An erotic short story by a new contributor, I.D. A hotel security mishap leads to an interesting sexual adventure…

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The hotel was newly built in the European style of hard finishes: dark paint, exposed concrete, smoothly buffed wood. Aside from the hanging LED fixtures, the only light in the room came from the floor-to-ceiling window that looked west over the city. From the 15th floor there was an excellent view across the downtown to the thickly-treed suburbs. A nearby glass-walled condo tower was not quite finished construction, and the other adjacent buildings were low, so the window provided a view of rooftops and elevator shafts. Office towers a couple of blocks away twinkled in the dusk, the shapes of office furniture and long-suffering cubicle jockeys just visible in silhouette.

Upon entering my room, I set down my things and set my iPad and speakers to a trance playlist that helps me unwind. I sat down in the uber-modern easy chair to take off my shoes and catch a breath, after a tiring and tedious day spent pressing the flesh at a conference. My sweater and sleeveless top came over my head in one motion, tossed onto the pristine white duvet on the bed. The bra came off next, and my skirt. I was sitting far enough back from the window that I felt able to enjoy the last rays of sunlight without fearing I’d be seen from outside. Stretching out my legs and letting my arms hang loosely over the arms of the chair, I closed my eyes and drifted off lightly into a daze.

These modern hotels have one slight problem with their door security: key cards can easily be duplicated, and the door codes aren’t always reset between guests. I suppose I must have been off in a daydream land, because I didn’t hear the click of the door opening, or the paused step from the individual entering. Nor did I awaken to the door closing again. In fact, I didn’t register anything until a smooth, cool hand ran up my arm, causing me to awake with a start. My reflex to turn and look at the intruder was blocked by another hand catching me around the head, blocking my vision and holding my head against the chair. The stranger was standing behind the chair, and I was exposed and vulnerable, frozen in the moment.

“Wait,” the stranger commanded in a low, calm voice. There was no malice in the voice; just patience—an invitation, almost. It stilled my leaping adrenaline, stopped me from jumping up or screaming out. One hand on my shoulder pressed in, providing a steady weight that kept me in my seat. The air was tense as my mind raced, because despite the insanity of it, I felt compelled to pause in the moment and consider the opportunity. Something about this felt like an invitation to explore a darker side, instead of a dangerous breach of security. A few breaths later, and something turned over deep inside my mind and body. Fight or flight response was intercepted, and I relaxed into the stranger’s odd embrace.

The signal was sent – the die was cast. The hand was removed from my shoulder and I heard a slipping of fabric, something being retrieved from a pocket. Swiftly, the hand covering my eyes was replaced by an eye mask – one of those types the airlines give you. It was put in place quickly, then both of the stranger’s hands were on my shoulders. I felt my nipples harden in the cool air of the room; my back arched slightly, pressing my breasts upwards, as if asking for attention on them. I didn’t need to ask, it seemed, for the hands slid slowly down, taking a breast in each hand, index finger and thumb circling the nipples, the rest of the fingers cupping below each breast, caressing the delicate skin. I sucked in a deep breath, revelling in the sensation of these cool, smooth hands touching me, owner unseen, my vulnerability highlighted by the looming presence of the floor-to-ceiling window just feet in front of me.

The hands worked softly, surely, to arouse every millimetre of skin on my breasts, a deep well of arousal rising up in me as my nipples were tugged, then softly stroked, then tugged, harder. Fingernails alternated with fingertips and palms brushing across the skin, until every synapse in me was leaping, training all my consciousness on the explosion of endorphin flooding though me. My head fell back and I panted, groaning and gasping, as this unexpected visitor brought forth a maelstrom of sensation. I could feel my panties getting soaked, my hands gripping the edge of the chair, lost in sensation, getting ever closer to the edge of a climax.

As the crest of orgasm neared, the hands suddenly pulled away. My short hair was grabbed roughly, pulling my head to one side. I caught my breath with a small whimper, then my breath was stolen as a soft cloth, a ball knotted in it, was pushed into my mouth. The ends of the cloth were pulled around to the back of my neck and tied firmly. Still riding the wave of my arousal, I just moaned.

Unseen, the stranger next moved around the side of the chair and pulled me to my feet. I fell against him, feeling the scratchy-soft fabric of a suit on my naked skin. My hands went out, but instead of letting me reach for him, the stranger stepped to the side and pushed my body towards the window, my hands splaying on the cool glass. My nipples touched the glass and I jumped away as if shocked. The stranger’s hand in my hair kept me upright, and his other hand pushed between my shoulder blades, leaning me forward towards the window so that my breasts pressed up against it. With a swift sweep of his leg, he repositioned my feet so that I was spread-eagled across the window. His hip thrust up against my ass, pushing my pelvis into contact with the glass. I yelped as my soft belly skin pressed up against the hard pane.

