Thirteen Minutes to Ruin

Title: Thirteen Minutes to Ruin

It began with a message. Not a flirtation. Not a ploy. Just a quiet offering -- words wrapped in warmth.

And something in me... flickered. We met on Literotica. I was new. Guarded. He was not. He was a gentleman -- patient, playful, precise. He never reached too far, only ever met me where I stood.

And somehow, with every word, he knew where that was.

We wrote. Slowly. Deliberately. A rhythm neither of us dared rush -- because what was building between the lines... wasn't just desire. It was recognition. That spark simmered -- until it didn't. Until it scorched. And with each message, I felt him peeling back the quiet parts of me -- the ones I thought I'd hidden too well. The ones that wanted to be found. Perhaps... I wanted him to find them.

We begin our conversation the same way we always do -- a ritual both absurd and sacred.

"Your Royal Hardness," I say, dipping into a dramatic curtsy.

"Miss Wetness," he replies, bowing low with a flourish no less sincere than seductive.

And just like that, the game is on. It was silly, yes. But it was ours -- a code, a crown, a spark that ignited everything that followed.

We were only half an hour apart, and yet -- Sebastian never pressed me to meet. He mentioned it once, gently, but never again after I told him I wasn't ready. He understood. And I never forgot that he did.

But today... something shifted. I had a business meeting -- one that happened to land in his area.

Thirteen minutes from his workplace. And suddenly, my state of "not ready" didn't feel quite so certain anymore.

We'd been messaging all day -- slipping easily between updates about work and the mischief we loved to stir. He told me he'd be working overtime again. Alone at the office.

Perfect, I thought. Because now I had just enough time -- just enough space -- to do something we'd never done before. To meet. To see his face. To feel his touch -- not through imagination or implication, but skin to skin. And the thought alone sent a shiver down my spine.

And here I was, at the reception desk of the building where his office was. Giving my name to the lady guard, who then dialed and spoke on the phone. She passed the phone to me.

"Sebastian, it's me."

Silence on the other line... and then: "You're really here."

"Yes," I said softly.

"I'll come get you," he said.

Rather than face the door he was supposed to emerge from, I turned to face the entrance of the building. Willing myself to calm down. Willing my heart to slow. Willing my breath to steady -- before the moment I'd dreamed of would finally begin.

And at that very moment -- just as I'd found my composure -- I felt it: heat, radiating at my side. Even before I turned, my body responded. My arm prickled with goosebumps, heart thudding wild all over again. I turned slowly. And there he was. The handsome face I knew so well on screen -- now standing inches away, watching me. He towered over me, his eyes drinking me in. My gaze drifted lower, tracing the frame I'd imagined a thousand times. And it took every ounce of restraint not to undress him right there in the lobby.

We stood still, caught in something between disbelief and hunger. Taking each other in. Letting our eyes do what our hands, for now, could not. As if willing ourselves to believe it was real.

The trance broke when he gently took my hand in his. Without a word, he led me past the reception area, deeper into the building -- until we reached the offices. Most of the lights were off, the space quiet. Only one cubicle glowed softly -- his. But that wasn't where he stopped. He passed his desk, walked further, until we reached a glass-walled conference room. He switched on the light. Closed the door. Locked it. Then he took three slow steps toward me -- closing the distance, stopping just short of touch. Leaving just enough space for our eyes to still meet. What I saw in his gaze made my knees grow weak. A desire to know me. All of me.

Sebastian lifted one hand and traced my cheek with his finger. I mirrored the gesture, fingers brushing the stubble that framed his lips and chin -- the same stubble that had delivered so many imagined delights against my body. His finger drifted to my lips. He pressed gently above my chin, parting them -- and held me there. And the sight of it... the feel of him... was enough to shift everything. The pace.

The air. The rules we thought we'd follow. All undone in a single breath.

Suddenly, both of Sebastian's hands were cupping my face. His lips hovered over mine -- close enough to feel, but not quite touching. He felt the hitch in my breath... and then he dipped his head. His lips found mine, soft at first. But only for a moment. Because then it wasn't. With every passing second, the urgency bloomed -- in our mouths, our hands, our hips. It was as if we had been deprived of each other's presence for years... even though this was our first touch. And though it was our first meeting, our bodies moved like they'd always known each other. We had to touch -- to confirm this was real.

That we were real.

Our hands moved faster than our minds could. Still locked in the kiss that grew more fervent by the second, we managed to undress each other at lightning speed -- until we were both stripped to our underwear. As hard as it was to break the kiss, we did. Because we both knew -- for what came next, it was the sense of sight that mattered.

We drank in each other's presence, in each other's skin finally revealed. Our eyes feasting on each other's body -- every swell, curve, and valley. Breathing heavily now, we both knew what was left between us -- and we both needed it gone.

