I was already clenching my jaw. I was damned near growling, actually.
I would control myself — for now — but she really shouldn’t have made me wait this long.
I focused on what still needed to happen first.
I had invited her to this lunch. I was therefore hosting, technically, so I arrived at the restaurant early. I chose a table outside, under an umbrella, to showcase our Miami winter for my tourist friend. It was probably a bit silly. I knew Morocco didn’t lack for sunshine, breezes, and beaches. Still, I wanted to set the stage correctly, and this was right.
I sat down as the waiter set menus on the table, poured water, and started rambling. I smiled and nodded… but I wasn’t listening. Keeping my composure was going to be more difficult than I had expected. My guest certainly wouldn’t notice; I was as experienced at these types of meetings as she was inexperienced. But still… the wait. I wanted her, and it was affecting me.
Twenty minutes later — and ten minutes late — Maryam arrived. She got out of her Uber, thanked the driver. She spotted me from the sidewalk, smiled her girlish smile, and walked toward me in the uniform I had seen her in so many times on Snapchat: a loose cotton v-neck t-shirt, coral this time, and tight little jeans. Her shoes, sunglasses, and modest earrings added the slightest touch of elegance to the casual outfit, and all of the colors she wore accentuated her copper skin, long black hair, and almond eyes. She was a smart girl, sophisticated for a girly 23-year-old, and she knew what looked good on her. As simple as they were, her clothes fit her personality just as well as her jeans fit her skinny thighs.
She paid attention to detail… which is why I knew that her slender frame would be accentuated by perfect lingerie underneath those simple clothes.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that lingerie all morning, and not just for the obvious reasons. In my mind, I was sure she had agonized over whether to put on the lingerie when she got dressed in her hotel room that morning. After two years of talking, her in Morocco, me in Miami, I knew her well. She would be honest enough to realize that putting on that lingerie signaled her willingness. That she probably shouldn’t do it; that the very fact that she was considering wearing lingerie at all meant she should rethink whether to meet me on this trip.
But she would dismiss those thoughts… and put on that lingerie. “It won’t hurt,” she’d think. “Just in case.” She would know that these were lies, and foolish ones at that… but she would allow her desire to get the best of her.
Maryam was Muslim, but not particularly religious even by Moroccan standards. She was a thoroughly-modern, combatively intellectual girl earning her Master’s degree back home. But she was traditional; conservative in ways. She kept the holidays, respected her parents, fasted on Ramadan. Her virginity still mattered. It should have gone to a Muslim boyfriend back home. Under ideal circumstances, even to a husband on their wedding night. It definitely, definitely wasn’t supposed to go to me.
I was a 35-year-old white American businessman with my own carefully considered, thoroughly irreligious set of ethics… ethics that, while sophisticated and rigid in their own way, permitted me to cheat on my wife, whom I loved deeply. Very rarely, and very selectively… but still. I was a married man, and by her own personal philosophy, Maryam should not have been going near me.
We had met on an anonymous chat app. She used it to vent and flirt, I used it to discreetly meet and screen potential affair partners. I didn’t usually talk to women on other continents, but she posted something funny about bad pick-up lines, and I was bored. I struck up a conversation with her… and we soon struck up a flirty friendship. We discussed our totally different lives. I was candid with her about my cheating and reasoning behind it; she was candid about her distaste for it. But we shared a sick sense of humor and a love of honest debate about important topics. She also loved hearing about my sexual adventures despite her objections to them. My deeply dominant side, the women I seduced, the submissives I put over my knee and tied up. She was unrepressed and loved learning about and discussing sex, despite being a virgin who had never been able to bring herself to orgasm… though certainly not for lack of trying. I flirted with her shamelessly, and she teased back just as shamelessly. She often admitted to touching herself while talking to me, and I silently hoped to bring her to her first orgasm with my words alone. It wasn’t to be.
I regularly invited her to visit me in the U.S. as we spoke. She always laughingly refused, despite constantly bemoaning the sorry state of her love life. Eventually, she found a boyfriend, an older student in another city in Morocco whom she liked and trusted. After months with him, she told me that she expected him to take her virginity. I was happy for her, and I had always known that my ideas of having her weren’t much more than a fantasy… but I was still deeply disappointed.
Three months into her relationship with her boyfriend, she found out that he was a player. He was flirting with other girls, and probably cheating, though the distinction didn’t matter to Maryam. He was something other than the boy he was supposed to be, and that dishonesty was enough for her to break things off. She cried a little, but she was frustrated, mostly.