Still blinded by the airplane mask, I could not see the cityscape stretching out before me, but in my mind’s eye I could picture what might be visible from the street. The painted concrete black walls of the hotel exterior and the shaded glass make the building rise as a dark monolith above the smaller buildings below. My pale white skin and hands, pressed against the glass, with long white legs creating an “X” across the window, had to stand out like a flag to those walking along the avenue. The vivid blue of my panties would catch the dying rays of light from the sunset. The stranger would fade into the darkness behind me, even as his weight and hands held me in place. Mentally I pictured people looking up and pointing, not sure whether their assumptions were the reality—a near-naked woman on display for all the city.

My heart raced, skin flushing, and I writhed to escape, screaming behind my gag, but was helpless against the insistent tug of his hand gripping my hair and body pressing up against me. At the same time, however, I could feel myself being betrayed by that sexual core, which was melting, causing my panties to become soaked. My struggles weakened, gradually calming as the glass warmed to my skin. The stranger held himself against me, matching his own rapid, ragged breaths to my own, then gradually slowing his breath as my own heart calmed and the panic drained from me once again.

It was replaced by a delicious gliding sensation creeping over me as I relinquished myself to the stranger’s intent. Our breathing synchronized and drew me under his spell. Instead of pulling against his fingers twisted in my hair, I leaned my head back into his grasp, a moan escaping me through the gag. My legs flexed and relaxed, holding me open against the glass. The trance music playing in the background, the silence of my visitor, and the dusky light combined to create a sensual universe, time outside of time.

The stranger leaned in towards me, his warm face pressing against the nape of my head as I felt his teeth take a grasp of my shoulder. With his hand holding my head still, and this grip of my shoulder, I felt him establish his ownership—I was his object, his creation of erotic art for the city outside. Nerve endings fired to life throughout my body. I was thoroughly intoxicated.

The hand pressed between my shoulder blades began tracing slow circles on my back. Soft skin and sore muscles relished his firm pressure, his fingers exploring each shoulder blade, each vertebrae, slowly but inexorably down into the highly erogenous zone at the base of my spine. Over my panties, he cupped each of my buttocks, squeezing the muscle, releasing more endorphins as he completed demonstrating his utter control. Resting my forehead against the glass, I moaned and pressed into him, begging for more, pushing my pelvis back into his hands. The cloth between my legs was soaking wet with my juices.

Ownership established clearly, the stranger let go of my hair, reaching that hand forwards to take hold of a breast. He squeezed and stroked my breast again and again, tugging and softening, raising a fire in my nipple that connected all the way down to my pussy. I was growing desperate for his touch there. I arched my back, pushing my pelvis out to get my clit closer to the hand that was stroking my ass. Blood throbbed in my tissues, seemingly in tune with the heartbeat pulse of the music.

Reading my signs, the stranger slipped his hand inside the soft jersey panties and reached between my butt cheeks, his fingers encountering the hot, sopping wet passage. I caught my breath and arched my back as one finger, then another, slipped inside me, his index finger and middle finger reaching forward to tantalize my clit. Steadily, he rocked his hand against me, pushing into me, driving me to moan frantically and grind down against his hand. I pulled one foot off the floor and raised up my knee to try to trap his hand there, but he pushed me so I had to replace the foot to keep my balance.

“Stand,” came the command.

I was helpless against the raging waves of pleasure that were washing over me. One second, my entire consciousness was focused on his fingers pressing inside me, and the next second he would pinch my nipple with his other hand. The next second, his fingers would brush my clit and cause shocks of ecstasy to run all through me. Rhythmically, breathing in time with my ragged, shallow breaths, he drove me higher and higher. The orgasm growing inside me seemed to build on into deeper parts of me. I didn’t know how much more I could become his creation entirely. Each time my skin touched the glass, I saw a flash in my mind’s eye of the spectator’s view and that raised my ecstasy higher.

At a point I’ve never been before, the crest of the orgasm tore through me. Legs and arms tensed to stone, I shuddered… Breathless… Out of time or place. I seemed to be falling through myself. As the first crescendo passed, an incredible sweetness crept in. I could taste it, see it behind my eyes, feel it invading each part of me as my legs and arms relaxed and let go. My whole body sang with joy.

Breathing again, I fell back against the stranger and he caught me. Blind, mute, and utterly given over to pleasure, I was hardly aware of him picking me up. I felt the soft, smooth cotton of the sheets beneath me, and the duvet pulled over me. The cloth was untied from my face but words had escaped me entirely. The mask stayed over my eyes, which were closed anyways. I relaxed into the softness of the bed, feeling the stranger’s body weight behind me, spooning, his arm holding me close to him. The feeling of being owned¬†still pervaded my mind and it didn’t even occur to me to speak or think about who this was, and what would happen next. Sweet slumber captured me whole.

I awoke to early dawn. The eye mask had slipped off. Street noises were starting to float up from the city below. I was alone in the room once again.

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