The beep of each passing floor is the only sound that cuts through the silence inside this elevator. Not a word since leaving the bar. Nothing needs to be said. We both know what comes next, and we’ve talked about it for what seems like months of torture. Nerves and tension and lust and excitement all rolled into our alternating glances at each other and our anxious gazes at the illuminated numbers above the door. It takes every ounce of control for me not to take you right here. I could easily lift this dress, but I tell myself, “I’ve waited 12 weeks…what’s 12 more floors?”
Your hand squeezes mine. You look up from your strappy heels and flash me a nervous smile, a cute nose scrunch and two flutters of your eyes. I squeeze back, release your hand, then grip your ass for the first time. The next 45 seconds of our ascent might as well be an hour. My head is foggy. Tunnel vision. Tunnel thoughts. We’re both drunk on something and stumbling toward the only thing we both need.
The first sound to snap each of us out of this haze is the click and beep of the hotel room door opening. Something about that noise makes this suddenly feel very real. With my hand on your back, you push through the door and a dim light spills out into the hallway. You have all of 5 seconds to take in the details of the room—the bed, the shower, the couch, the carpet, the desk— all the surfaces we are about to become intimately familiar with over the next few hours.
Then you feel me press against you, my weight carrying us into the wall as you turn to face me. Any chance of spoken words is immediately lost as our lips crash into each other. I don’t know how long it took me to take my first breath, but I remember the sound of both of us gasping when we finally pulled away. I pause and stare, taking in this fantasy, and I wonder if the look in my eyes is as full of lust as yours.
Spinning you around to face the wall, my mouth finds your neck. My hands roam all over you, trying to learn every curve that until now, only my eyes have known. I press you more firmly into the wall. You push your ass back into me and flash a wicked grin over your shoulder as you feel my cock already hard inside my pants. I slip one hand under the hem of your dress and immediately feel how badly you need this and how wet you’ve been from the anticipation of the past hour. With my free hand, I raise the dress above your head and toss it to the floor.
—————————
[Skip down to the 🔥——-🔥 if you don’t like a long tease]
One hour earlier:
I arrive at the bar a few minutes early. The place is packed but somehow I manage to slip into a corner table high enough to see out across the crowd. Twenty and thirty-somethings fill this place, and I can’t help but be drawn into the different hopeful storylines unfolding across the room. In a place where very little can be heard above the music and the noise of the crowd, it’s fascinating—almost erotic—to watch body language begin to speak the things where words might fail. Old fashioned in hand, I wait and watch.
She barely hears his joke but still laughs, brushes her hair back and playfully touches his forearm. Another man calls out his drink order, puffs up his chest and strikes his best alpha pose behind a group of women he’s been eyeing for the past 10 minutes. A woman gives a lingering glance in a man’s direction only to coyly look down when his eyes find hers. She tucks her hair behind her ear and pretends to be interested in what her friends are saying. There’s this palpable yet unspoken sense of seduction beneath the surface here, where eyes talk and intentions become clear with gazes held too long.
I get so caught up in each of these little stories that I don’t see you enter. But almost immediately I see the effect that your entrance has caused. There’s a very subtle drop in the volume of voices around the door, and then some type of gravity pulls a number of wandering eyes in that direction. It’s like a ripple across several men around the room, each one’s head prompting the next one to turn. Before you even have time to realize it, you’ve literally become the center of attention. A slightly nervous but equally excited smirk spreads across your face. You lock your eyes on the bar and confidently make your move.
Not surprisingly, you seem to be collecting pairs of eyes as you make your way across the room. With each sway of your hips, a new man’s head turns away from whatever was doing an inferior job of holding his attention. I count at least 10 sets of eyes fixated on that movement below your waist. Mine make 11.
Not in my most vivid fantasies could I have imagined the details of how sexy your walk would look. Like every other sucker in this room, I’m in a trance. The fabric flows from each side of your ass with every confident step. There’s a slight flirty twist in your hips, and your eyes stay confidently fixed ahead of you.
You settle into the bar, undoubtedly aware of the attention you draw, but you don’t seem phased by it…at least not outwardly. A woman with less confidence would bury her face in her phone. But you don’t. You slowly scan the bar, observe the lively, attractive crowd, and catch the bartender’s attention.
He pours your wine as you sit upright. Back arched, chest slightly forward. I can’t look away from the most seductive silhouette backlit by the glow from the bar. I snap the first mental image of many to come from tonight.
We’ve planned this for weeks. Built the tension for months. Described everything we want and need from each other. Now we’re just feet apart and somehow I’m still able to restrain myself and watch you from afar for just a few minutes longer. Maybe it’s because I’ve been conditioned to know you with only my eyes and ears but not my hands. Maybe it’s because you still exist in this perfect state of mystery. I want so badly to touch you but wonder if that would destroy the fantasy. Would touching you cause every possible outcome and each constructed fantasy to instantly collapse into one position that doesn’t live up to the hype. I slow my thoughts, sip my drink and remember each dirty fantasy you’ve shared with me.
