Em finished up early and went back to her hotel. It was that sort of town, that kind of trip, and it had been that kind of day. She sat in the chair in the corner of her room and tried to forget the furniture. Its style attempted Four Seasons but ended up being Hotel Pack. In fact, she thought sourly, very nearly Motel Pack.
She didn’t like small cities. She was a Big Town girl. She needed to be where there was plenty to do and a lot of places to do it in. This was not that place. She pulled the window curtain aside and peered out into the street. It was winter, it was already dark, it was cold, and it was drizzling. There were very few people in the street and they all seemed to be a hurry to get somewhere else.
“Well,” she thought. “What to do? The only action I can see out there is the traffic lights. It’s cold and wet. And I have to stay here until tomorrow midmorning when I’m on that plane.”
She would eat in the hotel restaurant. Her room was too small and the service undoubtedly too poor to accommodate both in-room dining and the certainty of an aroma-free night. And the restaurant hadn’t looked too bad when she had breakfast there that morning.
She looked at her watch. It was six o’clock. She permitted herself a small, disconsolate sigh. She hoped the furniture wouldn’t notice. It was probably already too depressed to record a further slight.
Em’s dinner plans had fallen through. She had planned to take a client to dinner, but he had to go home instead. To wash his hair, or his socks, Em thought, sourly again.
She checked the well-thumbed literature in the room. The restaurant took last orders at eight-thirty except on Fridays and Saturdays, when it remained open until the dangerous hour of ten o’clock. This was Thursday. The TV guide offered meagre fare and the in-house movies were for children or the brain-dead. Em’s mood was not improving.
“Snap out of it girl,” she told herself sharply. “Have a shower, dress in something suitably Country, go down and have dinner, then there’s plenty of catch-up work to kill an hour or so with until you go to bed.”
She showered and decided not to masturbate.
She thought it might be better to leave that delight until later in the evening, when otherwise there would be absolutely nothing to do.
She put on some slacks and boots and layered up on top. She might want a cigarette while she was downstairs and it was miserably chill outside. She picked up her Country Road three-quarter length jacket, her handbag and her cell phone, and left the room.
She walked down the three flights of stairs to the foyer and restaurant-bar. She’d tried the lift that morning and had been left waiting far too long. Like, at least a minute and a half.
It was seven thirty when she hit the restaurant. A waitress eyed her suspiciously. Em noticed this with a smile and said “Good evening” in a cheery voice. She was thinking, “The waitress has me tagged as a picky customer who’s going to want everything just so and spin the meal out to the last possible moment.”
Em did that as a rule. Among certain of her workmates and friends she was famous for it. But she told herself that this was neither the time nor the place to make a point. She would eat and drink as quickly as possible and then disappear upstairs. She was certain this was the sort of place where all good guests made sure they were safely in their rooms well ahead of curfew time.
But she was pleasantly surprised by the menu and the wine list and ordered a savoury crepe and a cheese, pear and pine nut salad drizzled with honey, and a half-carafe of local pinot noir.
While she waited for her food she thought idly about the city she was in and the presence within it of a man with whom she had once or twice misbehaved a long time ago in a place a long way away. While she had been preparing for her trip she had emailed him to say she’d be in town and instantly regretted having done so.
She hadn’t followed up on that contact and had heard nothing.
Her order came. She ordered another half carafe of wine and began to eat.
Her cell phone rang. Em uttered a small unladylike oath. She answered the call.
It was him. He was at work but could they see each other for a drink in an hour?
Em said “Yes. But let’s make it my room. The bar here will probably shut when the restaurant does, and I’m its only diner.”
The voice on the other end of the phone was familiar in all sorts of ways but older (it was nearly 15 years older) said, “Oh, OK. We’ll say nine-thirty. I’ll leave things to the crew tonight.”
He was a journalist and ran the local paper. She’d given a story to one of his reporters earlier that day. She had met her at a cafe in town.
