A cock suddenly appeared in front of her chest. No, not a cock, a dildo. She glanced down to it and back at me. "I'm going to be in town next week," she told me, kissing its head, her lips hugging its curves. She caressed it with her lips, softly massaging its tip with her mouth. My cock throbbed to life, instantly hard and ready. I knew just how skilled she was at that particular talent. She opened her mouth wide and engulfed the shaft, inch after inch vanishing between her lips. My hand lowered to my pants. I just had to stroke myself. I needed to relieve some tension. How badly I wanted that to be me, to feel her hot, warm, tight mouth around my cock. My fingers moved deftly up and down my shaft, just enough to make my pleasure simmer.
She slid the toy out of her mouth and began to bob her head up and down, focusing on that glistening shaft. Her eyes locked onto mine as she performed. She let it come out her mouth with a wet sigh. "I'll be staying at the Marriott on Third. Room 216. Thursday. Arrive at nine o'clock, Peter, and I'll make sure you won't regret it."
I swallowed deeply. This felt unreal. Just a few minutes ago we had been reconnecting as old friends. She had messaged me, we had talked a bit, and now? Had this been why she had reached out to me? "I want this," she told me, resting her dildo against her lower lip. "I want yours. I want to give you the night of your life."
"I don't know if I can make it..." Could I do this? My feelings were a confused tempest. I had meant it. She had always been my one that got away. And suddenly I learned not only was I hers, too, but she craved me? Was this really happening?
"I'll wait for you. And Peter?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't cum until then. I want all of it for myself." And before I could reply, the call ended. I quickly typed out the details of next week. I feared I already knew what I was going to do. Could I really do this? Could I live with myself if I did? Could I forgive myself if I threw away this opportunity? I rested my face in my hand and sighed.
* * * * *
It was Thursday. I stood outside of Room 216. It was only 8:47 but I couldn't wait any longer. I knocked on the door. Already, my cock stiffened against my pants, simply from the cavalcade of fantasies passing through my mind. The wait felt interminable. Yet blessedly, it ended as the door swung inwards.
There she stood, her legs clad in sleek, black stockings, a vibrant, lilac robe covering the rest of her, loosely-tied and open wide enough to make it obvious she wore no bra. Her chestnut hair was tied up in a bun, but a few loose strands hung in front of her face. Her pink lips smiled at the sight of me. "You're early, Peter," she observed, her eyes unhurriedly looking me up and down.
"I couldn't wait, Michelle."
"Come in," she beckoned, opening the door all the way. I stepped in. My heart raced. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her long legs, striding in front of me. She reached the bed and turned around. "Did you do as I asked?" she questioned, nodding towards my crotch with a mischievous smirk. I nodded. "Good. I'm famished." A shudder went through me as she said it. She held out a hand and beckoned me towards her. I gladly obliged.
She grabbed my shirt and pulled me in close, her soft lips meeting mine. I closed my eyes and let myself fall on top of her as she lay back onto the bed, my hardness pressing between her legs. She moaned in delight and wrapped her legs around me. She took my wrist in her hand and guided me to her full, firm breast. I squeezed hard, passionately, her nipple pressing eagerly against my palm. I caressed and rubbed her breast as we kissed, my cock throbbing against her, already threatening to explode after a week of denial and frustration.
Her hand pushed against my chest, breaking our contact. But her coy smile assured me that nothing was wrong. Her robe had been totally opened by our movements. She wore nothing beneath it above the waist. Only a lacey pair of black panties, accompanied by matching garters and stockings, all decorated with tiny roses along the hems, hid her body from my sight. I groaned at the sight, and my hands lowered to her waist of their own accord, gripping her hips, my fingertips on her fabric, ready to tear her delicates off in an instant.
"Wait," she gasped, her breasts heaving as she panted, catching her breath. "Tonight's about you. Just trust me." I nodded. Whatever she asked of me at this moment, I couldn't imagine denying her request. She gently pushed me off of her until I was standing between her legs. She stood up, her body gliding up mine, her bare breasts grazing against my shirt before she spun aside and away from me. Her soft, delicate hand took mine and led me to the wall. "Stand here," she requested.
She lifted my hands above my head, pressing her lips against mine, her tongue exploring my mouth and lips. I barely noticed a quiet click from above, but the sudden resistance against my wrists was impossible to miss. I looked up at my hands in handcuffs, wrapped around a lamp. I returned my gaze to her, but not for long. She pulled out a dark blue sleep mask from her robe's pocket and slipped it over my head. It felt stupid to ask what she was doing. I knew I'd find out soon, but until then, everything went dark.
I felt her fingers at my shirt, slipping my buttons out of their holes, my shirt slowly parting. Her hands rubbed against my chest, her fingertips circling around my nipples, then going lower, to my abdomen, and lower, to the waist of my pants, and lower...
I gasped. She squeezed and giggled.
"Mmm, just as big and hard as I remember it," she cooed, stroking my cock through my pants. I bucked my hips towards her, desperate for more friction, more pleasure. "You have no idea how many times I've thought about your perfect cock, Peter. Every time I slip my vibrator inside me, every time another man enters me, every time, it's yours I'm imagining, wishing I could have this moment again."
Her hands went to my waist. I could feel the gentle tug and mechanical whine of her unzipping me. Another pull, and my pants were down. Her fingers walked up my thighs, going up my boxers. A hissed curse escaped past clenched teeth. Her nails brushed against my loins, through my pubic hair, assiduously avoiding my manhood as her fingertips danced around me.
How long could I resist her teasing? My cock buzzed and tingled. I feared that a single stroke would be all it would take to push me over the edge, and yet I wanted nothing more for her to grip my cock in both hands and stroke me slowly to an explosive orgasm all over her gorgeous chest.
"Are you enjoying this?" Michelle whispered.
"
God
, yes," I replied. "More than anything."
