Room With A Screw

There have been a few horny experiences in hotels down the years – especially with my ex-husband who was pretty much obsessed with wanting to film me having sex with other men. I have always been quite horny though, and I agreed willingly to most things he suggested. In terms of strangers in hotels, some nights were a real turn-on, some a bit weird. After one not-so-great experience when I was left trussed to the bed, we decided I ought to be in control a little more – just in case…

One such time my ex hid in the bathroom with the shower running while we waited for some very special room service. I had done all my make-up, put on lingerie – including stockings, natch - and thrown on a T-shirt over the top to make it look like I was in the middle of getting ready to go out. As ordered from room service, a guy came up with champagne and I pretended I wasn't expecting it. As I guided him into the hotel room, he said hubby had ordered it and had also promised him a tip because he couldn't find any cash earlier when we checked in.

I wandered across to my bag and bent over, rummaging around as if to find some cash, my stocking tops knowingly on full view to the porter as he wiped down the champagne bottle.

He was kinda cute, young and fit, and I was quite taken by him in his smart uniform. I couldn't tell for sure whether he was looking at me bending over so, after what seemed sufficient rummaging, I raised myself and wandered back over. "What's the occasion?" he asked as the cork popped.

"Um, husband's 30th. He's in the shower."

"Yes I can hear..."

There was an awkward silence as he poured. "Oh, your tip, sorry," I said, having returned from my bag empty-handed. I walked round the bed, past the porter and the champagne, checking my husband's pockets for money by the mirrored wall/closet. We had some cash, of course, but you know what we were thinking…

I stood and turned quickly to catch him looking very much at my thigh level, but he quickly readjusted to my eye level and composed himself. I wandered purposefully over to take a glass of champagne from the trolley he had brought into the room. "I can't find anything either I'm afraid, will you be on tomorrow for us to sort it out?"

"No I'm afraid not, madam."

"Ah..."

Another awkward silence, with just the sound of the shower behind the bathroom door as the soundtrack. There was no problem for me - I was aroused, having been on such brazen show to a good-looking younger man. "Is there anything else we can do?" I asked.

"Erm, how do you mean?" he said, with what I took to be mock naivety. I slowly moved closer, glass in hand, and, when I was directly in front of him, moved my free hand over his crotch and squeezed gently. I took another cheeky sip of champagne while I had hold of the bulge in his trousers.

"Oh," he said, slightly blushing, presumably because I had taken the lead so shamelessly. "I'm sure we could come to an arrangement."

I unzipped his fly and reached into the trousers, fumbling slightly through his boxer shorts to find his cock. I eventually set it free, semi-hard and toastie-warm, and squeezed gently. "What about your husband?" he whispered.

"Oh, he'll love this," I smiled. I put down my champagne, and walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. He followed, cock sticking from his trousers, and stood in front of me. "Now then," I whispered, reaching out to him. "We'll have to be quick. Tell me if you hear the shower stop!" I looked up at him as I started to squeeze and stroke the cock which was pointing straight at my face. With my other hand, I unfastened his belt and button, and pushed the trousers to the floor. I shifted slightly forward on the bed, and reached round to pull him towards me.

I remember his breathing being shaky. It's entirely possible this was the first time this had happened to him. Maybe it was his first time with any kind of woman – he was only 18 or 19 after all. I did my usual – I looked up with my best mock-innocence from beneath perfectly made-up dusky eyelids, my brown eyes staring straight at his as my mouth, just ajar, closed on the dick I was squeezing with my hand. He opened his own mouth slightly, involuntarily, as my deep red lips kissed the end of his swollen dick gently. I slowly and surely retreated to leave a red lip-print around the head of his cock. I'm guessing he'd never seen anything as horny in his life judging by the gasp he let out.

My hand continued to squeeze around the base of his cock, the other wandering up the front of his thigh, up inside his boxers to seek out his balls. I lifted his cock up at an angle and kissed underneath as far down as I could go. I realised I had to make a play of being in a hurry and suddenly yanked down his boxers. I think they stopped around his knees but I carried on, my hands and mouth returning to his shaft. My left hand was gently wanking the upper side of his cock, my nails occasionally scratching softly along the top, making him twitch. My right hand had slid between his thighs and had pushed up his sack, which I was kissing and licking. I took one ball in my mouth and sucked gently while I scraped my nails over the end of his cock. At one point I caught him looking up and behind me, watching himself in the mirror opposite, face flushed.

I switched to running my tongue along the underside of his cock, very slowly, kissing every inch or so, until my mouth reached the top and closed gently over the end, blending into a slow, long suck just over the head. He groaned softly and his hands fell to my shoulders, trying to hold me in that spot. He pulled me towards him, obviously wanting to push further into my mouth. I relented and moved closer, my mouth swallowing up more of his dick as I sucked and edged closer, opening my legs wider to make the T-shirt ride further up my thighs, revealing the tanned flesh above my lace stocking tops. He groaned again as he watched me beneath him, and he then bent down to grab the bottom of the T-shirt, lifting it up over me.

