She was driving up I-5, windows down, music blaring. Amid her frustrations with the dating scene and man-children she’d consistently encountered, she’d found a welcome release. Jennifer and Eric were good friends, and although they lived a state apart, they’d grown close over the past year. A few months earlier, they’d met for the first time, and it was absolute fireworks. Like a key perfectly fitting a lock, they’d known from that initial hug in the restaurant parking lot how the night would end. Fortunately for both, it was an experience that had consistently repeated itself.
Jennifer’s mind drifted as the car propelled her along the straight road, sandwiched on each side by rather unremarkable scenery. The images in her mind, however, were far from mundane. The woman reminisced about how his beard felt between her thighs; how erotic it was when she caught her own scent on his whiskers after he’d eaten her out so thoroughly that she’d soaked him. The confident dominance he displayed as he wrapped his arm around her neck while pinning her to the wall, thrusting his perfect cock into her repeatedly from behind. The sounds he made when he came and the sensation of being filled with his cum. She breathed a deep, satisfied sigh.
A loud blast from a trucker’s horn brought her focus sharply back to the present. In the midst of her daydream, she’d begun to drift across the white stripes into the right lane, nearly colliding with the much larger vehicle. Her arm jerked the steering wheel to the left, correcting course, and she lifted her hand in a friendly wave of apology. “Keep it together, girl,” she told herself. “It will happen soon enough.”
One of the things she loved about their dynamic was what turned Eric on. He found pleasure in getting her off, and she’d never failed to walk away from one of their meetings without having been fully exhausted. His ability to rotate between his tongue, fingers, toys, and dick, combined with his eagerness to watch her climax, had briefly made her contemplate physical therapy for recovery on more than one occasion. It was rare to have her sexual thirst so completely quenched, but she found that she didn’t crave sex for nearly a full week after each time they’d met. Jennifer repeatedly came during those days, but it was always at her own hand as she relived every scene from the previous weekend.
When she finally arrived at the hotel, the intensity of her desire had become a living thing. It consumed her, and she couldn’t wait to satisfy herself. The woman parked, got out of her car, and headed straight for the entryway, not even bothering to grab her overnight bag. That could wait. She needed him.
The woman walked through the lobby and headed straight for the elevator. Eric had texted her the room number half an hour before, and she knew he was waiting for her. Jennifer chuckled as she turned and watched the doors close; it always amused her how her mindset was an odd mix of tunnel vision and absolute awareness in the moments before they encountered each other. On the one hand, she was intensely focused on what would begin in the next sixty seconds; on the other, the level of anticipation she experienced made her extremely sensitive to everything around her. The color of the tile floor, the gust of wind that lightly brushed her back as the lobby doors opened to welcome another patron, the clothes that the guests at the front desk were wearing. Her senses had never been more alive than they were when heightened with anticipation.
The slight ding immediately preceded the doors separating, signaling her arrival at the floor where Eric awaited her. A few steps took her out of the elevator, and a left turn pointed her in the right direction. Thirty yards later, she saw it: Room 413. With a level of excitement she could only equate to a kid on Christmas Eve, she stepped forward, lifted her hand, and rapped twice.
She heard the sound of footsteps approaching the entry, then watched as the handle twisted and the door swung away. There he was: all six foot and 195 pounds of black-haired, blue-eyed masculinity. He was dressed in gray slacks and a form-fitting, dark green button-up shirt; several buttons at the top were undone, casually hinting at his muscular chest. His easy smile was reflected across his face, eyes crinkling happily as he took her in. “Hi,” was all he said. It was all he needed to say. Their comfort with each other had grown over the past months, erasing all awkwardness and resulting in sheer, uninhibited desire.
Jennifer stepped forward, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him toward her for a kiss. Their lips met: hungrily, lustfully, passionately. She felt his hands at her hips, guiding her as he walked backward, allowing the door to swing shut behind them. The woman pivoted, then took a step forward, pressing her lover against the wall. One of her hands found its way to his crotch, where she groped his rapidly hardening bulge. Eric moaned, the sound communicating how turned on he was. Suddenly, he swung her around, swapping their positions.
The man’s hands moved up to her neck, lightly gripping her throat as the pair continued to make out. Eventually, he transitioned lower, grasping the breasts he had once described as “the perfect handful.” He slowly massaged her tits, using the palm of his hand to press her nipples deeper and rotate them in a circular fashion. Jennifer grabbed the back of his head and pulled him toward her, her fingers intertwining in his raven locks. She breathed in through her nose, her nostrils filled with the scent of his cologne. The Dolce & Gabbana he always wore had conditioned her to associate it with intense pleasure, and her pussy flooded in an immediate response.
Without realizing it, she thrust her hips forward, grinding against his body. Mid-kiss, Jennifer could feel Eric smile. His right hand released her breast and drifted downward, touching her waist, then slipping to the hem of her skirt. He grasped it, then pulled upward: slowly, teasingly, he removing the physical barrier between his hand and her throbbing womanhood. As the cloth moved higher, Jennifer became aware of the coolness of the room with every inch of skin that was exposed. By the time the hem had reached her waistline, her soaked pussy lips felt each degree of temperature change with pulsing intensity.
Her lover slowly reversed course, placing his hand between her legs. The woman shifted, spreading herself to ease his access. Another smile pulled his lips from hers just as she felt the pads of his fingers caress her outer lips.
