His His

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


A woman breaks out of her comfort zone and into a previously undiscovered world of bliss.


A woman breaks out of her comfort zone and into a previously undiscovered world of bliss.


Submitted: November 07, 2015

A A A | A A A


Submitted: November 07, 2015



God, I’m so nervous.

I bite my lip for the hundredth time as I brake for the approaching red light.  The car slows to a stop but I am in constant motion.  I chew my bottom lip, tap the steering wheel, shake my leg; I just can’t stay still.

“What am I doing?” I whisper, the sound of my own voice startling me.  Just as I start to second guess my decision, the light turns green and, thankfully, I have to keep moving.  I don’t want to have to answer my own question.  I don’t want to think about it anymore. 

The navigation chimes and warns me of an approaching turn.  I reflexively mock it; I never wanted the navigation system.  Henry was the one who had insisted on it. 

“It makes sense for the family vehicle to have a built in navigation system for when we travel,” he had reasoned.  I chose not to respond.  I had voiced my opinion for what was to be my day-to-day vehicle, but he had spoken.  Decision already made; the discussion was over.  My opinion voided out by his logic.  His Corvette sat in the garage, perfect without a factory-installed navigation system (a super charged engine was priority), but no, no, no; my SUV would not do without one.

The navigation cut through my bitter reminiscing and saved me from nearly missing the next turn towards the Marriot.  “Thanks,” I muttered, knowing that once again, my husband was right and I was wrong.  At least this time I wouldn’t have to tell him.  Another secret.

I pull into the guest parking lot, turn off the car, and immediately feel the anxiety set in again.  I’m losing control of my body, shaking everywhere.  I can’t slow my breath.  Full-on panic is creeping in. 

“Just calm the fuck down, Jess,” I say, eyeing myself in the mirror.  “You’re fine.  Deep breath.”

The truth is I’m excited.  Of course I’m terrified of getting caught, nervous for a new experience, but I’m also curious, enticed; ready.  So in need of what could possibly take place on the twelfth floor.  I check the mirror again, inhale deeply, hastily grab my purse and step out of the car before I can change my mind.

In the lobby I try to look casual, cheerful, normal.  Don’t look like a woman about to have an affair, I tell myself.  Or like a woman about to finally be able to explore all the desires that her husband deemed “silly.”  Don’t let them see you’re a woman who hasn’t been fucked properly in nine months, or that your husband hasn’t maintained an erection in six. 

I grimace, shake my head and begin to silently chastise myself.  No, leave those thoughts at home.  Relax, have fun; let go.  To these people here, I’m just a pretty, petite brunette on my way to a meeting.  I look down.  Oh, not in this dress I’m not, I realize.  Shit.  Well, maybe I’m going to visit family or friends.  As long as I don’t appear to be a woman on my way to greedily swallow a cock or relish being called a dirty little slut, I’m good.  I grin at the thought.  No, certainly not any of those things.  My smile broadens.  Not me.

“Hello,” I smile at the lobby clerk, heading towards the elevator.  My smile fades as I step in the elevator, and my breathing intensifies as I press the appropriate button.  The doors close pleasantly in front of me, entrapping me in my decision to come.  To meet him.  To go up to his room.  I lean back and grasp the railing, pretending to be affected by the gentle, swift movement.  I refuse to acknowledge that my knees failing me have nothing to do with the elevator.  I refuse to admit that I’m already wet, despite my apprehension in coming.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open.  I force myself to inhale deeply and push myself away from the wall of the elevator.  One foot in front of the other, I instruct myself.  Walk sexy; you’ll feel better, less nervous.  Reading the sign, I turn right and saunter down the hallway, trying to leave my nerves behind me.

Room 1218 appears at last.  I turn to face the door, straighten my dress, take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I exhale.  I raise my shaking hand to the door, force my eyes open, and knock.

An eternity later his footsteps approach the door and the handle turns.

“Jessica,” he breathes, his voice warm, deep, saturated with lust.

I try to breathe, try to smile, try to move towards him; I fail in all attempts.  Our eyes are connected; nothing else matters.  Nothing else moves.

