Crude Awakening

Jayne Renault
13 mins read
Published over 1 year ago

It's been a while since the last time I saw him. Maybe a year now. Maybe longer.

I’ve been in a weird place lately. A lot of conflicting thoughts and feelings. About everything. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I’m not hungry, but I can’t remember the last time I ate. By all accounts, work is going really well, but I can’t stand the idea of being in the office right now. I'm bored. I want to go out and do something, but I'm overwhelmed by the idea of making any kind of plan, never mind execute one. 

That kind of thing.

So, when I got the call out of the blue from a number I hadn't seen in a while, wondering if I was free, I was on the fence. I didn't think I had the energy to shower and go all the way across town after a long Tuesday of uploading every lost drop of my energy into a computer screen. And I've never particularly liked this one. I don’t know why I ever agreed to see him again after the first time - he was a little rough for my liking then. 

But I've evolved significantly since we first met, and so have my tastes.

I could have turned it down. Just go straight home and wallow in my anxiety for another restless night and hope Wednesday would be a little brighter. 

But I just… couldn’t find it in me to say no. Maybe this would be the shake-up in my routine that I needed. If I'm being honest, I'd been missing the thrill of knocking on a stranger's door lately.

I guess that’s how I found myself back at that weird little suburban motel on the other side of the city again.


The sun was going down by the time I arrived. 

I was all bundled up in my favourite black trench coat. I knocked twice and heard him shuffling on the other side. The cool evening mist left a light dew on my cheeks while I waited. He opened the door and welcomed me in with a big smile and familiar eyes. We hugged like old friends and he invited me to take a seat.

There were these two, smallish, tattered arm chairs on either side of the round table next to the window. He insisted I sit in the one near the door because the other was broken and super wobbly.

He poured me a glass of cheap red wine and asked me how I’d been. There’s not exactly much depth to our relationship (if you could even call it that), and there's a bit of a language barrier, so the conversation is always pretty stunted at best.

I could hear myself respond to his questions, but I don’t really remember coming up with the answers. I was growing impatient, but at the same time, I wasn’t in any particular rush. I had nowhere else to be, nothing else to do. I crossed my legs and folded one hand over the other, pressing them into my thigh to keep from absently picking at the skin around my fingernails.

Above all, I was here because I was looking for an escape from my anxious reality. And he was going to provide that, whether he realized it or not.

He said that I looked nice. That he liked what I was wearing. I just smiled and thanked him.

He stood up and looked down at me with this kind of... lecherous admiration. Hungry, yet non-threatening.

He knelt down in front of me and nestled between my legs for another hug. I welcomed him in as he leaned in for a kiss.

It always starts out fine, but then he does this thing where he wraps his lips around mine and I really don’t love that bit. But it never happened long or often enough for me to make a point of saying anything. So I just scrunched my eyelids and kissed him back.

He pressed his ear into my chest and I lazily stroked his back. The small television in the corner was on mute, streaming the weather network, of all things. I could see the time in the bottom corner. 7:42 p.m.

The wall across from me was one big mirror. My eyes were dark and fierce, and with this generally irreverent man down on his knees in front of me, I felt powerful. I smiled at the realization that my unease was already starting to drift away.

He stood up to disrobe, and I assumed he wanted me to take my clothes off too. But he stopped me before I could lift my top and told me not to rush. This was a little out of character for him, but I went with it. He removed his sweater, draped it on the table, and knelt back down in front of me.

I’d been psyching myself for his usual abrasiveness before I even walked in the room, but this time he held me gently. Affectionately, almost. With one less layer between us, I felt him sink a little deeper into me. He ran his hand down my back, around my hips, under the edge of my skirt, until he found the tops of my stockings. He looked up at me and smiled, saying that he liked them too.

I lifted myself up with the arms of the chair so he could slide my skirt off, which he placed neatly on top of his sweater. He kissed my neck and ran his hands over my thighs. As I leaned to one side and opened my eyes, I spied the time again. 7:51 p.m.

His hands moved under the back of my shirt. They weren’t cold, but they weren’t hot either. They were, however, unexpectedly soft for a working man of his age. He fumbled around with the back of my bra. I giggled at him because I knew the clasp was in the front and he would never think to look there.

I took my top off, adding it to our pile. He buried his face between my breasts and kissed them one at a time. He pulled one right out of the cup of my bra and sucked my nipple into his mouth. He pinched me between his lips and I winced preemptively; he released before it hurt.

I let my head tilt back and felt my ponytail tickle the space between my shoulder blades as I unclasped my bra and let it fall down into the seat behind me.

