The Stranger

He paused, waiting for her to acknowledge his excuse. She looked him up and down for a second with raised eyebrows. He felt suddenly conscious of his appearance. Should he have waited until the hotel to shower?

"Yeah, go, of course," she said, then returned to the conversation he had interrupted.

As he drove the short distance to the hotel, his heart began to race with nervous excitement. He could barely remember the last time he had felt such anticipation, such electricity. More than once he had to slow down to avoid being in danger of getting pulled over. He arrived early and waited in the parking lot. He realized he didn't know what to do at this point -- she hadn't given him a room number. He decided to wait in the lobby and hope he caught her on her way in.

He sank into one of the oversized leather chairs that were placed around the modest lobby. No sooner had he been seated than a young lady from behind the counter approached him. "Your room is ready, sir," she said with an innocent smile. He looked around, expecting that she had been speaking to someone else.

Seeing no one around, he pointed to himself and asked, "Me?"

The young lady nodded. "I was given instructions to give a key to a man that looks like you at 2pm." If she thought the arrangement was a little strange, she gave no indication of it. "You're already checked in," she said, handing him a key card in a little paper sleeve. He took it, impressed with the level of planning that had gone into this. As he stood there lost in thought, the young lady directed him to the elevators. "Room 408," she stated, then left him to find his way.

He felt a little awkward walking into a hotel empty-handed. He wondered if anyone was noticing that he stood out, that he was doing something unusual. But no one seemed to even be watching him as he waited for the elevator, then rode it up to the fourth floor.

When he arrived in the room, there was no indication that she was there or that she had even arrived yet. He scouted out the room, then settled down on the bed and started flipping through channels. Finding a movie he had been wanting to watch, he put down the remote and began watching.

He didn't realize he had nodded off until the sound of the door opening startled him awake. He glanced over at the nightstand and saw that it was 2:45. He found the remote, turned off the TV and sat up. Then looking up at the entryway, he saw her. She smiled when he sat upright, clearly admiring her form.

"You seemed to like the way I dressed at the park, so I thought I'd keep that style," she explained, twirling around to display the tight, low-cut shirt and skin-tight jeans that showed of the form that had been the subject of his fantasies for several weeks. Her hair was again swept up, but in a different way than before. She wore simple earrings that sparkled as they caught the light.

"I do like it," he said at last. "But I also liked what you were wearing when I was jogging."

She smiled at his attempt at humor. "I couldn't very well wear that into the lobby, though, could I?"

"Well, how would I know if you have some secret exhibitionist kink?"

"No," she said firmly, without a hint of animosity. She looked around the room but didn't yet approach him. "I'm glad you're here," she finally stated, her voice a bit nervous.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asked, surprising her.

"No, definitely not," she answered, laughing. He had broken the tension.

"What made you want to do it this time?"

She sighed and sat on the corner of the bed. Not making eye contact, she said, "I guess... I guess I just don't feel sexy anymore."

He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she held up her palm to cut him off. "It's not my husband's fault or anything -- he's clear about still seeing in me all the beauty that I've lost sight of. But... I don't know, I think I just needed something different. Something to make me feel excited again. I need to be someone else for a little bit, to try to break out of all the habits and routines that I've trapped myself in."

Her explanation lingered in the air -- he didn't dare respond yet.

"You know what -- this isn't the time or place," she stated after a moment's reflection. "We're strangers to each other, and I want to keep it that way right now." He felt a slight sadness when she closed up again. For a moment his thoughts had turned away from sex and on to something more interesting, more significant.

"It's being strangers that makes this whole thing exciting for me -- it's what makes it work... I hope."

He wanted to object. At the risk of losing this opportunity, he didn't want to yet again be having sex with a woman who was only participating because she felt somehow compelled. But before he could find words to explain his concerns, she shifted gears. Still sitting on the corner of the bed, she leaned towards him. "And I am pretty excited you know. More than I have been in a long time."

He raised his eyebrows, his gaze turning instinctively towards the globes held tightly under her shirt. "Me too," he replied, inwardly chiding himself for such a lame response.

