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Our Night Out

The hotel bar was just the beginning.
We drove to the Ritz-Carleton together, our plan firmly in place after our days apart. You would go to the lounge ahead of me after we checked in, while I tended to messages and had our luggage sent up. Your dress was stunning. I've never seen you look better.

So when I entered the lounge, I noticed that you couldn't see me come in. As a bit of a prank, I flagged the waitress down and had her send you a drink from me as I sat in the corner booth right behind you, about seven feet away. You were surprised, and looked around for your benefactor. Your happy looks made it clear you were both thankful, and in on it. You said something to the bartender, and left briefly. You glanced over at me when you returned with a conspiratorial look and an all-but-undetectable sly wink.

We watched the news on the TV over the bar, without really watching it. I studied your face in the bar mirror while appreciating your curves from behind. You occasionally glanced in the mirror at me as you casually finished your drink. I sent you another, and gave the waitress the nod to say from whence it came. You turned slowly on your swivel bar chair and looked over the rim of your glass as you held my gaze. Then you put your glass on the edge of the bar and did something I have never seen you do.

You uncrossed your legs, and re-crossed them. And I knew why you had made the little trip. Game on, Sharon Stone.

You thanked me for your drink and we exchanged a few pleasantries. Cool, but flirtatious. Hot, yet publicly acceptable. You turned back to the television and we waited the decent interval . I could practically hear the clock tick.

It was time. You thanked the bartender, cleared your check and came to your feet. I took a sip of my drink and smiled. Three short steps over to me. Your clutch purse opened. Then you slipped your room key into my jacket pocket, bent down and whispered your room number into my ear. Asked me to give you a five minute head start.

I gave you 4 minutes.

The room was dark. Two candles lit. And you were sitting up in bed against the headboard with your knees up under the covers. You smiled. I knew why. I could hear your vibe running.

I stood by the nightstand and took off my tie. Slowly unbuttoned my shirt and cuffs as you took my belt loose. Soon my pants were around my ankles and my hand was on the back of your head with a fistful of hair. Slowly fucking your mouth and throat as you came on your vibe. At least twice.

My cock spent the rest of the night inside you. I was over you and under you. Behind you and in front of you. I took every bit of you as mine, leaving you breathless, glowing and moaning into the pillows each time. My roars were lower, along with all the little things you so need to hear from me, but are never said aloud.

As the sun came up, we were kissing in the shower. My finger was teasing your well-done ass. I held your face in the other hand. Hot water washed away the Us as steam filled the room. Soap was slick. Kisses became hotter. You hung onto the top of the glass shower wall and watched in the vanity mirror as I slipped inside you one last time from behind. My hands were everywhere on your body but lingered on your lush tits. Squeezing them and playing with your taut nipples until you came again. You pushed back against me desperately, until I had pounded you properly once more, draining the last drop of white hot come from my balls. We held each other, breathless and finally spent as the hot water ran.

Then, I washed your hair.

I left first. When I reached the car, I looked up and saw your face in the third floor window, You blew me a kiss. I nodded, then ordered you flowers from "a grateful parent" as I pulled away from the parking lot. Our code phrase. They were delivered to you at the office, just after the cab I had ordered dropped you there.

And you were wet again, just thinking of me. Of us. And all the night before.

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