You are on your way home from a long day... you get a message on your phone. You are not supposed to read a text but you do it anyhow. The traffic on the company road is heavy and you try to keep the Mustang on the road despite the business and congestion. It's me.
"At the motor lodge on the south road into Weyburn. I got in 2 days ahead of the writing convention."
Now you definitely need to keep it on the road. The truck ahead almost ends the conversation. You swerve and get it off to the side and you let vehicles pass.
"WHAT????" You send back to me.
"You coming?"
"NEED A SHOWER," you send.
"Motel has one," comes my reply.
"20 MINS" you send.
"Don't clean up, room 14. Shitty Ford rental car in front. " comes my reply.
Twenty minutes later you pull into the motor lodge parking lot. There it is. The Ford Taurus mid-size rental, out in front of room fourteen.
It's ok, nobody saw you pull in and you can still turn around. You have your heart telling you this is stupid and your head telling you the same. It's wrong. You tell heart and head that your girly junk is stronger and
to chill.
You park next to the rental car.
You knock. I'm at the door and it opens quicker than you expected. You look over your shoulder and step inside. It's all smiles and hellos. Its... awkward. It's exciting. It's wrong. You love the wrongness of it all.
We couldn't look more different. I'm all suit and corporate, (with the oh so conventional red tie). You are all coveralls, sweat, and diesel fumes.
You begin to babble... You start talking about how you think that... well... you knew I would be coming north for the writer's convention but you didn't think I'd actually drive to... well. You haven't felt like this since school and ...
"SHHHHHUSH," I say to you softly, but with the assurance of a boss, "Don't think, stop thinking."
We come together. Don't know if it is me moving to you or you moving to me but you are crushed in my arms and we are smashing lips. Its a good snogging kiss.
"Don't move," I breath into your face.
You don't know what hit you, my hands are just
that fast.
Your coveralls are down down down to your ankles, just like that. One of my hands reaches behind you to lock the door and the other pops that bra-strap like it was a light-switch.
You kick off your work boots and the panties join them on the floor, next to the heap of clothing as it accumulates on the motel carpet.
You're now naked before me. Vulnerable. Clothed male, nude female, CMNF... just like a category on Pornhub. It's scary...
you love it.
C'mon, just admit it.
You feel my hand on your shoulders and you go to your knees under the 'press' downwards. My cock is out before your knees land on the carpet. It hits you in the face and slippety-slaps your cheek. Your head is a blur... you hear the words again,
"Don't think, stop thinking,"
And it's in. You've got my cock in your mouth, playing bumper-pool with your tonsils before you know anything more. You give in... it's what you wanted, anyhow. Now all you have to do is...
well do!
You deep-throat me like you're simply starving. In some respects, you are. You shut down your conscience and just let your senses take over; the taste of my cock... the smell of my pubes behind my fly and belt. It's an intoxicating male cocktail of confident penetration and you're all about devouring it... consuming it.
Your mouth is ... well its damnably good. Adept even. I'm a little surprised. Your tongue and lips have a wisdom beyond your years and it won't be long. Good, I want to cum in your mouth, to nourish you with my essence. I also want to last longer with what comes next.
Five minutes is what I can stand given the intensity of your suck. I'm both impressed and a little taken off guard how strong it is when by balls clench. My hands fill with your hair and I saw hips back and forth from the joy of it as my eyes shut.
I don't cry out... I just exhale through my nose hard and shake my head. Its then I let go with it and you feel my sex pulse between your lips. Your mouth fills with briny warmth. You've given a gift to me and in return you swallow one from me to you... its only then I notice your hand is frigging yourself furiously between your legs and probably has been for some time.
You find yourself up on your feet. One second you were on your knees enjoying the coppery salty aftertaste of my semen while playing with your fidget spinner provided by Mother Nature, the next thing you're yanked up and kissing me again... or I'm kissing you.
Just who the hell is keeping score anyhow- who fucking cares?
Your mind is just simply screaming,
"Fuck it girl, get his clothes off!"
What follows is a jumbling clatter of belt buckle fumbling by a pair of eager female hands and ties being unceremoniously pulled off by the same flustered fingers. It's as if you are attempting to start a badly flooded outboard motor, the way you curse and yank at everything. Your roughness is noticed.
"Try a little choke then advance the starter," I smirk at you.
You get the joke. The tension is broken for a moment as you bite your lip and then there's the reply,
"You asshole!"
"You adore me," I correct you.
I'm an asshole but this is a world where nice guys finish last, (and we both know that for fact). You knew I was an asshole all along and you're good with it... its why you are here. We're adults; adulting in private and nobody is fooling anyone.
"Yeah," you say pulling me back in for another kiss.
Your lips chew mine and your hands grope up and around underneath my shirt. I feel the rake of your fingernails. Things start to come off me... over my head and down my legs. You have a new-found dexterity and you are going to get your presents unwrapped.
We leave quite a scene in our wake on the way to that bed. Your work clothes are over at the locked door in a heap. Me on the other hand however; well... my things leave a Hansel and Gretel breadcrumb trail all the way to the king-sized mattress thanks to you! It's as if you tried to carpet the floor with black Armani and underwear. How my tie got on the lamp is anyone's guess, oh ...
and cool points to you for sending my shirt across the room to land on the TV
... nothing on anyhow
.
None of it matters now. We've made it to the bed with a loud enough WHUMP and we're rolling like two snarling cats tossed into the same bag. It's not hate, it's not rage, but to anyone listening with a glass to the wall; they'd be hard pressed to find the difference. Its ... 'loud' is a good word. Loud, yes I like loud, and from the sound of it...
so do you.
At least the bed is strong, (
thanks
by the way to Perfect Inn of Weyburn). You're on top of me... then you're not. I'm now atop you. It's what happens when an alpha and another alpha rut with one another and both are on heat.
The thing is, you're a reluctant alpha. You're a tired she-wolf... not tired as if worn thru, but fucking tired as if wanting something different; something apart from endless shifts, housework, and shit TV, (followed by occasional and lackluster sex from someone who'd rather be playing video games or going to a stupid Comicon meeting). You need... to feel something again.