The note read, “Get cleaned up and meet me at the Westin at 7:00. Don’t be late.”
A lipstick imprint of a kiss was her signature. I caught a faint waft of vanilla and perfume. Attached to the note was a room key marked #303. I looked at the clock. It was almost 5:30.
Still a little bewildered I called her. No answer. I sent a text. After several minutes, there was no response. It was Friday night. We usually have some sort of sex to unwind from the week. Still, I imagined a bottle of wine, giving her a couple of spankings, trading oral sex, then watching Star Trek. A normal Friday. Honestly, I was a little annoyed. I had been looking forward to my comfortable blowjob all day.
I was also quite impressed. It took a lot of planning and determination to pull off a stunt like this. Adrisa is usually terrible at surprises. After taking the dogs out I undressed to take a shower. I noticed that my imagination and my anticipation as to what she may have planned had gotten me more aroused than I realized. For a moment I considered quickly jacking off to ease the tension a bit but the time constraint encourages me to think better of the idea.
After showering I shaved and, because she booked a room at the Westin and was apparently wearing lipstick, I decided against cut-offs and flip-flops and opted for jeans (without holes) and my Chucks. Either way I would have worn a simple v-neck.
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Thirty minutes later I stepped out of the elevator and walked down the corridor looking for room #303. Finding it, I knocked and waited. No answer. I knocked again. Again no answer. Assuming that she was late, like she tends to be, I used the key and walked in.
The entire drive to the hotel I had imagined the scene of walking into the room. I thought that she’d be naked and lying on the bed or maybe that she’d greet me at the door wearing some pretty, new lingerie that she had made. One of the kinkier fantasies had her already bent over the bed, a paddle placed invitingly next to her waiting behind. However, I didn’t expect this.
The lights were dimmed but I could tell that she was impeccably dressed. Immediately I felt self conscious about my v-neck and blue jeans. She was sitting in a comfortable looking arm chair with a lipstick marked glass of wine on a table beside her. Her legs were spread wide open. Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun. Her white shirt was casually unbuttoned just enough to reveal a bit of cleavage. It was tucked into a tight, black pencil skirt. Her spread legs reveal enough of her inner thighs for me to discover that the decorative tops of her nude colored stockings were held in place by clips attached to a black garter belt.
I stared dumbly. She picked up the glass of wine and coolly instructed me to, “Come here.”
I obeyed, only then remembering to close the door. When I reached the high heels she had recently slid off, she commanded in the same nonchalant tone, “Get on your knees.”
My last visions were of her sipping wine with one nail-painted hand while grabbing the back of my head and guiding my face into her skirt with another.
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I couldn’t see. I wanted to look. After her first, rather easy orgasm I backed away to look up and smiled at her…sex glistening on my chin. Her head was leaning back on the chair. Her eyes were closed, a look of supreme relaxation on graced her face. I asked, “Are you a happy wif–?”
Without raising or even opening her eyes, she grabbed my long hair and shoved me back between her legs, interrupting with, “I’ll let you know when you are finished.”
From that point on she kept at least one hand on the back of my head.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/398gr7/from_that_point_on_she_kept_at_least_one_hand_on