This post was featured in E-Lust #32. Thanks, E-Lust, and welcome, E-Lust readers.
“Hop in,” I said. As she sat down, wearing jeansand a soft sweater, I looked at her: “Where’s your skirt?”
“Oh shit,” she said. “It’s been a REALLY badday.”
“You just want me to beat you.”
“That would be nice.”
As we started the short drive to the hotel, I reachedbetween her legs and rubbed her pussy through her jeans. I pinched her nipplesjust a little. “Sounds like you need a good fucking.”
“I’m going to give that to you.”
I asked her to play with herself a bit in the car as wedrove – she was happy to oblige me, unbuttoning her jeans, sliding down on the chair,and pushing her hand down into her panties. “How’s it going?” Iasked. “Good,” she muttered.
It wasn’t long before we parked the car and asked the hotelif they had hourly rooms. “$50, plus $20 deposit. And your ID,” saidthe Chinese woman behind the counter. The whole place was Chinese – and had asign laying out the rules for short-stay visitors in that bad translatedEnglish familiar to anyone who’s ever bought a Chinese appliance. My favoriterule: “Guests must be greeted in lobby. Not in room.” She handed me akey card and the remote control for a TV, and we headed to our room. The keyseemed not to work, which was unfortunate, because even more than I wanted tofuck L., I needed to pee. We went back down to the desk. The woman looked atthe key, looked at me, and made the universal, “You’re a total idiot”sign with her hands, as she indicated the correct way to insert the key. Embarrassinglyto me, this was helpful.
We got to the room. I successfully navigated the door. Iasked L. to shuffle the deck of cards I’d asked her to bring while I peed. Icame out and asked her to change into a dress. I had asked her to bring a bunchof clothes so she could put on a little show for me. “And lingerie?”she asked. “Yes, please.”
She emerged from the bathroom in a red silk (?) dress,slinky and sexy, a bit Asian-themed (appropriate for the hotel). I kissed her, squeezedher ass, and brought a hand up under her dress, pressing it against her cunt. Onthe way, I could feel that she was wearing thigh-highs and a garter belt, inaddition to the grey boyshorts I’d asked her to wear. I removed my hand,suggested she change one more time. She emerged from the bathroom in a skirtand top.
“Lie on the bed face-down.” I dealt a card downand a card up to each of us. “What are we playing?” she said. And shelooked, and realized. “Oh.” She turned over her card, and said,”Hit me.”
I hadn’t thought about this particular (inevitable) joke, butas she lay there on the bed, I followed instructions well. The”thwack” of my hand was satisfying. “You’re a moron,” shesaid.
She won the first hand. “Take an item of my clothingoff,” I instructed her. She reached down and unbuckled my belt, pulling itoff with a swift pull. Another hand. Another win for her. This time, she tookmy jeans off, generously stroking my cock more than absolutely necessary (atleast, more than was absolutely necessary to remove my jeans). And then it wasmy turn to win a few hands. Off came her black heels, and then the skirt, andthe top. And then my top. I was down to my black boxer briefs, she, to her greypanties, white stockings and garters, and the wife-beater I so enjoyed the lasttime I saw her.
I told her we’d be flipping a coin to determine who was incontrol. I wanted her in control – I’ve been in control pretty much all along, andI welcomed the opportunity to relinquish just a little. “Heads, you drive;tails, I do.” The coin cooperated – heads. “Show me your bag oftricks,” she said. Out came the under-the-bed restraints, the blindfold (ablindfold she had given my wife as a gift), the paddle and the condoms. “Putthis on,” she said, handing me the blindfold.
Not a bad start, I thought. I could see a trace of lightthrough the bottom of the blindfold – a lovely silken thing, with wristrestraints on the ends of the straps – but I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to seeanything. As I lay back, her lips, her tongue, her teeth, traced their way downmy body. She nibbled my nipples. Her hands found my cock, holding it, squeezingit, as her tongue licked, flicked the head. I love the way she plays with mycock, treating it as if it were a toy – a fun, strange, unfamiliar toy, but onewith which she has a preternatural aptitude. She stood me up, turned me around,and whacked my ass just a few times (but HARD) with the paddle. I can’t saythat the whole spanking thing is MY thing – a little sting is invigorating,fun, but once the threshold of pain is crossed, I’m less compelled. Not turnedoff – just not turned on. Which isn’t to say I don’t enjoy whacking HER ass….
