Afternoon Dom-light


Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Slavery, Heterosexual, True Story, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Rough, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Squirting, BBW, Big Breasts, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Or; That Time We Fucked Up The Sheets At The Sleep Inn. A Master and slave have a memorable first meeting.

Or; That Time We Fucked Up The Sheets At The Sleep Inn

All content of this story is copyright {2014}by ReturningWriterGuy and is my intellectual property. Names have been changed to protect the identities of the innocent (or not so innocent). This story is not to be redistributed under any circumstances without my express written permission.

I don't think I'd ever been so nervous in my life. I sat there on the padded bench in the hotel lobby, one of my legs bouncing restlessly over and over again as I tried not to fidget and failed miserably. My palms were sweating. I'd already wiped them off, twice, and pretty much gave up on them not sweating after that. I had a box of twizzlers in one hand and a bundle of roses in the other, and I was compulsively checking my phone for the time and to see if I'd gotten a message. Anything to distract me. It was 1:27pm, exactly two minutes since the last time I'd checked.

I was pretty firmly out of my element. Though I was excited, and felt like this was right, if I'm honest, part of me wondered if I was totally out of my mind. I wasn't usually the impulsive sort, you see. In most areas of my life I was a very careful kind of person. I tended to ere on the side of caution. I didn't do things like this.

But then, nothing had been quite the same since she came into my life and turned everything on its ear.

We found each other online. Neither of us was looking for something intimate or deep or meaningful, just some friendly conversation, maybe, but more typically, a quick romp of a sexual cyberspace encounter for some relief and release before going on with our respective lives. Simple. Casual. Meaningless.

It was her fault, really. She started things out by actually talking to me, because she made it seem like she wasn't really interested in sex at all. It wasn't my M.O., to go into that kind of chat without some gratification in mind, but that's where we ended up going anyway. I got to know her smile, her laugh, her wit, and by the time I realized how wrong I was about her sexual designs where I was concerned, it was pretty much too late.

The problem with Jess was, it was so easy, so right with her. Talking with her was effortless, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was understood exactly as I was.

Oh, there were rough spots, don't get me wrong. She was a little spitfire and full of emotion including her moments of struggles and uncertainties and moodiness.

But, unlike in my previous experiences with women, when we had our problems, I could talk to her about the issue, say the right things, and fix the problem. And that feeling was so fulfilling and wonderful to me, it really made me realize how deeply something so simple and clean and vital as the feeling of being able to make things better in a relationship was utterly foreign to me.

It wasn't long into our relationship that Jess and I entered into a power exchange dynamic. It was new to both of us, but something we'd each wondered about and wanted to experience for a long time, but never could find the right person for. The depth of sharing and bonding as we became Dominant and submissive, then Master and slave, only intensified the amazing attraction and pull we felt toward one another.

I can hardly describe the need that came over me. From the beginning, our relationship was supposed to stay casual. But that wasn't to be; we morphed from friends, to fuck buddies, to Master and slave with a speed and fluidity that would have made most in The Lifestyle laugh. And it was supposed to stop there, and go no further. We would be forever 'online only', connected on a deep, intoxicating level, but through our minds and hearts only. A meeting in person was simply out of the question. We would come together, share those bits of eachother we could, and live our separate lives.

The pull was too great, though. We were meshing and getting consumed by each other, and soon, we finally broke down and decided to meet face to face.

In a completely uncharacteristic move of impulsiveness, I made the two hundred and fifty mile trip from my home in Georgia to her town in Florida. I went to the hotel we agreed to meet in, and waiting for her to arrive.

If you had told me three months before then I would be meeting a woman I met in an online sex chat, in an entirely different state, that I also happened to be deeply in love and had chosen to Dominate and subsequently enslave, in a hotel for the first time? I would have laughed and said you clearly didn't know me well at all. The whole thing was so entirely out of character for me it was ludicrous. And even as enamored as I was, I could see the sea of red flags everywhere. The whole premise smacked of a bad idea.