In a few weeks she had righted herself emotionally, but she still needed a break. And she was more frustrated than ever before. By her relationship, by men. By her standards, her virginity, her inexperience, her pent-up needs. It was at that time that she planned her trip to the U.S., a welcome relief brought on by her career: she wanted to hunt for internships in her field here.
She mentioned the trip to me as she planned it, but she was unusually vague about details. I knew she was grappling with whether to meet me. I didn’t bring it up; pressure from me would not have brought her closer. Finally, reluctantly, she admitted that she planned to spend two days in Miami during the trip.
Knowing me… knowing what I wanted… it was clear. She never would have told me this unless she wanted it too. I immediately invited her to meet me for lunch, and she accepted… leading to now. To her standing just feet in front of me.
Still… the wait. It wasn’t wise to keep a man like me waiting that long.
I smiled, rose to greet her. We both took off our sunglasses, and I gave her a casual hug and a kiss on the cheek that lingered. I inhaled her… she smelled fresh, just the faintest bit floral. I pulled her chair out and she moved like the nervous girl she was as she sat in it.
When meeting someone in real life for the first time after developing a relationship online, there is always some cobweb of awkwardness to swat away before proceeding… but something sick inside me — the sadist, likely — enjoys this. So I sat back in my chair, smirked, and silently looked into her eyes for a minute. She smiled back, likely aware of what I was doing… but that didn’t stop it from working. She shifted in her seat, her self-consciousness blooming under the heat of my gaze. “Stop it,” she said. Her mousy, French-accented English was even more disarming in person than it had been over the internet for all these months. I grinned… and waiting long enough to make it clear that her commands were never commands to me. And then I began our conversation.
It was easy enough to break the tension… that tension, at least. We talked quickly, first about her trip so far, then about the menu as we ordered, then about her interviews as we ate. But the real tension, the real reason we were both there, burned slowly under our friendly talk. Each of us broke out into sly smiles here and there. Any passerby who noticed us would have known what game we were playing. But that didn’t make it any less fun.
We finished lunch and I paid the bill. I smiled and proposed going for a walk. She accepted. I guided her silently toward the beach from the restaurant. Eventually, I pointed toward a cool, shadowed alley on the way, and we walked toward it. Once there, I took her hand. She stopped abruptly, shocked, wondering if it was starting now.
It was.
I stepped in front of her, an inch from her, and looked into her eyes, to her frozen expression of anticipation. And I kissed her. Holding her head. She stiffened and resisted, almost reflexively, almost ceremoniously. But I held her head to mine in my hands, and her mouth soon opened for me. She began to kiss back… and she melted. Her body slackened and she leaned into me. She didn’t even realize when I stopped holding her head to mine, when my hands drifted down to her waist. When I started holding her gently. And she began to kiss back harder, hungrily.
We lingered like that for minutes. I hailed an Uber and we got in, kissing in the backseat as we rode to the hotel I had already booked and checked into for this very purpose. A good, modern place; excellent sheets, a big bed.
We walked through the hotel toward our room. She was nervous, quaking here and there. I made fun of her, and she laughed. But I held her little hand, and she followed without resistance.
I unlocked and opened the door to the airy room and pulled her in. She admired it; she wasn’t rich back home, but she had excellent taste and high standards, and I knew she appreciated the place. I led her to the center of the room, with space all around her, and put my hands on her waist, firmly. My grip told her to stop and stand, and she obeyed.
I stepped in front of her and pulled her into me, gripping her ass through her jeans as I kissed her again. Just as she started to melt again, as her last memories of protest faded… I pulled my face away from hers.
And I slapped her.
Not too hard… it helps to have practice. But enough to make it sting. She winced, and her mouth opened in silent shock, but her eyes didn’t leave mine.
“For making me wait, Maryam… Now… You’re mine.”
I stepped back a foot, looking her up and down. I set my hands at the collar of her shirt and easily ripped the “v,” tearing a straight line down the entire front. I would get her a new shirt later or give her one of mine. I hardly cared.
I pulled her gutted shirt back around her shoulders, exposing her bra. I was right, of course. It was black, lacy, and fit her small breasts perfectly. Her frame was so slight that I had always assumed her breasts would be tiny. They weren’t, at least not in that bra.
My eyes went dark and my jaw stiffened. I grabbed her bra straps and pulled them down around her elbows, flipping the cups off of her breasts. They were small, but perfect… unbelievably buoyant; sometime later I would have to explain to this girl how blessed she was. But for now, I leaned down and reached around her, squeezing her torso. My tongue was instantly on her right nipple. Hungrily. Licking, biting gently. Groping her with one hand while I continued pulling her into me. I have taken virginities before, and I was always very gentle when I did. But not this time. This time I wouldn’t restrain myself, focus solely on her, put on a pleasant performance for the benefit of a naive audience. Today, I would loosen the leash on my rougher instincts enough for Maryam to see exactly how much I wanted her.
