Warning: this story contains pegging.
I came into work tonight with a condom in my pocket and a hard-on in my boxers. I'm a zombie. I haven't slept all day because I've been fantasizing about Marla. Marla's throat around my cock. Her velvety snatch squeezing me dry. She moans as I shove my fingers in her rectum. Cover her in my...
"Uhhh...? Ex-
cuse
-me? I said... about the MoMA?"
This blonde chick is gawking at me, she looks like she's at most eighteen and she's wearing more makeup than clothes. Is that her friend or her sister with the fake red hair, talking in her ear while giving me the stink-eye? How long have they been here?
"Dude, I think he's high or something," she whispers in the blonde's ear.
I'm not high, I just need a moment to process new information, and to stare at your nipples pointing through what might as well be a belt.
"Yes, the MoMA..."
The blonde stares at me expectantly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah! It's here."
"I know it's here!" She rolls her eyes like I'm a retard or something, which I probably am at this point. I read somewhere that sleep deprivation can really fuck with your brain. Or was it in a documentary?
"...want to know how to
get
there!"
Oh shit, she's talking again. I give her a map and my best smile. I'm hoping the counter effectively hides my thunder because I've got Thor's hammer in my pants again from staring at these chicks. They're sharing a room with a king-size bed, I wonder what they get up to in there.
As I'm picturing her friend tongue-deep in her clam, the red-haired one snaps her fingers at me.
"Key?"
I give her the key and they run off towards the elevator, muttering to each other what I can only assume are less than complimentary remarks about my mental well-being. I can feel my heart pumping blood into my prick as I watch them go, their asses bouncing with every step, punctuated by the clicking of their high heels on the marbled tiles.
I turn my eyes to the wooden panel where the keys hang. It's almost empty. Full house tonight. Two hours go by in a haze, and there's only one key left on the board. 405. Marla. I can't stop tonguing that scratch.
And suddenly she's there at the counter, spilling out of her dress every which way, radiating sex through every pore, and just looking in her eyes is making me burst at the seams. I put her key in her hand, and the touch of her skin almost melts me on the spot.
She leans over the counter and I can smell her perversion.
"See you soon," she says, and I can't say anything my throat is so dry. I start locking up while she waits for the elevator, but it gets there before I'm done, and I imagine what it would be like to finger her in the mirrored cabin. It's an impossible fantasy, of course, as safety regulations prohibit me from riding the elevator.
After the doors and the cash box are all locked up, I take the stairs to the fourth floor. There's still light coming from underneath one of the doors before Marla's. 402. I make a mental run through the reservations and come up blank. As I come up close to the door however, the sounds coming from the room are unmistakable.