Steamy Evening at German Hotel

Warm peony and toasted vanilla soaks swiftly into my cool, damp skin. It softens and scents to my pleasure. After slipping out of the soapy bath I wish we'd shared, jet lag aside, I feel as fresh as morning. Still in the hotel waiting for him to be through with the machine gun interviews. Hours before, though, he didn't seem to be stressing. Knew he'd handle them coolly. Legs crossed, hands gesticulating, expressive features fully animated. Pin straight suit and steady hand shake, firm as his blatant opinions. Smart, stubborn and oh, in that suit. My body already remembering the feel of him beneath it: thin charcoal layers, smooth, slippery almost as silk. Mmmmm. At any rate, if that company won't take him, I will.

My body still slick with lotion, I slide into a nightie he bought me for Valentine's one year. Sheer black and lace. Only for decoration, of course. Perky though they already are, it holds my two breasts taut, bringing them close into an ongoing kiss. I bought a set of stockings with garters to match and now, roll them up towards my pale, tender thighs. Like a real courtesan, at the service of one man only.

Skin aching under the material. It hugs me as lightly as his hands often will. Grazing me in long, soft lines, circling nipples, swimming about my belly.

Though blustery outside, over the lingerie, I plan to wear only my wooly pea coat, which ends abruptly at mid-thigh. Already see his face. Hear him: Impossible! How could I have known which hotel to come to? Gotten my ticket so speedily? I'll be a dream... replacing his sleep with adventure, his fatigue with arousal and hands with my mouth, my fevered skin and inner folds. Unable to wait. Never waiting, my love.

Any minute now, in the parking lot, he'll exit his father's old Mercedes and saunter tiredly toward the elevator in the dully lighted lobby, evening having quieted the day's flurry of incoming and outgoing guests. Can't decide whether I'll meet him just outside the front doors or stand invitingly outside his room. If only I had a copy of his key. Could simply lie sprawled atop his bed until he comes and act as though I'd always been there, as though he'd requested me, expected me, and meant to own me, now.

Pacing my room in three-inch pumps, black, sexy, close-toed, leather, ones he didn't know I had. Trying them out and deciding and wondering. Outside. Outside the hotel. Can't risk other guests spotting me in the hallway. Will see right through my coat and intentions. So check my gloss and cinch in my waist with my sash... to the elevator, I'm ready. He'll be arriving in minutes, or seconds.

German winds knock angrily at the sturdy, square windows I pass and immediately I know the kind of mood I must remedy.

Ding. I'm in and alone, thank God. Down one floor, two, heart bursting, three, at ground. A guy in a black suit, head down, slouching steps through the entrance and wearily treads in my direction. I hesitate to step out and realize that it's him. My eyes are stung. I lean onto the door frame, keeping it open. His eyes, lowered for a moment, notice my heels, the sheer, flimsy stockings. More alert now, his eyes trace my body, up to my dark, maroon lips and long, voluminous curls. Squinting, widening, squinting. I play the character and smirk, knowingly. Every cell of my body throbs, ready to pounce. But I'm solid.

His lips drop into an "O," his forehead scrunching and then softening, his eyes alight and greener by the second.

Step in, I want to say, sexily. But can only manage- in slightly subdued excitement- "hey," followed by a grin, cute and daring.

His mouth lifts into an open smile and laughs, his head continually shaking. The doors shut and I lose it almost at once, falling into fits of giggles, meekly biting my lip and feeling naughty. Hold it together for the last bit of our ride. I step closer in the cramped space, examining him thoroughly, hungrily.

--Honey? he says, Wh--

But I stop him, our magnetic lips inches apart.

--Later.

He still shakes his head, anxious to touch me, but unsure. Disbelieving. Perhaps he questions whether it's really me, his eyes cheating, unwilling to let his body.

Ding. Our floor. I scour the hall, narrow, blinding white. I step, but still, he doesn't move. I turn suddenly and plunge my fingers through his hair, fine, thin strands, nearly flipping at his neck, light, ash brown ends falling sporadically at his brows. I trail my fingers across the curve of his chin, just barely brushing his plump lower lip with the tip of my thumb. Drop it abruptly and stand, eyeballing. Though his suit, still looking freshly pressed maintains the look of a professional, his hair has clearly been aggressively rustled, the wind, a restless bully, already having done half the work.

