Room Service in 1447

"Get in here, quick. My god, I was worried you weren't going to show up. You're always so punctual. When you're even two minutes late I start to freak out. Hurry up. Rob's going to be here in 20 minutes." Your eyes flash and your excitement hits me, a cold punch to the solar plexus. Heaving a breath, I feel the impact from my core through my limbs, igniting the familiar tingling in my feet, the clammy coolness in my hands. I feel every movement of every fiber as I look at you. I know too well why I'm here and want to be anywhere else and yet only by your side in this moment. Deep at my root there's a tug and a stiffening as the blood flows to familiar and frightening places.

"You're staring at me like a startled goat," you say, taking my hand to pull me through the door. Room 1447 is an oasis in cool blues and greens, with muted, abstract wallpaper that evokes the sea. Over the tall, king-sized bed covered in endlessly deep azure damask hangs an expansive lithograph, a view of a massive schooner under full sail with a single crewman staring aft and starboard at the corner of the transom. He is open-mouthed, eyes wide as if he has seen something amazing, perhaps even a boy who flew too close to the sun falling from the sky. The schooner is disappearing quickly. Leaving the viewer adrift.

You stand before me wearing the hotel's thick, white terry robe and a smile. Giddily you say, "Come with me," and draw me to the bathroom. Another oasis here with a cool white marble floor, two-headed frameless shower, a separate bathtub that could easily seat three, and a gleaming black granite counter. On the counter sit two pair of satin bikini panties. One is just slightly off-white, not nude or ecru but ivory, with delicate lace trim at the top and joining each panel at the hip. The other is coral, plainer, a simple string bikini with a short line of ruching down its back.

"Which of these do you think Rob would like better?" The blood drains from my head; I reach out my left hand to steady myself and the clink of my wedding band against the cold granite echoes like a gong. You go on, "I mean, we both know they won't be on for long, but still. Pick a pair for me." I hand you the ivory pair and the silky softness catches slightly on a rough fingernail. The faintest hitch, it and every sensation is electric. "I knew you'd pick these," you beam. "You are such a predictable little pervert. Put them on me," you say with a slight giggle, "it's kind of funny, isn't it? You put them on for Rob to peel off?" I swallow hard and hold the panties for you, feeling your smooth leg slip into one opening before the other finds its place. I pull them up you slowly, drawing out this moment of skin on skin as long as I can. To your thighs, then your waist, I catch a glimpse at your nakedness as I pull the lingerie over your hips. You brush a hand over my cheek and down my arm, spreading a wicked smile.

"Come over here," you say as you walk to the bed. You shrug the robe off and mount the bed, pointing me to its foot. You lay on your back, planting your feet far apart and raising your hips. I stare between your legs, driving my gaze to your satin-covered temple, memorizing every slight lift and fold, mesmerized by the light glancing off the faint swell of your mons.

"Do you think he'll fuck me in this position first?" you ask, startling me from my trance. You flip over onto your knees, lifting your ass and backing it right to my nose, "Or like this first? You know he likes that, right? Grabbing my hips, tugging my hair, driving his thick cock as deep inside me as he can get. Mmmm," you say, "I can hardly wait!" Again I'm lost in the view of you, the full oval of your pussy pushing against the satin as you draw your legs together, inches from my eyes and seemingly forever out of reach.

Time slows and I feel the pull of it, the anticipation of what's to come stretching my gut like a rubber band, the butterflies in my stomach flying all directions at once. I feel myself falling yet suspended, caught in a gyre of conflicting emotions, wanting to bolt yet riveted in place. My belly churns hot while my feet and hands chill, my eyes struggle to focus, and there you are, smiling wickedly, the curl of a knowing giggle forming on your lips. "Time to get you settled," you say. "Pants off." I loosen my belt and open my trousers and you look down with a scolding frown.

"I thought I told you to wear the briefs I bought you. These boxers are for big boys," you say, pulling the front of my shorts away from my waist and reaching in to squeeze me just harder than sensuality alone would condone. "And here we see that you are not at all a big boy, are you? This is why we're here, is it not?" you ask with grinning authority. "Because I need a good, hard, deep, thick, and thorough romp, yes? So, next time, unless you'd like me to put your little business in a pair of panties and put you on display for my girlfriends at home while I'm here getting properly drilled, you'll wear the underpants I select. Understood?" I swallow and nod as you guide me to the closet.

