Cheap Hotel

They met at a bar, as had been planned. They pretended not to really know one another, as had been planned.

She was wearing a brown empire-waist dress, sexy, hitting her just above her knees and she sat at a barstool. Black panty hose, too. She had a white pearl necklace on, because she knew he would find it appealing.

He wore a black suit, white shirt, red tie, trying to look as sleek as possible.

He ambled over and stood next to her, remained standing, as he ordered a Grey Goose Martini, straight up, three bleu cheese olives.

They pretended to ignore one another, while exchanging passing glances in the mirror behind the bar.

"Are you alone?" he finally asked, not really looking at her.

"Yes," she responded. "I just needed a drink."

"Rough day?"

"Rough life."

He turned to face her, "Well, it doesn't show."

"Thanks, I guess," she said, rolling her eyes.

He looked at the bartender and said, "Can we get her a refill?" To which, the bartended poured her another martini.

The man wasn't even sure what she was drinking.

"I really don't think I need that," she said.

"Yes, yes, you do. Trust me. For what's going to happen, you're going to need that."

She didn't know what to say to that. "For what's going to happen? ... You've got trouble written all over you. What do you do?"

"I'm in marketing, but let's not talk about work. I hate work."

"Well, whatever you do, judging by that suit, you must do it well."

"I do alright, but really, my talents lie elsewhere."

She gazed at him as if he'd just said the must smug thing ever.

"I just mean," he continued, "I have a knack for telling when people need something, even though they don't know it."

Intrigued, she asked, "And you think you know what I need."

"I do."

"And what might that be?"

He took a large sip of his drink, put the glass down on the bar, inched toward her, leaned in to whisper into her ear, and said, "You need to finish that drink, not think about what you're doing, find a man -- it doesn't have to be me, but it CANNOT be your husband -- and immediately proceed to a hotel. ..."

As he spoke, she could smell his cologne, smell his vodka and olive-stained breath, and she could hardly bear it. She was wet the moment he spoke to her with his assholish demeanor. She hadn't been fucked in so long -- and clearly, he already knew that -- and she already wanted this man.

"... and you need to be ravished, and you need to ravish someone. You need to be someone other than yourself."

Then, he stepped back and went back to his drink.

"Do that again," she said.

"Do what?"

"Tell me something else. Something more," and then she took a big swig of her drink, not believing what this guy just told her and that she was inviting more.

He leaned in, this time putting his right hand inside her right thigh. His fingers were just slightly inside her skirt, not enough to be noticed or offend anyone, but enough to get his point across.

"You need to be fucked," he whispered into her ear. "You need to be thrown down on a fucking bed or something, and spend a lot of time with a cock in your mouth. You need to make someone come, come yourself, frankly, be dirty."

He stepped back again, put his hands on his martini glass and said, loudly, "Hey, just my opinion. Take it or leave it."

He reached into his pocket, took out his wallet and put $30 on the bar, then started to walk away.

"Who is this guy," she thought to herself, then said loudly, "Wait."

He turned around and she got up, moved toward him, "Don't tell me your name. Let's go."

They walked out of the bar, side by side, turned right and as they walked down a sidewalk -- she had no idea where they were going -- he stopped, looked at her, pressed her against a brick wall and began kissing her. He was being forceful, but she liked it. She put her hand, holding a handbag, on the back of his head, gripped them both, pulled him against her face. They kissed sloppily, passionately. Before she knew was she was doing, she had her hand on his crotch, obscured by his coat, felt his erection as people walked by.

She stopped kissing him. "I want you to take me to a hotel."

"OK, let's go," he said, and he started walking down the sidewalk.

"Hang on," she said, moving toward him. "One thing."

"What?"

"I want you to take me to a cheap fucking hotel. If you are going to fuck me like a whore, I want you to do it in a place that whores fuck."

He hadn't expected her to say that. It just didn't seem to fit her, but he liked it.

They hailed a cab, and he told the driver, "Take us to a hotel."

"Which one?" the driver asked.

"The kind that charges by the hour."

The driver looked at them in the rearview mirror, smirked, then took off for a shady area of town.

The man and woman sat near one another. She couldn't control herself. She began licking his neck. She unzipped his fly, stuck his hand inside, grasped his penis on the outside of his underwear. The cab driver watched in the rearview mirror, chuckling to himself. The man saw the driver and gave him a look that said, 'If you want a tip, you'll keep your eyes on the fucking road.'

She whispered into the man's ear. "I want you to fuck me like a whore. I want to be your fucking whore." She continued to stroke his cock and could tell he liked this talk. "I want this cock in my mouth. I want you to fucking come all over my face."

As he listened to her, he could hardly control himself. Just this was close to making him come.

Then the cab pulled up to some shady looking hotel in a bad part of town. He zipped his fly, threw the driver $20 and they went inside. He had his arm around her. She continued to press her face into his neck.

"We need a room," he told the man behind the desk.

Disinterested, as if he'd seen this a million times, the attendant asked, "For how long?"

"A couple hours," the man said.

"Fifty bucks. Prepaid."

He put the money down. Took the key and then went to the elevator. Second floor. It smelled like cigarettes and stale beer. They found their room -- 204 -- and went in. It was dingy, gross. There was queen bed that looked 50 years old. The carpet was stained. The bathroom smelled of mildew.

She moved over to the bed, sat down, spread her legs. He moved toward her, unzipped his fly, took his cock out. She grabbed his ass, pulled him close to her.

She took his cock in her hand, lightly licked the foreskin, the most sensitive area. She teased it, flicking her tongue on it. Then she started sucking on the shaft of his penis, never putting the whole thing in her mouth. It drove him crazy. She slid her mouth up and down the shaft, like she was sucking on the side of a popsicle. Then, much to his surprise, she took her mouth off and spit on his cock. She started jerking him off in her hands, spitting on it a couple times. It was wet, and there was drool hanging off her hands and his cock, all very nasty.

