He Wouldn't StopbyDireLilith©
When he woke up, it was with a start. He half sat up, eyes squinting in the early morning sunlight. And he looked around dazedly, wondering for a moment where he was.
Then he looked over at her sleeping form. And he remembered.
He'd been dreaming. His cock was rock hard beneath the hotel room blankets, and his body was coiled tense like a snake about to strike.
It had been one of those dreams.
For most of his adult life, he had not had the pleasure of waking up next to someone. When he had dreams like this, he usually woke up, grabbed a good girlie mag, and went to the bathroom to "rub one out". Then he could get on with his exercises, have breakfast, and get back on the job.
But this morning, she was here. His client, his responsibility. And the object of his secret desire.
He'd warned her he would be sleeping in the buff, and for her not to touch him while he slept. His reflexes were deadly, even when he wasn't fully aware. And anything that startled him while he was asleep was usually dead before he fully woke up. He didn't want to hurt her, so he warned her very seriously about sleeping in the same bed as him.
She had insisted, though. She was just a college girl, frightened to death of the men after her, and she had climbed into the bed regardless of what he had said. When he had begun to undress, unashamed of his well muscled, slightly scarred nudity, she had blushed and looked away, rolling over onto her own side.
But somewhere in the night, probably when she'd gotten up to go to the bathroom, she'd gotten undressed. And she was now wearing nothing but the skimpy white lace brassiere he'd noticed under her blouse yesterday. Who knew what this 18 year old darling was wearing down below the blankets.
He studied her, thinking of how he had taken her in the dream. It had been wild, hot, like a steaming jungle he had once known. As he looked at the brown tangle of her hair splayed out on the pillow, he remembered curling his fingers in it and pulling. And the sound of her squeals of pleasure had not yet been forgotten.
He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. She was lying on her side away from him, and the thin strap of her bra was slipping down her upper arm. As his fingers inched closer, he realized he was shaking. For a moment he reconsidered what he was doing.
If he touched her, she might wake up. And she was so tired.
But his fingers didn't share his doubts, and they touched over that strap, slowly stroking the arm beneath.
Her skin was so soft. She was silky. And suddenly, his fingers weren't pulling up the strap at all, but just stroking her skin.
Her flesh got goose bumps, but she didn't seem to wake up. Against his better judgment, he inched closer to her side of the bed.
Beneath the blankets, his groin felt hot, throbbing. A few more inches, and he was pressed against her bare flesh. She was naked beneath the blankets.
What had she been thinking?
He'd been hired to protect her, to take care of her until everything her father had stirred up had blown over. Drug dealers and mafia-like organizations were involved, and the girl was a key weakness in the rich man's world, his only weakness. If his enemies got hold of her, they could bring him down. So he'd hired the best assassin, hitman and bodyguard money could buy secretly, and his daughter had been whisked away from his life.
To where, her father might never know.
But if he knew his heir was lying half naked in bed with that bodyguard, with that killer of men, how would he feel?
Suddenly his cock throbbed, touching lightly against the warm curve of her buttocks.
What had she been thinking, he thought.
But he didn't pull away.
His hand slipped beneath the bra strap now, palm against that smooth slightly tanned skin. He rubbed up over her shoulder, then touched her neck, pulling her hair gently away.
She was gorgeous, the product of good breeding and good grooming. Her skin a golden color from the many resorts she frequented. Her hair glossy and chestnut colored, like the finest thoroughbred racers. And she had remarkable hazel eyes, closed now in her slumber.
As he leaned slightly over her head, he could see down her bra. It was loose, and he moved back a bit, noting how the clasps in the back had been undone. Probably for the sake of comfort, but it was sexy all the same.
Looking forward again, he could see her rounded, perky breasts. His cock throbbed again, and he began to move his hand down her collarbone. Then it was slipping beneath one lacy cup, curling around the breast until he cupped it in his large palm. He squeezed it, and the girl moaned. And the sound made him tingle.