Paralyzed, I watch Brian’s beautiful eyes take me in.  He sees my hair, falling freely past my shoulders, my firm breasts unsupported by a bra, my nipples barely visible through my dress.  I watch his eyes trace the curve of my hips, alluding to my perky ass above my carefully toned thighs.  I see his eyes observe my calves, straining against my four inch heels.  I realize he sees my hands shaking and that I’ve been nervously thumbing the edge of my dress.  Finally his eyes meet mine again and he smiles.  Somehow I’m able to move again; I smile back, breathe sharply and avert my eyes.  He politely steps back, still smiling, to hold the door open for me.  All doubt is gone.  I grin and step into the room.

I walk until I am a few feet away from the plush, king-size bed, then stop, unsure of what to do.  I take a deep breath and notice that I am hot all over my body.  I hope he doesn’t notice or think it’s strange.  And where is he?  I don’t remember hearing the door close yet.  Did he leave?

Just as I start to turn around, I feel him.  He’s right behind me, his strong body just barely touching mine as the door softly clicks closed behind us.

“Close your eyes.”

I immediately obey.  I feel him pull me closer so that my shoulders are leaning against his chest.  His fingertips brush my hair to the side.  A silky material then comes to my face; I reach up to hold it against my eyes to let him tie it.  Adrenaline shoots through my body, knowing what’s to come.  Oh God, I think to myself.  All the talk, all the fantasy has lead up to this moment.  I’m his; I want to be his, completely.  I need to be.

As if reading my thoughts, he whispers, “mine,” in my ear, sending chills all the way to my fingers and toes.  I then feel his gentle lips on my ear, kissing, nibbling.  I instinctively tilt my head, giving him my neck; he takes it.  Kissing, licking, exploring as his hands find my breasts, grasping them.  He pulls me in closer, so my body is pressed hard against his.

I moan as I feel the blood rushing down, down, to my swelling pussy.  I suddenly remember I’m not wearing any panties and immediately regret it.  I thought it would be a fun, slutty little surprise for him, but now there is nothing to stop my thighs from getting wet.  How long until he notices?  Will my thighs be streaked with excitement by then?

The gentle pinching of my nipples brings me out of my thoughts and back into the moment.  I usually hate that—well, I do when Henry does it.  He always does it too roughly, lacking any sort of passion.  But Brian…how did his hands even find their way under my dress?  I wonder, but in the same thought I dismiss it; God, who cares?  His hands are fucking magic.

Brian shifted his hips so that his throbbing cock was pressed firmly against my ass.  Mmm, I want it, I think to myself.  I bite my lip, harder than intended but pay it no mind.  I wonder if he’ll stop me if I reach for it.  How much does he want to control me?  I can’t resist; I have to know…

His movements were so fast; he must have known.  As I reached my hand behind me, he grabbed my wrist, twisted and pushed me away from him, slamming me against the wall.  I gasp loudly, but smile, enjoying the roughness.  Trusting him.  I feel him press his body against mine again, further pinning me to the wall.

“You do what I say and nothing more, my little slut.”

I couldn’t suppress my smile.  I love feeling his breath on my face, love hearing his voice thick with lust.  I’m fully in his control, and I love it.

“Yes,” is all I can reply.

“Good whore.”

I can hear the smile in his voice.  Oh God why do I love this so much?  Being called names or told what to do would make me lose my shit in any other situation.  But when it’s here, now, with him…it’s perfection.  I need more; I need to lose myself completely to him, be consumed by him.

He instructs me not to move; I don’t.  I scarcely breathe.  He released his grasp of my arm and suddenly his hands are on my shoulders.  I jump instinctively, startled.  I hear him chuckle and I chew my lip to keep from speaking.  His hands travel up my shoulders, reaching my neck, gently wrapping around it.  I inhale sharply, my whole body tingling with excitement.  My face is being pushed upward towards his and all of the sudden he’s kissing me.  The kiss is slow, deliberate, teasing; with each touch of his lips, he leaves me seeking more.  I can barely taste him.  I crave more with each kiss.

“Mine,” he growls.

All I can do is breathe.  I feel weak with desire, helpless under his control.  I struggle to respond, trying to find a way to reply, to let him know I’m all his.  No words come. 

His hands travel lightly down my body, away from my neck.  His fingertips graze my cleavage and midsection, journey sideways to my hips, then down my thighs.  He pauses at the edge of my dress, grasping it, about to lift it.  I squirm instinctively, knowing he was about to discover my slutty little secret.  Oh, I bet he’ll punish me for being so naughty.  Or will he reward me?  I don’t know which I want more…

Jesus, what is wrong with me?  This isn’t normal; I shouldn’t like this.  I need therapy, seriously.

