Addicted?

I knocked on the door of the hotel room and waited. Eventually he answered. He looked at me, his eyes travelling up and down, drinking in the sight before him. He was speechless. I walked past him and turned to face him, flashing my ID. “Stand in the middle of the room please sir.” He shut the door and did as I asked, still speechless, still staring. I stepped towards him. When I reached him I began to frisk him, running my hands over his arms, his legs, and his slim body. As I passed my hands over his hips my arm brushed against his crotch and I could feel the effect I was having; his cock was already hard. I stood in front of him, and looked deep into those dark eyes. “I'm afraid I'm going to need to conduct a more thorough investigation sir.” I reached out to undo the buttons of his shirt, pushed it back off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I took a step closer to him, pulling the glistening silver handcuffs from my belt. Taking his wrists in my hands I pushed his arms behind his back and secured them. I pushed him over to the bed. He sat there, looking up at me, still unable to speak.

I knelt on the floor. I quickly undid the fastening on his trousers and pulled them off. Sat there in his Calvin's his erection was clear to see. I bit back a smile. “I'm investigating reports of your... addiction... to sex. I hope you will cooperate fully with my enquiries sir.” I removed his boxers and then stood up, slipped off the black lace French knickers that I wore beneath the short, black trench coat, throwing them onto the bed behind him. As he turned his head to look at them I straddled him, pulling his head back to look at me. Our eyes were locked together as I dipped my slick, expectant pussy down around his waiting cock, enveloping him in my ready, pink flesh until he was concealed deep inside me.

I fucked him with careful, measured movements, holding his body close to mine, leaning his head on my shoulder. My studied thrusts built up, pulling him irresistibly towards climax. His breathing became heavier as he gasped for every drop of air. I stopped, waited, held him on the edge. Let the inevitability of his orgasm subside. One hand still gripped his back; the other moved up to his head, my fingers entwined in his dark, brown-black hair. I started to move again, repeating the relentless build back up, stopping again just as he was about to reach the point of no return, again dropping him back. Once more I built up then stopped. The fourth time, when I began again I pushed myself too. I could feel the tension, the frustration in his body; he must cum soon. I fought hard to keep my actions deliberate as my body tried to pull control from me. I closed my eyes tightly, concentrated desperately, held his body close, gasped a breath, felt my body tense... let go. His cock exploded deep within me, his thick jet of cum flooding the depths of my pulsating, screaming cunt. He groaned, filling my ears with the sound, as I bit hard on my lip, absolutely determined not to let him hear me lose control.

We sat there for a while. He looked at me, still not knowing what to say. I gazed at him intently. “Is it safe to remove these handcuffs sir?” He nodded slightly. His eyes said no. I reached behind, freed his arms. The second he was free he threw me back so I lay on the bed. He lay on top of me and found his voice at last. '”Me... addicted? What about you?” He knelt over me, let his fingers untie the belt on my coat, pushing it back, uncovering my almost naked body. He lifted me up to remove the coat, flicked undone the clasp of my bra, pulled it off and let me drop back onto the bed. He looked at my body, his eyes burning my skin wherever they laid their gaze. He slipped his fingers inside me, looked down to see them drowning in my pussy. He looked back up at me. “Wet; soaking wet. You enjoyed it.” Never letting go of the hold he had on my eyes, he put his fingers to my lips. My own wetness burned on my mouth. He knew I'd loved every second. I wasn't in control. Not one bit.

Suddenly he grabbed my wrists and forced my arms up above my head. He picked up the handcuffs from where they lay next to me on the bed. “Two can play at your game, sweetheart.” He put the handcuffs around my wrists roughly and I gasped. “Sssshh.” At that moment he noticed the small heap of black lace next to my head. He reached out and picked it up. Looking down at me, with the slightest flicker of a smile in his eyes he pushed my discarded French knickers into my mouth. In a second he had pushed his cock roughly into me. The makeshift gag stopped me from crying out. He thrust hard, fast, deep. I closed my eyes, tried desperately not to feel the pleasure he forced. He knew exactly what he was doing; the precise split second to stop. My head was spinning; solely focussed on the release he kept keeping from me. I've no idea how many times he pushed me, let me hang on the edge, not letting me fall into orgasm. Forever he repeated this torture until I was faint with longing, tears streaming down my face. Again and again he pushed me; almost but not quite.

I almost didn't realise what was happening when he finally let me go. Then the wave of complete pleasure ripped through every single cell in my body. The gag masked my scream as I came, but I could hear his loud, unmistakeable groan.