All Wor No Play

Working together for a few years Maria and I traveled for work before. We're not close in a meaningful way, but we're comfortable with each other, can carry a conversation, and might end up talking to each other at company events, sarcastically rating the quality of the BS being served at the presentations. On the road traveling together we can have dinner and a couple of drinks, talk, and say goodnight without any stupid tension about maybe hooking up. We like each other OK, no obvious chemistry.

Usually.

In Des Moines this time I guess there were differences. I was just about divorced, the drama was over and everything was pretty much resolved legally. My soon to be ex and I were headed on our own separate ways. I figured I would be dating again when I had enough time to think about things--later, when I wasn't so pissed off. Being angry all the time wasn't helping me out in any way shape or form.

Now, don't get me wrong, Maria is lovely. I could watch her do just about anything, she's long-legged and has this curly dark hair that's just long enough to swing around a little. Her face always looks a little flushed, like there's a lot of healthy blood flow. Or something. She's not a super-hot gym addict or anything, but solid and very fine looking.

She definitely might find herself in one of my sexual fantasies, strictly in my head. But only in my head, she's with somebody else -- a pretty serious relationship with Chip, who I've met a few times, and he seems alright, they seem happy, and up until recently I was married.

I made a reservation for Maria and I at a Des Moines restaurant that was supposed to be pretty OK, but when you're traveling for business it's always uncertain. My expectation for the evening was your usual business talk recapping the last couple days, food of unknown quality and quantity, interspersed with whatever two work acquaintances might randomly talk about.

I waited for Maria in the bar, sipping a midwest approximation of a martini. She was running late, which normally didn't make me irritated, but I'm in a bad mood a lot lately, and I was downing that martini pretty quickly. Our business meetings for the day were all long past, and in a midwest town far from home what could possibly be slowing her down? I put my empty martini glass down a little hard, I guess, because the bartender and at least one of the patrons glanced my way.

"Pretty good," I said to the bartender. "Can you make me another one with a little less vermouth? Just a little drier."

By the time the drink arrived I saw her crossing the lobby headed my direction, clutching her cell phone in a fist. There was one hell of a dark look on her face, so I grabbed the bartender's forearm. "Make that two. Looks like she's going to need one."

Was it a well-known client that's always a pain in the ass? This was a different kind of scowl -- I had barely opened my mouth when she blurted out "That motherfucker just dumped me long distance over the phone, knowing I'm stuck here for another three days and he's got a long head start running away from me." She rolled her eyes and continued, "Chip was supposed to land at the airport in an hour and meet me at the hotel, and he never even bothered to book the flight. Fucking weasel."

"And I got all dressed up," she continued. "Fucking loser."

Hell yes she had dressed up. Her dark pink blouse plunged pretty deep, the pushup bra offered her breasts high and tight. Her short black skirt fit really well -- really, really well. Shapely legs and dark smokey stockings, a skirt like that was not subtle. And a whiff of perfume. Not overkill. But there.

"Sorry." I said, checking her out in what was probably an obvious, I-just-pounded-a-martini kinda way. My gaze was a little too upfront, her narrowed glance told me.

Really, I was sorry to hear about her trouble. "Getting dumped sucks," was the best I could mutter

Dinner was awkward, and the food was on the low side of midwestern hotel dining roulette. We had more drinks, bitched about exes and soon to be exes. I gave her a little of the 'what Chip might have been thinking' male viewpoint. But Chip now sounds like an asshole the more I know. It's pretty weak to tell her by phone from far away that he's leaving her, but at least he didn't text her. That would be even worse.

We stumbled up to the hotel rooms, searching for her number in the rows of identical doors, and considering our condition it was not easy finding it. I needed to get some data from her to write up my summary reports before turning in.

"I'll find that flash drive for you," she said, fumbling with the key card, getting the door open without too much trouble. Lurching forward a little into the room, she said "see, I remembered it. You need the it so you can file your report. Just a second." She probably was a little more sober than I was, which is admirable considering the kind of evening she'd had, and how many martinis had showed up on the bill.

I sagged against the door frame, watching her hips sway while she walked across the room, her back turned to me. Dude. I said to myself. Don't be too obvious, go to your room with the flash drive. And get some bad porn on the TV. Don't do anything stupid. Do not hit on Maria. Do not start some stupid dead-end awkward shit with someone you work with regularly. Do not create office drama. Do not hit on Maria. Flash drive. Get the flash drive.

