White Room
I opened my eyes, closing them forthwith. All I had time to see, was the brightness of a room unknown, flooded by natural sunlight. Everything was white, from floor to ceiling. Almost transparent veils covered the tall windows, filtering the light to a rich golden glow. The light fabric curled nonchalantly with a warm breeze, dancing on its own as it filled the space with a flowery spring scent. I was able to peek at an unusual minimalist room, furnished with a bed and a lazily rotating ceiling fan. Covered by a silky and almost weightless bed sheets, I lied in that bed. It was comfortable as my curves were enfolded by it’s mellow texture. As the scented breeze rolled on the covers, I felt its delicate caress on my nakedness. My surroundings got me curious, but not a drop of worry occupied my cleared and rested mind. I felt as I woke up from a previous life, from a replenishing nap, long enough to make me reborn. As my interested hands roamed to my sides, I touched skin to me anonymous. It was smooth, though worn by time and space. Now waken by my curiosity, my eyes could have opened to identify the stranger. I decided not to and let my left hand be my ambassador of the uncharted territory. My palm continued it’s way up, feeling the curves of a muscular arm till its powerful shoulder. I extended my fingers till they reached a jaw, square and somewhat spiny. It was a man. My index met lips, cracked like dried leather from years of careless days, feeling air as he exhaled from his nose. I brushed the tip of my finger from right to left, caressing his week old beard with a gentle palm. Back to his left shoulder, I made my way down. My arm softly brushed against a strong body, defined pectoral and sturdy abdominal muscles. A small but significant shiver ran up my spine to wake up my nape hair. My hand caught a strong and firm hand. The man was not a bodybuilder, he had the traits of a working man, a laborer, one whose hands suffered over and over. Without thinking, I risked traveling to the strangers stomach. Even lower, defined hip bones stopped me in my tracks, making a few droplets emerge on my forehead. Another shiver waved in my back reaching to my wrists. One finger at a time, I was pushed by eagerness to find more, to feel more. My cheeks turned red hot as I touched short tiny hairs, as if I was not prepared, although I was. I curled my fingers, caressing the area with a mix of shyness and curiosity. A thought struck me for the first time, the stranger had not moved yet, not even an inch. Was he still sleeping? Curiosity made way to desire as lust pulsed inside. I craved to feel lower as my inner thighs began to tingle with warmth. Not being able to keep still, I plunged my hand in the abyss of the covers. At first, I settled to only brush the strangers flesh. The members skin was soft, I could feel it in a rested by firm enough state. I could also feel my core heat up some more and the beginning of bodily fluids amassing inside. Finally, I instinctively curved my fingers to wrap it in my palm. I felt its pulse lightly and grow. It’s circulating blood warmed my hands even more. As it harden by the second, I began to stroke it gently. The stranger was still, on his back, but his shaft woke up with my touch. Slow up and down motions made it fully erect in no time. I couldn’t reach my fingers around, already, my insides were burning. Keeping a graceful and slow pace was getting difficult as I ached for more. My right hand moved on its own to cup my breasts, massaging them, gently pinching the tips with my palms. The light bed sheets were now exhaling hot breath, push out with the movements of my arm. The flowery scent was now mixed with a perfume of lust. A few burning drops found a way out of me as a strong hand motioned it’s way on my stomach. My reflex was controlled by hormones and raw desire as I gently grabbed the anonymous arm by the wrist to push it down. When the vigorous and thick fingers reached down to finally brush against my neatly short kept aroused pubic hairs, I left it there before returning to my jealous breasts. My hand, clutched around the massive soft mast, picked up a faster pace when thick fingers found their way between my humid labia. Lighting was sent across my spine, my back curved up to meet the fingers closer. A warm middle finger pushed on my soaked lips, purging a few my drops of lava from me. As he pressed down inside, his phalanges squeezed my clitoris, forcing a low moan out. I bit my lips, feeling only pleasure as I stroke him faster with the desire to grant climax. The stranger curved his lone massive finger between my wet lips, swallowing it in easily. I knew he was accumulating pleasure as his movements became clumsy and fast. This thought made me moan loudly and boil up inside. Through my clutched fingers I felt his heart beat and sudden waves of pulsing liquid. I graced him of faster strokes as his muscles worked hard to expulse the elixir of his climax. As the warm liquid erupted over my hand, slowing the pace gently, my own inner muscles clutched around the man’s finger, squeezing it with brute force as my accumulated wetness burst around the digit. When the finger made it exit, I felt my own juices stream between my thighs and cheeks to flood the sheets under me. The room echoed with panting as we both stood still, eyes closed, remaining strangers to one another.
