Becoming His 7

My eyes were heavy and almost drunk with exhaustion, but sleep simply did not come. My mind was fully aware and ignoring my body's fatigue. I wondered,

is this what my mothers wedding night was like?

I took a deep breath and ran my tired eyes around the small hotel room. I wanted my brain to marinate in it.

This is as close as a girl like me will ever get,

I thought to myself. On any other night that thought would kill my soul just a little bit more, but tonight in this cramped Manhattan hotel room, I couldn't be happier or more excited.

I've just put in a nine-hour shift at my first professional job not involving a pole or platform heels. Unfortunately it stimulated my mind just a bit less than my previous position.

I realized I was standing in the doorway staring at the bed for longer than a sane person should. I have a tendency to over romanticize situations. My intellectual brain recognizes the rather plebeian and almost sleazy reality of my situation. My emotional heart however, is fluttering with the thought of consummating this relationship once and for all.

I put my briefcase and gym bag on the floor and closed the door. The room was tiny. It made my old dorm room look like a honeymoon suite at the Borgata. The muted colors on the walls were almost Perkins-Gilman-esquse .

Thankfully, by some genius design the room's bathroom managed to have a full tub. I took out my planned outfit for the evening, a sheer black halter dress, matching thigh highs. It was the first piece of lingerie he ever sent me.

I took out my cell phone and sent him a quick message to confirm that I had arrived and my room number. He was coming in the morning. I wanted everything to be perfect. It was already three a.m.

I meant to bring the red and black shoes he bought me to replace the ones I broke. I was too excited before leaving home. They were probably still next to the door, where I put them so I wouldn't forget them.

After putting my outfit out and giving all the items a few sprits of perfume I started to peel out of my work clothes. Out of the mary-jane flats, the pretentious American Apparel leggings and the bulky sweater dress that did nothing for my figure.

The small bathroom wasn't stocked with many comforts, the shampoo bottle that boasted containing two uses wouldn't even last a quarter of a use in mine. It was just as well, I plaited my thick black hair earlier that day. While soaking in the tub, I carefully undid those braid and let my hair relax into its natural state. Chaos.

After my body was washed, hair coifed and pussy shaved, I slipped on my lingerie and settled in under the covers. I closed my eyes, opened them, and then stared at the ceiling. I repeated this several times. Despite being unbelievably tired, sleep wasn't coming. I checked the clock; it was almost five a.m.

I checked my phone a few more times, sent a few text messages. Turned on the tv and tried to relax my body. Staring at the ceiling, I wondered,

would he like me? Will I be good? Will I do the right things?

Hundreds of worried thoughts ran through my mind.

As heavy as my eyelids were, my mind would not turn off. Fears, desires and thoughts all about this one man were making it impossible. Every time I closed my eyes I thought about his eyes, his smile, his thick cock.

What would it be like? What will he taste like?

I felt like a high-schooler as I giddily scrolled through his texts to me in my phone. We've gotten into the habit of sending each other indecent photos. Childish maybe, but hot none the less.

It was exciting to think that the man and cock I had been wanting for months was finally going to be mine. Soon his hands would be exploring my body. Fondling my breasts, worshiping my curves and playing with my wet pussy.

I moved my hand underneath the little triangle of cloth that made my g-string underwear. Masturbation has always been nature's Ambian. I was already a little wet from looking at his pictures. I teased my wet lips and rubbed my aroused and engorged clit.

I should save this for him,

I thought as I felt myself close to climax. I withdrew my hand , took a deep breath and stared again at the ceiling. I blinked.

Or so I thought I did. When I closed my eyes the room had been pitch black, now I could see light escaping from the cheap curtains. There was a knock at the door. Then his familiar voice called my name. I didn't know if I was dreaming or awake. I didn't even care.

I crawled from under the sheets and adjusted my thigh highs. He called my name again. I imagined a mischievous smile creeping across his lips on the other side of the door. He was here to claim his prize, his woman – me.

I opened the door and while there was no celestial light or angelic chorus, my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest. There he was. Not the tallest man or the most muscular, but he had come to be my definition of male beauty, of comfort and of acceptance.

