I cannot believe that she has brought my fingers here. To her sacred place. My eyes don't break contact with hers as I gently circle her clit. She moans, arching her back on the bench, and I am desperate to see her without the towel. To see all of her. Naked. Spread open for me.

My right hand is tangled in her curls, so I use my left hand to unwind the white towel from her breasts, marveling at their firmness. So far, she hasn't broken eye contact with me, and I lean over her, sucking her right nipple into my mouth as I use one finger at her entrance, slowly sinking into her wetness. Fuck. She feels so good. So tight. So wet. And that's all for me. Her nipple puckers, and I desire to coax a moan from her.

In the back of my mind, I'm screaming to stop. She's obviously vulnerable. And she's only offering her body to me. It's in that moment, as my cock starts to harden, that I realize we're both naked here in the steam room. Without a damn condom anywhere to be found. Fuck.

Just then, she moans. A deep, guttural sound that resonates in my stomach and below. My balls jump at the sound, and I no longer care if she's vulnerable. I'm fucking exposed, too. Now I have a primal urge to hear her come. To watch her face as she unravels. It's become an obsession.

==============

His fingers are moving in and out while his thumb circles your clit. You feel passive, allowing him to bring you this feeling of ecstasy and pleasure while giving him nothing in return. And you feel extremely blessed that he has chosen you. That this man has elected to be intimate with you in this way. It's been too long since any man has had his hands on you, but this man. Fuck. THIS MAN. He's ten times any man you've ever known.

And no. There's no commitment. No promises of anything other than an orgasm. And that's enough for you. At least in your current state of arousal. His fingers are thrusting in and out of you, and your breathing has increased. The feel of his mouth on your breast makes you whimper, and your hips are thrusting up to meet his fingers. The panting sound you make is more of a mewl as you seek the release only Harry can offer.

Harry cannot believe that you are allowing this. That you are encouraging this. His fingers stroke at your core, trying to wring that precious reaction from you, and his mouth tastes the saltiness and sweetness of your nipples as he suckles back and forth between your two breasts equally. The closer you get the more he wants to hear you call out his name when you finally hit your release.

The coils have started low in your abdomen, and you are crying with need now, tears mixing with the sweat on your face.

"Please, Styles," you sob, your tear-stained eyes capturing his wonder-filled green ones. Harry adjusts his movements slightly, increasing the pressure on your clit and slowing the pace of his fingers.

The sensation is not what you were expecting, and you moan louder, tilting your head backwards as you grind out the words from between clenched teeth, "Fuck, Styles. Fuck me."

Smiling, he bends over towards your lips, whispering, "I am," just before he captures your lips with his own. His tongue thrusting in and out of your mouth has a faster pace than his fingers, and you hear a high pitched screeching escaping from you. Startled at the conflicting assaults on your body, you grip either side of the bench with your hands, as you continue to adjust his pace by moving your hips more rapidly, but he's placed his arm over your hips, effectively holding you still.

===========

Her pleas and cries have no effect on my actions, but they certainly are impacting my cock. Fuck. I want her to hold on as long as possible to make it better for her when she finally implodes, and yet I am torturing myself at the same time. If only I had a condom and could be inside her. We could come together, and I would be eternally grateful for the opportunity. Alas, there are no condoms in this cursed steam room.

Looking at her face, I can tell she's close. And it's the most beautiful expression I've seen on anyone's face. Ever. Making a mental note to continue watching her when she finds her release, I redouble my efforts, once again pushing my fingers in and out of her at a faster speed. Lightening up my pressure on her belly, she's free to buck up into me, and she does. God, does she ever! It's stunning to watch as she seeks her release. I've stopped kissing parts of her because I want to focus completely on watching her face. Her eyes are closed, face flushed with both the exertion and heat. She's biting her lower lip as she moans, and I find myself mimicking her, biting my own lower lip as I observe her.

I don't think I've ever been this enthralled with watching a woman orgasm before. In fact, I'm SURE of it. At the start, for me, it's all about her pleasure. Watching a woman get off because of my fingers, my mouth, my nose, before I've even got my cock near her is the greatest aphrodisiac I can imagine. But when it's time for my cock, I'm big, so I like her warm, ready and relaxed for everything we're going to do together. But with this woman just seeing her come is almost enough for me.

As I suspected, when her release arrives, it is a vision to behold. Her back arches. Her body tenses from head to toe, causing her knees to bend and her toes to point. Her face freezes in a soundless "oh". My fingers continue to stroke as I feel the spasms emanating from her core. The muscles clench and unclench around my fingers, and I feel a flood of wetness. Famished, I want to taste her, and as her body calms down, I carefully and gently remove my fingers, raising them to my mouth to suck her essence off of them.

She makes eye contact with me, and I am torn apart at her expression as she watches me pull my fingers across my tongue, reveling in the taste of her. My cock has hardened to an almost painful level, and I know I'm going to have to wank off in the shower. But it will be 100% worth the experience she just gave me.

Which is why she surprises me when she rolls to her side on the bench and grasps for my towel, reaching between the overlapping fabric to wrap her hand around my painful, leaking cock. I moan, throwing back my head, not expecting to feel her hand on me.

======================

You are barely down from your orgasm before you reach for his swelling length, intent on providing him the same pleasure he just gave you. When the lights had exploded behind your eyes, and your back had arched, you wondered briefly if you were dying. The French call it "le petite mort", the "little death", and you now know why. Of all of the orgasms that have been wrung from you in the past few years, this one transcended them.

