I Love Hotels: 28 Minutes

28 minutes. That’s how long I conversed with this man before I invited him to fuck me in this anonymous, cheap hotel room. 

His profile had no bio, but he had lovely arms, so I gave him a rare pass. I’m a sucker for nice arms, even though I can’t clearly define what “nice” means. When you can imagine a pair of arms enveloping you in a tender hug, or lifting your legs above their shoulders, or reaching out to help you up from kneeling, or you fantasise about tracing a fingertip down their bicep as they rest on their elbow in bed; they’re all nice arms. 

His first question to me: what do you find sexy? I liked that. A lot of people go straight to “what are your kinks” and that bores me; I have a list in Google Keep that I copy and paste as a reply. Most then ask me to list all the public places I’ve had sex; I’ve got a Keep list for that too. 

Asking me what I find sexy gives me the opportunity to talk about how hot it is when someone looks at you like you’re their prey. It makes my cunt thud when I see in your eyes that you’re about to devour me. Pure animalistic, barely controlled lust for me; that’s what I want to see. I want to see your chest heavy with breath and your fists clenching and beads of sweat on your brow as you try to stop yourself from touching me. Just for a couple of minutes, until I let you. 

Why did I invite him to this hotel room? Because his response was that the thing he finds most sexy is when people look at him as though they want to be devoured. And I couldn’t send him my location fast enough, because I wanted him to consume me. 

Now he’s here, and I can’t actually remember his name. 

His fingers were inside me before I could ask. When I opened the door, he smirked before pushing me backwards, his lips on my neck. As I sat on the bed, he was beside me, pulling my skirt up and my thong off, before sliding his fingertips between my wet lips. They felt rough against my tender skin. 

He rubbed my clit hard as he kissed me hard. There was that pure animalistic lust I was after; he clearly needed to devour me tonight. I moaned into his mouth as he plunged his fingers firmly into my cunt. I was slightly disappointed when he pulled them straight back out again; he was merely collecting moisture to drag back and soak my clit. But then he did it a second time and third and fourth time, and I wasn’t disappointed. 

I love cumming in this position; sitting down, thighs wide, arms back, tits jiggling. It makes me feel utterly wanton and open and exposed. He pulled his face back from mine and smirked again as he watched my climax, his fingers not leaving my clit until I begged him to stop. 

He stood and beckoned me onto the floor in front of him. I grabbed a pillow as I went; I had a feeling I’d be down there for some time. Then I kneeled, like the good girl I am. 

He unbuckled his belt frustratingly slowly, right in front of my eager face. He clearly wanted to give me a little show, as he undid his jeans, one button at a time. There are two wolves inside me: one wants you to take your time stripping off for me, tease me, force me to become even wetter as I wait, let my need for you grow and grow; the other, wants you to rip your clothes off already and put your dick in my mouth. 

And there it was; his fat dick, curved slightly to one side, and twitching just out of reach of my lips. I realised then that this was the first time I’d ever seen it. In my haste to get this guy into my hotel room, I’d forgone my usual dick vetting process. Yes, I will ask to see it; I like daydreaming about what it would feel like sliding into me as we continue our conversation. 

His fingers curled into the hair on top of my head and he guided me slowly forward onto him. I opened my lips just before his head pressed against them, and he gently pushed his entire length into my mouth. 

What followed wasn’t as gentle. His hands gripped the sides of my head, as my fingernails dug into his thighs, and he fucked my face. Hard. Actually, it was though he was fucking my entire head. Every stroke in between my lips, his hands forced my head forward to meet his balls. Pushing and pulling at the same time, and getting faster. 

He moaned every time he bottomed out down my throat. Both the sound and the sensation was making me wetter and wetter. I surprised myself; before this exact point, I usually tolerated face-fuckings. I enjoyed them because the recipient enjoyed them and I enjoyed making them happy. I enjoyed having someone spurt down my throat at high speed. I enjoyed being told how good I was. But right now, I’m actually enjoying this. This, the sensation of my mouth being ferociously split in two, uncontrollably choking, the feeling of my face being crushed against them. 

He slid his dick out of my mouth and let me pause for a few moments to catch my breath, the spit dribbling from my lips. He asked me if I was OK and I nodded that I was; I wasn’t going to let him stop now, not when I was so ridiculously turned on. I practically impaled my face back onto him. 

Now I was the one moaning every time he bottomed out down my throat. I wasn’t even touching myself, but I felt close to something, just as he told me he was close. It was like pressure, deep inside me. And it felt fucking good. He grabbed my hair even harder as he cried that he was cumming, and I tasted the first of his streams on my tongue. 

Then, I squirted. For the first time in my life. 

I squirted over the pillow beneath me as he filled my mouth with cum. I didn’t even realise what it was; it was just very wet and very satisfying. 

As soon as his dick began to subside on my tongue, I reached down and rubbed my clit furiously. I needed another release; the pressure inside my cunt had dissipated but the pressure of unresolved pleasure remained. His dick was soft in my mouth as I came. I let it slip out as I howled. 

Later, as I went to sleep alone, I could smell myself right there on the pillow.

An image of me lying on my stomach on a hotel bed. Only my back, curvy bum, and the sole of my feet are visible.

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