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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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They sat opposite each other on a train. It was 6 o'clock, a train packed with commuters and those, like him, on longer trips.
She came to the seat opposite him. He glanced at her as she folded her coat into the rack above them, and returned to reading on his iPad. Frosty wasn't the word. Immaculately attired in a beautifully fitted black and tan dress which showed her body to great effect. Dark glasses, blonde hair. Very tall. Extremely high maintenance. Probably totally worth it.
He glanced again. She brushed an imaginary speck of dust off the dress. Off her taut stomach. His years of London living had taught him to see with blank faraway eyes.
Again he looked over his reading glasses at her. Again she was brushing a speck of dust off her dress. He risked a look at her. She was attractive in a clinical, ice maiden type of way. Totally not his type. An angular, almost masculine face, very precise, cold. Very cold dark eyes looking back at him.
Straight back at him.
Without a flicker of...anything.
She stretched as if restless in her seat. She puffed out her chest, her breasts subtly thrust towards him. This could not be co-incidence. Could it? Don't smile, he thought. Keep her eyes. Hold her. Meet the challenge.
The buffet trolley arrived. If there were any tension outside his pitiful imagination it was broken.
“Any teas or coffees?”
He put on what he hoped was his deepest, warmest, most charming voice. “No, thank you.”
The ice maiden ordered a coffee.
He went back to his book. She stretched out her legs into the gangway, straightened her skirt and demurely crossed them. Long legs, shapely. Legs anyone would have fantasies about. Legs he was having fantasies about right now. Tights, stockings, hold ups?
His height was his one big selling point. He stood up, holding in his tummy in a pathetic attempt to look young enough to stand a chance and found some headphones in his bag. As he sat again she was looking at him. Cold, clinical, emotionless. But at him.
How does one do an ’I know you want to fuck me, and yes, I would be well worth it. This look says I know I'm good and so do you’ kind of look. No idea. So he simply held her eyes, not blinking or moving save from a tiny grin.
She held him for seconds. Then looked at her left breast, back at him and brushed her breast. Right on her nipple. And went back to her coffee. She took out her phone. She was as cold on the phone as she seemed on the train. There were no warm expressions, certainly no tenderness. She told them that she would be delayed, meeting a friend for a drink, but wouldn't be late.
A quick web search showed a hotel room in the next city. Nothing cruddy, but not fancy. Anonymous, functional, close to the station. He booked it. What the hell, worth a punt.
The next ten minutes were intoxicating. Would she? What should he do?
The train drew in. He followed her off the train, then over the bridge and to the exit barriers. He queued behind her.
“May I buy you a drink?” He said gently but confidently.
She turned and looked at him. She looked him up and down. He pulled in his stomach.
“Would you like to?”
“It's a good icebreaker.”
“You need some Dutch courage?”
“Do you know the Park Hotel?”
“I presume you don't have a car here?”
“No.”
“Follow me.”
She drove her black mini with gusto. He suspected she always drove this way.
She stayed a discreet distance away as he checked in, then followed him to the lift. As the door closed he gently took hold of her head, tilted it upwards, and let loose the dogs of lust.
She kissed like no-one he had ever kissed before. Her lips ripped apart every shred of defence he might have had. Her hands went direct to his nipples.
The room was close. No sooner had the door closed than she was expertly unbuttoning his shirt. He eased down the zip on her dress. She took his hands off it, took a step back and slid the dress off her taught body. Either she had dressed for exactly this or she dressed impeccably every day. Very stylish black and silver grey underwear, a perfect fit and sheer black suspenders. With the belt under her panties. The panties which clearly displayed her mound. Jesus.
From her bag she took a small camera & set it on the table.
“You don't mind do you?”
As if he was going to object! He pulled off his shoes and socks, no sexy way of doing that. He went to undo his belt.
“No.”
The ice maiden stepped back to him and her fingers slid inside his waistband. Expert little fingers freed each button.
Then took hold of his cock. She kissed him again.
And smiled.
The ice maiden smiled and knelt down. She slid down his jeans and boxers. Then took hold of his cock and swallowed him. Delicious gentle lips, thrilling yet sensual, not at all what he expected. She softly cupped his balls, holding his bottom with her other hand and gave him a gorgeous taste of her skills.
She stood, moved towards the bed and lay back. She pulled her panties aside revealing...
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, fucking shit. What the hell?
He looked at it, looked at her. Looked at her ice cold, defiant, challenging look. What are you, man or a mouse? Don't have the balls for me? Worried my cock is nicer than yours?
Fuck it.
He dropped down and swallowed her whole. Swallowed her in a way no woman would ever dare. Swallowed her like a man possessed. Like a man who knew that any fear would be fatal, would allow thoughts into his head, thoughts which would hurt him so badly. He swallowed that cock and cupped her balls. His finger naturally fell on her arsehole so he pressed gently.
Fuck she was loud. He wasn't sure if it was for him or the camera, but it had the desired effect. He licked her cock, slowly, from her balls up to the tip of her pulsing cock. Licked her like he wishes a woman would lick him.
“Do me.” She commanded, and rolled over, thrusting her arse high. “What you need is in the purse.” He spotted the small bag to the side of the bed. Condoms and lube. He put on the jacket and nervously smeared her arse with the lube.
He stood, pulled her legs towards him, opening them wide. He lined his cock up to her and slowly eased inside her. She put her hands in her hair, pure porn style. The thought that she was going to use the video excited him even more. Show off, he thought. Make it look good.
She got louder. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. It was more for show but it did make her cry out.
“My turn,” she again commanded. “On your back.”
He lay, his cock toward the camera. She mounted him, reverse cowgirl. He could see she was playing with herself, and he knew in this game he was just a cock. He also knew he couldn't last any longer.
In time honoured fashion he stood in front of her, side to the camera and wanked. She pushed her face toward him, offering herself as a target. He came happily, his spunk spraying onto her. She smeared it a little over her mouth, turned and grinned at the camera.
“Good boy.”
She briefly went into the bathroom, returned & dressed. She kissed him. Nicely, almost chastely. That was a kiss goodbye he realised.
“Who will see the video?” He asked nervously. The red mist of desire was clearing leaving a disturbing reality. A million what ifs began creeping inside.
“Don't worry, just me and my boyfriend. He gets so jealous and angry.”
He'd been used but he loved it. She had sat opposite at random and decided she would have him. Pure delicious freedom.
The ice maiden closed the door on him.
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