The Tryst

She felt his presence as he entered the room.

He had promised her a night of passion beyond her wildest dreams. Unlike her normal, cautious self she had chosen to meet the stranger at a cheap motel along the highway.

The noisy hinges of the poorly hung door to the tiny room revealed a man entering the room with purpose. Although she couldn't see him, his entrance felt cautious; hesitating. Deliberate. His feet landed heavily against the cheap vinyl flooring of the motel room.

Those heavy footfalls made their way curiously into the room. Neither of them spoke.

As they had agreed, she was kneeling on the bed facing away from the door. Her naked chest rose and fell with her quick, nervous breaths.

Somehow, she could feel his gaze against her naked back. Every sound he made seemed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room: the sound of a bag being dropped on the floor. Fumbling with a jacket. The zipper of his pants and the "swoosh" of them being pulled off.

She tried to summon the image of his profile picture, grasping for some sense of the stranger now undressing just feet away. She remembered his honey-brown skin, the dark goatee she wasn't even sure she liked, and that ridiculous photo--him posed on a gaudy chrome motorcycle.

This wasn't the kind of man she went on dates with. This man was something else entirely.

She had been only mildly impressed by his flirtations on the app -- nothing about his advances were all that different from the dozens of other men that assailed her DMs constantly. But somehow, when he offered to take control, to give her a night of unbridled ravishment and release, she had said yes. And now, here she was.

Dating had been complicated for her lately, and she hadn't had sex in months. She needed tonight to be raw, primal, and exhilarating. She wanted to be taken, to be possessed and enjoyed without the pointless 'dinner and a movie' ritual. And this man had promised just that.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden squeak of the mattress springs as he joined her. The bed dipped under his weight, shifting her slightly toward him. A shiver prickled up her spine, every nerve alive with electric anticipation.

"I'm going to put this on your now." said the man. His voice was softer than she had imagined it would be; perhaps he was as nervous as she was. But his confidence was undeniable when he reminded her, "Remember, the safe word is 'Argentina.'"

Strangely, the mention of it didn't pull her out of the moment; if anything, it put her more at ease. More comfortable. More certain in her decision to meet him here tonight.

Had he done this before with other women? She wondered.

She nodded approvingly as he slipped the soft blindfold over her eyes, tying it snugly behind her head. The faint brush of his solid arms against her shoulders sent another shiver through her. His skin smelled sweet, freshly showered--unexpected. Interesting.

She cracked her eyes open: nothing. Pure blackness. The blindfold let in no light at all. Then his hand found her shoulder--gentle, yet firm. Instinctively, she sat up, responding to his touch.

This fleeting indulgence was exactly what she needed. Skin on skin; nothing more.

His hands felt strong and calloused as they explored her arms, her back. His hands moved up and slowly wrapped around her long hair. He grasped it and pulled firmly downward. She gasped in surprise and pleasure. Unwittingly, her hips pressed into the mattress as she arched her back towards his chest, aching to find him. She realized now just how wet she was.

"Good girl", he praised as his lips found her neck and opened to bite and kiss her bare skin; hungrily and passionately. At the same time, he reached his strong arm around her and embraced her as he found her breast and squeezed, pulling her into him. She sank into his chest, feeling herself let go; yielding to his touch. For now, she was his.

His greedy, wet mouth explored her neck and shoulder with delicious intention. His chest was solid against her as she pressed into him, and his embrace was possessive and consuming. His fingers snaked around her nipple as his other hand moved to her waist and found purchase against her curvy hips. She continued to let herself be drawn in.

Now, as she leaned into him, she could feel his hard cock against the small of her back. Not knowing what it looked like was exhilarating; it was just another dick, attached to just another man... who was giving her exactly what she needed. No restraint, just feeling. Just touch. Just pleasure.

Suddenly, his hands moved to shift her on the bed. She was surprised at his strength; she was not at all in control of how he moved her body. She found herself on her back now, and she could feel his large body on top of hers.

His big arms wrapped around her thighs and lifted her hips into the air. Again, the feeling of her complete loss of control was beautiful. She embraced the uncertainty. She was totally exposed as he pulled her towards him; a wild, reckless surrender.

His tongue found her swollen and glistening. She quickly lost herself in the pleasure; the warm rhythm of his tongue and the strength of his arms totally supporting her legs. She became weightless in his arms, carried by the sensations.

She could feel herself getting close; and she let herself fall over the edge as she unraveled in his mouth and in his arms. Often she was embarrassed by the way her body responded to this release: legs shaking, breathless and awkward moans, and her uncontrollable wetness gushing... but tonight she embraced her body without shame; without consideration for others. She was lost in the sensations and let them envelop her completely.

As the waves of pleasure came more slowly, his rhythm slowed. She could hear herself grunting along with the final throes of her orgasm; the animalistic sound of her moans surprised her as his mouth finished her off.

His strong arms took control again, this time spinning her onto her belly. His manly hands explored her backside now, and then wrapping around her curvy hips, pulled her ass into the air as she buried her face in the pillow in front of her. Again she surrendered to his touch, letting him take control.

His touch ceased for a moment as she heard him fumbling with a wrapper. The condom, she thought, that she had insisted on during their short exchange. The sudden lack of physical contact made her yearn for more, and she instinctively raised her hips higher; presenting herself to him. She wanted him now.

Soon, his hands were touching her skin again as he brought himself against her. She could feel him guiding, pressing himself into her. He slid inside her effortlessly; her wetness welcoming him. The feeling of him pushing inside her was divine; she was being taken and her body yielded, breathless and willing.

This was what she had wanted. To be used. To be objectified. To be ravished.

His rhythm quickly became machine-like as he lost himself in the pleasure. No longer sensuous or gentle, now he was fucking her.

Again she lost herself in the sensation. Her vulnerability and feeling of being so completely exposed added to her pleasure. This man, this stranger, was in total control and was using her like a toy for his pleasure. Every thrust and grunt and oscillation was divine.

It wasn't long before he was cumming inside her. His climax was powerful; he pulled her hips close to his and pushed himself deep as she could feel him spasming, throbbing, clenching. Then, even more quickly than he had entered her, he was out.

What happened next was less awkward and more tender than she had imagined it would be. She was spent and totally fulfilled, but also felt more confident and comfortable with herself than she had even an hour before. Even though he had been in control, she felt like she was in command. She had no shame about her naked body or the messy wetness between her legs as she lay on the bed watching the stranger get dressed and gather his things.

Hardly a word was shared between them as she admired the body that had just ravished her so completely. There as nothing particularly remarkable about him -- he was an average specimen in most respects -- but for those moments he had done for her exactly what she had needed. This man was her plaything, she realized with blossoming confidence in her sexual power, not the other way around.

As the door closed behind him, her head fell back on the pillow.

"I should do this more often" she thought to herself.