"Do you like that?" she asked.

All he did was moan, and she continued to massage his shaft with her spit-moistened hands, licking the foreskin along the way. Then, finally, she put the whole thing in his mouth. Up and down, she sucked on his cock.

"You fucking whore," he said, "yeah, that feels good. That's going to make me cum."

When she sensed he was going to come, she took his cock out of her mouth and started jerking it again.

"I want you to come on me."

"Yeah, I want to."

"Come on my face. Come on my neck."

(She hoped he was smart enough not to come on the dress.)

She jerked on his cock and he began groaning loudly. She felt the hot cum spray on her tongue and her lips, and she moved it down to her neck and felt it spray some more on her necklace.

She looked up at him and saw his look of pleasure, as he saw her drenched in his cum. She rubbed her hands on the semen, wiped it off her neck and put it in her mouth. She couldn't believe she was doing it. It was like she was in somebody else's body, using someone else's mind, but as she licked his saltiness like it was candy, it got her more and more turned on.

"I fucking love your cum," she said.

He watched her wipe all his goo off herself and put it in her mouth, and it made him get erect all over again.

He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back on to the bed forcibly. He took her legs off the floor -- she still had her shoes on -- and spready them wide open. He grabbed the pantyhose just inside her right thigh and ripped at it. He ripped a hole in it, kept ripping until she had a hole that exposed her crotch.

He felt her underwear with his fingers, and they were sopping wet. He put his head in her crotch, kneeling on the floor, her legs on his shoulders. He moved her underwear to the side and saw her clitoris, red, pulsating, and he began licking it.

"Yes, fucking lick my pussy," she said, grabbing the back of his head. He licked all around, sucked on her clit, felt her quiver as he did it. He moved his tongue all around, even stuck it inside of her pussy, and she'd never felt so much pleasure as she felt her body ready to come.

When he stuck his finger inside her pussy, as he pushed his tongue on her clit, she did come. And as he stuck his finger deeper, deeper, until it was pressed against her G-spot, she felt like she was going to explode.

"Yes," she said. "Make me come. Make me come like a whore. I'm your fucking whore."

He was covered with her juices as she pulled his face into her crotch. He could feel her G-spot, hard, and he clasped it with his finger hooked.

She came for what seemed like an eternity. The shit that spewed out of her mouth, words yelled like "Whore," "Slut," "Fuck," "Rape," "Come," it could all probably be heard two floors away, but it fit with this rat-infested hellhole they had wound up in.

He stood up, pulled her pantyhose and shoes off, took his clothes off, except for his undershirt. He put her legs on his shoulders. He stuck his cock inside her pussy -- it was tight, but wet -- and she almost immediately came again. Something about this room, something about the now-dried cum that was on her face and neck, it made her feel so naughty that she couldn't stand it.

He was sliding his cock in and out of her pussy, and licking the inside of her knee while he did it. He had a leg fetish and he liked to lick them. As he felt her begin to come, he slid his hand inside the top of her dress. He slipped his hand inside her bra, felt her nipples. They were hard, erect, and he pinched them. It hurt her, but it was a good hurt. Him touching her nipples put her over the edge, and she came -- finally -- for a second time.

This orgasm, too, lasted for what seemed like an eternity.

But she wanted more. She wanted to be fucked hard. She pushed him back, rolled over.

"I want you to fuck me hard," she said.

He pushed her down, so her belly was on the bed, but her ass was in the air. She was still wearing the dress, but it was hiked up. She put one of her hands inside the top of the dress, began pinching her own nipple. He grabbed her buttocks and spread them open, put his cock inside her pussy and began fucking her hard. He grabbed her hair, pulled on it, not terribly hard, but enough to make both of them feel like a prostitute and a john. He kept fucking her, and she loved it.

"Yes, fuck me hard. Fuck me like a whore," she said, not believing how many times she had used the word "whore" that night.

He kept fucking her. He had already come once this night, so he had to find the right angle to make it happen again. He kept pushing her belly down, grabbing her ass, until he found the right spot. In the midst of that, one of his fingers found the outside of her ass. He didn't put it in, but he pressed the outside of her anus. It surprised her, but she liked it.

"Do you want to fuck my ass?" she said.

"Yes," he said.

He didn't really, but it made him feel dirty, hot, to say it.

"Do you like me fucking you hard?"

"Yes."

"Do you like me playing with your ass, you fucking slut?"

"Yes."

"Do you want my cum?"

"Yes," she said, as she began coming herself. She felt so dirty, so naughty, the mix of him ramming her pussy, her grasping her own nipple and him touching her anus, it was all too much.

She screamed.

"Yes, fuck me you fucking animal. Fuck me in this hellhole."

He removed his cock and flipped her over. He climbed onto the bed and straddled her, jerking his cock off and he came into her mouth while he was on top of her. He yelled when he did it. This time he tasted different, worn out, and she sucked every drop out of him.

Then he rolled off of her, gasping for air. He was drenched in sweat. She felt dirty, raw, looked down at her dress, which was crumpled up on her body, amazingly not really dirty.

They both layed there, breathing heavily, looking at the cracked ceiling with stains on it.

"Shower?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

They both disrobed and tiptoed into the shower, not really wanting to touch much in this place. What transpired was loving. He soaped her up, cleaned her chest, her breasts, her thighs. She cleaned his cock. They then began kissing, gently, and she felt him getting hard yet again.

He looked at her, "We should do this again sometime."

"Yeah," she said. "Next month?"

"OK, he said.

They got dressed, left the hotel, clean, slightly embarrassed. They hailed two cabs and before departing, he kissed her passionately.

"Next month," he said.

"Next month."