His gasp scatters my thoughts.  He’s no longer exploring.  An eternity goes by in which neither of us moves.  I don’t even breathe, consumed in sensing his reaction.  What is he doing?  Planning?  Admiring?  What is he thinking?!

“You naughty, naughty little slut,” comes his answer.

I exhale and try to press my legs together, relieved but still nervous.  Does he like it?  Do I look okay?  Is my landing strip crooked?

“You’re perfect.  Mmm, you look so yummy,” he says, his breath tickling my damp thighs.

I instantly relax, relieved he seems pleased by the surprise.  I feel his tongue on my thighs and immediately tense again.  He forces his way between my thighs, pushing them apart, leaving me fighting to keep my balance.  He pays it no mind.  He pushes his face deeper, and I can feel myself responding to him.  I’m so fucking wet it must be a mess already; but he sees it as a feast.  His lips and his tongue are all over my thighs, teasing my lips, avoiding my clit. 

“Oh please,” I beg breathlessly.  I didn’t even realize I said it aloud until I heard him respond.  In between kisses and licks, he rebukes me:

“You…my slut…are very…naughty…did you think…you could…do this…without…a punishment?”

Oh shit!  So he’s going to torture me to death.  I’m going to die before I get to achieve my first climax with him.  And yet, I still don’t want him to stop.

Hearing no response, he continues teasing me, edging ever closer and closer to my most sensitive spots.

“I’m going…to…make you…beg…like…you…never have…before…You will…beg…for…me…my…cock-hungry…whore.”

His breath, his voice, his kisses, his licks…I lose myself in it all.  I can feel my pleasure building, my temperature rising, my breath deepening.  I can’t take anymore.  I won’t last much longer.  Fuck.  I need him.  I’m desperate.  Goddamnit, please.  I need it.  Fuck.  Now, I need it now!

My inner monologue becomes external, every thought trying to be voiced; some thoughts only forming fragmented sentences.

“I can’t…I need you…please…oh fuck…”

I spread my arms out against the wall, grasping for anything to help support me.  There is nothing.  My knees buckle but I catch myself, barely.  I bring my hand to my mouth so I can bite my finger; needing a release of frustration, if nothing else.

He expertly edges me; he lets me build, build, build towards a climax then torturously stops, moves, changes, letting the approaching bliss fade.  My legs tremble violently; I can no longer control them.  And suddenly, I no longer have to.  His powerful arms lift me from under my thighs, his hands firmly grasping my ass.  Smoothly, in one swift motion, I’m sitting on his shoulders, back pressed against the wall, his face still buried between my legs.  I grab the back of his head with one hand and plant the other on the wall above my head.  I’ve never felt so sexy, so on fire, so wanted. 

All thoughts cease.  Time stops.  He moans.  I realize I’m being loud.  I have no idea what I’m saying: words, moans, screams, gasps for air.  My pussy throbs, its pulsing reverberates the entire room; everything is a tidal wave in sync with my climax, my bliss.

I’m still pulsating when I feel his hands slide up my back.  He pulls me away from the wall, fully supporting me, my thighs still on his shoulders.  He takes powerful strides with ease; it’s as though I weigh nothing. 

I feel us falling, my back hitting the plush bed, feel him gently lift and toss me farther up the bed.  I squeal in delight, still dizzy from my orgasm.  He climbs up my body, manhandling me as he goes.  He grips my ankles, pulls them out from under my legs, towards the corners of the bed.  He grabs my hips and roughly thrusts his hips to mine.  I cry out, still sensitive; he says nothing.  He clutches under my breasts, lifting me, my back arching.  I feel his tongue and teeth all over me and my body responds to him again.  I’m ready for more; I need him more.  He seizes my arms, pinning them against the headboard.  I lean my face forward, searching for him, trying to taste him, kiss him, but only hear him chuckle.

“Does my whore want more?”

I nod vigorously.  “Yes.  Please daddy.  Yes, I need more of you.  Please.”

He slides my wrists away from each other, towards the opposite corners of the headboard.  I feel some sort of strap being fastened to them.  I start panting, so excited I’m unable to take a full breath.  His fingers slide down my arms, down my cleavage, down my midsection to my pussy.  He pauses just short of my clit.  I sense him leaning in closer to me.  His breath in my ear, he whispered:

“I’m going to fuck you like the dirty slut you are.  You will lose count of how many times you cum.  You will lose control of your body.  You will belong to me.  You will be mine to fuck forever.”

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