Tryst
Tryst
A knock came upon the door; I walked silently to answer it; turning the lock I slid the chain and opened the door slowly. Peeking out, I cautiously looked to see who it was. It was silly; I knew who it was. I was expecting him. This was our place; our time; our secret assignation. I was at his beck and call. Whenever he wanted me I would receive his text. It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing; I was his to command.
Whenever he had the urge to blow off steam or release his tension, I was there. There were no strings attached whatsoever. If he grew tired of me, we would be done and I would accept it. I wasn’t his girlfriend; but I certainly wasn’t his whore. I was never really sure what I was. There was only the physical with him; I vowed never to get emotionally involved and he promised the same.
I opened the door and he slid through. No greetings were exchanged, just fleeting glances. He looked me over, making sure that I had dressed the way he expected me to. His tastes were simple and classic; matching bra and panties; garter belt holding up black stockings with the seam up the back; black patent leather shoes with a high heel.
His routine was meticulous; wallet, keys, watch and smokes were placed on the night stand; jacket, tie, shirt and pants all neatly folded on top of each other; shoes tucked neatly by the door. He never wore socks and I found it amusing. I kept this thought to myself, never smiling or giggling lest it bothered him.
As he finished his routine, he turned to face me; his erection already apparent; bulge pressing against the fabric of his boxers. I stood still waiting for him to tell me what to do.
We played this game every night. Sometimes he was rushed and just needed to fuck. Other times I found myself entertaining him; dressing or acting a certain way depending upon his mood. His appetites rarely changed; but ever so often he would request something different. Sometimes I had to rush to put together the ensemble he required for that evening. If I didn’t possess what he specified, I would have to go shopping. I was always reimbursed; extra cash left for me on the night stand as he left.
The room was always paid for as well. Our relationship was very business like and almost formal. No matter what he required, whether it was food, booze, cigarettes, outfits, toys or condoms, we would split the cost.
I stood waiting patiently in that dark room; ceiling fan casting shadows as it circled over head; the annoying whoosh of the blades the only sound. He walked over to the bed and sat down; spreading his legs he motioned with his head to me; the first command of the evening given and obeyed. He patted his thigh and I straddled him; his long legs skinny, yet well muscled from years of dancing.
Dancing; I loved to dance. I went clubbing whenever I could. It was my love of dancing that brought us together; that one fateful night he walked through the door and singled me out above all others. I didn’t know whether to count myself lucky or curse myself for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
My mind wandered back to the present as deft fingers undid my bra; graceful hands rubbing up and down my back. I shivered and he began my torment.
He cupped my ass; hands sliding underneath the lace of my panties; squeezing and pinching my skin playfully. I leaned forward to give him better access; nipples perky and erect found themselves between his teeth. He suckled on them hard; nipping and biting until I yelped. I pushed him down upon the covers and he growled at me; my advances unexpected as he normally played the aggressive.
Easily flipping me onto my back he pulled the lace panties off my body; only the stockings and shoes remained. I watched with baited breath as his boxers joined my undies on the floor; long, slender digits stroking what I yearned to touch, feel and taste.
But before I could have that delicious length, I would suffer. Legs spread; fists grasping the sheets; my body arched as he went down upon me; teeth gently pulling my pussy lips; tongue skillfully attacking my clit. It darted in and out of me; my head spinning, heart racing; the swollen button of flesh trembling as I came hard; my juices coating his mouth and dripping down his chin. Not content with that; his fingers slid inside me; twisting and turning; thrusting hard and deep; actions mimicking what I knew he would do to me with his cock.
He released me as I lay quivering like jelly upon the covers; his body now ready to be pleased. He loomed over me; flinching; his hardness rubbing against my inner thigh. He forced his fingers inside mouth; groaning in ecstasy he watched through hooded eyes as I swallowed my own juices.
We were so close now; his slender frame positioned above me; skin flushed pink. I reached out and touched the tattoo on his chest; fingers tracing across the words which meant so much to him. He drew me in closer; my mouth engulfing the nipple; tender bud swollen and incredibly responsive. He mewled as I licked the tat; I swear I could taste the ink.
His name escaped my lips but the sound was muffled by a passionate kiss; his mouth crushing against mine. We sucked and licked and bit each others lips until they were swollen and bruised. He fumbled in the dark; the familiar cursing and grumbling under his breath as he struggled with the condom made me smile.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and he slid inside me with ease; positioning himself comfortably he moved forward and found his rhythm; long strokes intensifying in speed and force. I lifted my hips upward to aid him; both of us gasping for air as he plunged deeper and deeper within me.
I could feel him getting close; his body tensing; muscles straining. I could see it in his face; cheeks burning red; eyes shut tight; he was fighting the inevitable. It felt so good and he wanted it to last forever. By now the warm stickiness of my insides were driving him mad; I constricted around his girth and came again screaming as I did; wetness coating the length of him and sending him over the edge.
He threw his head back and cried out; hips thrusting hard one final time. He bucked forward and grunted as he spilled. I looked up and saw the ecstasy on his face and felt proud, knowing I was responsible for giving him so much pleasure.
He collapsed his full weight upon me; chest crushing my breasts. I shivered as I felt his heart pounding against my own. He regained his composure, turned over and lit a cigarette. He never cuddled; it wasn’t his style
We took turns in the bathroom getting cleaned up; it never occurred to him we’d save water if we showered together. We did not speak a word to each other. I watched in silence as he dressed himself.
He usually left first; unbolting the door and sliding the chain, but something possessed me and I came between him and the door. Puzzled, he stood still as I found myself straightening his tie and smoothing out his lapels. I smiled; but it faded fast as he looked at me disapprovingly. I bit my lower lip and moved away from him; I could feel his eyes following me as I turned and sat upon the edge of the bed. I cursed myself as I felt tears falling down my cheeks; the deal had been broken; I had become emotionally involved. I turned away from him so he wouldn’t see me cry.
The knob turned; door creaked open, but didn’t close. I heard a deep sigh.
“Wait,” he spoke softly, and I turned to watch him shut the door in front of him.
He looked at his watch and then at me.
“I don’t have to go just yet.”
He walked over to the bed and sat down beside me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear as he pressed me gently upon the covers; his fingers wiping the tears from my eyes; lips pressing sweet kisses upon my cheeks.
Apparently, he couldn’t keep his promise either.
As we lay there in the dark, fully clothed, we held on to each other and cried ourselves to sleep.