Perhaps from a mixture of nerves and excitement, it’s as if your body is pulled into this silent conversation that’s already taking place across the room. You lightly place a single finger against your collarbone and mindlessly trace it toward your shoulder. Then it slowly moves up your neck. As if you’re conducting a symphony, 3 pairs of eyes follow your hand. I’ve never seen someone so gracefully control so many people at once. I feel bad for them but then I realize I’m equally as caught up in it. None of us helpless fools can look away. You toss your hair, tuck a couple strands behind your ear, and sip your wine.
We both know what’s coming next. The attention is building around you, and you’ve seen the familiar signs. Before he even moves, we know exactly what’s happening to the man on your right. He strains his eyes, looking as far into his peripheral vision as possible, hoping to steal a subtle glance at you. His mind races to come up with the perfectly inadequate line for the most beautiful woman in this bar. He turns to deliver his opener, catches a full glimpse of you and gives up almost immediately.
The man to your left is less discreet. This guy fucks. Or that’s what he tells himself. He shifts in his chair to face you. He compliments your dress. You thank him. He offers to buy you a drink. You continue looking straight ahead and sip the full glass the bartender just placed in front if you. He asks how your day has been. It’s been fine. His realization sinks in. The slump in his shoulders is the cue for the next man to step in.
You repeat this familiar dance at least 3 more times with the same perfect balance of flattery, distance, and genuine appreciation. And each time…each time a compliment is given…I notice you repeat the same dead giveaway. Finger. Collarbone. Neck. Hair. I see it now.
You get off on this.
Theres an almost imperceptible flare in your eye that tells that me that deep down you are very turned on by this attention. I wonder to myself if the dry responses you give to your suitors are only compensating for the wetness between your legs. Either way, I’ll know soon enough.
You shift in your seat and scan the room once again. I watch another man building his courage to approach you. He questions his steps several times before the momentum carries him toward you. His eyes catch yours and he looks down and walks past you, promising himself he’ll try again later.
I’m amazed at how innocently efficient you’ve become at communicating a “thank you” and a “move along” in the same interaction. No doubt it’s something you have to do often, and you’ve learned the art of being direct while showing a small gesture of appreciation. I see at once how you can excite men, make them nervous, calm them, and shatter their fantasies all with the same smile. And I realize you have the same effect on me, just hopefully not that last part.
You settle into your seat and scan the room again, even checking over your shoulder twice. Don’t worry. I’m here. Just a few more minutes. I’m savoring these last moments of anticipation. You cross your legs, and your dress moves higher. Three more inches of your thigh just entered the unspoken conversation of this room. And I know there’s nothing underneath.
My eyes start to focus on this thing that has become a small obsession of mine — the boundary between where the fabric on your clothing ends and your skin begins. Recently, my thoughts have become fixated on this line. It could be a tiny strap on your shoulder or the edge of your skirt riding dangerously high on your thigh. Could be a low V on your chest, inviting my eyes downward or a tiny V above your ass. Doesn’t matter. This edge between flesh and fabric, exposure and modesty, it represents every fantasy I have about us. It’s the line between wanting you and having you. And as I watch each of these edges slowly move along your skin tonight, I become even more aware of how soon we’ll be crossing this line and how badly I need there to be nothing else separating your body from my eyes.
You sip twice from your glass, and I can’t help but fixate on your lips. The color is softer than red but more seductive than pink. And that same color has been left on your wine glass, as if you’ve marked it as yours. The man to your right notices it too. My mind races to all the things that might be stained with that color come morning.
Since you entered the bar, you’ve been in a constant state of anticipation. Anticipating glances. Anticipating compliments. Anticipating all sorts of advances. But the one thing that you weren’t anticipating—-a touch. A touch from a firm, confident hand. (Ok, there’s a slight tremble in my confident hand, but I’m trying to hide it). Not one other person has dared to cross that line tonight and I instantly understand why. A sense of slight panic and intense relief hits me and then you. You’ve never felt this hand, but you immediately know whose it is. Never has a foreign touch been more familiar. I see your eyes close for a few seconds longer than a blink, and I feel you inhale and exhale deeply.
Your eyes open but you don’t turn.
At once, all the eyes are back on you. Then on me. Then on you. They all know you by now. But who the fuck is this new guy. “Good luck buddy,” they probably say. It’s as if everyone in this room has been wanting to know how your story will unfold tonight and now I’m in the heat of your spotlight.
I lean into your ear, my chin lightly brushing your hair. “You look beautiful tonight.” I feel you exhale again, and your shoulders relax. Although you still haven’t turned to face me, I see your mouth soften into a smile. My hand slides across your back as the other one rests on your hip. I lean into your other ear, “The drink is paid for. Come with me.”
I take your hand and we move silently through the crowd toward the elevators.