He was dressed ready for the office, suit jacket and jeans the number cruncher uniform. I must have looked so silly standing there self consciously hiding my body behind the door. I opened it shyly, screaming inside my head,

HOLY SHIT THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING.

We embraced and I closed my eyes to take in his scent. One of the things I love about older men as opposed to college men is their ability to wear cologne without bathing in it. He looked good, smelled good and I hoped I felt soft and appealing in his arms.

He sat on the bed, his grin every bit as mischievous and charming as I imagined. He studied me.

"Do you like it? I wanted to wear something you got for me," the words sounded so pathetic and foreign. I hoped my need for approval wasn't turning him off.

"You're so cute." He laughed, usually such a dismissive line would have brought ire and verbal conflagration, but on this day it was the first time I felt it was a description and not a mockery.

I bit my lower lip as he took my hand so I could sit beside him on the bed. My body felt incurably hot. I'm sure my face was flushed with red. His hands danced on my shoulders and gently found themselves to the fullness of my breast. His hands were big with slender but strong fingers.

We pressed our lips to each others, not hungrily devouring one another, but softly savoring each coupling of our lips and tongues. I eagerly unclasped the buttons of his shirt. I was ready to let him have me, in any fashion he saw fit.

I yanked at his belt and eagerly released him of it. His uncut cock was already hard and ready. I didn't wait for him to take off his trousers or boxers before I took him in my mouth. I savored the taste of his flesh and his slid deeper and deeper down my throat. His moans encouraged me to take him more aggressively in my throat, teasing the bottom of his shaft with my tongue

He placed his hand on my shoulder, and I stopped and looked up at him. He brushed an involuntary tear from my cheek. On my knees in front of him, his cock is in my hand, I realized that this was beyond a sex act. I'm not trying to pleasure this man's cock, I'm worshiping it. Every one of my lustful moans a little prayer,

Thank God for you.

He smiled at me as I licked some of his sweet pre cum from my lips. He took off his pants and boxers. He removed my thigh highs slowly and I began to feel my stomach sink to my toes. No man had ever laid his eyes on my sadly imperfect naked body.

I stopped him as he tried to slide my lingerie up. I looked in his eyes. Crisp brown surrounding deep obsidian jewels. He found my shyness comical.

"I've never been naked before, do I have to get naked?" I asked, feeling like a child.

"I want to see you , all of you."

I bit my lip hesitating.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you were sexy." He laughed.

Approval I wanted, and approval I had now received. I let him slide the garment off my body. I was naked. I studied his face looking for signs of disgust, waiting for him to call the whole thing off. Instead his fingers found my pussy and he teased my opening.

"You're so wet, you've been waiting this, haven't you?" He said, holding his quite engorged member.

"Turn over." He commanded.

I was nervous as he entered me, not just because of his girth , but the fact that I've never had an unsheathed cock inside me. His grip on my hips was firm as he gently guided himself inside me. I'd never felt so close to another human being as that moment.

He began softly at first, increasing the depth and force of each stroke. I welcomed him deeper inside me with delighted moans. As his movements became hard, deep thrusts I realized that I was screaming and begging to be fucked harder.

He took one hand from my hip and gave my bottom a sound smack. I was a satisfying sound. I imagined a red imprint of his large hand on my cheek. Despite my brown skin I bruise easy, he may have marked his territory for a week or more.

He motioned for me to turn my body over again. He kissed my lips in a way that almost said, "these are mine now." He claimed each breast and my navel before entering me again. Holding the back of my knees, he buried his cock as deep as I could take it. I felt like he was piercing my soul.

I couldn't think, I couldn't see, I could only feel him. Smell him and taste the salt of his sweat. I'd surrendered myself. I could feel my body starting to writhe and my muscles contract and release sporadically. I wanted to tell him not to cum in me but I couldn't remember how to use my tongue. Luckily, he withdrew from me and painted my stomach and thighs with his juices.

Then I closed my eyes, and he was gone.