"Tell me," she whispered, her eyes bright.

"Tell you?"

"Tell me how you feel. Tell me what you see." As she spoke she inched a little closer to him.

"Your neck," he blurted out, surprising himself.

"My neck?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes," he said, gathering his composure. "With your hair up like that, your neck looks so... elegant. So inviting. I just want to..."

Her breathing was quickening and she moved closer to him. Close enough to touch. "What do you want to do?"

"I just want to kiss it. To run my lips from that space under your ear all the way down to your shoulder."

She closed her eyes, as if picturing what he had just described. Then, tilting her head to the side to expose her neck even more, she whispered, "Do it!"

He leaned forward, ending up on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed. His nose grazed her earlobe and she shivered. Then his lips touched her skin, making contact just behind her jawline. Little kisses trailed down along the smooth skin of her neck, skin that was taut from stretching. He reached her collarbone and headed outward towards her shoulder. As he reached the collar of her shirt, he hooked a finger under it and pulled gently, exposing a few more inches for his lips to anoint.

"Yes..." she hissed, reaching a hand around to cradle the back of his head. "That's what I want to feel. Tell me more."

"Well," he ventured, "I can't stop looking at your breasts. They look like they're trying to push their way out into the open so they can be touched."

She moaned and leaned her forehead onto his. Eyes closed, she felt for his hands and put them on the bottom of her shirt. "Take it off," she commanded in a quiet, shaking voice. "They really are waiting to be let out."

Hands trembling with excitement, he lifted her dark purple shirt. Since the moment she had entered the room, he had suspected that she had worn no bra. As the shirt went up, his suspicions were confirmed. Once the garment was up to her shoulders, her full breasts jiggled, as if rejoicing in their freedom. He pulled the shirt up the rest of the way, being careful not to mess her hair or snag her earrings. Tossing the shirt aside, he gently placed a hand in the middle of her chest, just below her throat. She clasped his hand with both of hers and directed it downward -- between her breasts, along her ribcage, then upward until he was cupping the bottom of one of her twin mounds. He had been aroused from the moment she entered the room, but his desire was now taken up a notch, and he felt the strain in his trousers.

While he slowly caressed her bosom, she nimbly unbuttoned his shirt, working her way from top to bottom until she was able to slide it down his arms. He reluctantly pulled his hands away so she could finish her task. She grabbed his hand again, and put it on her cheek.

"What else?" she asked, seeming to him like she could break in half with only a word from his lips.

"A kiss," he said. "I've been imagining what it would be like to be kissed by you. Not... not to kiss you, but to be kissed by you. If that makes any sense." he wanted to explain that it was so different when a woman really wants to kiss you compared to how it feels when she passively receives a kiss. His wife let him kiss her, but it had been some time since she had really kissed him. He opened his mouth to try to put his thoughts into words, but she pounced on him, pushing him onto his back as her lips met his. She knew.

Air hissed from her nose and quiet grunts peppered their joining as her tongue sought the recesses of his mouth. Her hands pressed on his naked shoulders, firmly and almost painfully. He tried to control their kiss but was unable to move his head enough to take the lead. Instead, he closed his eyes and let himself be directed by her aggressive mouth.

"Touch me!" she whined before driving her tongue back into his mouth. "Touch me somewhere!" His hands were limited in their motion but could comfortably grip her sides. Her sides were soft and smooth with a hint of firm muscle underneath. Stretchmarks testified to the miracle of life that her body had created and nurtured. She was full but not fat, and the weight she carried was well-distributed.

She took her hands from his shoulders and tried to wiggle them underneath his body. He used his new freedom to explore her body more -- cupping a dangling breast with one hand and rubbing the other hand up her spine.

"Tell me... What else? Touch me. Please... tell me." Her phrases jumbled together with gasps and moans that barely escaped the seal of their lips.