I moved my head back from her chest, turning to look up into her eyes. I grabbed her wet nipple and twisted it, slowly, as I clamped it harder and harder between my thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes, took in a breath, let it out slowly and shook… and melted a little more as she did.
My lips traveled down her chest toward her perfect waist. I had never seen her nude; she was 5’4 and she had told me that she weighed 84 pounds, so I didn’t expect many curves. I was wrong about that, too. She had a petite but perfectly feminine body. I admired it and kissed slowly down toward her belly button… but my right hand reached up, grabbing her throat. I gripped firmly, lifting her chin, but not hard enough to cut off her breath… at least, not more than her own fear and excitement had already cut off. She was shaking, and letting out the tiniest moan.
My head was at her jeans now, and I could feel a faint touch of her heat escaping against my face. I looked up at her, her eyes now closed, unable to take in all of her senses… and I smirked.
Slowly, very slowly, I unbuttoned her jeans and pulled down her zipper, without moving my eyes from her face. She was flustered, her cheeks red. Nervous. More turned-on than she had been in her life; that was a guess on my part, but a well-educated one. I exposed the top of her panties, lacy and black again, a low cut that rode her hips. I felt the hot breath of her pussy on my skin. And… I stopped.
I separated from her, rose to my feet. Walked around her slowly, an arms length from her, circling her like a shark circles prey. She opened her eyes and nervously followed me with them. Her neck swiveled as I circled her once… twice… my eyes on every part of her. She stood there, her shirt ripped, her bra around her arms, her pants open at the top, sagging on her hips.
After two more circuits, I stepped in close from behind her, grabbing the hair at the base of her scalp in one hand, her throat in the other. I tipped her face up to me and put my face next to hers, my lips at her ear. “Now… I want to taste you, virgin.”
I took my hand from her throat and moved it down her body, pressing into her neck, then her sternum, following the soft line down her belly. My fingers slid between her panties and her skin and I brushed the slightest tuft of hair. That was a concession to me, an act of submission; she knew I preferred some hair even though she thought most men would rather she be bald. I smiled… and reached further down.
She was already swollen for me, her thick wetness soaking the inside of her panties. Perfect, I thought. Her inner lips protruded just a bit, a woman’s cunt, and they separated smoothly when I pushed my finger between them. I slowly coated my fingertip in her juice, though venturing into her panties had almost completed that job already. I moved my finger down, teasing her hole, then traveled up toward her clit, touching her as slowly and lightly as possible. I wanted her, and I wanted to be rough with her, but she needed to wait. That was fair; that was necessary.
I moved my finger back and forth over her clit, dipping just my fingertip into her here and there, with the lightest touch… I teased her until her body responded, her back tightening away from me as I held her hair in my fist, her ass pressing into me, her knees starting to shake, her breaths getting ragged… I brought her close to coming, probably far closer than she had ever been before…
And then I stopped. She needed to wait.
I brought my hand out of her panties and in front of her face, pointing my glistening finger up, and I tightened my grip on her hair. I wanted her to see how her body was responding to me.
“Look, Maryam.” “Yes,” she said. “Your body already knows it’s mine. Good girl, Maryam.” She nodded, the motion of her head constrained by my grip on her hair.
I brought my finger to my lips, still next to her ear. I sucked her taste off my finger, rolling her flavor on my tongue, taking time to release my finger from my mouth. “You taste perfect, virgin,” I whispered into her ear. “I want more.”
I let her hair go and grabbed her slight shoulders, pushing her down, hard, onto her knees, then forward onto her hands. Her breasts pointed down out of her shirt, her jeans slid another inch down her hips as she bent. I bent down and yanked her jeans down around her knees. I felt like I had just unwrapped a gift. The low v-cut of her lace panties accentuated her hips perfectly. Her ass was small, of course, but not the least bit bony, and her crotch was visibly soaked. I growled.
I hunched down behind her and set my fingers at her crotch, massaging her through the thin material. I was immediately between her lips, and she was almost immediately swaying with my rough motions. I leaned over her and set my lip at her earlobe again without stopping the swirls between her legs. “You look amazing, Maryam. Better than I imagined, and I want you even more. Do you like the way my fingers feel on your pussy, Maryam?” She nodded. I moved two fingers slowly and firmly up and down her slit, sliding the material of her panties against her, making her shudder. “Good girl, Maryam. You like that…
“And you are going to fucking love when I eat your cunt. Get up, virgin.”
