Back and Forth

This is a short one, with just foreplay and lots of conversation.

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We were in a two-bed hotel room. I was tired. What were we both doing again? I could barely remember. And why did I let him tag along again? He's such a cockblock. Such a goody-two-shoes. So harmless. So annoying.

I rolled out of bed in the most unflattering way. I'd always behave so femininely around guys if I'd ever see the potential to fuck. He was different. I wanted to piss him off. It was exhausting to be around him.

I knew I would never fall for the right guy. I didn't want to. I never dreamed of a happy married life and waking up in the arms of a lover. I liked my sex mindless and my relationships cold. His affection suffocated me, poor guy. It was pitiful.

"What am I doing here with you?"

His voice was cold. He looked indifferent, bored. His eyes were sunken. My moroseness was rubbing off on him. I hadn't noticed how much he had changed since the day we met.

"I should be the one asking questions. Why did you tag along this time?"

He shook his head.

"It was you this time. You called me."

I looked him in the eyes. He wasn't bluffing. It felt like a contest to see who'd lose their composure first.

I sighed and fell back into my bed. He sat up instead.

"I called you, and you came running?"

"As I always do."

I was turned on. I stared at the ceiling. I knew I had already made up my mind. I wanted to fuck him. My head hung back from my bed. The sun was rising. It was too early for me to be up. I didn't know why I was up. Maybe it was the lights in the room. We hadn't turned it off. Hotel lighting always gave me the creeps.

I craned my neck to look at him. He wasn't looking at me. He was staring out the window, not blinking. He had grown comfortable around me, no longer a jittery, red-faced fool.

He looked at his watch. He'd probably be leaving for work soon. It outraged me.

"Do you want to fuck?" I asked him for the third time since I had known him.

He had refused the first time, claiming it was too soon. The second time, he was worried. He had tried to comfort me. I had been repulsed by his rejection instead.

"Yes, actually."

It was finally going to happen. We would fuck, and this would come to an end. We would never see each other again. Or maybe I'd give him a call if I were to get too desperate.

I propped myself up on my elbows. I did not let him catch my surprise. But I'm sure he was aware of it.

My nipples were hard. My pussy was wet. I wasn't sure if it was him or if I just needed a good fuck.

We stared at each other for a while. I did not know how to initiate. It felt awkward. I did not feel like putting on a show for him. I waited for him to move, or say something, but he didn't.

I sat up, and started taking my trousers off. I was already in a tank top. I couldn't see where my blouse was. I wondered if he had fantasized about me. He ought to. He was obsessed with me.

I slid my hand inside my panties. I was a little taken back when I realised just how wet I was. Foreplay was not needed.

I knelt on the bed, the way I would if I were alone, just touching myself. It hurt my ego, the thought of asking for his dick. I shoved a finger in myself before realising how much it hurt. My nails were a little too long for it be enjoyable.

I sat on my bed kneeling, with a finger in my pussy, wondering what to do next. I kept looking down at my hand for a tad too long. Looking up at him would mean asking for help. Maybe I could just rub one out while he watched.

"You're too stubborn for your own good. Will you never grow out of it?"

It was humiliating. I didn't look up still.

"You can come fuck yourself on my fingers."

His words sucked the air out of my lungs. I glared at him. He shuffled around to make space for me on his bed. His eyes dared me.

I got up from my bed and walked over to his. I wrapped my hands around his throat and straddled him. He pushed aside my panties. The wetness stuck onto his fingers. He did not seem to care. He pushed two fingers inside slowly as my grip on his neck tightened.

I felt like cumming right there. I wanted to die of shame. But things were still.

"Move."

He wouldn't budge. He smiled at me with just his eyes. It was a kind smile, but it felt cruel. He would destroy me. I grabbed his thumb to place it on my clit. He still wouldn't move.

I raised my hips to feel something inside me. His fingers were rougher than mine, and thicker, and longer. They didn't hurt. They stretched me out. They made me drip. I did not realise when I had found ny rhythm, but there I was, impaling myself on his fingers again and again.

I was close to cumming without much attention to my clit. I needed a little more to push me over the edge.

I pulled up my tank top, my tits now in his face. They were small, but my nipples were perked up and inviting.

He sighed and pulled on a nipple, as if doing me a favor. It was degrading. I shut my eyes, continuing to have the mindless pleasure I generally preferred. I had expected him to drool over me.

I came with a spasm, clenching on his fingers. My thighs gave in as I sat on his legs. He had a hard on. I was relieved.

He picked me up and laid me down on my bed, my legs still spasming once in a while. I felt like going back to bed. My eyelids were droopy. He would probably fuck me now.

I grabbed my thighs and spread my legs wide. I was loose enough to take whatever he had to offer. I prayed he did not have a condom on him.