Whether reflexively or from momentarily forgetting his shock, his arms spring out towards me. I cup them, hold and squeeze. Briefly. And bound down the hallway, him shortly at my heels. Already know his room. Pause at the door, anticipating him to grab for his keys. But... he'd have none of that.

In a flash, he scoops me round the waist, presses me urgently to the wall on the left of his door. Crushed together, our mouths lock at last, tongues dipping and shoveling the other's. Almost can't tell whose is whose, so furiously they tangle. His grunts initiate my own. I lose myself for a moment, our hands continually roaming, his, up my back and down, down, to the edge of the coat, fingering, lightly a bit of exposed thigh. Inhale! Exhale.... Smash myself a bit closer, if possible, longing to feel the ridges of his slim form. Sensing the bulk of my coat to be the problem, his hands sneak round the front, feeling for my sash.

Mind awakens by the sudden movement. Slide my own hands simultaneously into his pockets, cupping his steel hard cheeks. Clink clink. Bingo. Snatch the key with my left hand and set it quickly to the lock, careful not to release his lips. Click.

He swings it open and I nearly slam it as he hurries over to tug a chain on a small, shaded lamp on the night stand. We meet half way. Nimble fingers work at my coat until it falls limply at my feet.

Hm Hm Hmmm... a gurgled sort of laugh emits from his throat as he ogles the second part of my surprise. Pale in the low glow of the room, but creamy against stark black lingerie. Nipples peeking through lacy cups of gothic roses, lucent mesh squeezing my dainty ribs, hips and the start of my long, upper thighs.

--Geeez, honey...you're so crazy, he says, his German tongue slapping the back of his throat.

--Yes. Hn. Hnn, I giggle. But you're happy I am.

--I can't believe you.

--I know. Me neither.... I got lucky.

--What do you mean?

--With the tickets.... But shush. Not now.... Oh honey, I love you so much.

--Awwhahahaa...sweetheart, I love yooou. How do I have such a girlfriend?

I wait to tell him we've only one night, one night to accomplish a few weeks full of yearning. Less talk, for once. As he'd say... just enjoy.

And wrap my arms round his hot neck, his entire body radiating heat despite the chill of the night. We embrace and peck each other over and over, taking turns suckling the other's bottom lip. Minutes pass. Can't stop grinning. Begin staring with such intensity, our gazes carving images with fire, red fire, on brains and hearts, intended to last.

My fingertips run across his narrow, defined cheeks, brushing his baby soft brows. I kiss his lids and step back, drinking in the effect of love-filled, lustful gaze, thrillingly blended with authoritative dress. An alarming pulse runs from the depths of my chest down below, landing with a splash at my tingling core and trickling down to my toes. I suddenly feel uncannily warm. Not a sweaty kind but a deep inner warmth, one that scarcely reaches the surface.

I attempt to slide our feet past the mini kitchen and mahogany dresser and cherry red T.V stand to match the billowy, cherry red comforter. Attempt to drag us straight to the bed. Attempt. But we don't make it further than the dresser. Works just perfectly for the shelving of my butt. His hands at my hips, trying to perch me atop of it.

But, I think, not before I can worship his body, head to feet and back: kneel down, down, gliding along mink cashmere... ultra soft, mmmhnnn, nails digging lightly into hard, shapely thighs, toned, long calves, cheek riding down his front, over, over thick bulge and down. Mmm. His smell. Palms up, slither on up, up beneath the flaps of the coat. Single breasted. One button, two. And slip... it's off. Hastily get to the top button of his shirt. Solid white, dressy, restraining. Lips press to his collar bone. They clasp and close: haahhhmmnn. Kiss. Lapping up his neck. Jaw line, swirling. Swirling up, around the ear. Swipe lightly the delicate lobe. Ughnuuuhhh. He convulses, shoulders to knees. Hold him closer, harder and suckle the lobe, take it all into my mouth. Warm, wet and greedy. Fingers unweaving his belt. Find his lips in the struggle to unleash its tail end and finally, finally fling it off. Way, way across the room. Yanking at the remaining pant button. Yank, pull. Hnn!