She moved around the room, bending down to move a folder, her skirt nicely hinting at the shape of her ass. She was still talking to herself. "Flash drive. Come here flash drive." Mumbling a little, moving piles of paper around, then clothes, checking the laptop's slots more than once.

"Sorry," she said, "you might as well come in. I know it's right here somewhere." I closed the door behind me, and left about half my reservations in the hallway. I wandered over to a vanity and I leaned against the narrow desktop instead of the door frame, a little tilted, not quite straight up.

She opened one of the vanity drawers right in front of me, her wrist brushing my thigh, and shuffled a couple of perfume bottles around. She lost balance and lurched against me a little. I steadied her up, catching her with a hand on her smooth, firm tummy. Solid, toned. Maybe she does work out like a maniac, I thought, as my hand maybe lingered a little longer than is a good idea.

She moved on to the next pile. Maybe she was smiling a little.

Damn she's hot, trying to think about something else. Like the flash drive. Getting the flash drive is why I'm here.

She fumbled with the items in her open suitcase, reaching in to lift the corner of a neatly folded blouse on a stack of clothes, tilting the suitcase a bit to get a better angle. With the lift, a pair of leather handcuffs rolled into view. Pink. Inch-and-a-half wide leather bands with a cinch and a large chrome buckle, lined inside with fake fur for comfort, I guess, and connected to each other by a couple of heavy-duty steel clips two inches long. One of the cuffs rocked back and forth a little and came to a stop as we both stared.

My mouth was definitely hanging open. A strange look came over her face, and I mistakenly took it for deep embarrassment.

"Hey," I said. "I'm going to forget I saw that. No mention to anyone, it's nobody's fucking business but yours."

She reached out a finger and snagged one of the cuffs, lifting it up and twirling the pair in mid air.

"That's nice of you to not mention it. Though I was sort of liking the 'no more mister nice guy' phase you've been into lately with the divorce." She smiled a little. This smile a little different from the last one. "I was saving these for Chip's arrival tonight before I found out what a loser he is." The cuffs dangled from her bright red enameled fingertip, swinging side to side.

"I'm not as nice as I used to be," I said, reaching around her waist. Pulling her in. The cuffs stopped swinging. She was still smiling. "I never thought pink was Chip's color, though," I said.

She narrowed her fingers and slid a hand up through one of the cuffs, encircling her wrist. Right in front of my face. "They're more my size, really. And Chip never had any fucking style anyway."

OK. Never mind the stupid flash drive. I reached for her wrist and cinched the cuff's buckle tight.

She leaned forward and kissed me hard. "Hope you weren't in a hurry to get back to your empty hotel room."

I kissed her back and pulled her cuffed wrist down towards her waist, moving the empty loop toward her free hand. Before I could get her other hand locked down she reached around the back of my neck and pulled me close, kissing me harder than before. Leaning back a little she said, "I don't know if you've done things like this before. Just so you know, this shit makes me really hot -- feeling helpless and not in control. You know that's not my usual style."

"If you hurt me, though, I will hunt you down. There should be no pain. But I'd like you to fuck my brains out for the next few hours."

I spun her around and pulled her wrists behind her back and clicked the empty cuff shut on the other wrist. Both hands were immobilized and we could both feel my swelling hard-on between us. I stroked her neck. She rolled her head back onto my chest and I breathed in her smell, my face buried in her hair. I held her wrists behind her back and let my free hand roam down, popping a blouse button. No bra, just soft breast, her nipple tightening up against the smooth silk of her blouse as it opened and fell away. I slid the blouse down, her breasts now in view. The blouse, pulled halfway down her biceps behind her, bunched above the handcuffs, immobilized her even more, and as I traced her breast I could feel her heartbeat through her whole torso.

I gave her a push forward with my whole body. Her knees met the bed she went face down on the covers with a little growl of some kind, her head turned sideways, her mouth maybe with a little curl of smile. I spread her ankles with my feet and as she stretched wider, her skirt rose up the back of her long, muscular legs to expose the tops of her thigh-high stockings.

