I assess her from across the conference room. She looks out of place, despite her name tag. Shy, quiet. She's polite, acknowledging everyone who tries to speak with her. Even the obviously leering men. Her blonde hair lays in loose waves down her back. I wonder if it looks this perfectly messy without effort. The light makeup tells me that she wouldn't put that much effort into her hair. I envision wrapping it around my fist as I tilt her head back and bite her neck. She's younger than I am -- maybe early thirties. These industry conferences are usually a bore. But now I'm intrigued. Obsessed.
An older portly man approaches her. Again, she's polite to a fault. His hand lands on her lower back, and she dances out of his reach, eyes scanning the room for an escape route. I can be that for her. I wait patiently for her eyes to meet mine. When they do, I quirk my lips upward. She immediately looks down. Is that a blush I see? Probably wishful thinking. But she just sealed her fate.
I approach her like an old friend. Asking her how she has been. She plays along, obviously grateful for the opportunity to escape her handsy admirer. Once he is gone, I try to engage her in conversation, but she won't meet my eyes. I get a quiet thank you, and I'm alone. Well, alone with the wallet I just snagged from her bag.
...
The hotel desk staff is an embarrassment. Some well-placed questions about my "coworker," and I had her room number in a matter of minutes. I stand outside room 410 and knock.
"Who is it?"
"It's me from the conference." I flash my most sincere smile. "I think you dropped your wallet at the last seminar." I hold the wallet up so she can see it through the peep hole. I hold my breath, certain she'll tell me to leave it on the floor. But no, the door cracks open.
"Thank you. I didn't even realize I had lost it." I can see she's no longer in her work attire, but the door blocks most of her body.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" It's a bold start, but I already know she's too polite to call me out.
"I'm dressed for bed, not company. See you tomorrow, maybe?" She starts to shut the door, but my hand comes up to stop its forward progress. Her eyes widen, just a touch. What is she thinking? Is she now wondering how I knew her room number? Is she chastising herself for not using the chain? Whatever the reason, it's enough pause for me to take advantage as I advance into the room.
She wasn't kidding. She's definitely dressed for bed. A thin tank top and pajama shorts -- no bra. She continues backing away as I admire the care she obviously takes of her body. Her breasts sit high on her chest, her light nipples slightly visible through the sheer fabric. Her hips flare out from her tapered waist. She's effortlessly soft and curvy. I haven't gotten a good look at her ass yet, but I have no doubt it will be heaven to grab onto. Her hair is just as perfectly messy as it was earlier.
No words pass between us as I crowd her against the wall. I hear her breath hitch as I wrap her hair around my fist and tilt her head back, just like I've been thinking about since the moment I saw her. Her lower lip quivers, and I can hear words begin to form.
"Shh," I reassure her as I bring my thumb to her lip and press it forward. She eventually opens for me, taking me in. I groan as I feel her tongue accept the intrusion. I thrust it in and out of her mouth, a promise of what's to come. I can tell the moment she feels my growing erection against her, her eyes widening in awareness. As much as it pains me, I remove my thumb, trailing my hand downward as I find the top of her shirt and pull it down. I'm rewarded when one breast spills into my hand. She flattens herself against the wall, trying to back away from my hand as it massages her before tweaking her nipple lightly. I watch it harden in front of my eyes before returning my gaze to her face to study her reaction. Her eyes are glassy -- either from fear or arousal. Or both perhaps. She flinches slightly as I pinch and roll the taut nub between my fingers. There will be time for that later. For now, I need to feel that tongue on my cock.
I pull my fist downward, using her hair as leverage. In light of her ready acceptance of my thumb, I'm surprised as her initial resistance. Surprised and aroused. She eventually accepts her fate and falls to her knees. I release her hair and pull the straps of her shirt down so that both breasts are exposed. Her mouth is only inches from my cock.
"Take it out." My voice comes out gravely and rough, more so than I intend. She looks at me for a moment, as if not understanding my words. I tweak her nipple again, silently reiterating my command. Her hands shake as she reaches for me. I hold my breath, and it feels like an eternity before her unsteady fingers find my zipper and slowly pull it down. I am about to urge her to move faster, but this slow torture is exquisite. I'm harder than I've ever been.
Finally, I feel her breath on my cock as she removes it from its confinement. I've crowded her so closely against the wall that my cock bumps her cheek as it is freed, and I groan at the sensation. Her hesitant eyes find mine.
"Open." She doesn't move. I shift my hips forward slightly and bring my thumb to her lower lip, pulling it down. She lowers her eyes in defeat as her lips part. Her tongue darts out to lick the tip, and I inhale sharply in surprise. Her lips gently close around the head as she inches herself further and further onto my cock. Her tongue flicks and massages the delicate ridge underneath. This woman will be my undoing.
When I feel my cock hit the back of her throat, I brace my hands against the wall, willing myself not to come too soon. I want to savor this. "
Fuck...
" I groan aloud. She begins a steady pace, bobbing up and down my length. Her hands reach up to join her mouth in this assault on my senses. Maybe she is hoping for me to finish quickly and leave. Whatever the reason, I do not care. I reach down to grasp her ripe breast and cannot resist the urge to pinch and twist her nipple again. I'm rewarded with a whimper, and the sound vibrates along my shaft.