He held me so close that I could actually taste the full volume of every breath he took. I decided to kiss up his neck and graze his back with my nails while I continued to look at myself in the mirror behind him. 7:56 p.m.

He pulled back and took a moment to look at me. His eyes twinkled in the lamplight as he smiled again with silent approval. Then he stood up again. This time to take off his pants.

I took the opportunity to sip my wine, because I knew I was going to be underwhelmed by the big reveal. Let’s be honest, there’s no suspense left in this moment for us. For me, anyways.

Standing there naked in front of me, he told me how pretty I was. And again, I responded with the expected courtesy smile, but I was mostly unfazed by the vapid compliments. I didn't need his words to validate my form.

One final time, he got down on his knees and held me. In that moment, I felt more like a mother than a lover. Nurturing, protective, understanding of his needs. But also of my own.

He clumsily sucked at my lips. He was moving on to his next phase of excitement. 7:59 p.m.

He licked my cheekbone and kissed my eyelid. He rose again, groping at my breasts along the way, and propped one foot on the chair between my legs, and without any words or ceremony, presented his erection to me.

I licked my lips and rubbed the tip of his cock against them before taking him right in. Deep, probing thrusts. Thick saliva from the deepest parts of my throat coated his shaft and oozed out the corners of my mouth. I gagged, but didn’t choke. I was still very much in control.

At some point, the angle got little too awkward to maintain and I slipped. He accidentally tapped a little too hard, a little too deep and I was forced to pull back. He looked concerned, stroked my hair, and asked if I was okay.

Physically, I felt angry, which in that moment, was actually exactly what I wanted. If that doesn’t make sense to you, that’s okay.

I stroked him with one hand as I wiped the reactionary tears from under my eyes with the other, told him I was fine, and took him back into my mouth.

Just past his hipbone, I could see my reflection. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had to agree with his earlier statement - sitting in that makeshift throne, stockinged legs spread enough that I could see the sparkles of my black thong, ferocious eyes, cock halfway down my throat - I felt pretty. And then some.

I released him from my mouth and I looked up at him. He leaned over to give me a kiss while rubbing between my legs over my underwear. I was getting excited too now. He pulled back and invited me to move to the bed. 8:04 p.m.

I knelt with my legs spread wide, stretched my arms up and cracked my spine. I admired myself the mirror until he was finally lying comfortably on his back. In the low light, the shadows hugged my spaces just right.

He beckoned me down towards him with his arms outstretched and I crawled up on top of him, pressing my naked front into his until I rolled to the side. I nestled the back of my head into the crook of his neck and he continued to explore my body with his hands.

My head lolled away from him. The sidewall mirror extended all the way to that end of the bed, and I stared blankly at myself, wondering how it’s possible that two people could be so close, yet so distant.

I kissed his neck and nibbled his earlobe. He hugged me closer and I pressed my hips back into his, searching for the next rhythm.

He kissed the tip of my nose, rolled me over, and pulled away. He stood up and grabbed a sip of wine from his glass as he walked across the room to flick the light off.

As he turned back to look at me, I caught my reflection checking me out. She was all lit up by the soft blue glow of the weather network. I think, in that moment, I wanted me more than I could have ever wanted any of them. 8:11 p.m.

He smiled and tapped on the far end of the bed. I inched myself down the mattress until I was sitting at the foot of it. Again, he knelt down onto the floor in front of me.

I know, there’s been a lot of kneeling in this story. But I was really vibing on all the worship imagery he had going on for me.

And I just lied back to receive his veneration. 8:12 p.m.

He brought his tongue directly to my clit, but it was so light that I almost didn’t feel it at first. He propped one hand under my hip, and I could hear the soft repetitive smack of him jacking himself off with the other. He leaned into my inner thigh, licking me up and down with the smooth side of his tongue.

He sunk into his rhythm, and as I melted a little deeper into those starchy motel sheets, I was pleasantly surprised.

I don’t remember enjoying myself as much the last time we were together. Or any other time, for that matter. But in my defense, that was when I was still trying to figure out how to own my pleasure and take what's mine. I know much better know.

Legs spread, heels planted into the edge of the bed, I looked to the right and saw myself again. My thigh cut off his face in the reflection, so he was no more than the anonymous agent of my primal needs.

I squeezed my breast and stroked the length of my body, watching how the shadows danced on my skin. I forgot about the person attached to the tongue between my legs and my mind went blank. I felt the nothingness around me expand and amplify the sensations swelling in my pussy.

