They had been driving all day. And the forecast for the next three days was “more of the same”.
He was hoping to make it to the next major town, but they had run into traffic a couple times too many, and he was tired of driving. There was no way he’d make it another two hours without falling asleep at the wheel. There was a small town a few miles ahead, and then nothing but fields and cows for at least another hour. They’d have to make do with what they had: “Exit 341 Pleasantdale 1/2 mile” the sign said.
“Pleasantdale it is” they agreed, as he pulled off the interstate and she asked the GPS to lead them to a hotel. Not many choices, again. Only one hotel. It was going to have to make do. After all, their stop was but a small town of 4000 souls. Probably a truck stop more than anything else.
And yet, as they drove through the empty roads, the town had an uncanny quality to it. It was far too perfect. Nobody walked the roads, and yet they were clean to a fault. Not a single pothole. Town Hall was beautiful, majestic, as if its inhabitants ruled over a wealthy land and not a minuscule town in the middle of nowhere. The grass was mowed to perfection. Even the windows of the shops were a joy to look at, bright, full of colors, of options for everyone to enjoy. No matter their taste, everybody would be able to find their ounce of delight in Pleasantdale. Except, there was nobody to reap the fruits of all that. Who swept the streets? Who repaired the roads? Who kept the grass clean and lush and proper? Who enjoyed all this perfect beauty?
She made a mental note to ask the hotel keeper as they made their way through the door. “One room. Two beds” he asked. “Room 217. Up the stairs to the left” the old man said. He seemed incredibly curt, eager to return to whatever he was doing in his office. “No smoking no pets” he made sure to mention, as his back was already turned to the couple. She wasn’t going to get a chance to ask after all. No problem, they would go eat, she’d ask the waiter at the restaurant.
That plan, however, wasn’t going to work either. The waiter at the only diner open after 6pm was as curt as the hotel keeper. Did they just not like people from out of town? Did they all have a big secret to keep? Imagination can run wild sometimes. She enjoyed reading mystery novels, and it was all coming back to haunt her.
Pleasantdale was either a secret government base where genetic experiments are conducted, or the mafia used it as a place to harvest organs from truck drivers, or the people were just – gasp – vampires! But, no, how would vampires stay up in the sun during the day? Impossible.
As they made their way to the room she asked if he minded moving the beds next to each other. “This place makes me uncomfortable, I could use it” she told him. He agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly. He shook his head, smiled at her, and said “yeah sure”.
He fell asleep quickly. She didn’t. Every noise, every creak, even the wind blowing and the owls hooting, everything terrified her. “They are coming for me” she thought, her overactive imagination in overdrive.
She turned around, and hugged him. Snuggled tight to him. He let out a sigh. His arm flailed around, a bit helplessly at first, but then it reached the target he had intended. It found his way to her breast. His hand cupped her tit, squeezing it gently. “Mmm” he moaned contented.
She wasn’t expecting it. She jolted. What was she to do? Move his hand away? Recoil from the embrace? Somehow, in the fear of the unknown monsters of Pleasantdale, the choice seemed less obvious. He started caressing, his fingers stimulating her nipple, rubbing it against the smooth fabric of her gown. She was enjoying the sensation. Much to her dismay. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she couldn’t help it. He felt secure. And now he was giving her these tiny sparks of pleasure. His touch was exactly what she needed, what she wanted. She decided there would be no real harm in letting it happen. He was asleep. It’s not like he meant it to her. He was probably dreaming. He’d stop soon. She was just in for a brief ride.
His touch became more intense, as if he was hungry for it. Even in his sleep, he found his way under her gown, now cupping her naked breast, feeling her soft tender skin, her erect nipple, with no boundary. She wasn’t expecting it. Her heart was beating faster, she felt warm in all the wrong places. How could this be? It was wrong. And yet she didn’t have the willpower to stop it. He was rubbing her nipple against the palm of his hand, pinching it. No, he was clearly not asleep. He was awake, and he knew perfectly what he was doing.
How long had he wanted her? How had she never noticed? Had she encouraged it? “Well, I certainly am now” she thought to herself, as she kept herself still, offered herself to his touch, not even a word coming out of her mouth. She was frozen. With disbelief. And yet she was warm. And tingly. She wanted more, but hated that she did. “Oh god” she whispered as his hand wandered down. Down to her belly. And below. She had no underwear. And he was quick in making his way to her thighs. He found them closed. In a last desperate attempt at resisting what they both wanted. He didn’t betray his cover of sleep. They both knew it was a lie. They both knew themselves awake. But that fake sleep was the plausible deniability they both needed.
His hand turned around, found her ass. It was soft. Plump. He cupped a cheek. Pulled her closer. Close enough that she could feel his breath. That he could taste her mouth without even touching it. And that she could feel him hard, ready, willing. That she could feel his desire. Because, yes, he desired. He desired her. He waited a moment. And tried again. Her thighs not closed anymore. She had surrendered. She was ready to be conquered, like an enemy town after a long siege.
And conquer he did. His fingers reached deep inside of her. Soaked her warm wetness. Pushed as she tightened. He felt every inch of her, and she allowed herself to moan, loudly, liberally, with abandon. He was, of course, asleep, and wouldn’t hear any of it. But had he been awake, it would have been a symphony of “mmm aaah ooh ahh ooh yes aah”. A symphony for one listener with one instrument.
He was ready for her. And she was ready for him. He positioned himself. But as his tip brushed against her, she felt the need to let him know. “I have never..” she started, before being interrupted by his words “it’s ok” and his erect cock gently pushing inside of her, the first to own her completely. His words had broken the spell of sleep. This was no dream anymore. No accident. This was willful sex between a man and a woman. Forbidden in all kinds of ways, but willful. He was on top of her, thrusting, gently, letting her feel his hard manhood. She could feel him throb, hard and warm against her tight walls. She had always expected it to be painful, and in a way it was, but the pain did nothing except give her more pleasure, more desire.
He looked at her, in his eyes a question. She didn’t know how, but she knew and understood. And her own eyes answered, “yes”. “Yes, fuck me harder” her eyes said. He did. He kissed her. Licked her neck. Kissed her some more. And kept thrusting inside of her. His pace faster. His strokes deeper. His hips pushing harder into hers. Her pain mixed with pleasure. She held tight onto him, her legs wrapped, and teared up at what has happening. It was an incredible mix of emotions: the lust, the guilt, the pain, the pleasure. A whirlwind of everything, until everything became but one thing, as her whole body tensed up, her hips spasmed, then froze in place, and with a sigh she had come. Her first orgasm from sexual intercourse, forever one of her most intense memories.
He pulled out, and she heard him walk to the bathroom. He probably made himself cum, but that she didn’t hear, for she ended up falling asleep in a matter of seconds.
The next morning, the sun was shining as they walked out of the room. She was happy to leave that town, even though a piece of her heart would forever stay there, in the hotel room where she lost her virginity. They didn’t talk for a while, until she broke the silence and asked him, “Dad, where are we stopping for lunch?”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/as3dfc/mf_cons_caution_pleasantdale