As I laid there waiting for him to enter, it hit me like a truck that I was in deep. I felt like crying. I had ruined it all. I would get fucked and it would be over. And I would touch myself to this feeling forever.

I didn't dare open my eyes as I heard him get up. There was a thud, and he was on his knees on the floor. I flinched. Our eyes met. His eyes looked hopeless. They were full of pity.

Without ever looking away, his tongue was on my clit. His hands replaced mine, holding me wide open. My hands could grab the sheets instead.

I couldn't look away. I didn't want to. His tongue was inside me. I was trembling. The thought of his tongue being inside of me was more thrilling than the sensation itself.

As my wetness kept spilling out, he kept licking it up. Soon his lips latched onto my sensitive clit and he pushed a finger inside. I cried out. It was the most desperate moan I had ever heard escape my mouth.

His finger curled inside me. I was restless, my nails digging into the bed. I stared at the ceiling. I wished it would never end.

As I came for the second time, I was truly overwhelmed. My body wouldn't move on my command, except the constant quivering. I had tears of pleasure rolling down my eyes. I was so grateful for that feeling. In that moment, I was infatuated. I wanted to beg him for forgiveness. I would have done anything he would have asked me to do, if only I could move.

He leaned over me on the bed, holding himself up with an arm. He looked angry. As he stared at my face with what seemed to be hatred, he stroked himself.

His face looked so beautiful. I could look at it forever. I wanted to kiss him. The way he grunted as he touched himself made me melt.

I felt disgusted with myself. He would hate me for feeling this way after putting him through all that shit. He was probably treating this like some break up sex. Maybe he was finally getting over me, or maybe he was over me already.

My heart was in a million pieces thinking of all that went wrong.

I looked at the strained veins on his neck. I wanted to feel them. As I was about to raise my hands, he grunted one final time and came over my thighs. He flopped down me, the weight of his limp body almost crushing me. His face lay in the crook of my neck, his breathing heavy and irregular. I wanted to die in that embrace.

He rolled over on his side as he regained his composure. We both lay there in silence.

Would I not get to feel him inside me before he leaves? Is this over? Should I beg him to stay, or just let him go?

"Do you have anything to say to me?" His voice sounded hoarse.

I turned my head to face him. He stared at the ceiling instead. I had no idea what he was expecting.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for putting you through shit."

I couldn't think of anything else. He did not respond.

"Are you leaving me?"

He covered his eyes with his arm and laughed. It was as if my question was ridiculous.

"Do you remember what happened last night?"

I was puzzled. Had something happened last night? Nothing new ever happened. He was always just there to save me from my drunk self.

"What happened?"

Had I said something so hurtful that even he couldn't forgive me? Had I crossed a line? I would normally say the shittiest of things and he wouldn't mind. This change in his demeanor made my stomach drop.

"You called me. You said you needed me. I thought you were in trouble and came rushing. I almost crashed my car." He laughed again.

I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. I was so worried. I hated myself for being such a nuisance.

"Here you were, drunk but all nice and safe, tucked away in this hotel room with your pajamas on. I thought I'd die if something happened to you and here you were watching TV in your pajamas, for fuck's sake."

He let out a deep breath. His voice was shaky.

"You kissed me. And you said you loved me." I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"That can't be true. That doesn't sound like me..."

"Of course that doesn't sound like you. You were drunk off your tits! You could barely hold the door open for me! How much had you been drinking alone?" He was exasperated.

He finally turned his head around to face me.

"And you know what else you did?"

"What?" My voice was barely a whisper. I was mortified.

"You tried to go down on me. You were failing miserably, but boy were you persistent..."

"Fucking hell. Please tell me that's a joke..."

"Oh I wish."

Both of us were blushing now. I was so embarrassed but oh so happy. I was so happy I had let my true feelings out before he thought I just wanted to use him.

"Is that why you...went down on me today?"

"I would have done that regardless."

There was a brief silence. I wondered why he hadn't actually fucked me yet if I had already made such a fool out of myself.

"You really are such a bitch though. How...just how could you treat me so badly if this is how you truly felt?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I barely knew of it myself..."

I grabbed his face gently and pulled him in for a kiss. Our bodies were melting together. The sun shone on our face, and we were in heaven.

"I really tried to go down on you last night?"

He laughed again.

"Yes, and you wouldn't take no for an answer. I was so shocked I could barely register what was happening. You broke the zipper. You scraped your elbow!" We were both laughing at this point.

"The kisses were nice, I must say... But I was scared that you'd accidentally bite my dick off."

"I'm so sorry!" We were still giggling.

"I couldn't sleep all night. I kept thinking if you'd actually meant all of it. Did you?"

"I can show you again, if you want."