🔥————————-🔥
It’s hard for me to believe that I finally have you naked in front of me. As you press into me, your breathing feels heavy and fast. We share a calming breath before I hook both of your knees, lift you, and turn us around to move to the bed. A playful giggle is the first sound I’ve heard you make, and before it even stops, you’ve come crashing into the bed. I crawl my way up from the edge, my hands walking their way up each of your legs. My lips follow my hands, tasting your thighs as I inch my way up. Your legs instinctively spread themselves for me, inviting me closer to do the only thing that’s on either of our minds.
My lips run out of thigh to kiss and there’s only one place left for them to go. I pause to look up at you and am met with a face of pure desperation and submission. Warm breath touches your lips as one of my fingers traces a little spot of wetness that has started to drip out of you. Bringing that finger to my lips, I taste you for the first time, never breaking eye contact. You squirm beneath me but my hands firmly press your hips back down into the mattress.
“I’m in control right now. Understand? You’ll cum. Hard. But only when I decide it’s time.”
You nod approval as I lower my face between your thighs.
As my lips finally touch yours, I watch your eyes close, your head drift back, and your mouth slip open. Each light kiss makes you want a little more. After about 20 of them, each in a slightly new and unpredictable spot, you are becoming visibly flustered. Your fingers have started to gather handfuls of sheets and your toes are curled in on themselves. You feel yourself drifting closer and closer toward that edge, mind going more and more blank with each breath. When you least expect it, a firm tongue slides the full length of your lips, and the shudder I feel from your whole body is one I’ll never forget. I start making the longest, slowest strokes of my tongue up and down. Up and down your lips. You’ve clearly slipped into a rhythm of focusing on your own pleasure, and your hips slowly move in time with my mouth. They raise to meet my tongue and then gently ride down with it.
The pace of your breathing has continued to get faster, and for the first time time I feel your hand begin to press against the back of my head. I stop. Your eyes shoot open. I look back at you, shake my head no, and wait for your hand to go back to your side. You’re learning now. Once your eyes drift closed, I slide both of my hands under your ass. Now you’ll get more of what you need. A firm grip on each cheek, I pull myself into you, giving your soaked pussy all of the pressure you need from my lips. Slightly parted now, you feel my lips surround you and a tongue now firmly against your clit. Wave after wave it gives your clit the massage it’s been craving since you first sat down at the bar. You feel a slight suction from my lips, encouraging it to come out just a little more. And with each pass of my tongue, it swells more and more.
At this point you’ve lost conscious control of your legs. They keep trying to squeeze me in tighter and eventually both of your ankles are locked behind my back. Desperate to cum, you’re completely spread for me, begging me to bury myself in you, aware of nothing but your need to get off. I see the desperation on your face. Another silent scream escapes your open mouth. Eyes clenched tight. Hands just as tight. One on your tit. The other in my hair. A moan. Then a gasp. You continue to ride with my face. Short. Staggered. Breaths. I look up at you again.
“Tell me what you need.”
Your lips part but I hear nothing.
“You’ll have to speak up.”
A soft whisper and a pleading look this time. I run my tongue slowly along your pussy again. You take a deep breath, try to compose yourself and breathlessly whisper “pleeeease.”
“Please what?”
“Please. I’m so close”
“Tell me. Tell me what you need.”
You bite your lip and struggle to take one last half breath. Your body is coiled so tightly at this point, you’re barely able to move. Each muscle is on the verge of a spasm. You’re clenched so tightly, ready to fall over this cliff.
“Fuck. Make me cum. Please. Make me cum now. Fucking make me cum. God please now. And then do whatever you want to me!”
With that, my face dives back down into you and my tongue hungrily takes your writhing pussy. My hands pull your ass in tighter and I feel the first bolt shoot through your body. Everything shudders at once. You gasp, then moan, then let out an expletive that’s cut short by a lack of breath. Although your body jerks so hard, I don’t let you break contact from my mouth. You’re gonna ride this thing out on my face.
My tongue doesn’t let up and a new sensation hits you. A finger pressed against your asshole immediately causes your body to shudder for the second time. You don’t know if you’d rather press harder into my hand or into my face, but both sensations have you screaming for more. You buck once again and I just now realize how soaked my face has gotten. The sloppy sounds coming from down here are drowned out by the screams that you’ve started making.
Both of your hands have a death grip on the back of my head and after you say the word “please” for the tenth time, I feel your body slowly starting to unwind. Everything finally starts to move slow again, and we spend the next five minutes coming down from this high, my mouth gently bringing you back down. Your shallow breaths become deeper and deeper and your limbs gradually allow themselves to relax. The last things to release are the 8 fingernails that have been digging into the back of my neck.
I watch as your eyes slowly come back to reality. You smile and take one last deep breath. I crawl up your body and kiss you. Lips. Forehead. Then lips again. You smirk at me and whisper “Hi. Whatever you want to do to me”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ox419v/the_longer_we_wait_the_harder_we_fuck_two