Jan 202012
 

She wears a short cotton dress, no bra.  The taste of my cum surely is fresh in her mouth.  Her nipples poke out against the fabric.  The hotel is filled with wankers in khakis and golf shirts.  Though they leave her alone conversationally, she draws their eyes.  She doesn’t know where I am.

I had texted her:  “Be at the bar in fifteen minutes.  Wear a sundress.  I’ll direct you further once you’re there.”

I had texted her:  “Be at the bar in fifteen minutes.  Wear a sundress.  I’ll direct you further once you’re there.”

 I stand some distance away.  The hotel lobby is grand.  The bar is packed.  I can see her clearly, but I’m indistinguishable in the crowd of businessmen.  “Cross your legs.  Let the dress ride up a bit,” I text her.  A moment passes.  I see her glance at her vibrating phone.  She pulls it toward her, reads the text.  She smiles.  She crosses her legs.  She adjusts her dress so it’s just a little higher.  She sucks on her straw seductively.

I’m growing impatient.  I can toy with her like this.  But I want her.  I want my cock in her mouth.  I want to feel her ass bouncing on my thighs, to feel my cock slide into her (always) drenched cunt.

“Go to the room,” I text.  “Remove your dress, and stand with your palms against the mirror.  I’ll be there soon.”

A few minutes later, I enter the room.  She is waiting for me nude, her legs spread just a little, her round ass in the air, her palms flush against the mirror.  I walk up behind her.  I trace a light line up her thigh with my index finger, up to the hair at the bottom of her crotch.  It’s damp as I press my finger higher, touching her labia, and then sliding into her.

I slap her ass, hard.  Hard enough that a red hand-shaped print is almost instantly visible.  I slap again.  She moans.  I spread her legs a bit more.  I grab a condom, put it on.  Hit her again.  I bend her over a bit further, pulling her ass further from the mirror, pushing her hands lower.  I ram my cock deep inside her, pounding hard.

We move, to the bed.  I take the condom off, sit on the edge of the bed.  She kneels, taking my cock into her mouth, my balls into her hands.  It was only two hours ago that we did this last, and it will only be another two hours before we do it again.  But for now, it’s all I can think about – her tongue swirling, the walls of her cheeks pressed against me, her hands rubbing up and down my cock, her tongue licking the head.

I lean back, further, further.  Close my eyes.  She climbs on top of me as I put another condom on.  The fucking resumes.

The orgasms are frequent and loud.  The bed shakes.  We get dressed.  “I’ll see you soon,” I say.  “Don’t go to far.  I’ll text with your next instructions before dinner.”

And I do.

  6 Responses to “She sits at the bar”

  1. […] work, at school, if people don’t whisper to one another, “Oh, that’s N.  Have you read those super-hot stories about the sex he had with The Historian?  I wonder if he’ll hook up with […]

  2. Powerful stuff and a great use for text messaging.

  3. I wish I was her

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