He replaces my hands and roughly slides them off himself, clad now in wrinkled shirt and boxers. Taking control, he promptly settles me onto the dresser, my back lining hard, smooth, white wall. He buries his face in the hollow of my breasts, wrapping his arms around me desperately. My hands combing and knotting his hair, my nose decidedly dipping in. Drown myself in the familiar musk, building after a long day's activities. Earthy, yet sweet. Always irresistible.

He kisses each breast, nibbling at the material, then expertly flicking open the clasp at the back, one-handed. One strap down, two over the shoulders, lace flapping over, slip held at the dip of my waist.

--Ahhh, I've missed your boobies.

Kisses, light as air, just a tickle, on every inch of my small, snowy bulbs, each a hand full in size, perky, pointy, fresh and taut... Then, the rose pink nipples he envelopes, suddenly, shockingly whole. Ahhhrgh-hee! Suckles each a minute or two, then dips sweetly into my mouth again. Home.

Naughty play with the lips. Fierce battle with the tongues, dancing with them, dance and we're up, stepping away. Off the dresser, I'm desperately tearing, clawing at the remaining buttons on his shirt and he's tearing, tearing down the slip. It pools at my heels. Smacking of our mouths, hungrier than usual, ravenously dipping as far as we could reach, rims of his throat sending shivers through my frame, resonating always at the apex of my legs. Can now feel the slippery goo, like yoke cracked from an egg, drooling into my thong. So, so very ready, now. Will have no issues with timing or size.

Wild and wilder our kisses, yet we stand. We're solid, hands roaming, snagging bottoms, hair and breasts. My knee lifts and hooks at his hip. I ride his prodding erection, straining through two sets of material. No, no, not enough.

We're up against the left side of the bed, rather tall with a dark iron frame... for the ease of dark deeds. How fun if we had our silk ropes. I tug off his shirt, painfully, at last, not fast enough, tossed in frustration—his warmth coming to the rescue. Hands run down his tawny spattering of hair, chest and pecks to pouch of belly, slink around to the dip in his back, soft, along deep ridges of his spine, curving up to strong, slender shoulders. He sighs, sucks in, releases and pulls a smile. Clings me to him and kisses the small curve in my nearly flat stomach. My body tautens, but with further kissing, relaxes.

--I love these, he says, unhooking my garters, slipping off my soiled panties, but leaving my thigh-length stockings.

His fingers begin adoring the smooth, thin material, kneading my slim calves beneath. He turns our bodies, placing me again at an edge for his own complete access. Hands slowly spread me, my back readily arching. His lips nipped at the inner most flesh of my thighs, grazing closer and closer to the center of my need. Tongue caresses the creases of my pelvic bone and barely, lightly, sweetly, he brushes his lips against my own, the plumy outer petals of my vulva.

Resist a cry: Rrrrggaaah! Though charmed by his delicate treatment, I can't seem to stomach the romance, not now. An entire month of missing, longing stored and caged and growling. After three years and night after intimate night, I expect every sight, touch and feeling of our sex, and often I'd savor it, fall, lean back and bask in it. But so much purpose and animalistic desire, which long days planted in his absence, is beating, roaring, compelling me... to seize, to leave out this frivolous play.

Suddenly his very tongue tip, softly coated in hot, natural lubricant, flicks dangerously at the head of my painfully erect clit. Eeeaaah! I squeal, unleashed.

With unexpected strength, I thrust the two of us atop the queen size bed, cool, feathery blankets embracing our sides. I pull him over me, wrapping and sliding my legs up his body, humping and moving in sync with his pelvis. Though not much bigger than mine, his elongated form successfully blankets my own, smothering me in his intense heat, melding me to him, my body comfortably uncrushed. Our mouths play their game, our bodies, newly focused, our minds gone completely awry. I rip at the elastic of his blue, plaid boxers, his proud, exquisite penis popping through at last. Thickest in the middle, slightly skewed to the left, foreskin peeled back for his fat, swollen head. Once, a source of wonder and intimidation... now, a glorious instrument... of love and ultimate satisfaction.

