I Love Hotels: The Getaway

I love how you squeeze my arse as we check in. You’re definitely signalling to the well-to-do older couple waiting behind us, showing off that you get to touch me. You’re always like this. Outside, I’m focused on exchanging bland pleasantries with the receptionist, while inside I’m imagining your fingers seeking the tender skin between my cheeks. The receptionist tells us to enjoy our stay and refers to us as Mr and Mrs, we share a wry smile; she isn’t to know my Mr is at home waiting for photos while your Mr is on a work trip with the colleague he’s fucking. 

I love how you refuse help with our luggage because you want to tease me in the lift. You’re so happy there’s a mirror you can push me against as you scatter light kisses down my neck, your hand on my arse again. I laugh as you accidentally kick my case over in your insistence to touch me. We both leave it fallen, as our lips find each other, your tongue skimming mine. You grunt as the lift doors open, as they rudely interrupt your fingers sliding up between my thighs. 

I love how you ask me to open the complimentary prosecco; you know I’m better at it than you are. The alcohol spurts up my arm (maybe I’m not as good at opening it as you think I am). At first you laugh at my startled face, but the way you then hold my wrist and slowly, seriously lick it off makes me melt. Your tongue continues up my neck, but your hold on my wrist becomes firmer and you use it to pull me to you. 

I love how you spread my thighs across the expensively smooth sheets. Egyptian cotton, obviously. You treat them as though they’re pages of a precious book that you’re peeling back. And that look on your face as you reveal my cunt; I’ve always loved that. I sink back as your tongue slow-dances around the folds, both tasting and creating wetness. I raise my hands back and grab the headboard to resist the urge to push your face deep into me; I want my thighs to do that today. 

I love how your arms look as you pull yourself out of the pool. That curve of the muscle when it flexes, that makes my mouth water. I giggle as I imagine it in slow-mo like a 00s music video and you smile as you hear it. Beckoning me over, I follow you to the outdoor jacuzzi; I feel less anxious about slipping on the acrylic because your hands are safely around my waist. You want to show off to that older couple again, on the loungers nearby. She might have those massive cat-eye sunglasses on, but I can tell she’s looking straight at us as I straddle your lap. 

I love how the shower is big enough for you to fuck me from behind. Even though there’s plenty of space, you still enjoy pushing my face into the tiles as you line your cock up to my cunt. As you push into me, you pull my hands up above my head and pin them there against the wall. You want to control every thrust. In this position, the hot water is thrumming right on the top of my arse and it feels so fucking good. I’m nearly there, just as you release my hands to grab my tits and pull yourself even deeper. 

I love how you get a little shy when the room service arrives, because your robe isn’t quite big enough to cover everything. You let me order too many chips again; I know we always say we need extra, but we probably don’t. You join me on the bed and I simply can’t resist pulling your robe open all the way, just to look at you. Except, I can’t just look, because your thick cock grows under my gaze. I look back at your face as I gently squeeze your balls in my palm, and your eyes are already blissfully closed. Because of the chips, your cock tastes a little saltier than usual. 

I love how you let me have the plumper pillows. I’ll let you tell me it’s because you want me to be comfortable, but we both know it’s because I snore more than you do. This is my favourite part: lying here looking into your eyes just before you turn the light out. Your arm snakes around me as darkness descends, and I rub my cheek against the fuzz on it. I hear you murmur that you love me too, just before I fall asleep.