But despite all that, even nervous as I was ... somehow I had never been so sure of anything in my entire life. I knew, in some unexplainable, irrational part of my core, that this was right. She was right. We were right. I don't think even today I can properly explain how I was so certain. It was just an instinctual feeling, and I felt it so strongly, I was willing to risk all that we both had to follow it.

And so I waited, nervous and anxious and on edge.

The door to the hotel lobby slid open. She walked through, and my whole world narrowed down to her.

Short like me, she was older than me by ten years. She didn't look it; her face was young, oval shaped with a swarthy, natural light tan. Her eyes were big and brown and expressive and her nose neatly rounded at the tip. Her hair was dark chocolate and thick, glossy locks spilling straight down to the top of her shoulder blades and parted down the center. She was a curvy woman, with rounded, supple hips, a generous round ass, and heavy, ripe breasts. She wore simple, plain clothes; a nicely fitting gray T-shirt, a pair of blue jean shorts, and sandals.

My Jess. My girl. My slave.

She was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

Her eyes fell on me, and she smiled softly, almost shyly, those big brown eyes staring into my gray gaze with all the love and adoration I'd always known she had inside.

That was all it took. My nerves fell away, replaced by a sureness and confidence I'd never possessed before. It was as if everything came into perfect clarity in that moment. Again, unexplainably, I knew I'd made exactly the right choice, and that realization was freeing in a way I never knew before. I stepped to her, and held out my gifts for her, a small bouquet of roses and her favorite candies. Her face lit as she accepted the unexpected gifts.

Before she could say a word, I kissed her, my lips finding hers urgently as my hands came up and framed her face, cupping her jaw in my hands. She was tense for the barest of moments; and then she yielded to me, gave in to my kiss, and surrendered. She tasted of the gum she was chewing and the faintest trace of the cigarette she'd smoked earlier to calm her nerves. I found cigarettes distasteful, but I didn't care just then because it was her, and nothing could be bad about that kiss and the feel of her finally under my fingers and the taste of her submitting to me.

We stood there in the lobby, lingering in that first, deep kiss, that first moment of true contact. I don't think there was anyone around but the desk attendant, who politely said nothing. I could have cared less if there was a whole roomful of people. I was with my girl, and she was mine, and we both savored that moment with all that we were.

All too soon, we came up for air. She rested her forehead against mine, smiling that same shy but happy smile with her heart in those deep, dark eyes.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," I smiled back.

"I can't believe you're here, Sir," she said quietly.

"I'm here, girl. I'm here and you're all mine."

"I'm yours," she agreed with a satisfied sigh. I brushed my thumb against her cheek, wondering at the softness and suppleness of her skin. She'd told me how soft her skin was, but to feel it was something else. She clutched her presents to her chest, her eyes alternatingly staring into my face and looking down at my chest, and I knew she was etching every moment of this into her memory.

"So ... what now, Sir?" she asked after that long pause of simply existing in the same space together.

I wish I could say I'd been a classy gentleman. I wish I could say I told her to take me out and show me the town. That I took her to lunch, or shopping, or we went and walked the streets hand in hand. That we talked and laughed and shared a fine, sunny Florida afternoon together, breathing in the cool salt air and watching gulls swoop and circle as we talked about our childhoods and sweet nothings and what we wanted out of life while people walked past and commented what an odd but happy couple we made.

Instead, I led her down the hall to the room I'd reserved, opened and then shut the door behind us. It was a fairly nice room, nothing extraordinary or luxurious, but comfortable and clean with a plush, soft king bed and nice furnishings.

Neither of us noticed a single detail of the room as I pushed her up against the wall, one of my hands in her hair as I kissed her fervently, my mouth claiming hers as she so readily yielded to me. Her hands gripped my biceps, feeling the muscle shifting there as I pressed against her. My tongue worked into her mouth, caressing and stroking, swirling, finding her own tongue and dancing with it in a passionate whirl. I took her lips between mine and sucked sharply, firmly, nibbling and pulling my girl's full lower lip with my teeth. She moaned into my mouth, squirming in my arms already.

.... There is more of this story ...

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