Sebastian stared hungrily at my chest. I understood his terse nod as my signal to remove my bra. So I did. I slowly unhooked the clasp behind and slipped it off -- revealing my breasts. My nipples were hard, straining toward Sebastian, as if begging for his attention. Sebastian growled at the sight of them. He closed the gap between us, his hands cupping my breasts, kneading and teasing me. He pinched my nipples -- gently at first, then harder, until I moaned with both pleasure and pain.

He lowered his head and kissed each breast, each nipple, with reverence. He let his beard stubble graze over them, and I whimpered in delight. He devoured my breasts with his hands, his mouth, his need. No inch left untouched. No hesitation. Licking, sucking, nibbling, squeezing -- his hunger for them was undeniable.

With everything I had left, I pressed my hands to his chest -- not to stop him, but to slow him. Because this wasn't over. Not yet. Not even close.

We stood apart, breathless -- restraint hanging between us like a charged wire. My breasts tingled, sensitive to the air itself, as if it knew what was coming. Inside me, something stirred -- an ache that had lived for too long in silence, aimed at a man who had only ever been a face on a screen... and a name I whispered in the dark.

This time, it was my turn. I looked down -- saw his arousal, taut and straining to be freed. I gave the smallest nod. Sebastian hooked his fingers into the band of his underwear, and slowly -- inch by inch -- revealed himself. When the last scrap of clothing fell away, I could only stare. Every line, every arc and sinew of his body seemed to command worship. And today, he was mine to worship.

I closed the gap between us and guided him to sit on the chair. I positioned myself in between his thighs. I knelt before him -- not out of submission, but clarity. There was no shame in this posture. Only reverence. I bent my head down and inhaled him -- his scent was intoxicating. Never had I been giddy and lucid at the same time -- except for this moment. I wrapped my hands around the part of him that ached for me. Felt him pulse beneath my fingers.

I looked up at Sebastian's face -- his eyes shut, head tilted back, as if tuning out every sense but my hands.

"Sebastian," I said. He opened his eyes and stared at me.

"Look at me. Watch how I adore you with my lips, my tongue, my mouth." Sebastian groaned at my words -- my promise. He was beautiful like this -- undone, waiting. And I? I was only just beginning.

I tasted him slowly, savoring every twitch, every tremble. My tongue traced the length of him -- slow, deliberate, until I reached the base and began the rhythm he couldn't breathe through. When I began to suck, it wasn't just pleasure -- it was an offering.

I wrapped my lips around him and let the pace deepen -- slow pulses, deliberate pressure, sacred surrender. I continued my devotion -- not through words, but through what my lips, my tongue, and my mouth gave him. This was the image of worship: his manhood deep inside my mouth, and I, adoring every inch and taste of him.

My adoration continued until he was trembling, whispering, gripping the edge of his seat. Until my name fell from his lips like a plea. He cried out -- not loud, but broken. And I drank every bit of him as if it were a blessing, a benediction whispered onto my tongue. When the tremors finally passed, he slumped in the chair -- chest rising, eyes dazed, lips forming my name like a mantra said too late.

When Sebastian finally looked at me, something dark flickered behind his eyes -- a quiet, consuming desire. A wicked smile curved across his lips.

"Uh oh," I whispered, barely audible.

He sat up straight in his chair, folded his arms, and let his silence speak volumes. His gaze found my kneeling form -- and then dipped, settling just below my navel. He nodded. Just once.

My breath caught. That small, deliberate movement unraveled something inside me. Because I knew exactly what it meant. And what was coming next.

I rose slowly. Sebastian's eyes were already devouring me -- steady, consuming. I shuddered beneath the weight of his gaze as it roamed, slow and unrelenting. The black lace panties were the last barrier between us -- and even that began to fall.

I slipped them down inch by inch, revealing more of myself with each breath. And when the fabric fell away completely, I stood bare before him... free. Sebastian didn't speak. He didn't need to. His eyes burned through me -- and I felt it everywhere. Then he stood... and took one step forward. And that's when it happened.

My phone alarm screamed into the silence. The moment shattered -- sudden and jarring, like a violin string snapped mid-note. We froze, blinking -- jolted back to the real world. Then we laughed, breathless and wide-eyed.

I dove for my phone, fumbling in the pocket of my skirt.

"Oh no, Sebastian -- I'm going to be late for my business meeting!"

He growled softly. "Then be late."

"I can't," I said, panicking. "I've been waiting weeks for this investor. He's flying out after. If I miss him--"

Sebastian's frustration was visible. But something shifted. He paused. Looked at me differently.

And then, with a voice like a velvet blade, he asked, "How much time do we have left?"

I glanced at the screen. "Just thirteen minutes before I need to leave."

His lips curled -- a smile that dripped promise and peril. "Then we'd better make every second count."

