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Mix Up

If one feels too at home in a hotel room, unexpected and exciting things may happen.
No matter where I tended to end up for the night, these little rituals kept me grounded, gave me a little bit of homely quality to counteract the tedious sterility of hotel rooms. I set my diary onto the nightstand, put the small pink cushion into the bed and hung up my black original Japanese kimono on the wardrobe. While I did this, I slowly disrobed and took a guilty pleasure in dropping the discarded items of clothing wherever I stood. The city lights were visible through the large glass front, pretty and colorful.

I snatched up my toiletry bag and made my way into the bathroom, my panties hitting the floor right outside the door, and then I was distributing perfume, toothpaste and whatever other knick-knacks I needed on the counter around the washing basin, feeling deliciously naughty about my nakedness. I didn’t even close the door, having hung the "do not disturb" at the outside of the entrance door, a little deviant act of freedom in a world controlled by meeting schedules and airline delays.

To feel the water on my skin felt glorious. Sweat and dust from a day of travelling were swept away in prickly torrents and vanished through the drain. I took one of the terrycloth wash cloths and soaped up my body, spreading the scented suds in little caresses all over me. The relaxation also brought that wonderful sensitivity that made my breasts tingle with the slightest slippery touch.

The rhythmic bumping of a trolley sounded from the hallway, and then I heard the door to the next room chirping and clicking open. A disappointed sigh drew forth from me, because it sounded as if there was no wall at all. Any guilty pleasures I gifted to myself would have to happen in silence. The door fell shut again and then there was silence. Perhaps it wasn’t that bad.

I drew the cloth between my legs and had to bite down a small moan. Later, I promised myself while I rinsed away the shampoo and soap. The towels were fluffy and soft, and they carried a lovely scent of roses. I wrapped a smaller one around my hair and stepped back into the bedroom.

And froze in embarrassment. A man, a stranger, was sitting on my bed! Dark, short hair, muscular, the black tie loose around his collar and the top three buttons of his blue business shirt undone. And worst of all, he was holding my opened diary on his palm!

My hand went to my mouth, but it was already too late. His eyes shot up at the small whimper of embarrassment that broke free, and he smiled at me, a hungry, self-assured smile that sent pinpricks all over my skin. I tried to get my senses together and bolt back into the bathroom.

"Hello Jennifer," he almost growled, his voice deep and rich, "what pleasant surprises this room holds!"

What do you answer in such a situation? I didn’t matter.

"My, aren’t you a naughty one, Jennifer Redstone!"

I shuddered, his voice dripped over me like molten arousal. But then my breath hitched.

His eyes went back to my diary, and he began to read aloud. "This is the third day I’m wearing these panties, soaked with my juices, and I’m giddy and aroused each time I sit in these boring meeting with those dunderheads and their little games of importance. There’s nothing hotter than watching them fall over each other in clumsy attempts to get this beautiful woman’s attention, while only I know that this beautiful woman is just a little whore who wants to be taken, conquered by force, manhandled. They are controlled by their pathetic, narrow minded libido while they have no idea about the constantly raging torrent of sexuality between my legs, about the naughty, depraved images that dance in my mind while I listen half-heartedly to their whining and posing. I’m going to use those panties to pleasure myself tonight again, rub the fabric through my arousal, soak it until it drips, and they will never have the tiniest idea what depravity lies beneath this elegant woman’s skirt."

My breath flew. My nipples had turned into needle-sharp points. Mortification was too weak a word for the incredible shame that washed over my body in endless, heated waves.

I should have bolted, locked myself inside the bathroom, and if worst came to worst, cried out for help. His other hand came into view, and there it was, the last incriminating evidence of my perversion, my soft, pink panties, and when he dangled them in front of him I could clearly see the crotch area, stained and crusty.

"Naughty, naughty girl." This rough voice again. Strong and frighteningly fascinating like a thunderstorm. "Come here, Jennifer." He patted the middle of the bed.

His words were like a magic of their own, and I walked across the room in a trance, like a snake following its charmer’s melody. Sirens sounded in my mind and were squelched by torrents of arousal from just a look of his determined chocolate eyes.

I lay down on my back, right there, only a hand’s breadth from him. He smelled spicy and strong, and the proximity made me light-headed.

"Show me how you do it." Straight to the point.

I couldn’t! My mouth opened, but he had set down the diary next to me and put a finger to my lips, strong and hot and sending tiny sparks through their touch. My body went on autopilot, and my trembling fingers took the panties from his other hand. I stared at him for long seconds, but instead of the mental struggle I expected there was only falling, falling into the big, dark vortex of his eyes, and my legs bent and pulled up on their own volition, spread themselves apart in a lewd display of wanton depravity. There was no need for foreplay. My fingers, skilled from repeated performance, parted my pussy lips all the way, and my other hand started to slide the soft fabric through my slick folds, first slowly and gently, but quickly picking up pace.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He looked cute, in that masculine, scruffy, cowboyish sort of way, but that thought went out the window when his hand touched my thigh, and that simple, intimate touch finally drove the whole impact of my nudity home. My back arched and my small, delighted whimpers turned into unrestrained moans.

"You’re beautiful," he growled, "I want to fuck you."

There was only one possible response. "Please!" The whimper left my lips long before my mind had processed it.

He started to undo his tie with agonizing slowness, as if he had all the time in the world, and I wanted to urge him to go faster, but I could still feel the spot where his finger had shushed me. Finally, his shirt dropped to the floor and I could see his chest. It was as muscular as I had imagined it to be, well-tanned and covered by a small sheet of soft, dark hair. His nipples, a brownish red, were begging me to capture them between my lips.