He was done talking for now. With an abrupt motion, he unsnapped her jeans and pushed her onto her back. Scrambling into position above her, he yanked her pant legs until he was able to pull them off her completely. Her hands rested on the top of her thighs a moment, and she asked, "Do you think my thighs are-"

"Your thighs are perfect," he snapped a little gruffly, his desire overwhelming him. He began pulling her panties down, even as she instinctively tried to hold them on just a little longer. "They are fucking perfect. I have never seen a better pair of legs." She whimpered as he yanked the panties until they slipped through her fingers and were added to the pile of clothes on the floor. He leaned back and admired the view before him. It had probably been at least a year since he and his wife had made love with the lights on. Sex had become something efficient, something planned. He wanted to see this woman as he was joined to her. He wanted to savor it, not speed it along.

Once her pussy was exposed to him, he froze. He stood surprised, enamored, inflamed with desire, gazing at the strangely intoxicating sight.

"May I?" he asked, moving his face a few inches away from her clean-shaven mound. He had never seen a bare pussy in real life. He could barely restrain himself from touching it.

She whimpered and nodded her head. As soon as he had his answer, his tongue was running up and down her slit. She put a hand on the back of his head, a hand that remained there until she climaxed. He barely noticed her fingers in his hair, as all his attention was on the smooth, fragrant lips before him. He took his time, administering long, slow licks up and down. He flattened his tongue for a few passes, then brought it to a point again. He used his lips to increase the sensations, and in response she spread her legs farther apart. When she did so, he got a glimpse of her opening.

With gentle fingertips, he pulled her lips apart and pressed his tongue deep inside, delighting in the tangy flavor of her essence. Her moans rose in pitch as his tongue swirled around, teasing and prodding the little ring that would soon be gripping his cock. That thought spurred him on, and lips, tongue, and fingers worked feverishly to drive her steadily upward.

And then he stopped. With a slow, deliberate motion, his nose traveled up the furrow of her slit until it went just past her exposed clit. She sighed, an anxious moan telling him that she was as aroused as he had hoped she would be. With forced patience, he pressed his lips gently around her button, bathing it ever-so-lightly with the tip of his tongue. Her voice quivered, rising in pitch as he began to relentlessly lick around and around, only touching her sensitive clit as if by accident. His thumb moved between her folds and slipped just inside her entrance, eliciting a squeak from her and a sudden squeezing of her legs.

He could hear her breathing. It was fast and sharp and it told him it wouldn't be long. He wondered if he should enter her now, forcing her to find release while he was inside her.

"Please..." she whispered, pulling his face a little tighter against her treasures. That was enough to tell him what he should do. With a flat tongue dripping saliva, he caressed her clit in long, steady strokes. Four licks was all it took to finish her journey, and she arrived at her destination with an exuberant shout. Her body tensed up and tried to roll to the side but was held in place by the stranger on top of her. His head between the thighs he professed to admire so much, his arms subtly adding to her sensations with gentle touches all over. He pulled his face back an inch and took in the sensations of her climax: the feel of her body convulsing around him, the sound of her happiness, the taste and smell of her garden, the sight of her pussy twitching and glistening before him.

As her climax faded into shivering moans, he realized he had been slowly grinding his hips against the mattress for the past few minutes. His normally comfortable jeans felt oppressively tight in the crotch. He knew that would be taken care of soon, but he wouldn't press the issue with her. Give her the space she needs. And pray she didn't have second thoughts about going forward.

She was crying.

He tried to maneuver himself to be next to her, to find a good position from which to console and comfort her. But she waved him back. "It's OK, it's OK," she insisted. "It's just... It's been a while."

"You're husband won't-"

"No, no, no, he would in a heartbeat... if I would let him. But... I just haven't been able to let myself go in such a long time."

"And you can let yourself go in front of a stranger?"

She put both hands over her face and lamented with a muffled voice, "I'm still trying to figure this out."

He wasn't sure what that meant or implied, but he knew his best move was to wait patiently as he lay next to her. And so wait he did. He waited until he feared she might have fallen asleep. His hand was motionless, resting on her thigh. He studied her face, he skin, the swell of her breasts, the stretchmarks on her sides.

Then, without warning, she spoke again, her voice soft and still. "Why are your pants still on?"

