Mutually Assured Destruction (mf) (piv) (hint of MDom)

Once, I believed hotels were shrouded in mystery. I oft recall the early morning drive home from work. Along my drive was a hotel and a simple past time was sitting at the light across the way and while waiting for the light to change, making up stories to go with the illuminated windows that flecked the otherwise dark exterior. I mean, why else would a light be on at 4:45am?

Then, I became a hotel dweller. The mystique disappears. Hotels have an aesthetic about them: quiet hallways, empty drawers and closets, generic art on the walls. It’s not home, it’s temporary. Here, you have no past and no future. What happens in these walls stays in these walls and you go on about your life.

Tuesday afternoon. Rainy. It almost never rains in the desert, but when it does, it transforms the cities. Everything gets that blurred, soft feel to it. Suddenly the world is a little calmer.

My heels clicked on the marble floor as I crossed the hotel lobby. 2915. Nobody noticed me. Why should they? The elevator doors closed and I waited as it made it’s ascension. My heart began to race, blood thrumming in my veins. Nerves were starting to get the best of me.

Finally, floor 29.
I stepped out, oriented myself and began to walk down the corridor. No marble up here; thick plush carpets on the floor. Pervasive quiet settling like thick cotton in my ears.

2907…

2910…

2913…

Ah, 2915.

I didn’t have a key.

I knocked.

The door opened and he grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me into the room. I did not have a chance to reorient myself because as the door swung shut behind me, he pinned me up against it. His hand circled my throat, squeezing lightly. A gasp left my lips and before I could speak, his lips were on mine. He stole my breath, greedily kissing me like I was the sweetest fruit he had ever tasted. I warmed against him, melting into him. My bag dropped from my arm to the floor with a small thud, but it felt worlds away.

Finally he pulled me out of my reverie with his lips against the shell of my ear, “take your jacket off.” He stepped back from me and my usually deft fingers fumbled to untie the knot at my waist. I held his gaze while I untied the sash and opened the jacket, revealing the burgundy dress underneath.

In a flash, the present is lost to me….

*”My boyfriend says red isn’t my color. What do you think?” I hit send on the text, smiling as I did.*

*”It’s gorgeous. You’d look sexy as ever in it.”*

*”I’ll wear it for you. With a red lip….” I had sent back…*

Presently, his hand cupped my face and he kissed me, his other hand sliding down my front. I braced my hand against his chest, tracing my tongue along his bottom lip. His hand slipped under the lace trim at the middle of my thighs and he dragged his fingers up my thighs agonizingly slow. I growled against his mouth and moved my hand to push his between my thighs but he dropped his hand from my face, catching it.

“Uh uh” he smirked against my lips.

I opened my eyes, narrowing them as they met his. Then, he quoted me, to me: “Use me like your pretty fuck toy but don’t break me… Let me keep some of my sass, my unpredictability. Make me desperate: make me moan, make me beg you to cum…. I know you can.”

I groaned and his smirk actually reached his eyes, “I knew it would sound familiar.” He reveled in holding me here, my legs quivering, my pulse racing. His fingers were agonizingly warm against my skin.

My thighs parted with a whisper; “Please…” I dropped my gaze, “Please touch me.”

He leaned in, his lips so fucking close to my ear, his warm breath somehow flecking gooseflesh up the back of my neck, “as you wish.”

He didn’t make me wait; his fingers dipped into my sex. He swirled his thumb on my clit while two fingers thrust into me. His fingers were as talented as his tongue was. Where he used his tongue to verbally delight me with his snark, wit, and charm, his fingers coaxed moans from me in ways others had not. Where others would have needed two hands to rub my clit and finger fuck me, he did it with one hand. He curled his fingers into me, plumbing my aching cunt while he circled my clit with his thumb, drawing me ever closer. My focus began to slip, my mouth in a perpetually delighted O. My legs quivered, knees ready to buckle at any given moment. Right before I gave myself over to orgasm, however, he stopped.

My moan turned into a frustrated whine. I stared into his eyes, and saw myself reflected in them. I was wonton, desperate, the slut he knew I was and he hadn’t even fucked me yet. He looked like the cheshire cat as he took a step back from me and raised his fingers to his mouth. Intentionally slow, he sucked on them, moaning as he did. His eyes closed momentarily and when they reopened, I could see the lust he usually hid so well in our swapped selfies.

He rubbed the fingers along my lips, his thumb tracing my cupid’s bow while his index and middle threatened to fuck my mouth as he had my cunt. “Go on doll, taste yourself.” His voice was low, a jaguar dipped in silk.

I held his gaze and flicked my tongue out, enveloping the borderline intrusive digits. An almost purr came from me. Slightly salty, a little musky. Hint of citrus. Tasting my cunt on him was intoxicating. I couldn’t wait to taste myself on his cock and moaned again.

Lust was infectious: he pulled his hand, now slick with my saliva, from me and turned towards the bed. I paused to take my shoes off, but he glanced over his shoulder, “Leave those on. The dress can go, though.”

I pulled the dress off, standing exposed as he walked towards the bed. He turned around and curled his finger into a come hither motion. I crossed my arms over my ample chest and closed the distance between us.

“C’mon,” he purred into my ear, “let me see you. You’re gorgeous you know.”

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, reluctant. I had always had issues with my body. I had expressed this to him before, but he showed no disdain for my voluptuous figure. With a soft huff, I dropped my tattoo’d arms to my sides. My hands balled into fists automatically and I forced myself to flex my fingertips while he drank me in.

