"I like the toy," I say. "It's fun and it's quite a turn on. How did you think of that?"
"Well, I thought we were ready for a bit of a technological upgrade," you answer, wryly.
I have been playing with the app throughout our conversation, being careful to vary the speed and not to get too loud. You've been alternating between having a drink together and biting your lip in controlled pleasure.
"I'm sure you know this, but you can't come in this bar," I say.
"I knooooow!" you whine back quietly. "But I want to! I really want to."
"Patience is a virtue," I admonish.
"Virtue is the LAST thing I'm thinking about," you retort.
"You do have a way with words," I reply, and instantly you smile.
"I like words," you answer. "I like them a lot."
"Because....?"
"Because they can take you into someone else's head, or you can let someone into yours. Words are the ultimate nakedness. They let your mind be seen. Words make thoughts real."
"And what a mind you have," I answer.
We're sitting in the hotel bar as happy hour winds down and you're finishing the last of your glass of wine. The room is cool and quiet, and the service has been excellent. Attentive, but not intrusive, and that has allowed us to talk uninterrupted.
"Why did you decide to invite me here today? You have a pool in your own building, and we could have just had dinner and returned home afterwards. But you reserved a room and asked me to bring clothes for dinner and to stay over. Is this just for variety? Another way to mix it up?"
"Well, it's always good to have some variety. I thought you might enjoy something new," I reply.
"And the 'something new' is ...?"
I interrupt our conversation by reaching for the phone and turning off the toy's app.
"All your questions will be answered in due time," I say as I gesture to the bartender for the check. "Let's go upstairs and dress for dinner, shall we?" And with that, we leave the bar for the elevator.
As we enter the elevator, a couple follows us in. I pushed the button for the tenth floor, and, looking at the couple, ask, "Which floor?" The woman answers, "We're on the ninth." During the ride, there is a tension in the air, as if something isn't being said, and, at the sound of the automated voice announcing the ninth floor, the couple steps out of the elevator. As they leave, I say, "Enjoy your evening," and she answers back, "I'm sure we will. You too."
The elevator ascends one more floor and the door opens to the hallway leading to our room. It's located on a corner, so that the walls create an interior L shape. We have a terrace with wide glasses doors. From the terrace, we can look out at rest of the hotel including the windows belonging to the walls creating the L shape in the building's design.
As I open the curtains, I look out and mumble to myself, "It's going to be a lovely night."
"What's that?" you ask. "Nothing important," I answer. "Our dinner reservation is at 8. I think I'd like an aperitif first."
"Do you want something from the mini-bar, or do you need to call for room service," you ask.
"Neither one."
You raise your eyebrows. "Oh! What did you have in mind?" You can't conceal the hint of a smile.
"First, I want to watch you undress."
"Well, only if you're going to match me, point for point," you answer.
"You're so egalitarian," I comment.
"Fair is fair," you reply.
We look at each other, locking eyes, and then, as I begin to unbutton my shirt, I watch your fingers do the same with your blouse. As I continue unbuttoning, my chest is revealed, just as your blouse reveals your bra.
"It's already unequal," you say. "Not the same number of garments between us."
"I can remedy that," I answer, and I walk over to you, gently turn you around and undo the clasp on your bra. The straps fall off your shoulders and, in a moment, your breasts are exposed while the bra is in your hands.
"We're even again," I say.
Now it is you leading the dance, unbuttoning your stylish belt, and I imitate you, removing my own. In short order each item falls way, and just moments later, we are standing in front of each other quite naked.
That is when you notice the open curtain looking out at the terrace and beyond. You look at me quizzically.
"Leave the curtains open," I say, firmly, and you quietly nod.
"Stay there for a moment. I'll be right back" I walk toward the bathroom, and I return with a towel, placing it on the cushioned swivel chair.
"Sit down, please," I say, but you can tell that the "please" is nothing but civility. There is no option offered in my voice.
Backing up into the swivel chair, you sit down onto the towel.