Things start to grow hazy here. She sat on my face,instructing me to slide her panties to the side (or maybe she slid them to theside for me). I sucked and licked her clit for a bit. She asked me to put the blindfoldon her. I lay her on her back, climbed up alongside her and slid my cock alongher cheek, in front of her mouth, teasing her. I slid into her mouth, fuckingit just a little. I grabbed a condom and put it on (quietly) while tapping theinside of her thighs with the paddle, tracing a path with the leather loop ofthe paddle, tapping her nipples through the wifebeater. I slid, slowly, gentlyinto her, and rocked back and forth, allowing us to press against one anotheras my cock slid gently, slowly – not so much in and out as deeper and lessdeep. Then, the fucking began in earnest: I pounded, back and forth, in andout, her head hitting against the headboard as I pushed her down by her neckinto the bed. More of the same. (One of the nice things about an hourly hotel: Ilose any self-consciousness I might otherwise have about noise. I once had sexwith the Secretary in a room on the ground floor of a NOT-hourly hotel, andwhen we emerged, the hotel staff applauded. Or maybe they only communicatedapplause with their eyes – I’m not sure. In my memory, they applauded. And oncewith the Artist, I went down on her in her bedroom on an airshaft in atenement, and when she came, there was applause. In that instance, I’m certainit was real applause.)
L. asked me if I would go down on her. I love going down onher. I love her fragility, the tenderness with which she prefers to receive oral.It’s always hard for me to remember to go softer, slower with her. I know (or Ithink I know) that this is her preference, but it goes against all my instincts- instincts which have served me well over the years. (“You lickgood,” the Russian once told me.) So down I went – licking, slurping,sucking, gently – then more urgently. Her cunt is delicious – sweet butpungent, fresh tasting. And as I slid a couple of fingers in, pumping them inand out, stroking her g-spot from below, I felt her come just a bit closer tocumming. And closer. And closer. And then – with a shudder, I could feel hercunt close around my fingers, spasming back and forth, tighter and looser, asher tiny, but REALLY strong thighs crushed my head.
Every time I go down on her, I vow to myself that I’ll makeher beg me to stop. But every time, I become distracted by the idea of fucking her- her face, her cunt, whatever. This is what happened today. As I was ponderingmaking her beg me to stop, I had her, instead, put on another dress – a slutty,black dress, the designer of which she knows (but about whom I couldn’tpossibly care less). This dress looked particularly delicious hiked up over herass as I pressed her against the window and rocked back and forth. “Isthis the first time you’ve ever looked north out a window while being fucked inthis dress?” I asked. “Yes,” she breathed. “Well,” Isaid. “There’s a first time for everything.”
Soon, she decided (I decided? who can remember?) that sheshould kneel and take my cock in her mouth once again. First I stood, then shepushed me back on the bed. I asked, “Do you have a preference as to whereI cum?”
“Preferences just create disappointment.”
“But I can grant your preference.”
“I like it when you cum in my mouth.”
“What, you don’t like it when I cum in yourpussy?”
Another costume change, this time, into a flouncy sort ofteddy ensemble a girlfriend had given her but, inexplicably, she had never worn.More sucking, more fucking. I asked her to play with her vibrator – a JimmyjaneLittle Chroma. I took a dozen pictures, all with her face obscured. I showedthem to her. And finally, with her rocking on top of me, pushing her hipsviolently, grinding her down on me, I came deep inside her.
A little post-coital cuddling, talking, and then we returnedthe remote for $20, after I signed my name in a tiny box on a form in Chinese. Thebox was big enough for two ideograms, perhaps. I squeezed in the initials”JBF” – they seemed appropriate. And we headed out….