Not quite a full walk-in, the closet is nonetheless spacious and deep. Aromatic cedar lines its back wall, perfuming the space. The louvered doors let in a tantalizing light and broken view not full enough to form a clear picture of the room or anything in it. You guide me gently to the back.

"You will stay in here now. Do not move, do not make a sound, and do not touch anything. By the way, I mean anything, including your drippy little stick there." You point at my erection straining against the cotton boxers. A tiny wetness has formed there and you laugh sincerely, the slightest roll of your eye confirming it. "Get control of yourself; the show hasn't even started! The next time you see these," you say, opening your robe to reveal the panties again, "they're going to look just a little different." You linger there a long moment, your hand brushing over the satin encasing your sacredness as you stare knowingly into me. Suspended in this moment hangs your judgment, a paradox of adoring derision anchored to your most intimate giggles, pushing at the edges of this, our favorite game. I spin further out of control, my mind alight and quickening, all synapses flooded and nerves firing, firing, firing.

On the back of a knowing giggle and long look you shut the doors with a heavy click and I am encased in darkness, struggling to control my breath. Time crawls. No room for me to pace in here.

I hear a knock on the door and again the blood rushes to my gut leaving me dizzy; I slide helplessly to my knees and strain for any view through the louvers but all I can see are tiny slivers of carpet and a flash of color as shapes move across my broken field of view. I struggle to keep from gasping, knowing I must not be discovered. I hear the door open and your voice, "hell-lo," you say, not sing-song but rich, golden, your cognac voice warming through the room. "I've been looking forward to this all day," you add, and I hear the two of you embrace, hear the first kiss, and reach to the wall to keep from collapsing as my head spins faster.

Sound heightens now, the brush of his slacks on your robe, the wet tickle of kisses, the interplay of your voices beginning to melt and giggle together. I hear the clink and tug of a belt, a zip, and your gasp and sigh. You must have taken his pants off; I hear them hit the floor and now his shirt, your soft "oohhh" escaping as surely you are reaching onto his manhood. I swallow hard, hoping not to make a sound and try to stand for the hope of some kind of view. I must see, I must, but I cannot and sound intensifies yet again. "mmmm," I hear, and a sharpening breath. "Ahh," and a whispered "no, not yet" as I hear the brush of a hand across the softest fabric. He's touching your sacred spot, I know, I can feel it, feel his hand brushing over your satin-covered secret place, I'm shaking with fear and excitement, with jealousy and at the same time, a pull of erection so strong I feel I may ejaculate without warning, without touch.

"Do you want this?" I hear you ask as I make out the movement of a shape that must be your head and torso. "Ohhhh... yessss," I hear him say as an "mmmph" escapes your full mouth. You've taken him in your mouth, I know it! I'm spinning faster, breathing shallower, hoping to hold on. I hear the slurp and slap, Rob's moans increasing though I concentrate only on you, what you're doing, how you're doing it. You stop, "I can't take that much in, honey, you're too big for my mouth so let me lick and nibble," and the slurping begins again along with a rhythmic, wet, sliding slap as you work your hand around him. "Slow down," he says, "you'll make me cum!" The slurping stops. More brushes of fabric as bedsheets give way; the hollow thud of a pillow falling to the floor. My heart hammers on every sound you make, barely eight feet away yet impossibly out of reach.

"Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, yes, like that. Right there... there, a little lower, oh please make those little circles... oh OOOOH," you say and your moan tells me he's slipped a finger inside you. "Get in me, now. I need that thick cock in me," you say, and I hear you move. The slap of skin against skin comes now and I remember your display. How is he taking you in this moment? Is he behind you, on top, beneath you? The shapes through the louvered door show too little and my imagination runs wild.

Your voice grows now, your breath increasing, heaving in tempo with the thrust and push of your bodies together. Moans and sighs build, a crescendo of pleasure as you build toward a peak. "Yessss," you say, "Harder, harder, harder, take me take me oh my god oh, oh, oh," I hear and my cock strains harder. I reach down to squeeze and nearly cum in that second. Remembering your instruction I take my hand away but turn to the back wall, pressing myself into it, holding myself tight against it and feeling the pulse of my steel-band erection against the cool wood. You're nearly screaming now, "Ahhh...Oh-oh-oh, ahhh oh-oh-oh," the cadence and pitch rising. I hear him grunting, the moist slap of your bodies crashing together and I realize I've turned around and can catch just the tiniest slice of a view through the crack between the closet doors.