Almost reflexively, he moved to take them off, then stopped himself. "You do it," he commanded.

"Why?" she asked, her voice conveying genuine interest. Even as she spoke, she rolled over and reached for his belt buckle.

"Because I don't even remember the last time my wife wanted me so badly that she took my clothes off. Something about it smells of desire and lust."

She smiled a wicked grin, then moved with agonizing slowness as she pulled his belt off -- the tip slipping out one... beltloop... at... a... time... until she held the whole thing in her hand and coiled it around her fist. She studied the strip of leather for a moment and he worried what other fantasies she might be considering subjecting him to. Seeing his momentary concern she laughed and tossed the belt aside. It landed with a thump next to the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Then she moved in close, her nose mere inches from his navel, and unbuttoned his pants. He felt her hot breath on his lower belly as she slowly unzipped him. With light, insistent tugs, she pulled his jeans down and off him. Then her hands trailed up his legs until they found and traced the outline of his tool, pulsing with need in his boxer briefs. Her small fingers took hold of his waistband and slowly pulled down to unveil his cock. It stood out proudly, telling her how ready he was for her. She looked up at him and smiled, running her fingers through the light hair he had left at the base when he had trimmed in the shower a few hours ago.

As he stood there with this woman kneeling in front of him, his heart was pounding with excitement -- not just the excitement of arousal, but the excitement of the unknown. Sex had become fairly predictable. Oral was usually given only upon request lately, as it tended to be too time-consuming (and more difficult to explain if interrupted by a lock-picking 5 year-old). Sex followed an easy pattern: light touch, sexual touch, preparation, protection, penetration, orgasm, clean-up. But this... This was unpredictable. Would she take him in her mouth? Would she finish him with her mouth? Would she...

Her tongue drew a long line along the underside of his cock, making him gasp. A trail of saliva cooled quickly, but was soon covered again by another swipe of her tongue. She licked each side in turn. She covered the helmet with her lips and sucked gently. She generously covered him with spit. Then she wobbled forward, taking her breasts in her hands, and surrounded his penis with her mounds. His eyes went wide with surprise and pleasure, and he could tell she was stifling a giggle. When he looked down at her, his eyes were met with a playful look. She carefully rubbed up and down his length, pressing her breasts together to create a tighter channel for him.

Quickly recovering from the shock of what he was pretty sure was his first time having breasts wrapped around his member, he gripped her shoulders and began thrusting in sync with her motions. It wasn't that his wife wasn't large enough to do this -- on the contrary, she was the perfect size. They just had never...

By that point in the afternoon, he was so aroused he could probably have finished just from that act alone. But he didn't want to. With some reluctance, he pulled his hips back and away. She leaned over and took his full length into her mouth one time, then kissed the tip before backing up towards the bed. She lay back and adjusted the pillows around her to provide maximum comfort. Then spreading her legs and extending her arms towards him, she said, "Come on!"

He smiled and approached. Crawling across the bed until he was above her, he looked around at the nightstands. "Did you... bring condoms?" he asked, studying her eyes. "I mean, I'm a total stranger, I might-"

"No," she interrupted, her hands lightly holding his elbows. Her eyes never left his for a second. "Does that change anything?"

"But-"

"You won't get me pregnant," she assured him. Then with a confident, teasing expression she added, "And you can pull out if you really want to."

Seeing that he was still considering her words, she said, "And I think we can assume we're both clean."

"You're sure?" he asked with an unwavering stare.

All she did was nod. He knew he wasn't going to stop now, not unless she told him to. And he'd wager she was counting on that for some reason.

Sensing he had made his decision, she tilted her hips up, trying to position his tip at her entrance. He felt her movements and maneuvered his own hips closer to position. A chill went through him as his tip ran along the bare skin of her pussy. She seemed to know what made him pause, and she laughed. "You like it that way?" she asked him. With eyes still closed, he nodded. It was a dangerous game they were playing. He didn't want to confess anything that would communicate that he didn't want to go back home to the woman that waited for him there. And yet the allure of the woman spread out for him here...