No time to admire it now, though. Having a difficult time with the boxers, begin to transfer the struggle to my feet, fingers clawing at his back, our kisses searing each other's mouths. Tsss-kraaaa. I know I've ripped them, but continue to tear them down to his ankles. He unflinchingly kicks them off.

I immediately go for his base, briefly painting his tip with my fluids, now having soaked the entirety of my folds. And finally, direct it to the long-awaited entrance, prodding it lightly and finally... plunge. He pulls his face away and contorts it, eyes into slits and mouth into a sweet, happy "O" once again. Not quite, however, what I'd seen at the elevator.

Our moans nearly match, we, both grunting in relief and steadily sounding more unstable as he repeatedly buries himself with speed. I know we won't last long at this rate, but I almost couldn't care, already sensing the edge for myself. I encourage him, grabbing at his wondrous ass cheeks, rolling myself into his thrusts and arching.

He soon leans back onto his knees, holding my thighs so carefully in place and thrusting continuously, rapidly, in and out, deeper than before, the bed beginning to roll with us. He rams and so does the frame into the wall. His thumb fiddles with my clit, rubbing in a way for once I can't distinguish. Up, down, in circles, oh, fuck!

I perch myself on my elbows and stare straight into his eyes, our chests and stomachs still heaving. Our faces share the same look, mouths falling slightly open, foreheads giving in, indented, eyes so intent, understanding and fierce and passionate and speaking. I love you. I love you. I love you. God, I love you.

Our heads fall back and he pauses, for a moment, then leans forward and changes the pace. I can feel his body just begging to quicken, his member on the verge of that telling pulse.

We move into our favorite position: his body slithering deftly beneath mine, my back coming to rest comfortably at his chest, my long, brunette tresses whipping across his face. I bring my hand to the nape of his neck, each of us sweating, our fluids mixing into a body cocktail. My legs I place on each side of his and orient my vagina at the reach of his member, now slimy and nearly purple. Nnnuuuuugh. We both sigh. We're one, happily, again. His one hand amply cups my breast, the other working my clit in an "L" motion. I bring myself down on him, his pubic bush a cozy landing, my thighs stretching and stiffening. We find our rhythm in thrusts and in breaths. Ahhh, his finger, so fast now. L, L, yes, L. We lift. Our asses, up, higher, he pounds. Yes. Kiss his cheek. Moan. His lips. So shaky, now, so quick. Heart beats and beats. He pulls my mound tighter, focused, tighter, on its hard, tiny head. Slippery body, tighter, muscles, tighter, stiff. Squeeeze. Him, beneath me, slowing to cum with me. Finger above me faster. Naaaaghhhh! God! And faster! Everything! Nothing else, there's nothing else! Open my eyes, open them. Fuuuuuuuck!! Clamping down on him. Squeeze. Clamp. Open. His face. I see it. Everything, I see it. He's shaking, within me, trembling and grunting. Spilling. Calming. Limper and limp. Tremors still strike us. And calmer and calm. Caaaalm.

Collapsed, dead, happy and relaxed.

--Amazing, I say. Uuuaaah. So good.

His fingers ride the side of my arm, up and down, so gently. His lips, carved into a permanent smile. I turn slightly, his erection shrinking... our warm river of pleasure flowing, all out of me, glazing the bed and our thighs. Don't care. For once, don't care if I'm sticky or dirty. Wish he could've stayed in me forever. Despite the mess, he seems contented as well.

I cuddle up to his side, my leg wrapping over his lap, my right hand curling about his chest and now, lovingly caressing his face. I stare into his profile, eyes resting, his long, German nose pointing to the blank, glowing ceiling. Perfection. I smile, goofily, biting my bruised, cherry lip.

--You get to be the man today, I say.

--Mhmm, he laughs, and turns to kiss my forehead.