Wednesday, 27 February 2013

Wicked Wednesday: Writhe

The plane journey has been long. Oh so long. I sit in my seat, not really knowing what is to come, what to expect when I step off that plane. Without a bra and without panties I have traveled from my home to his, nervous, scared, flying into the unknown.

I writhe. In anticipation. In expectation.

I collect my bags and leave, seeing him, seeing her, finally, my cunt twitches. I approach slowly, worried I am not what they expected. Not hot enough, not sexy enough, not anything enough. But they smile at me, Sir grins, nodding to the bathrooms. I flush but the wetness between my legs gives me away. He knows, they both know. I take my bags into the bathroom and he follows me.

I pick a stall and wait. So nervous, heart pounding, but writhing. He enters, I know it is him, and my door swings open almost of its own accord, knowing how much I want this. He shuts the door behind him and lifts my top up, no words pass his lips, not even a hello. He gropes me, feeling my tits, running his hands over my stomach, around my waist, back to my tits, squeezing my nipples while I bite my lip trying not to give us away.

I writhe. In fear. In pleasure.

He lifts my skirt, grinning to see I have obeyed his orders. His hands explore me and I blush, turning my head away, unable to look at him. A hand wraps around my chin and turns my face towards him.

I writhe. In shame.

His fingers explore me, he turns me round, examining every inch of me. He bends me over, spreading my ass cheeks. I feel fingers begin to explore inside of me, violating what has been just mine for so long.

I writhe.

I hear the sound of a zipper and swiftly he takes me. I cannot help but scream and soon find a hand over my mouth as he pounds into me. Stretching me. Using me. Abusing me. I feel his cock pulse inside me, and he is done with me. He pulls out, zips up and leaves. I collapse on toilet.

And I writhe.

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