Jennifer came immediately. It was a small orgasm, but the anticipation of reliving their previous encounters for the past several hours had so thoroughly primed her that she was actually aching for his touch. Without realizing it, her fingers tightened in the man’s hair, pulling his head to the side as she buried her face in his shoulder and moaned. The intensity of her focus on what his hand was doing slowly broadened as the orgasm ended. She became aware of his steady breathe on her cheek, the masculine feel of his beard against her neck, and the pressure of his body as it gently pinned her against the wall.
Eric drew his head back far enough to see her face. Their eyes met, and she recognized the look as he stared intently at her. His expression was primal, animalistic, and savage—not in a way that threatened her with harm, but instead communicating that millennia of evolution had reverted in an instant, driving this sophisticated man back to his most basic thirst. He wanted her.
At that moment, he entered her. As their eyes locked, her attention fixated on him as a person, he thrust two of his fingers knuckle deep into her pussy, continuing to press with such force that she was lifted onto her toes. Jennifer gasped, frantically clutching his back as she pulled him to her for support. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant in the least, and the shock of its suddenness amplified the physical pleasure she felt. The man stayed completely still, moving neither his body nor his fingers. His lover felt her pussy convulse, tightening and loosening as it adjusted to his presence. Her fingernails sunk into his back and her teeth gripped his shoulder, biting him in an attempt not to scream.
She sensed, rather than felt, his satisfaction. When her walls had acclimated to his presence, he began to alternate the two fingers: one going back as the other pressed forward, then alternating in a scissor-like motion. The pressure was slow, intentional, and deep. Jennifer’s pussy was slowly stretched as Eric rotated his hand, stimulating every inch of her womanhood. After a few moments, he brought his fingers together, curled them upward in a “come here” motion, and slowly pulled his hand away. The pads of his fingers applied intense pressure to her g spot, and as they dragged across it, increased the sensation she felt tenfold.
Eric knew how to move purposefully. He didn’t finger her furiously or clumsily, focusing instead on exploring her thoroughly with the precision of a surgeon. His fingers continued their retreat, pulling her pleasure button forward. When it finally slipped back, the sudden release of tension caused her g spot to swell with blood, inflaming her nerves in the most pleasurable way possible. Without pausing or rushing, the man’s hand reversed course, retracing its path as he entered her again. Her left leg began to shake; to support herself, she kept one hand on his upper back and moved the other to his neck, allowing him to bear nearly her entire weight. This was purposeful: in releasing control, gravity forced Eric’s thrusting fingers deeper inside of her, increasing the pressure until she was nearly driven mad with lust.
In the moments that followed, her lover displayed a level of mastery with his fingers that one typically expected of a professional pianist. He would lock his fingers together, pressed knuckle deep inside of her, and slowly rotate them in a conical fashion. His thumb moved to her clit, stimulating it as his index and middle fingers beckoned her g spot toward an orgasm. The man’s fingers split sideways into a V, then rotated back and forth to stimulate her deepest recesses. Jennifer was so wet that she felt her juices running down her leg, and she could feel the ecstasy building inside of her. “Oh baby, I’m about to cum.” Her hoarse whisper in his ear caused him to switch gears instantly.
Without hesitation, he lifted his thumb away from her, angled his hand inward, and pointed the tips of his fingers straight at the inside of her belly button. For the first time, the pace changed. It went from slow, intense stimulation to a rapid jackhammering that was so fast she couldn’t track it. His powerful, penetrating thrusts brought his fingers into a rapid staccato of interactions with her g spot. Pressure, release, pressure, release. The cycle continued without interruption, and within seconds, Jennifer came.
This was no ordinary orgasm. Her anticipation, his prep work, and the man’s knowledge of precisely how to switch it up drove her into a squirting frenzy. Stream after stream sprayed forth, soaking his hand, his arm, and his slacks. Eric didn’t let up, continuing his unrelenting pace that drove the tsunami of pleasure she felt between her legs into greater and greater heights. Finally, it peaked, hung for a moment as she crested the orgasmic wave, and began to come back down. Her lover was so in touch with her body that he timed his strokes with her descent, slowing each thrust until she came to rest in a blissfully relaxed state. He didn’t withdraw and kept his fingers buried inside of her.
When Jennifer had recovered enough to pull her head back, she glanced upward, and their eyes locked again. Her gaze was filled with a hazy detachment, the clouded look of someone who was pleasure drunk and on an intense high. As he stared into her eyes, he gently curled his fingers and began a slow retreat. The shift awakened her. Instantly, the fog disappeared as he felt her hands tighten on his shoulder and neck again. Her expression was an unspoken plea; her nerves were so sensitive that she was torn between the desire to feel him and push him away, precisely as he had intended. Millimeter by millimeter, he withdrew, stimulating her g spot one final time.
As his fingers exited her pussy, the release she felt caused her to shudder again, waves of pleasure washing over her. Whether she came again or not was a question she couldn’t answer, nor was it one she cared to explore. The only words she could think of to describe how she felt were “pure bliss.”
Eric wrapped his arms around her waist, allowing her to remain weightless. He turned, then gently lay her on the bed and relaxed beside her. Propped up on one elbow, the man stroked her hair, tracing it down the side of her face and tucking it behind her ear. She closed her eyes as his touch drifted across her skin, lightly stimulating her forehead, eyebrows, and cheeks. Minutes later, her eyelids fluttered, then opened completely to find him looking at her with an expression of utter satisfaction. She smiled at him, and he gave a boyish grin in return.
“Ready for dinner?” he said. “After that, we have the rest of the night…”
Beautiful, Brutal Truth 