Passkey

Halfway though the convention, but with the more important half still to go, Sharon was having a drink at the hotel bar. A day of meetings had been followed by dinner with colleagues she hadn’t seen in a while. Her presentation was the next day, and she was going to turn in early.

She sat, sipping, minding her own business, when a large, dark hand placed a card on the bar right next to her drink. It was a room key card, and at first Sharon thought she’d dropped hers and it was being returned, but when she turned to see who’d put it there her eyes met the most intense, brown-eyed stare she’d ever encountered. Those eyes, that face. The hunger and focus in his expression – his half-smile’s confidence bordering on arrogance. He just looked at her for a few heartbeats, then turned and left without a word. Sharon realized she’d been holding my breath through the encounter.

He walked out of the bar without looking back, his tall, muscular frame moving catlike, with not a little bit of swagger. Annoyance crossed her mind, but so did a flurry of other feelings, some of which she hadn’t felt intensely for a while. Some of which made her shift in her seat and realize she was blushing.

The card key had the hotel’s insignia in gold on black, and, when she turned it over, it would have been blank black except for a number handwritten written in gold permanent pen. If that number were a room, it’d be top floor, penthouse. Sharon smiled to herself, shook her head, and took her time finishing her drink.

In the elevator on the way back to her room, she had to fish out her room key to activate the destination floor buttons, but when she swiped the card over the pad, the PH light at the top of the buttons lit up immediately. She realized with surprise that she’d’d used the key the man had given me instead of her own. She hadn’t even remembered picking it up from where he’d placed it on the bar. Sharon went to push her correct floor button, so she could get off at the right place, but then she… didn’t. Instead, she rode the quiet, fast elevator all the way up.

The softly lit, marble floored landing she stepped into was silent and empty, with two doors leading from it – one to the emergency stairs. After an eerie moment, Sharon turned around to go back down, but the elevator doors had already closed. She pressed the button, and resolved to wait. She still had the key card in her hand, and the room door was steps away.

The click of the lock shouldn’t have startled her when she passed the card over it, but she literally jumped at the sound, and found herself pushing the door open before it clicked back.

“Hello?” she called, stepping into the opulent suite, wondering what she was doing here. She heard the elevator chime and doors open behind her, but ignored them, instead moving farther in. No sound answered her query except click of the suite door closing behind her.. The big living-room space with floor to ceiling windows had comfy couches and chairs, but was empty of people. She moved through it to the open door of the bedroom.

She should not have been startled to see him lying on the bed, naked, erect cock sticking straight up, but she gasped anyway. The audacity of it. Of him. And the way he looked at her started butterflies in her stomach. More, she felt a sudden, long dormant deep-down stirring of arousal, bordering on need. No, not bordering. Sharon could actually feel her temperature rising.

She was taking off her clothes. Shoes, blouse, pants… Then bra. With every piece she removed, it seemed like the proud cock stood straighter, grew bigger, pulsing with each new revelation of skin. As she slid my panties off, not quite believing how damp they were, not quite believing what she was doing, the cock throbbed and twitched visibly. It knew – its owner knew – what was about to happen just as surely as Sharon shied from thinking about it.

Her heart beat loud in her ears, but neither of them had said a word. The silence remained unbroken as, her eyes locked on his, she climbed up on the bed and slowly, gingerly, straddled him. She paused like that, half amused, half alarmed that the first touch of this complete stranger was the insides of her knees pressed against his warm, muscled hips. She wasn’t shivering on the outside, but on the inside she practically vibrated with nerves and anticipation. The slickness between her legs was obvious, should have been embarrassing, but wasn’t. The sensation of readiness clarified, signaled her as her parting legs opened her vulva.

The brushing of his hot shaft against Sharon’s ass made her shift her gaze downward. The engorged shaft against her pale skin was a visual shock on top of the tactile, and her hand moved as if on its own accord to grasp it. The shaft twitched again at her touch. She watched herself slide the cock against her thigh, to her vagina, across her glistening slit, lining its fat glans up with her entrance, until she felt it nuzzle right in. She stared, mesmerized as her pussy stretch wide, and wider around the cockhead, her skin tingling with every millimeter of contact, until it disappeared into her. She heard herself gasp, and barely recognized the sound.

As she began lowering herself, Sharon’s eyes found his again. He was still staring at her, maybe he had been the whole time. But as she impaled herself on him, centimeter by centimeter, sighing, whimpering, his eyes seemed penetrate her just as much as his cock did.

She started rocking, slowly at first, then faster, harder. Twenty minutes ago, maybe even less, everything had been utterly normal, but now she was fucking herself on the biggest, thickest, hottest cock she’d ever felt – the cock of a complete stranger, in a strange room, in a strange city, the night before an important day. It felt dreamlike, except for the undeniable fullness and the intensity of spreading pleasure in her body. It felt completely right and wrong at the same time.

His hands caressed her as she moved, stroking her sides, hips, breasts. He palmed one and sat up, raising his head to suck long and hard on her nipple and aureole, making her gasp again, and then once more when he switched to the other breast. Sharon moved faster and faster, making wanton grunts and not caring about the sound or the volume. She knew the approaching orgasm was going to be something different than she’d ever experienced before. Shhe could feel it building each time she pressed fully down onto that cock, each time it filled and stretched her completely.

And even though she knew it was coming, when her climax hit, it still took her almost unawares. One moment she was fucking herself, wildly now on the thick cock, and then she was grinding down against him, crying out, screaming in pleasure, her clit rubbing and pressing against the base of his shaft as she clamped down hard inside. God, it was the best, most raw and pure sexual pleasure she’d ever felt.

In the middle of the storm of pleasure, his hands found her hips, his cock throbbed inside her, and he groaned low and loud under her scream. Then he came too, cock hilted in her. Planted deeper than any cock had ever been, his cum erupted into her, and if anything Sharon’s orgasm redoubled at the sensation. It was more than pleasure – it was a base, coarse need she hadn’t known she’d always had, finally being discovered and satisfied in the same moment. It was almost scary, but it went on, and on, and she loved every pulsing second of it until she collapsed onto his chest, spent and panting, his cock still jerking inside her.

Sharon lay there for some time, dazed, pleasure-drunk. She let herself pretend she couldn’t move while the cock was still hard inside her, but eventually the world intruded on her brain. The presentation tomorrow. The reality of what she’d just done. Slowly she pulled myself off of him. And off and off. He was so long, even half-hard. A river of cum flowed from her as his cockhead finally popped out, and she shudder at the sheer volume of it.

She couldn’t not look toward him as cleaned cleaned herself as best she could on the bedsheet, and hastily pulled her clothes back on. He watched, hands now behind his head, face quiet, content, satisfied, but eyes still hungry. It made her shiver and tingle all over again, but she still was able to make herself leave the room, and the suite, and make it to the elevator.

Back in her room, she took a long, hot shower, convincing herself it was all a fantasy, a dream. She crawled into bed naked, which she never did, and was unconscious almost immediately.

Sharon slept like the dead, and awoke the next day ready to conquer the world. Which she did. Her power suit killed. Her presentation rocked, and her networking day was the most fruitful of the year. She was still high from it all as she headed back to her room to change for a much more casual dinner. Reaching into her purse, the key card she pulled out was gold on black. Aftter a long, long pause, instead of putting it back to fish out my own card, she watched her hand pass the card over the elevator pad, and saw “PH” light up.

Categories: Erotic Fiction, Monocle, Sex with StrangersTags: , ,

Monocle

I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.

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