It was a long evening. This is the penultimate chapter. And this was the previous chapter.
We made our way to the hotel, all of a five-minute walk. On the way, it became apparent just how tipsy Charlotte was. She was weaving a bit, and we took the walk slowly, each of us delighting in smoking a cigarette, and in anticipating what awaited us.
We checked in. Made our way to the room.
I had Charlotte lie on the bed, grabbed her magic wand, and began the tease. She didn’t beg, but she sure made it clear that she needed me to stop torturing her, writhing and bucking as I used the wand on her thighs and pubis, but only grazing her cunt itself.
Pause: Charlotte, splayed on a bed, is quite a sight. Pale, meaty, tattooed, her flesh demands spanks, nibbles, bites, and I delivered them. She’s not a porcelain doll. Her hair is dark. Her flesh isn’t meager, or pure. Rather, she’s curvy, soft, delicious, and inked. I think of a porcelain doll as anorexic and bland. Charlotte isn’t. She’s not fat. At all. But she’s got flesh. I can toss her around a little, but mostly because she’s short. Were she my height it would be a bit more challenging.
But she isn’t my height. She’s delightfully, excitingly small.
[She read this and said I made her sound “pudgy.” This is just dead fucking wrong. Charlotte shouldn’t lose a pound, and no one looking at her ever would think she’s pudgy, chubby, fat, or anything of the sort. And remember: I’m turned off by fat. No. Charlotte is just a little thick. Not even much thick. Just a little. Like, her ass is rounder than her hips imply. That’s it. She’s just. Fucking. Hot.]
So there she lay, quivering a bit, wet, needy, and completely irresistible. I tore her panties off and dove in to her sweet, salty pussy, lapping and licking. My fingers joined my tongue and I was devouring her hungrily, as I had been waiting too long to do.
I collected her first, and her second, orgasms, but these weren’t as readily accessible as the orgasms I had come to know of Charlotte. She was fully present, fully enjoying herself, but her body wasn’t operating at 100 percent. At least some of her sensations, evidently, were dulled a bit.
We switched places and I fed her my cock, hoping that by making her the subject, rather than the object, I might rouse her. She sucked my cock dutifully, well. She licked and sucked. I pulled her head back to take the eye contact I craved, even though the room was pretty dark.
And then I flipped her over again and resumed my feast.
After another orgasm or two, I grabbed her new vibrator, and turned it on. This toy would fuck Charlotte like I haven’t been able to. It’s about the size of my cock, maybe a tad bigger, but of course, it’s always hard, and prefers fucking to oral. I slid it into her wet pussy, and guided it in and out, pushing it up slightly to contact her g-spot, down slightly to ease the back and forth. Another orgasm or two followed – these deeper, more satisfying, I had the sense. And we took a break.
I was excited to get my cock back in Charlotte’s pretty, welcoming, talented, hungry mouth, as we lay in the dark, chit chatting. The conversation slowed a bit, as we each pondered what had happened so far, what remained of the evening.
And then? I noticed the feeling of Charlotte’s body on my arm shift slightly, the weight drop just a smidge, as all her muscles relaxed into sleep.
I lay next to her, thinking, meditating, breathing for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. But the room was cold and my cock was hard.
I thought about waking her, either to put her to more use or just to tell her I was leaving, but because reasons, waking a sleeping beauty is uniquely challenging for me. So instead, I dressed myself, draped the sheets over her exposed curves, kissed her softly on the cheek, and let myself out.
As I emerged onto the street, I planned to head home. But then I remembered Melrose and, against my better instincts, redirected myself back to the strip club we had left only 90 minutes earlier….