“OK, see you then. Room thirty-four, just come straight up,” said Em brightly. She closed the call. She didn’t feel at all bright.
Em ate the rest of her meal. It was good. She drank the rest of her wine. That was even better. She ordered a cognac and a coffee and was soon feeling pretty sparkly.
She remembered Tim. He had shagged her (very nicely) twice at her house on two afternoons when Ambrose was out, once on his boat when she had offered to crew for him, twice in his car, once in the club swimming pool and three times at a holiday house on a island where they’d all gone for a weekend house party.
This was one of her little adventures she had never told Ambrose about. It had all happened over a couple of months not long after they were married.
Then Tim moved away. They had not been in contact or seen each other since.
Em got a sudden warm feeling in her crotch. Her nipples hardened. Suddenly she remembered every detail.
How the first time he turned up at her house when Ambrose wasn’t there she had been reluctant even though aroused. And how he had talked her into having sex and stripped her on the sofa and been hugely excited, to Em's immediate advantage, when he discovered she was naked under her top and shorts.
How the second time he had stripped off her string bikini pants but left her halter bra on and had fucked her with immense passion on the bed in the spare room. And then tore off her bra and came again between her hot little breasts.
How on his boat he had thrown the anchor out as they sailed past a little island, stripped her naked as she stood and nailed her to the mast. And how after this, as a reward, she had given him a very hot blow-job on the floor of the boat and how he had shouted in ecstasy and come in her mouth.
How he had torn off her panties and fucked her quickly in the back seat of his car at the drive-in one evening while the others in the party were off chatting to people in other cars during the boring first feature. How he had fucked her in his car at a beach one night.
How at one Friday night drinks, she had slipped off her bikini in the club pool and he had pressed her mound against a filter nozzle and held her while she came in the pulsing water flow. And how he had then fucked her very slowly and tenderly, doggy style, until she came again and he came with her.
And finally, she remembered how he had fucked her three times at that weekend house party.
Em thought about all that for while and got quietly aroused.
She checked her watch. Eight forty-five. She signed the restaurant bill, gathered up her gear, put on her long jacket, and went outside into the drizzle for a cigarette.
Then she went up to her room and stripped herself naked. She was sure Tim would want to bang her on the bed immediately if she opened the door to him like that. That plan had worked very well at that weekend house party.
When Tim arrived, he did want to bang her immediately. But Em led him to the bed and removed all his clothes. His cock, which had stiffened at the door and built on that initiative since, looked as beautiful as ever. Em tasted it. She thought, “Yes, tastes as beautiful as ever too.”
She sank her hot passion-dry mouth over it and gave him ten quick up-and-downs with her tongue and teeth. He liked that a lot, just as he had liked it a lot a long time ago. He held her head while she did this and told her, “God Em, you’ve always been such a beautiful surprise.”
Em gave him ten more shaft-tremblers as a reward. His cock pulsed as her teeth gripped it.
She felt his fingers entering her pussy and felt the intense heat he had always brought to her flood her body. He found her clit and said hello to it in a very warm way. Em felt her clit getting hard and then she came.
Tim looked at her pussy with intense lust.
He rolled her over onto her back and pushed her up the bed. Em threw her legs wide, her pussy lips hotly pink and wet. She felt, and he saw her vagina opening to receive his cock.
He leant forward and tongue-kissed her pussy and then drew back.
His cock grew even longer, fatter and harder. Em watched this happening with smoky eyes. She licked her lips. She said softly, “Please put that all the way into me now. And don’t take it out until you’ve come.”
Tim said, “It’s been a very long time Em. So I’ll have to bang you very hard and very quickly. I’ll have to fill your beautiful cunt with hot cum. Then we shall talk about what else we should do to each other. I think it should be a lot.”
Em thought that sounded like a great idea.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/quickie-sex/she-wanted-to-be-banged-on-the-bed.aspx">She wanted to be banged on the bed</a>