With the speed of a predator catching his prey, he lifted me onto the conference table. His hands pressed against my thighs, forcing them open. I squirmed, tried to keep them closed -- but his hands were immovable. His intent -- unmistakable. I should have felt fear. But all I felt was heat.

"Now it's your turn to look at me. Let me show you what devotion looks like -- in thirteen minutes," Sebastian's voice dripped like honey laced with fire.

I was shivering -- from anticipation, and from the embarrassment that he would see how slick I was for him. But the feral smile on Sebastian's face told me... he already knew.

And when that smile deepened into hunger, he lowered his head to my center -- his tongue pushing through my silken folds, claiming me with urgency. I gasped. His lips, his tongue, his mouth -- all of him -- worshipped me like I was his.

My arousal flowed freely, and he drank from me like a man starved, like I was an oasis in the middle of a merciless desert. His tongue moved with sacred greed, latching onto my swollen bud, sucking with growing insistence. He felt how close I was -- how I trembled on the edge -- and increased his pressure, pulling me closer to the brink.

And then, just as I was about to break... he stopped. I cried out his name, the ache within me pulsing and denied, desperate for release.

As quickly as his lips left my entrance, it was immediately replaced by his manhood.

For one brief moment, our eyes locked -- in that second, our silence spoke volumes. The very scene we had replayed over and over in our voice and video calls -- here it was. There was no need for imagination to make the scene vivid -- we only needed to be present for this moment to unfold.

He slid into me slowly, deliberately -- like he wanted to feel every inch of that first entrance, and memorize how I welcomed him. I gasped at the stretch, the fullness. My body arched in response, as if I had been waiting for this weight, this heat, my entire life.

He didn't speak -- he just held my gaze, breathing with me, like he was anchoring himself in this moment. His hands braced on either side of me, holding still for a heartbeat longer. I could feel his restraint, the tension thrumming just beneath his skin. He was inside me... but not yet moving.

And in that stillness, I felt it: the pressure of time. The unrelenting truth that this moment was finite. That we had minutes left, not hours.

Then he moved. The rhythm began slow -- but it didn't stay there. His thrusts grew faster, deeper, harder -- like something had snapped inside him. Like all those nights apart, all the wanting, all the voice calls and fantasies, had coiled tight inside him -- and now he was unleashing it.

Our bodies collided with a desperation that bordered on primal. My breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, my nails dragging down his back. I cried out with every thrust, not caring who heard, not caring if the building burned around us.

He gripped my hips and slammed into me, again and again, his control unraveling with every second. I met him thrust for thrust, my body opening to him, begging, demanding. The table beneath us creaked, the air thick with heat and sweat and the sound of our bodies claiming each other.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't slow. It was everything we had held back -- unleashed, unchecked, undeniable.

And still, somehow, it wasn't enough.

I was his. I had always been his. And now, in the furious final stretch of time, he was taking all of me.

And I gave -- everything.

In that moment of surrender, I felt it -- a wave crashing into me -- pleasure so powerful that time had to stand still just to witness it. My breath vanished. My body broke open. It was more than climax -- it was ascension.

And then, I felt him. Sebastian joined me in that sacred, suspended place. Together, we soared -- two souls unraveling and entwining mid-air. The rhythm of our release echoed like a song only we could hear. It was white-hot. Wordless. Radiant.

His forehead met mine, both of us trembling, panting, barely tethered to the earth. Sweat mingled between us. His arms remained wrapped around me, anchoring me while we drifted, still inside one another, the aftershocks rolling through.

Neither of us spoke -- not at first. There was nothing to say that could match the holiness of what we just shared.

And then he whispered, hoarse and reverent:

"I've waited lifetimes for this."

A fresh tremor coursed through me. My hands pressed to his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart -- not just beating, but roaring. He held me tighter, kissed the crown of my head, and we just breathed.

And only then... did we remember time.

I turned my head slowly, catching the soft glow of the wall clock. Two minutes. We had two minutes left. Still inside me, still wrapped around each other -- but now the world was returning. The hallway. The meeting. Reality. But those two minutes? They were ours. And we would make them holy.

We didn't move -- not yet. We just stayed in that sacred stillness, letting our bodies remember what our minds couldn't yet speak. He brushed my hair back and cupped my face, his eyes drinking me in like he was memorizing the shape of forever. His thumb traced my bottom lip. I kissed it. Gently. Slowly.

Then he pressed his lips to my cheek. My jaw. My neck. Each kiss a benediction, a silent thank you.

I whispered his name, and he held it like prayer.

And when we finally parted -- when he slowly, reverently, slipped out of me -- he kept his eyes on mine, as if breaking eye contact would break the spell.

I fixed my hair. He helped me smooth my skirt.

No words. Only touches that said: I see you. I've touched your soul.

And as I stepped toward the door, ready to return to the world...

He whispered:

"I'll feel you for the rest of the day."

So would I.

Maybe forever.