I grabbed her hair again and pulled her up, facing away from the bed. Her body followed; she was so light I wasn’t sure if I had lifted her entirely myself or whether she stood up. I let go of her hair… and shoved her onto the bed by her shoulders. She tumbled back, her exposed ass landing on the bed a foot away from the edge, her knees still hanging off it. I walked toward her, smirking, unbuttoning a few buttons on my shirt and undoing my belt, throwing it near the bed, bearing down on her like a predator.
I pulled her shoes off, letting them fall to my sides. I grabbed her panties and jeans at her knees, lifting her ass in the air and pulling her closer to the edge of the bed, then slid them down her legs and tossed them aside. She was naked from the waist down, her wet cunt glistening between her clenched thighs, her arms still in the mess of her ripped shirt and bra straps, her nipples firm and pointing at me.
In one motion I separated her thighs, got on my knees at the edge of the bed, and pulled her hips to my mouth. My tongue dived into her cunt. Probing her pusssy deeply, hungrily consuming her… but mostly paying attention to that poor, ignored little clit of hers. Lashing it, licking underneath it. Flicking it, reaching on top of it with my fingers to press in, to pull her lips up, slowly increasing my pace and pressure on it. “That cunt tastes so good, Maryam. And I know my cock is going to agree.”
I focused my tongue on her clit and soon brought my right arm under her thigh. I dipped one finger into her… slowly… and I felt her carefully-preserved hymen, my prize for waiting all these months. I put another finger into her, putting the slightest pressure on her walls, stretching her just a little bit for me, still licking her clit and tasting her perfect pussy…
I brought my left hand under her thigh and back on top of her, reaching up to put it at her throat, pinning her to the bed as I watched her feel like she never had, hearing her moans find a rhythm, getting louder with each breath. She started to tense up under me, coming close, starting to shake. “That’s right, Maryam. Come for me. I won’t last long in you, not this time, and it will hurt. So come for me now, virgin.”
Her hands went down to my head, grabbing my hair, pulling me into her as my fingers went just a bit deeper, my tongue just a bit faster. I separated from her. “Come for me, virgin,” I growled. “Before I make you mine.”
And… she erupted. Shaking, yelping, her back bending violently, pushing her cunt into me, then into the bed, arching and spasming, her eyes clenched, her mouth open… I leaned into her cunt and didn’t stop, listening to her as the release for which she waited so long finally washed over her… she let out a long, loud note as she quaked and held my head to her…. And then she gradually released her grip from me.
I separated my head from her and smirked as I watched her spasms diminish. The view up her body was gorgeous, and her shakes accentuated her soft lines, her taut breasts, the firmness of her body.
I rose to my feet, still admiring her, still smirking. I methodically finished unbuttoning my shirt and took it off. She opened her eyes as I stepped out of my shoes, then my pants. She was looking at me, and when she realized what I was doing she craned her neck to see the bulge in my underwear. I pulled them off, my stiff cock bouncing out of them as I stepped free. “Now, Maryam. Finally. You’re mine. Get up.”
I took her hand in mine and pulled her up to her feet. I turned her around by the shoulders, making her face the bed. I removed her ripped shirt, then briefly debated how to remove her bra — rip, unclasp, or up and over? Up and over. Standing behind her, I drifted my fingertips from the base of her neck to her ass, and back up, making her shudder again. I shuddered, too. I grabbed the back of her neck with my right hand and the front of her hip with my left… then I folded her at the hip, forcing her face into the bed.
“I need you, Maryam. I’m not going to go easy on you. If you need to scream, scream into the bed. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I let go of her neck, leaving just my left hand around her hip, using my right to carefully guide my cock to her, just barely making contact with her lips. Struggling to control myself, I pushed in less than half an inch, just placing the tip of my cock at her entrance firmly enough to stay there. I bent over her. “Are you ready for me, Maryam?” She nodded into the bed; I felt her body tense. I chuckled into her ear as I straightened my back, putting both my hands on her hips.
“No, Maryam. You’re not ready. But that doesn’t matter to me now.”
I looked down. Her long black hair fell on each side of her head; her face was already submerged in the mattress. Her skinny arms reached out in front of her. Her narrow shoulders, narrower waist, the curve of her spine. My hands on her incredible hips. I could feel her warmth on my tip…
And the time required to take that in… that was precisely as long as I was able to control myself.
I lifted my right hand from her hip, high in the air in front of me… and I spanked her in the fleshiest part of her left ass cheek. Hard, holding my hand into her skin after the strike. She yelped into the bed and clenched, but I held her to me. This would not be a spanking session. I would not put her over my knee, I would not even spank her again; I needed to fuck her, and now. But she needed to be reminded — right now.