By this time, he knew it was too late. He would have to have her, now. After the dream, seeing her naked like this in his bed. He'd been teased so long now, and he knew it wasn't on purpose. The girl truly had no idea of what effect she could have on men. Where she had grown up, all the other college girls always wore skimpy bikinis around the house, and always bounced when they walked. They bent over in delicious and provocative poses constantly. But somewhere along the line, someone had forgotten to tell this young coed what that could do to a man.
Suddenly, he felt compelled to show her.
He squeezed her mound again, feeling the softness in his palm. It was real, tender, not fake and decorative like some women. He licked his dry lips, trying not to groan.
He slid his body downward, slowly, pressing his chest into her back, his stomach against her spine. He dropped his mouth to her neck, nuzzling the flesh beneath her ear. And he moved his hand beneath her arm, onto the side of her rib cage.
She had to be awake now, he knew.
But she wasn't objecting. She wasn't pulling away.
As his cock pressed against her bare skin, he groaned at last, and felt her tingle.
Pull away, he wanted to scream at her.
Object, tell me to stop, don't let me have you like this.
But she did nothing to stop him, and lay completely still beneath his hand.
Slowly, his fingers ran down her ribs, over the slender dip that was her waist, and then up onto the curve of her hip. Her skin was like satin, and he was glad she wasn't some exercise freak, all lumpy and hard. She was soft, a delicate flower.
His tongue came out, licking at her neck. Then his hand moved over the outside of her thigh. He slid it down and to the side, until his arm was stretched along her body. Carefully, his hand pushed at the back of her thigh, guiding her leg to bend, her knee going onto the bed infront of her.
Now she was slightly spread, slightly open to him. His hand ran lower, and he could feel the heat of her before he felt her delicate sexy flesh. He wanted to stop that moment, freeze it in time; the moment just before he touched her, the anticipation of it more heady than any war he'd been in.
But he moved onward, ignoring that, instinctively knowing there was more to be had.
Down his fingers went, running over the downy hair of her sex. She moaned and rolled forward more, until she was almost on her stomach. His mouth followed her, but he curved his belly away.
His lips were wet now, hot on her neck. His fingers parted her swollen lips and again he felt that anticipation.
Would she be wet? Would she be willing? Or was this all some elaborate façade, where she thought she had to give in to him because of his strength and position?
He wouldn't stop, either way.
As his finger parted her chubby labia, it met with the wetness of her desire, and he sighed, his spine straightening with the realization of her lust.
She wanted this, and she wanted him.
He would have to give her what she wanted.
His fingers began to stroke her slit, not entering, not intruding. He smeared her juices up and down her lips, rubbing harder without opening them again. As his finger began to move faster, she shivered and trembled. Her body rocked lightly back against his hand.
He began to move his mouth down her neck, to her shoulder, then back to her shoulder blades, over her back. Down her spine he slid his tongue, moving his body lower on the bed.
He felt her tensing, shivering even more. She finally realized what he intended, and he wondered suddenly if all the tension in her body meant she was going to object.
Then he wondered if maybe it was because no one had done this for her before.
He wouldn't stop, either way.
Down went his mouth, over the dip of her lower back, then down over her buttocks. His large hands cupped her hips and rolled her completely onto her stomach. He was between her thighs now, and the blankets tumbled to the floor as he adjusted his position.
Looking down on her, she looked like a human garden. Her best flower was in bloom, and he could see the pink petals between her thighs. His hands went over her ass, stroking and massaging. He looked up.
She was clutching the pillow now, half burying her face in it.
Was that from shame, or fear?
He wouldn't stop, either way.
He lowered his head to her legs, licking first along the inside of one thigh, then along the inside of the other. His hands slid beneath them and up to her lower stomach. Then he lifted her insignificant weight upwards, tilting her body off the bed.
Now her sex was infront of his face, and now he was the one shivering. The girl squealed but he didn't hear her. His tongue came out, flicking over where his finger had so recently been rubbing in preparation for this moment.
She tasted divine, womanly, like honeyed wine.
Again his tongue lashed out, lapping along that tight crevice. Then he pushed it into the folds, parting her, seeking out her secrets.
He found her clitoris, hidden at the top of her slit beneath its small sheath-like hood. He tongued it, and she struggled in his hands as if to pull away. But she could not.