When his pants dropped and the outline of his penis became visible through the black briefs he wore, I gasped for air. It had to be huge. My need skyrocketed. For a short, frustrating moment it was hidden from view when he removed his socks, but then he was next to the bed with his thumbs hooked into the brief’s waistband. I licked my lips.

It was gorgeous. Big and stiff, thick and covered with bulging veins, it stood out of a small patch of trimmed black hair, both his penis and balls clean shaven and shiny. Its read, swollen head glistened at the tip, betraying the arousal that he hid so well. I trembled from the need to feel him inside me, to have this huge cock stretch me and fill me.

I had somehow nursed the thought that he would join me on the bed, caress me and make soft love to me, but I was thrillingly mistaken. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me to the edge of the bed with a single motion.

"Do you want it?" He growled, and I felt his strong grip shift.

"Please," I whimpered, "please fuck me! I need you!"

"I can see that." The amusement in his voice dripped over me like honey, sweet and clingy. He lifted my legs up and slowly bent them backwards and apart, basically folding me in half.

My bum lifted from the sheets. I was astounded about my own flexibility. My plum parted like the petals of a rose in the first light, red and wet with morning dew. His cock stood rigid just inches from it, tantalizing me. I licked my lips and whimpered.

"Put your panties over your mouth and nose." he instructed, "I know you like playing dirty. Hold them there. Smell your arousal. I want to see it in your eyes."

And see it he did. My eyes widened and I felt lightheaded, but I pressed the soiled fabric over my nose and chin and took deep breaths. God, I had never felt this slutty before.

The tip of his cock pressed against my opening and my breath shuddered. It felt exquisite, and I couldn’t wait for the moment to feel him inside me, tried to lift my pelvis, but he held me in place, made me take my pleasure at his pace. My breath raced.

Then he slid in, with agonizing slowness, millimeter by millimeter, and I felt every ridge and cranny of his fabulous organ slide along my pussy walls while it stretched them apart. God, he was huge!

It didn’t seem to end. He slid deeper and deeper, and the only hint of his passion was the narrowing of his eyes, the flickers of passion that could barely be contained.

"God, you’re tight." It was more of a grunt, but the time for words was almost past us anyway. "Ready?"

I nodded, eyes wide in anticipation.

With one strong thrust he pushed himself into my folds and I moaned, his pelvis hit mine and shook my whole body, which answered the assault with an enthusiastic wave of pleasure.

"Yes!" I think I screamed.

He let loose. He didn’t make love to me, he didn’t even fuck me. He speared me, hammered me with that huge cock in a fast, relentless rhythm that made me shake and spasm. I moaned and whimpered continuously, already having been close to the edge, and every time he filled my womb so completely, stretched the walls of my pussy with each new thrust and bumped against my clit with his pelvis, my arousal climbed higher and higher towards an earth-shaking release.

Yes, this was it! This was the way I needed to be taken, the forceful, unapologetic reaping of pleasure from my wanton body. I was getting close, the pleasure already shooting in waves through my lower body and my voice having lost any semblance of coherence.

A loud click behind me made us freeze, his cock buried all the way inside me.

I looked behind me through foggy eyes and wanted to die. A young woman, dressed in hotel garb, stood in the doorway and looked at us like a deer caught in the headlights.

"What is it?" He growled.

"I, we," she stammered and finally helplessly held up a keycard, "there’s been a mix up with the rooms," she started, but he cut her short.

"We know. Just put the key on the side table."

He looked back at me and a devious grin spread over his lips. Without any hesitancy he started fucking me again, not paying anymore notice to the shocked girl.

I couldn’t believe it. The embarrassment rolled over me in waves, but I couldn’t look away, had to stare at her, watch her slink through the room on trembling legs and lay down the key with dark red cheeks.

For a moment, our eyes met, disbelieving stare meeting uninhibited lust, and that was like a trigger being pulled. The pleasure peaked to incredible levels and I toppled over the edge, spasming and writhing, my long, drawn-out moan filling the air.

My pussy clenched around his cock and I felt it throb inside me. His voice joined mine with a loud, hoarse rumble, and I felt him spurt his come inside me, again and again.

I was breathless and sweaty when he pulled out.

"God," I groaned, setting my feet back down on the floor, "that was brilliant."

He just chuckled. And started dressing again. I tried to say something to him, wanting him to stop and stay, but I was still too weak and my mind refused to form sentences.

In not even a minute he was wholly dressed, looking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Please," I started to say.

He bent over me and shushed me again with his finger. Like before, the mere touch on my lips was enough to make me pliable like dough in his hands.

"You should catch some sleep," he told me in his deep voice, "but don’t worry. We’ll see each other soon enough. Oh, and I’ll be taking this."

He had snatched my diary from next to me before I could make sense of his words. "No!" I tried to protest. "You can’t just…"

But my words died on my lips when he simply looked at me with a lifted eyebrow a wide smirk on his roguish cute face, making it clear that he wouldn’t listen to any pleas I might offer.

"Sleep well!" Just like that, he was out the door, his suitcase and the keycard in his hands, and a dry click confirmed it.

I didn’t even know his name, I realized belatedly. I knew, in fact, nothing about him. No, that wasn’t true. I knew one thing, and I prayed that I’d get the chance to learn about that again.

I flicked off the light and pulled my legs onto the bed, tired and satisfied, and felt more relaxed than I had ever before when I had stay in a hotel. The sweetness of sleep claimed me, and as I drifted off, I couldn’t help myself and whispered into the darkness of the room.

"Wow! I’ve been fucked by a stranger. And we haven’t even kissed!"
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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