I held her cuffed wrists against her back. With the other hand I jammed her short, tight skirt all the way up her lower back, revealing stockings, garters, no panties, no thong, just her perfect ass, more beautiful than any daydream I ever had of her.

She had been planning ahead for Chip's arrival. Chip was a dumb shit.

Piling up three of the enormous hotel pillows, I lifted her on top of the the pile, belly down, back arched, her cunt framed by the lacy garter belt and straps, her sweet damp pussy ready at cock level, more or less.

I stroked her with the back of my hand, trailing my fingers down her inner thigh, feeling the silk of the stockings, the transition between skin and fabric, the garter stretched tight across her thigh. I sat down next to her on the bed, still holding her wrists tight against her, tracing the outside edges of her pussy lips and brushing across her anus with my free hand.

"Is this what you want, Maria?" I asked, slipping a fingertip between the lips of her cunt. "Are you going to give me any trouble?"

"I might give you trouble," she said. "What if I start yelling for help? What would you do then? It wouldn't look too good for you, would it?" A calculating look was in her eye. "Mister nice guy."

Suddenly she jerked her wrists, trying to pull away. But I had leverage and never lost my hold, and she stayed bent over the pile of pillows.

"Help." She whispered, looking straight in my eye with a smile. "Somebody help." Then a little louder, "Help. Somebody. Call 911," in an almost conversational voice. I clamped my pussy-damp hand over her mouth and whispered, "I see how it is."

I rolled on top of her, my weight pressing her into the stack of pillows, one hand over her mouth. Her wrists were pinned under me and I unzipped her skirt and slid it to the floor. My hard cock in my pants jammed into her back. With one hand clasped over her mouth, I fingered the opening of her pussy, more moist now. I trailed a finger deeper inside.

I pulled her backwards onto the floor, got her on her knees, turned her around so her back was against the bed and stood up. She gazed unflinching into my eyes as I unzipped my pants right in front of her face, dropped them down to the floor and released my cock, as full and firm as it had ever been in my life, the tip tangling in her curls, leaving a little pre-cum glistening on the strands of her hair.

"Help," she said, again in a whisper.

"I can see," I said, "you're going to need something in your mouth to keep you quiet." I put my hand in her thick curly hair and made her look up at my cock pulsing in midair, an inch away. I mede her neck bend back a little as I guided my cock head to her mouth. When I grasped my shaft and parted her bright red lips I met clenched teeth. I bent her neck farther until she was looking up at the ceiling. I stroked her cheek with the back of my hand and said, "Suck it, open up." I rested the throbbing ridge on the underside of my cock against her soft, full lips, stroking across her closed mouth. My cock glided back and forth a couple times making her lips slippery with pre-cum.

"I could just cum all over your face if I do this for another thirty seconds," I said, grinding the shaft a little harder against her "if that sounds good to you." She glanced at me, held my eyes for a second, then opened her mouth a little. I eased my hold on her hair and guided my cock head into her mouth. Bliss. I worked the head slowly in and then out of her lips a few times then lined myself up, pointing straight down her throat. I had enough of a hold on her hair that she could only engulf me as I pulled her onto my cock, a quarter inch at a time.

"How do you like that? I want to stuff you full right now," I said, sliding back out a bit, then reversing, getting a little rhythm in short strokes, watching the her swallow my shaft, a little more each time. "You like to watch me fucking your mouth?" She nodded, slightly, much as she could with half my cock in her mouth and my fingers laced in her hair so I could slowly fuck her.

"You have know idea how long I've pictured this in my head," I murmured. "I'm going to remember this for a long time." Looking down at her beautiful perfect mouth sliding onto me, her eyes half shut, I couldn't imagine anything finer.

Thinking about her no pain rule, I released her hair and let my hand fall away. I stopped pushing down her throat and stood still, my cock half-filling her mouth. She would have to blow me at her own pace. She gazed up at me and slid away from me, until her lips barely encompassed the tip. Then her tongue circled the head, swirling again and again. I took my hand completely off of her head and started to unbutton my shirt. She looked me straight in the eyes and she took my shaft in again, deep. She swallowed my cock with a deliberate drive, going farther down on than ever, almost to the base, more intense than before.

I could watch her sucking my dick for about another ten seconds and then I was going to explode. I drew back, pulled my dick out of her mouth and considered my options.