In the warm light of the room, I knew I was pale. Full legs, thick thighs… He visibly feasted on my curves. I was by no means tiny, but I wasn’t huge either. Years of diets, working out and a love of tacos and margaritas left me with the outline of who I could be if I indulged less and worked out more.

He reached a hand out, squeezing my breast momentarily and then tweaking my nipple between his fingers. A soft sigh dripped from my lips and moved my hand to grope his cock through his pants. He kissed me passionately, his other hand going to the back of my neck. He kissed me breathless, lips feeling bruised. In this moment, there was only us. But we weren’t in love by any means. He was married. I was in a relationship.

People stray for many reasons. He does whatever the fuck he wants because his wife pays him no mind. The most secure relationship in the world, I guess. I met her once. She’s absolutely stunning. I had known about his extra curriculars and sworn I would never become one. Yet, here I stood, naked as the day I was born but with none of the innocence.

I deftly unbuttoned his pants, unzipped them and rubbed my palm over his rock hard cock. I broke our kiss to drop to my knees in front of him. He took my hair in both hands and I licked along the head of his cock. His moans enticed me. I wanted him to murmur my name and I always get what I want.

I cradled his balls in one hand and took his length in my mouth. I licked and sucked, wrapped my tongue around his cockhead. His moans were low, almost growls. His hands in my hair held me still and he thrust his hips slowly. My lipstick was smudged on his cock now, mingling with my saliva. His thrusts stilled and he stepped away. I wiped my mouth on my forearm, staining my tattoo pink. I stood on doe legs, aroused as all could be. His gaze was overcome with lust and I knew what would happen next.

“Lay on the bed,” the words were stern, a little more than a whisper.

“Face up or down?” I mused, running a hand through disheveled red hair.

“Mmm,” he grinned, “face down.”

I carefully removed my shoes and laid on the bed, arms crossed and head resting on my forearms. I felt the bed shift as he climbed on the bed behind me.

He dragged a finger down the curve of my spine, drawing gooseflesh in his wake. My nipples hardened and the hairs on the back oh my neck stood up. I gasped at the sudden chill that racked it’s way through my body and pushed myself on to my forearms. I shifted from upward facing dog back, my bum on the heels of my feet. My arms outstretched in front of me. I shifted and he kissed along my shoulders as he moved behind me. His cock pressed against my backside and together we moved until he was able to press it into my aching, wet cunt.

I recalled how I once swore I would never end up here. Funny how promises to oneself change. “I’m sorry I judged you before I knew you.” The words hung in the air before me, an interesting choice in last words, honest as they were.

He smirked against my shoulder and thrust into me making me moan. “I told you,” he wrapped his hand in my hair, his lips coming to my ear, “it always benefits me greatly.”

Sex with someone new is usually difficult the first time. The rhythm usually staccato, mismatched. A cacophony. But somehow we figured it out. Maybe it was because we had months of talking about it. We had teased each other mercilessly with only the promise of mutually assured destruction to keep us cordial. We hung by our bellies like sparrows, his hand leaving my hair and curled around my neck.

My moans became more desperate. I called out his name, my exclamation arousing me further. My fingers, once curled into the sheets, were rubbing my aching clit. “Please! Please!” I managed, pulling my aching fingers from my sopping cunt.

“Get on your back!” He hissed.

My curls were plastered to my cheeks. I couldn’t help but remember comments made months prior, *bet you can’t sweat my curls out…* The words seemed to haunt me now.

I rolled on my back and he parted my thighs. Instead of fucking me, however, he curled two fingers in me again and his lips dropped to my sweet, sensitive bud. I cried out, my legs shaking as they rested on his broad shoulders. “I’m going to cum! Fuck!” My fingers knotted in his hair with one hand, the other teasing my nipple.

“Then cum, princess.” He lifted his head our gazes meeting momentarily before he resumed feasting on my cunt.

The orgasm washed over me, radiating from my core to my toes and fingers. I gasped, shivering as he continued to feast. He groaned softly as he lapped at the gush from my center. Slowly he withdrew his fingers, smearing my wetness along the tops of my breasts before he pushed his fingers into my mouth. I moaned, my breath hitching when he began to fuck me again.

This time, there was no modesty, no hiding while he took me again and again. We stared into the other’s eyes, his gaze intense as he fucked me just as much with his eyes as he was his cock. I told him “make me desperate, make me want.” He was holding true to his word that he would.

He withdrew his fingers from between my lips and dropped his hand between us, his lips curling into a self satisfied grin. He rubbed my clit, adding another dimension to the pleasure. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His words were punctuated with thrusts that made me cry out in pleasure.

In the throes of passion, I remembered the night this all began: a cold February night. Hazy because I was drunk. I remember being wary at first, but my inhibitions disappearing the more he plied me with whiskey. It was written in his expressions. He had taken an interest. I thought I was full of myself when I swore I saw his gaze catch mine, when I noticed him close the gap between us on a few occasions. This was in the cards, slated to happen. It was a ticking time bomb, just a matter of when.

I came again. It snuck up on me, pushing me over the edge of bliss. He was not far behind, calling me his slut as he drove his cock home. He stilled with a groan, his hips writhing on their own as he came in me.

We didn’t move for a few moments. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to still my racing pulse. He kissed along my breasts, tracing his fingers up and down my sides.

Finally, “You’re something else.”

I shrugged gently, “Nah. I won’t hear such blasphemy from someone who’s seen it all. I’m just another chapter in your book. So long as you keep writing.”

He chuckled, “that’s why you’re something else. You’re not easily seduced.”

I smiled, “half the fun is the hunt.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/juhed3/mutually_assured_destruction_mf_piv_hint_of_mdom