His name was Dave, at least that's what he told her. They met in a bar, seated next to each other. She spoke up when he asked the bartender if he could turn up the sound on the hockey game playing on the television.
The woman told Dave that she was a Flyers fan. Dave said he just watched the games for the fights.
The woman told him that her name was Jillian. When the left together, the Flyers had just scored. Dave was hoping for the same thing.
In the car, things turned out better than he could have hoped. Jillian couldn't keep her hands to herself, except for when she was fingering her pussy. She told Dave that she was highly sexual and he didn't really have to get a motel room; they could do it right there in the car. Even on it.
Dave's hands sweaty on the wheel, her hands inside of his pants and stroking his cock, he barely managed to pull into a motel parking lot. Jillian pulled her hand out of his fly, only to allow him to go in and register for a room. She laughed at Dave as he walked away, knowing that his fly wasn't zipped up.
By the time he had returned, Jillian was out of her clothes and leaning against the door, her fingers buried in her hairless sex, her tongue writhed in the corner of her mouth as she worked herself.
They drove to the designated room. As he went to unlock the door, he felt her naked body pressing against him from behind and then felt his pants pulled down and then his underwear. They were still outside the room. Her hand was around his cock and they basically fell into the room.
The room was the average motel room, a lamp on top of a dresser, a single bed, a bathroom off to the side. The carpet underneath them was a shag style and she laughed at the coincidence.
Jillian took hold of his cock and slid it into herself. She rode him up and down for about ten strokes before she felt him shooting up inside of her.
And that was the end of that for a while.
There was a heavy silence, broken only when she went into the bathroom and peed, then washed herself.
When she came back, Dave was laying on the bed.
"I'm sorry," he told her.
She sat on the bed and then laid down next to him, her hand burying itself in his chest hair.
"For what?" she asked as she played with the hair. She loved a man with chest hair and considered telling him that, helping him feel better about himself.