I walk back into the room and Jess has kicked off the covers. Her glistening pussy, bright pink and puffy. The self-thrusting dildo lying on the sheet between her legs, wiggling away diligently on the bed.
"Holy fuck," she groans, her glazed eyes traveling down from the ceiling to make unfocused eye contact with me. "Holy. Fuck."
The cum of the young hotel worker...did he ever say his name?...starts oozing out of my freshly-fucked cunt as I walk to the table where he left our food. I can feel it slipping out it dripping globs and coating my inner thighs. "I like being your live porn," I tell her, picking a piece of bacon off my sandwich and popping it in my mouth.
"Ha, yeah," she laughs, sitting up, and making 'gimme' hands at her own food. "I'm not exactly sure how the internet is ever gonna do it for me again. This might have ruined me."
I pass her her plate--some sort of chicken wrap and fries--and then grab mine and climb onto the bed next to her. "Same." We both dig into our food.
"Oh my god, you really fucked that guy right here," she marvels out loud after a few bites, as if she's realizing for the first time what just happened.
"Mmmhmmm," I say, with a mouthful of sandwich, his cum puddling on the sheet underneath me.
"This is like some hot, alternate universe shit. This is not what my life is like," she continues.
"Mine either," I reply.
We let the silence sit between us for a minute. She reaches toward my plate, pilfering a bacon crumble. It's an easy motion, like we have been friends for a lifetime. I reach for the remote and turn on the TV. We are greeted with the shrill bickering of the Real Housewives of Whothefuckcares. "I'm not even going to lie," I tell her, "I love this shit."
She laughs, "Oh thank god, me too!"
"You think they'd fight less if they spent afternoons like we are?" I ask, gesturing to the aftermath of our orgasmic escapades.
Jess lets out a cackle, "They couldn't air the show on Bravo then, that's for sure."
"So," I start, steeling myself to broach the topic again. "How does this afternoon end?"
Her face crinkles, like she finds that thought unpleasant. I definitely do. "Rob will be back around 5ish. And then we have drinks and dinner with a business associate of his tonight downstairs around 8:30. Which means I'll have to leave around 4 so I can clean myself up and be in the room when Rob gets back."
I nod, hating the idea of her leaving, but I know this is neither of our realities. I glance at the clock. It's 2:15. "So, we've got time for an episode or two."
"For these bitches? Always!" she laughs, as we both make ourselves comfortable in the bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm disoriented when I wake up a few hours later. The lights are off and the curtains are drawn. The low sound of some Real Housewives nattering in the background. I sit up and realize Jess is gone.
I must have dozed off. Which makes sense, I suppose. As turns out, masturbating all night, getting only 3 hours of sleep, then getting finger fucked discretely in a pool, followed by devouring another woman's pussy to 4 orgasms, fucking myself on a dildo, and then fucking the room-service guy until I came on his cock...is kind of exhausting.
I look at the time--7:03pm--and then mute the TV. Listening for sounds of movement in the next room. I hear none. I stand up, and reach for the glass and press it against the wall. Silence. They've probably gone down for drinks. I can't help but feel disappointed that I didn't know she was leaving the room.
Then I notice my phone, on the table. With my remote controlled panty vibe next to it. And a note underneath.
"Didn't want to wake you. You needed the rest. Put this on and come sit at the bar? Pretend we haven't met. I have the remote ;)."
My clit throbs at the thought of Jess pleasuring me discreetly in public for the second time today. She didn't have to convince me. I quickly start getting ready.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
About 45 minutes later, I have showered, shaved, and smoothed a light lotion over my soft body. My long blonde hair is dry and I am running a flat iron through it as I stand in front of the mirror in a lacy blue thong and matching bra that is holding my soft, full, mommy tits higher than they normally rest now. The underwire digging uncomfortably, and the strap cutting into my side unflatteringly. I tug at the fabric self-consciously a bit, before I decide it's a lost cause. I unhook the bra entirely and chuck it on the floor. I pull the navy blue, body-hugging, cleavage-baring dress from it's hanger and whisper a little prayer, "god, please fit." before stepping in.
I pull the dress up, over my ample hips and ass and tummy. I slide an arm in each short sleeve, and then scoop my soft tits into place. Before I reach behind to pull the zipper up, I hike the bottom hem up and pull my thong to the side. I secure the u-shaped panty vibe, with it's g-spot vibe and it's clit pulser, against me in the right spots and then pull my thong back over it. I am wet. Just like I have been every other second of this weekend.
I smooth the hem of the dress back down where it sits just above my knees. Then I reach behind me and pull the zipper up. I drop my arms to my sides and appraise myself in the mirror. The dress is snug, but not uncomfortable. Hugging my hips and ass, lifting them. The softness of my stomach is evident, but not unflattering. And my tits--ditching the bra was the right choice. My full, supple breasts held together in the navy fabric, supported just enough that it isn't obscene. The shadow of my erect nipples flirting with visibility through the fabric. I flash myself a smile and then swipe on eyeliner, mascara, and a stain of berry-colored lipstick. I slip on a pair of nude heels before giving myself one more once-over in the mirror and stepping out of my room toward the elevator.
It's about 8:10pm when I walk into the dim hotel bar. I pause to scan briefly, looking for Jess or her husband. I see her, sitting on a plush bar stool, turned toward her husband on her left, and another man beside him--his colleague, I assume. She's engaged in conversation, and never turns to acknowledge me. But her hand is reaching into her purse, and I know she knows I'm here when I feel a light pulsation against my clit start to hum.
The bar is fairly crowded. I can only see two open seats--one right next to her, and the other, about 4 or 5 seats away. I start to head to the further seat, thinking discretion may be key for this evening. But as I start to move in that direction, I feel a chaotic pulsing of the clit vibe as she flickers it on and off to get my attention. I stop and the pleasant thrumming resumes--she wants me in the seat next to her. I move her direction and I feel the intensity of the clit pulsations increase slightly--and affirmation I'm doing what she wants. And as I perch myself onto the stool next to her, she still hasn't acknowledged me, but I feel the internal g-spot vibration turn on as well. A "hi there" of sorts.
I browse the cocktail menu as I cross my thighs, bouncing my foot lightly as I enjoy the toy nestled inside me and against my clit. Jess--the woman who is responsible for the last 24 hours of the most intense arousal and orgasm I can remember every having--is once again, sitting just a foot from me. I can smell her shampoo, wafting from her softly curled blonde ponytail and I just want to whip her around on her stool and dive between her thighs. I want another of her orgasms for me today.
Instead, I order a dry martini from the bartender, and listen to her husband Rob as he talks with the man to his left. Jess swivels to face the bar, watching my cocktail as it's made. She doesn't say anything yet as she turns to look at me, smiling like you would a stranger. But I watch her posture shift as she takes in my dress fully for the first time. Her hips tilt a little. Her legs uncross and cross again. Her lips flare upward just briefly as she smiles at me, approvingly. She slips her hand back in her purse and changes the clit pulsation from a low hum to a faster tapping sensation. She raises an eyebrow, and I nod once, sucking in a breath. Indicating that, yes, my she is making me feel good, and yes, if she wanted me to she could make me cum right here at this bar.
The bartender slides my my drink, and Jess uses this opportunity to break the ice, "Gin or vodka?" she asks me, casually.
"Gin," I reply, "Always gin."
"Ah, a woman after my own heart."