Then the pressure he was applying shifted so slightly, and I felt this localized tingling start to stir. He dipped down between my labia and back up to a frenzied back and forth motion over my clit.

Suspended by the anticipation, I created a halo of arousal around his skull - I lifted my hips to the ceiling and pushed my tailbone down into the mattress, pressing my knees together and spreading them apart all at the same time.

My lungs sunk into my back body, and my chin dipped slightly as tension started to grow in my throat. I choked on a silent moan as the tingling diffused from my clit, shooting an invisible line of my energy right through the back of his head.

My hips began their descent back towards the sheets, but he still didn’t let up, lapping dutifully into my folds. The mattress held my heels firmly in place as the fallout contractions of the first orgasm weaved seamlessly into a second upsurge. I clutched the soft wisps of his recently washed hair as my hips dropped again and my legs wrapped gently around his head.

Like a clumsy caterpillar, my entire body curled spontaneously in on itself. I felt the last of my anxiety melt past his tongue and down the edge of the bed.

While I took an extra moment to linger in my bliss, he jumped up to grab a condom from one of the pockets in the pile of clothes on the table. He propped himself up on his knees in front of me, and invited me to do the honours. I took him into my mouth as I blindly pried the condom from its wrapper.

Once it was rolled into place, he pushed me forcefully back down onto the back. I glared at him, growling hungrily as he mounted me and pushed his cock inside.

He grunted and sighed, settling immediately into a voracious rhythm. I lifted one leg up onto his shoulder, and he buried his face into my neck as he plunged a little deeper. He held his breaths for multiple thrusts at a time. My breath, on the other hand, was broad and balanced then. I was revitalized.

He pulled my other leg up, and my ankles wrapped tightly around his neck. His thrusts pressed the springs of the mattress into my lower back, and I pulled myself into him for stability.

I replaced my ankles with my arms as he pressed down on the backs of my thighs and leaned his full weight into me, plowing hard and fast. I clenched down around him every time he slid away from me, and I felt a cool bead of his sweat drop into the middle of my chest.

His panting grew more and more agitated. Without slowing the continuous gyration of his hips, he curled at his core and left a sweaty stamp on my cheek when he bit my collarbone.

I dug my nails into his back and he gasped into my mouth. He licked my cheek and eyelids, pulled out, and slapped the side of my ass. Get on all fours.

I hastily flipped around and he reentered me, slapping me again even harder than the first time. I closed my eyes and smiled into the pillow, focusing on the stinging sensation of another layer of weakness being stripped away.

He asked if I liked it when he hit me.

I growled my yes and pounded my ass back into him. He slapped me again, and sunk a little deeper. He fumbled with the elastic in my hair to take out my ponytail. Then grabbed a handful of my hair, and pulled my head back hard.

He slapped my ass one more time, and I imagined how red that spot must have been getting.

He pressed his palm into my back, forcing my chest and face into the bed. I bit down and screamed into the pillow as he plowed into me with the fervour of a rabid monkey. He curled his body into mine and reached his tongue towards my face, clumsily licking my cheek.

He snarled at my back and wrapped his hands around my neck, applying a slight but definite restriction to my air flow, and I growled approvingly against his chokehold.

I didn’t feel any intense muscular contraction, but I went blank. Devoid of thought. Full of emptiness. As if I’d achieved mental orgasm. A tangible taste of enlightenment.

As I came back down, my conscious awareness restored, I heard him reaching his breaking point. I planted the balls of my feet into the bed and lifted my hips slightly. The tension in my quads created a tighter grip around his girth.

He got louder and louder, until he was full-on yelling into his thrusts, pounding harder, deeper, and then ever slower until the waves finally dissipated and he pulled right out.

He wobbled as he stood up to remove the condom. I laughed, and suggested that he should be more careful. I made eye contact with my reflection and shrugged at her as he rinsed my juices off in the sink in the corner.

I hopped off the bed and fished my clothes out of our mixed pile of garments. As we got dressed, he rambled something about how he always enjoys our time together. 8:42 p.m.

I buttoned up my coat, wrapped my scarf snug around my neck, and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Until next time,” I lied, and walked out the door into the misty night without looking back.

More by Queen Jayne:

The Birthday Bash
Comings and Goings
Compliance Risk
Condemned Desire
Conservation Area

Devotee
The Dinner Date
Hey, Babe.
Just Dessert
Marked
Taking My Time

QJ
Written by
Queen Jayne Renault

comma chameleon. word witch. smut queen.