She shouldn’t have made me wait so long.
I put my hand back on her hip, tightening my grip… and swiftly buried myself in her, gliding easily and feeling her stretch, feeling the bump as I pushed directly through her hymen. Pushing up into where she’d never been touched, let alone filled like this. She yelped, only a few decibels escaping from the bed. I knew I would make her come from fucking — obviously not now, not this time; she was mine now — and I momentarily imagined what it would be like when she’s actually ready for me. But my imagination wasn’t going far. I was right where I wanted to be… and I held there, forcing her hips back into me even harder… groaning in my satisfaction at how tight she was… watching her back tense, her arms splay. I knew she was wincing from pain, and yet and feeling pleasure and relief at the same time.
Being that deep in her… Feeling the stretched depth of her cunt, knowing that this gift was mine and only mine, that not even Maryam had touched herself where my thick cock was now plunged… These thoughts had the simultaneous effect of tightening my grip on her hips and loosening my grip on myself.
I began fucking her.
Hard.
Impaling her pussy on my cock, pulling her little body onto me… I was more than twice her size; when I pulled us together, she moved. I didn’t. It made her whole body sway violently into me, dragged her face up and down the bed. Still, she pushed her face into the bed, making garbled sounds of pain and lust. Finally, she had the good sense to support herself on her forearms, her head still facing the bed. I continued fucking her… but when I looked down and saw the faint blood on my shaft as it partially emerged from her cunt, I let out a deep growl, stopping again to hold myself inside her as deep as I possibly could. I saw her neck crane, her head tilt up, and she let out a long gasp… a second later her arm shot out to grab a pillow. She pulled it under her and buried her face in the pillow, clenching her forearms around it. I knew she was gritting through this, yet I had no problem with that. She would be fine, and I knew she wanted to give this to me, to see exactly what effect she had been having on me all this time, to learn what desire she evoked in a man. I was so consumed by the feel of her that these thoughts scarcely lasted a second.
I resumed fucking her. I found my rhythm, found her angles, felt her ass smacking into my middle… somehow, I had stretched her enough to go even deeper, to feel her depth accommodating me, to bottom out. Her narrow fingers clenched the pillow. I grabbed her so hard that I knew the skin at her hip bones would be bruised. I was fucking her so hard that I knew her sit bones would hurt when she sat… even without spanking her there. Her cunt would feel me for days, but I wanted her to feel me in her bones… and she would. I grinned as I pounded her… she really shouldn’t have made me wait so long.
Her head twisted around to the side. She didn’t look at me; her eyes were still closed, and I realized that she was listening to me: I had started to rumble, a groan under my breath, like a bear waking up… a grunt with the rhythm of how I fucked her… I was close. I bent over her a little, still fucking her, but not as primally. I spoke. Hoarse, ragged. “I’m… going to come in you, Maryam. Deep in you… Now. You are… too good.”
I straightened up again, fucking her… watching her little body as I took on that crushing grip on her hips, that merciless pace and depth again, pushing her away from me and then ramming into her, my growls growing louder with each thrust…
After maybe ten more pumps of this, I held my cock deep inside of her, hurting her inside and smashing her hips and ass into me, coming in wave after wave as I emptied myself into her pussy… and I roared. I mean that. When I come hard — and I came very hard when I fucked her — I roar. She screamed into the pillow. My roar eclipsed it, but I heard her high note above my lower ones… and only then did I wonder whether she had been screaming into the pillow the whole time. It was entirely possible. I stood behind her amazing body for a few seconds, calming down, shuddering violently, my cock still inside her, my hands involuntarily still pulling her into me…
I leaned forward over her back, my lips finding her face, kissing her cheek just in front of her ear. She turned her face from the pillow toward me, and I kissed her lips, parting them as my sweaty chest slickened her back and stuck to it, as my hands reached up her arms to find her hands… still inside her, I pushed her forward on the bed, taking her off her feet and landing my weight on top of her… both of us broke the kiss to catch our breaths, and then immediately found each other again. Her eyes were still closed.
After more kisses, I whispered into her ear again, knowing that she would feel my smile against her skin, my hot breath. “Are you ok, Maryam? I couldn’t stop myself… I needed that. I needed you… are you ok?”
She shuffled her shoulders, snuggling into me, her eyes still closed. She winced a little, feeling the changes inside her body as she moved, as my cock softened inside her. She opened her eyes, looking through her hair into my eyes. She smiled. And nodded.
“Yes… Yes, Sir.”
“Good. I’m glad, Maryam. Relieved, actually…
“You really shouldn’t have made me wait so long.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6mk1be/she_shouldnt_have_made_me_wait_so_long