and, it happened. He could feel his semen shoot into her
as she was writhing with wave after wave of pleasure and ecstasy flowing through her like that tidal wave. This was the biggest orgasm of her life. She thought it was not going to stop until, aahh, she came again. His thrusting was not stopping! She was going mad with lust. Her breathing had become harsh. Her heart was jumping out of her chest. She didn’t know whether she wanted it to stop, or whether to carry on for all she was worth. And yet it kept on coming, his cock
continued to drive into her as he came. He could feel her shaking under him. He could feel her vagina contracting around him making this the most intense orgasm of his life. He had come, but the spasms that were bringing him so close to a second orgasm were not to be ignored. He pumped into her with all his force. He could feel so much, his skin becoming so alive. He was pressing her shoulders tight against his hands (and her hands) to give her all he could give. The after-shocks set in, and it was over. He slowly stopped, his penis resting inside her as they both enjoyed the ripples of delight that were washing over them.
He looked down at her, beads of sweat standing on her face. After the emotion that had just passed over her, her face had become serene again. She smiled a little, once again, and his hands released hers. He had created the moment and he wanted a souvenir. He reached down again, and kissed her forehead, purposefully opening his lips just a little to taste the bead of sweat that was lying there. It was divine. Slowly he withdrew his penis from her. She had been defiled, and now was not the time for clumsy introductions. He gently placed a foot on the floor and, without taking his eyes off her, pulled on his jeans, picked up his shoes and shirt, and backed to the door. He wanted to look at her for as long as he could and
she got the distinct impression that he was making sure that she was not going to try any reprisals for what, after all, might have turned out wrong at any moment. It did not, and she did not move. Instead she stared right back at him. He was her god. He was her being that had come in the night to take away her innocence. She did not even think that anything like this would happen again. Innocence and a first time are both things you can not replace. And besides, this experience was so perfect that the agency was going to get a lot of recommendations from her to her girlfriends. She rolled over as he moved through the door, and she heard the door close very, very gently behind him. Her body was still in a state of tingling pleasure, and she took a few minutes to settle her mind on what she had just done. The decadence. The Fantasy come true. The perfection of it all.
She mused for a few minutes more, and moved her hand over her entire body, as if to capture what remained of his smell, his sweat, and his musk that lingered on her. She moved her hands to her lips. They seemed dry, and she reached for the bottle of water that she had set down on the night stand in the hotel. It didn’t seem to be where she had rested it, so she fumbled her hand over the entire surface of the night stand. Still nothing. “This is silly,” she thought, and reached for the light switch. That too was not where she expected it to be, but she eventually found it. She flicked it on, and the light lit up her own bedroom. She felt cold run down the back of her neck and she froze. Solid.
Outside, footsteps would be heard padding across a lawn, and a man in jeans and tee shirt would vault a 6-foot fence and disappear into the night.