Hotel Blacked
(Special Note: All characters are fictitious and eighteen or older. Some sex is rough)
Right now, I'm at Emerald Isle in N.C. at my brother's beach house. We are here for the week, me and my hubby with two young children. The trip started Saturday afternoon... about a 5-hour drive to Conyers, Ga just outside Atlanta where we stayed in a Springhill Suites overnight before the seven-and-a-half-hour trip to the coast. We like to split up the trip, so the kids won't go crazy.
Conyers, and the Atlanta area in general, are ethnically diversified with a significant black population. We arrived late after dinner at Mellow Mushroom. The hotel was still hopping with people checking in as well as roaming in and out of the lobby. The lady behind the desk was black, as was every single person we saw that night in the vicinity of the hotel. Everyone was very nice. Andy was uneasy. He smelled weed in the parking lot and was anxious to get to our room.
It's an upscale hotel with a lovely ambiance, generally well maintained. I honestly wasn't the least bit concerned about being the only white people in sight and found my hubby's restlessness curiously amusing. He later mentioned all the men were eyeing me over.
The manager informed us there was a wedding party along with a traveling baseball team booked for the night as an explanation for all the activity. The hotel was completely full. Fortunately, we had called ahead for reservations.
They put us on the top floor - that being the 4
th
level - in a corner suite that looked over the parking lot. My eight-year-old daughter, Samantha, wanted to sleep on the pull-out couch in the living area. We let Seth, the one-year-old, sleep next to her for a while. Sam's a big help with her younger brother. The bedroom and living area were not divided by a partition. It was an open floor plan.
When the kids finally passed out, I suddenly realized we didn't have ice. Andy had fallen asleep watching TV, so I decided to brave it down the hall by myself to the machine which was located near the elevators. I was wearing an Atlanta Braves night shirt, hem down to mid thighs and a pair of cotton panties with no bra or socks. I hadn't washed off my makeup. My brown hair was frazzled from a long, tiring day. I'm sure I looked completely exhausted.
As you might have guessed, I didn't cruise down the hall without running into somebody... two black boys I suppose in the range of eighteen - clean cut and polite, all smiles and not the least bit alarming. They were rooming together and, as I suspected, members of the traveling team.
"You guys have a game tomorrow?" I asked, trying not to look too embarrassed about my attire.
"Yes ma'am," they both answered, and I cringed.
"Don't call me that!" I didn't mean to sound cross, but I prefer young men perceive me as close to their age. Unfortunately, they had both seen me check in with the kids. They knew I was a mother. I hadn't noticed them in the lobby, but I wondered if they were some of the guys that my hubby had spotted ogling me. "So, don't you boys have a curfew? What are you doing walking around at midnight?"
"We can't leave the hotel," they told me. "Coach didn't say anything about roaming around the facilities."
"Are your parents here for the game?" I asked. It turned out neither was accompanied by family. I finished collecting my ice and started heading back to my room. They walked along side me, which admittedly made me slightly nervous. I quickly got over it.
"Where's your room?" I inquired. They were two doors down from mine. By now, they were studying me intensely, and I was steeping in their avid attention. The night shirt that adorned my body was seductively snug. It wasn't difficult to appreciate I was brazenly braless, my tiny breasts bouncing as I skipped up the hall.
"Your husband let you get ice by yourself?" one of the guys blurted out.
"I do what I want," I told him in no uncertain terms. "I can take care of myself." Both the guys sniggered quietly. Even though they were clearly younger than me, they were both taller and well-built for their age. They reminded me of the specimens I frequently examine during physicals before football season... confident and ripped, erect from the slightest touch or temptation. "Is there something funny that I'm missing?"
"No, we just like what we see," the same guy continued. His shorter roommate nodded. I leaned up against the wall with the ice bucket under my arm. My door was ajar from the latch, so I didn't require a keycard to enter. That is one of my habits which my husband doesn't like, but everyone in my room was asleep including him. He doesn't need to know every little risk that I take.
"You like what you see?" I repeated. The boys were frozen, paralyzed by my new lascivious tone. It was a change in persona. I intentionally switched on the heat by removing an ice cube from the container and melting it on both of my nipples. The thin cotton fabric projected my erect, pink protrusions at the two of them. I definitely had their attention.
"What about now?" I murmured in a much deeper tone. "Do you like this even better?" I lifted my shirt to show them my panties and circled my clit with the cube. Like wiping fog from a mirror, my anatomy became clearer in seconds as the moisture accentuated my camel toe through the nearly transparent material. "Have either of you guys ever been with a white girl?"
"His girlfriend is white," the smaller guy pointed out.