He moved his tongue lower, flicking back and forth over the inner labia, the small slender lips aligned around her vagina. Her flesh was stiff, excited, and he closed his eyes, drinking her in.
Then he moved his tongue inside her, his hands lifting her, bringing her closer to him, over his mouth. His tongue writhed serpentine in her privacy, and she kicked with her legs, openly whining and gasping for the pleasure he was giving her.
Around and around he swirled his tongue, then he began expertly diving it in and out of her, almost fucking her like it was a small cock or dildo. She bucked and squirmed, and at last, she came around his mouth. He felt her walls tight around his tongue, felt her orgasm stroking him. And still he drank, until she was completely weak in his hands.
Finally, he settled her back to the bed. She lay there, limp, exhausted, immobile.
But he wasn't done. This wasn't all he had been dreaming.
For a moment, he leaned over her, moving his perfumed mouth against her cheek, and then her ear.
"I can't take a risk like your pussy," he said quietly.
He ground his cock against her rounded bottom, and her eyes fluttered, confused.
"I still want you," he said.
Then he pulled back again.
Kneeling between her thighs, he began to stroke her puss again with one hand. Within a few strokes, she was wet again. And that's what he wanted. Carefully, he rubbed over her lips.
She seemed confused, her eyes staring off at the far wall, her throat rippling as she gulped.
He put a hand on his thick cock, stroking over the shaft and the bulbous head. Precum oozed onto his fingertips, and he smeared it over the taut skin. When it was very wet, he took that hand and moved it to her body.
With his other hand, he pulled apart her buttocks. Then he ran one wet finger up from her puss, dragging her own lust upwards over her anus. His cum-covered finger ran downwards as well now, teasing her puckered hole, making it slick with the wetness they both had to give.
Would she object now? Would she try to get away now that she had been pleased, and he had not?
He wouldn't stop, either way.
Slowly he moved forward on the bed. His hands pulled her ass cheeks apart, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh of her bottom and dimpling it. His cock dropped in between, and the head seemed to instinctively find the hole, bouncing against it.
She'd never had this done before, either, he realized by her deer-in-headlights look.
Forward he pushed, feeling the strong rim of muscles around her anus objecting to his size. But he didn't stop, just continued slowly pushing. Then he gripped her hips, and began to pull her back onto his shaft.
More and more of him began to slide into her. She buried her face in the pillow completely now, out of shame or in an effort to smother her own screams. He didn't care.
He wouldn't stop, either way.
Half of him was inside her now. She felt so good, so tight. She was hot here, her ass gripping him in her panic. But he kept going, until he felt the hair of his groin pressing against her cheeks. He lifted her hips up more, her knees going under her. Then he pushed her off of him.
Slowly, agonizingly, he withdrew most of his throbbing cock from her ass. He watched as it emerged, wet, slick, and so tightly squeezed that it was red skinned now. Then he mercilessly plunged it back inside her. Then he withdrew again.
With his fingers on her curving hips, he moved her against him. He was lost now in the rhythm. In and out, in and out, in and out. He closed his eyes, fucking her ass just like he had in his dream.
His hand went out, running along her back. Finally he found the tangles of her hair, and he ran his fingers along the back of her neck, gripping her dark, long locks. He pulled her head back, and she squealed. But the sound wasn't one of agonizing pain or fear.
It was the sound of drunken frenzied lust. And it made him pump faster.
In and out he went, in and out. Finally, his balls slapping against her wet puss, he began to cum.
He couldn't believe how much of his seed he poured into that girl. He couldn't stop it, it just kept spurting out of him, into her tight tunnel.
At last, he dropped to the bed, releasing her and lying next to her on the sheets. He panted, staring at the ceiling, wondering a dozen things.
Finally, she eased his mind. Trembling, shaking, she slowly made her way to his side. Then she rested a hand on his chest, and nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder.
He pulled her close.
Had she really wanted all of this? Had she been wanting this all along? Or was she just feeling obligated because her father had set this man to watch over her, and in her world, sex was just another way to pay someone for services rendered?
He wouldn't have stopped, either way.