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What the hell am I doing?” I think to myself as I board the southbound train from New York. I’m not going home. I’m gonna Philadelphia. To a 5 Star hotel room paid for on points and a man I’ve never met, but who I haven’t been able to get out of my head for more than a week.

I am far from impulsive – rational to a fault and the type many would have called a control freak. But I am stopping in a city in which I do not live, for a man I have never laid eyes on, because I can not stop thinking about having him fuck me.

A week earlier we connected on a dating app for the NYC area. Joke’s on us – he lives in Philly and I was just boarding a train from there, home. We’d been minutes aside for several days unknowingly. He is 10 years my junior, and I can not stop thinking about him and all the photos and videos he’s sent. So much so, I impulsively book a train to stop the next week and a hotel to see him.

We agree to meet for a drink at a spot he knows – wine to ease the nerves and drop the inhibitions. I’m late because of an inept Uber. I hate being late and I’m flustered. When I arrive, I can not find out the door to the place and suddenly he appears in it – better looking even than his pictures. My nerves fall away because somehow I’m also totally at ease in his business.

The wine flows easy and fast as does the conversation. We are collectively close to two bottles in when we decide we should get out of there. In the Uber to the hotel we talk about music and I tell him I’d be Pat Benatar in another life. He seems impressed that I didn’t go with Stevie Nicks. I hope he stays impressed when our clothes come off shortly.

When we get to the room I go to wash my lipstick off lest I make us both look ridiculous. And I witness his first act of sex in motion as he slowly unzips my shirt and delicately kisses the nape of my neck while he looks at me in the mirror.
I think I might cum right then but hold it together and hurry up.

I finish up and walk out to the bedroom where he is standing in front of the window. We start to make out, but it doesn’t take long for the clothes to start to come off. He peels my top off. Then my pants and I’m standing naked in front of him. Vulnerable but not scared.

We talked about using restraints ahead of time. He said he couldn’t discover his, so I told him to just bring two belts jokingly. Turns out he didn’t need two. After his clothes came off as well, he pushed me back onto the bed, straddled across my chest, and he took his belt out from his pants and wrapped it around my wrists. It’s like I was some kind of Boy Scout task that he had to accomplish for a badge while his cock was dangling in my face and I was desperately trying to put in my mouth. He alternated looking at my hands to watch his work, carefully crafting the knot around my wrist and looking down at me, his delicate subject completely at his mercy, under his power.

He told me not to move – don’t put my hands down, and I tried to obey. But it was so hard to not move, feeling him against my body, feeling the sensations, his lips on my tits, his mouth on my pussy, needing to move against him to feel more.

All I wanted was to hear him call me a good girl. So I desperately held onto that position with my hands tied above my head, my wrists clasped together. And he rewarded me as he put his cock in my mouth, and I held my hands high for him and he looked down at me and he gave me what I so desperately wanted: hearing I was his good girl.

NSFW: yes

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