I waited until the edge-of-orgasm feeling subsided and looked at her and said, "You're not done sucking my cock. I'm definitely fucking your mouth some more."

"Suck it, babe," I said, and pushed her back onto the head of my cock. She took me in and started giving my shaft slow, strong strokes. I let my shirt drop to the floor.

In the open suitcase I could see a black band sticking out from under some clothes with a buckle on it, barely in my reach. I reached over and pulled on the black band, and a pink rubber ball followed. A ball gag. I let her engulf me for a dozen more strokes, then pulled my cock out of her mouth and put my hand on her forehead, pushing her back until she was looking at the ceiling, her head rocked all the way back onto the bedspread. I pushed the bright pink ball between her lips and buckled the strap behind her neck, a beautiful vision, her bright red lips puckered around the pink rubber ball. I threaded the band through the buckle and cinched it down hard, her jaws open wide, her mouth a perfect "O". She started to say something, I guess, but it came out as muffled squeaks.

I picked her up and pushed her backwards on the bed. Her tangled curls, the ball gag in her mouth, her hands locked behind her back and her blouse tangled here and there around arms and tits. Beautiful. The garter belt, her long legs in stockings.

"I want you face down on the bed." Her eyes narrowed but she didn't bother to reply. She flailed around a little as she did it, but soon enough she pulled it off.

"Now get your ass up in the air," I said. She worked her knees closer together, bending her legs and raising her ass high. Damn I love thigh-high stockings.

"I want you to invite me in. Spread your legs and show me how bad you want me." She inched her knees apart and her pussy lips just barely gapped. She made a little muffled moan. "Spread more," I said. "I want your feet on opposite sides of the bed." Her legs were wide open now, and I stood up and went to the bed.

"You are amazing," I said.

"I am going to fuck your brains out. I'm going to fuck you in every way I can think of. After I have a drink. Don't move. I want to study your ass."

As she lay helpless on the bed watching I went to the mini-bar and got myself a glass and a half dozen ice cubes. I poured two airline-sized shots of whiskey, and sat in the chair beside the bed, taking a sip as I gazed into her eyes. I took off my undershirt.

I sipped and watched her, my eyes following her arched back, her splayed legs, her ass raised high. I stood up, dragging pillows one by one under her belly, raising her ass even a little higher in the air.

I stroked my cock where she could see me then moved between her legs and ran my slick wet cock head over her smooth ass, brushing her pussy. Brushing her clit as she squirmed. Her ass was all curve, the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. I pushed forward, driving my cock deep into her cunt with no resistance. All the way to the balls, and then again. Pulling her back towards me, her splayed legs wavering with the force of my thrusts, this might not last for very long.

She made muttered sounds with each thrust through the rubber ball gag. She pushed back at me best she could with her wrists locked behind her back and her legs spread wide, mostly a writhing of her midsection balanced on stacked pillows. Her muffled sounds built as I fucked her harder, slamming my pelvis against hers.

I pulled out. "Stay right there," I said

I sat back down in the chair and had a sip of whiskey, stroking my cock while I rummaged through her suitcase. Lube, yep. A rather enormous vibrator. Her pussy gaped open, and I knew her asshole was next.

I went back to the bed and placed myself behind her upraised ass. I lubed my right hand and ran it up and down my shaft, slicking things up. She couldn't see me, but when my lubed finger started circling her asshole a string of muffled exclamations burst around the ball gag.

"How can I not fuck your ass when I have you in this position?" I asked. My finger wormed its way in, stretching her asshole open bit by bit. In. Out. Again, deeper. I teased her pussy with my lubed cock head, and she ground herself backwards while I worked two fingers into her ass, building a little rhythm slowly in and out, as she arched her back to take more of both my cock and my hand. I started fucking her pussy slowly with three fingers in her ass.

I stopped thrusting my cock into her and slowly withdrew my fingers. I lubed the vibrator then put its blunt head at the ring of her ass and turned it on. I could almost see the shiver running down her entire spine, and now the sound from behind the gag was a long, low moan. I pushed the vibe forward, watching her ass open up to take it in, just the vibrating tip. Her fingers reached toward the teasing tool, but I grabbed the chain between the cuffs and pushed her wrists away, up her back. This was my work, not hers.