Now you want to return the favor.

Releasing him long enough to sit up and move to the bench closer to him, you reach again, greedily removing his towel as you want a look at his full manhood. When you unveil his hardness, you gasp - a cock isn't meant to be pretty, but Harry's is truly beautiful and it makes your mouth water. You know that using your hands will not be sufficient. No. You need to taste him. You need to know how he feels on your tongue as you swirl it over his length.

Stepping off of the wooden benches, you kneel on the floor of the steam room, once more wrapping your hands around him. But this time, you lean over to lick just at the tip where some pre-cum has gathered. As your tongue touches the slit, you raise your eyes to him. His gaze is clearly on your mouth at first, but then his eyes meet yours, and they widen in wonder. This is clearly not what he was expecting from you. Maintaining that eye contact, you lower your mouth completely on him, all of the way to his base, your nose buried in the hairs there. Unlocking your jaw, you breathe in deeply through your nose to smell the scent of pure Styles. Then you swallow.

The movement of your throat on his cock makes Harry nearly come unglued. Now he's the one gripping both sides of the bench, his fists tightly wrapped around the seating. The guttural sounds escaping him are punctuated by sharp intakes of breath and deep, long moans, his deep voice echoing throughout the steam room. Twice he calls out your name, and you feel a sense of supreme satisfaction, knowing that you managed to squeeze it from him. Sliding your hands down his length as you withdraw your lips from him, you apply a gentle suction, then use your hands to slide up and down his shaft as you tickle his tip again with your tongue. Your saliva along with the steam in the room provides a natural lubricant as you slide your hands along his length one after the other.

===================

Fuuuuuuccckkkkk. If she deepthroats me again, I won't be able to handle it. I will come in her throat, and she'll be forced to swallow. That is so not what I want for her first time with me. Her mouth feels so good surrounding me, and her hands -- damn! They're so soft and delicate, but she knows just how to twist and pull and slide to wring the maximum from me.

When she looks at me as she puts her mouth just on my tip, I watch as her cheeks pull in with the suction, and my balls tighten up. I know I'm close. Grabbing her hair, I gently push her to take more of me, and she does. I'm careful to not push so hard that she ends up taking me too deeply. Her mouth, though. Oh. My. God. It's so wet and warm and I know it feels just like her pussy would feel around my cock.

Gently, I wrap my hand in her hair and guide her movements back and forth on my swollen member. Not many women are this hungry for blow jobs, but I can tell she's enjoying herself as her tongue -- SWEET CHRIST -- her tongue swirls around me again and again, tasting me. When she moves to take me deeply into her throat again, I panic because I know that I will not survive. Trying to pull her off of me as she flexes her jaw, drawing me in deeper, I see her sniffing at my pubes, and I wonder how hers smell. Damn. I wish I had tasted her --- FUUUUCCCCKKKK --- I'm coming in her throat like I knew I would. I try to pull back, to cover her tits instead, but she won't let me, as she has wrapped her hands around my ass and is holding her mouth on me. I watch as she swallows again and again, and the suction makes me gulp with pleasure and embarrassment and gratitude. All at the same time.

We barely know each other, and she's implied that she wants nothing more from me than this one encounter. But she swallowed. And now she's wiping her chin and grinning up at me. Reaching under her arms, I pull her up and onto my lap as I bury my tongue in her mouth, tasting the mixture of the two of us.

======================

You are rather proud of yourself, having brought him to this point so quickly. While you hadn't planned on swallowing, it just seemed right once he was coming in your throat. He had tried to pull away, and you resisted because it just seemed so right to take whatever he was willing to give on this one time only offer.

As his tongue tangles with yours, you begin to feel the tingles of sadness. You'll never get to taste him again. You'll never get to feel his cock fill you up, and you know, having just had his offending member in your mouth, that it would stretch you in ways you had never before been stretched. The tears you were crying before from your desperation to come have now become honest tears of grief as he sips again and again from your lips.

This is it though. You cannot enter into a relationship with this glorious man. One picture of the two of you would damage your fledgling practice beyond repair. Patients would never want to visit you once his fans started sending hate mail and saying ugly things about you on Twitter. You've worked so hard to get started with the clients who see you regularly -- some on a weekly basis. Others on a bi-weekly basis. Each is so important to you.

As the passion winds down, you find that you want to cuddle, and you rest your head against his shoulder as you trace his swallow tattoos with the tip of your finger. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and you are seated sideways on his lap. The wonder in his face as he traces the shape of you is enough to make you want to cry harder, but you refrain.

Regretfully, you finally climb off his thighs, wrapping a towel around your pecs without knowing whose towel it was originally. Wordlessly, you kiss him again, a sob welling up in your throat as you back away, your fingers on his lips as he gently kisses the tips.

You refuse to ugly cry though, and when your back reaches the door, you remove the chair that is blocking the exit to the steam room. Making eye contact, you whisper a quick "Thank you, Styles," as you exit the room, turning and running to the locker room without seeing where you are going, blinded by tears.

=====================

I watch her leave the steam room, and I know that we aren't finished with each other yet. We had an amazing encounter, and the next time I promise I will have condoms nearby. Assuming we will meet up after our respective showers, I'm a bit stunned when she doesn't appear in her usual bland outfits. I wait nearly a full hour for her to appear. When she doesn't, I bribe a female attendant to check the dressing room. She has vanished into thin air. No matter, though. I'll see her tomorrow morning when she arrives for her workout.