"Show me," I say, and you understand what I want, as you open yourself to my eyes.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful," I murmur under my breath. Then, to you I say, "Take out the toy. You're only allowed one finger for your pleasure."
Your left hand moves downward and toward your center, and I watch you retrieve the toy and place it on the end table. Bringing your hand back now, I watch your index finger begin to rotate slowly. You are in no hurry, and that pleases me. There is plenty of time to savor this.
In the silence of the room, I can hear my heart beating as a pulse in my ears. You keep looking at me, sometimes connecting to my eyes, and at other times, letting your gaze wander downward, across my body. Your finger continues the small circles, and you seem at ease. You know I am enjoying this.
I am hard already, and I see you look at me with your mouth ever-so-slightly open.
"I have no intention of coming like this," you say, almost defiantly.
"Honestly, your intentions are only part of a much larger plan. You may not come right now," I answer. "You will, but not yet.
"This finger isn't enough.... I need ... you."
"It's time for that aperitif," answer, and I move toward your chair. Placing my hands on the arms of the swivel chair I reach down and kiss your lips. A long, slow kiss. You meet me with the same hunger I have, and we explore each other through our mouths and tongues. The passion, the need, is obvious, and I now feel impatient.
"I need to kiss the rest of you," I say, and I gradually lower myself down in front of you pulling your hips forward. I take your hand away from your body, and my mouth replaces it, finding your warmth and your wetness. You open your legs wider, giving me space to bring you more pleasure, and I swirl the tip of my tongue around your clit as lightly as I can. Like a long kiss, I hold your folds in my lips and let my tongue focus on your clit. Time passes and it grows against my tongue. You are warmer now, and I can taste you more intensely. I lay my tongue flat against your little bump. I feel you move into me, pushing yourself with force, pleasuring yourself and the little nub that had formerly been pleasured by your finger.
"Talk to me," I say as I return my mouth to your pussy.
The silence is broken now by your voice. It is husky now, and soft.
"Yes...there, right there.... Give me your tongue, ...Fuck! I like that. I like that... it ... feels ... so ... good."
Between sentences you stop to enjoy the sensations and to catch your breath.
"I love your fucking mouth," you continue, rambling as you go. "I love your fucking tongue. You know my body...you understand it. God, I love this."
Again, you become quiet, but your hips have begun to slowly rotate, and I know you're on your way.
"Where did you fucking learn to eat pussy like that?" you mumble, and I smile, even as I as continue to pleasure you.
"Whoever she was, Fucking God Bless Her."
I push my tongue hard into you to bring you back to the moment.
"Oh, yeah. Do that, Do that... Do fucking thaaaaat."
Your hips buck forward, and you push so hard into me. I hold my tongue against you as your legs tremble. Your breath stops for a moment, and then there is a guttural sound. You're pushing your clit into my flattened tongue and grinding it. You push and rub on my tongue, keeping the pressure hard against me, and then the motion stops at the hardest push. I know that you are letting yourself crest, and I can feel you convulsing in asymmetrical rhythms. Now your breaths are fast and hard and then, they are random in duration until they slowly diminishing in strength. Over the next half minute, they slow down even further, and the time between the weakening convulsions lengthens until everything finally stops. I can hear your quiet breaths getting finer and finer. When you have finished with your last twitch, the silence is deafening.
"Jesus!" you whisper.
"Nope. Try again. That's not my name," I answer, and I hear an almost silent chuckle from you. Still holding my tongue against you, I let my eyes look upward toward your face.
You are smiling, and that is an extraordinary feeling for me.
"But YOU didn't come yet," you say.
"Oh, my dear. There's a time and place for everything. The night is very young. Let's shower and get ready for dinner; shall we?"
At 8 pm we enter the restaurant, and are taken to our table, next to a window facing the bay. The lights reflect hypnotically on the water's surface, undulating in endless shapes and constantly changing rhythms. I'm caught in the water's reflections when your voice interrupts my reverie.
"Isn't that they couple we met in the elevator?" you ask, gesturing toward the table across the restaurant.