I compliantly raised my arms, revealing a black lace ensemble. He stood and stared for what seemed an age. I stood, left hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and guided him on to the bed, laying him back for me to play with. His legs from the knee down dangled over the edge of the bed, his cock stood erect in the middle of the pristine white sheets, and I took a moment to look at the scene in the mirror opposite. My lipstick was smudged, but it looked kinda sexy. I was a dirty girl...

I crouched between his legs and tongued his balls, left hand wrapping around his cock once more, squeezing, wanking. With my right hand, my thumb hooked around the elastic in my black lace thong and quietly, carefully worked the underwear down to the floor. I shifted upwards to bring my mouth down on to his cock from above, the movement as I semi-stood allowing the knickers to fall to the floor. I climbed on to the bed swiftly, one leg either side of his. My hand was still around his cock and I lowered myself on to him. His eyes opened wide, and he looked down to watch his cock slide gently into my hot pussy. I was dripping wet, and his cock was slipping in almost audibly. I let go with my hand and placed one either side of the young porter, glancing briefly into his startled eyes before looking up at the mirror to watch myself lower on to him for the first time, listening to my juices and his whimper.

After a few strokes to gauge how wet I was and work myself open a little, I sat upright and took off my bra, casting it aside. Then I launched myself forward to give him a brief, deep kiss. His hands had reached round to hold my ass as I grinded slowly on him. I chewed on his neck as my hands ran through his hair, as my feet clasped against his knees for leverage, as the inside of my thighs gripped the outside of his, as I writhed on him. I whispered in his ear breathlessly. "I lied. My husband wouldn't like this at all."

I pushed back, smiling, and leant back as far as I could, giving him an eyeful, head thrown back, sighing, groaning. My hand reached round behind me to hold his balls gently. He watched mesmerised, his engorged cock probing deep inside as I opened and moistened even more, his hands squeezing and stroking my tits as I leant back. I rocked back and forth with my pelvis. I was genuinely enjoying this fuck – like one of the best I'd had.

I collapsed on him again, my tongue exploring his mouth frantically, passionately before I made a point of groaning and panting in his ear, trying to convey urgency. I pushed back again and, while shifting quickly but slightly on his rod, I went to unbutton his shirt. As I worked down the crisp white nylon, his hands roamed across the lace stocking tops on my thighs, across my arse, up my back, through my hair, over my shoulder, eventually drawn back to my tits, cupping and squeezing them. All the while my slight movements on his cock were blatantly taking their toll on him, stimulating further, making me hotter and daring him to take me harder...

When I'd finished with the shirt I drew my nails down his chest firmly, leaving red stripes of passion down his front. I slowly lifted off him, looking down to watch the cock reappear, covered in my slime, hard and throbbing. I crawled to the head of the bed on all fours, placing each hand on the rail, exaggeratedly opening my legs further and lifting my ass slightly. I looked to my right, into the full-length mirror, and whispered: "Come on then!"

He pushed himself up off the bed and came up on all fours behind me, like a stag covering his doe, taking what he was due. I flicked my hair to one side so I could watch in the mirror. He held his cock as he knelt upright. His other hand grabbed my butt cheek, gently pulling it to one side for a better view. He thrust into me with little ceremony and I groaned, wanting it hard, unremitting. "Fuck me hard, quickly before he comes in!"

The porter collapsed over me, hands gripping mine on the bed rail, his open white shirt falling partially over my body as he leant down to bite my neck, lick my back. His cock was thrusting in and out quickly and I watched, looked in lust as his toned young body took control of me, pumped me, used me. I begged him to go harder and deeper, and he obliged perfectly, leaning back, gripping my waist and banging me hard from behind. This was blatantly not his first time. I was virtually wailing at one point during this few minutes, my G-spot copping some serious pressure somehow.

He began pulling my ass my higher, to try and get more of himself in, I sank into the pillows, my ass in the air while he skewered me. I gripped the pillow, I left make-up all over the pillow, I squeezed his cock inside my pussy, and I felt him shoot over and over deep inside me as he bit his lip, trying not to cry out, and scratched and squeezed and kissed me, throwing himself over me as, eventually, the last drops shuddered from him.

It was only now, in the post-coital silence, in his post-coital apprehension, that I could make out the sound of the camcorder whirring. I hoped he couldn't hear it. He didn't say anything. He withdrew with a squelch and I made a play of getting myself dressed and rooting out my make-up. I gave him a kiss at the door and thanked him. And it was heartfelt.

"Finally finished then?" said hubby behind me…