He IS behind you. I knew it, I say soundlessly to myself, and I see that you are staring directly at the closet, directly at me. As if you can see through the doors, your voice rises yet again and I see the crest of this pleasure spreading on your face. Your gaze burns into me; you're fucking him but it's you and I connecting, your pleasured moans rising an extra decibel for me alone. I hear the blood rushing in my ears, a thundering wave on wave as my heart hammers at my breastbone and your voice breaks through with a shattering scream as you tumble off the cliff edge into orgasm. "Cumming, cumming, cumming, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes yes yes yes yes yes yes" you shout and I hear the shudder in your voice echoing in the walls of my skull. My mouth is dry.

Your voice falls away and I hear you turn. Him on top now? I can't quite see. "Fill... me... up!" you say to him, "I want it in me. All of it. All of you. Pound it into me, shoot it in me, take me, fuck me, come ON," you command, and the headboard beats a speeding rhythm on the wall. His heaving breath gives way to moans, his voice rising now and I know he's on the edge and then he too breaks over as you shout out, "Yesssss, all of it inside me, deep in me, yesss" and he's grunting, heaving, emptying himself as he fills you. I hear a sigh.

Quiet takes over the room. A long wait; I'm swallowing, my ears are hot and I feel the prickle of every hair on my body standing up in unison. My balls are aching, my cock harder than it has ever been, near to bursting yet I dare not touch. "Oh my word," you say with a laugh, "that was EXACTLY what I needed. Oh god, thank you for that magnificent dick." "You're welcome," says Rob and my erection is lost, a canyon opening in my gut.

Your voice now and I'm reawakened. "Rob, would you do something for me? Go downstairs and order us some dinner? The room service here is horrid; they never get anything right and I'd really like a spinach salad with no bacon, some grilled chicken and just a few olives and a little bit of feta cheese. Would you do that for me? It'll give us a chance to get ready for round two, okay?"

"Sure," he says, "I'd be happy to. You know I can only stay until ten, right?" I look at my watch: 7:15. Rob zips up his trousers and seconds later is out the door. I swallow again, shaking now almost uncontrollably. The sound of blood in my ears again, a drumbeat dopplering lower as time spreads; a single minute folds out impossibly and finally the closet door opens.

There you are. Your cheeks glow, a line of sweat glints down your cleavage, your eyes fire with knowing laughter at my predicament. You have shrugged on the robe but it's open; the ivory satin panties are back on and I'm looking down to see them, wondering.

"How was that for YOU?" you ask with the lilt of a barely-forming giggle. "Did you like it? Could you hear how deep inside me he was? Places you could never touch?" I'm cold. My cock is straining, a drop of clear liquid gathering as I struggle not to spill myself right this instant. You grab me, wrapping your grip tight around my hardness as you pull me to the bed.

"Lie down," you say, "right where I just got fucked better than you could ever fuck any woman. Big boys get this pussy, and your little dicklet gets your hand" you say as you straddle me. I see the wetness spreading in the crotch of your panties. I gasp and buck and you squeeze tighter.

"Don't you DARE cum, you naughty little pervert. I know what you want to do. You're so scared though, aren't you? I know just what you want, you naughty, dirty little deviant. Serving me up to the bigger cocks I need. See all that? See what he did to me? Don't you wish you could do that?" You emphasize each word as you straddle closer to my face and I smell the sex on you and a moan escapes my lips. You squeeze me tighter, painfully now to keep me from cumming.

"Nope, I'm not giving it to you. I think you'd chicken out anyway. Oh, honey, you know what? I don't think you get to cum today. You know I like watching you shoot it all over yourself," you say with a laugh, "your futile little fist-fucker squirt. I know you want to, don't you... you're dying to blast, but no. Not today. Take these home," you say as you wriggle out of the panties and I see a wet line connecting them to your freshly-fucked, beautiful pussy. Instinctively I raise my head toward you and you let out a cackling laugh, "control yourself! Take these home and clean the cum out of them. When I get home we'll see if you can earn the right to masturbate and squirt. Now go. I'll be home with more for you to clean later." The way you emphasize those words, "masturbate and squirt," makes my cock twitch and you squeeze all the harder. I am lost, my head and lungs heaving as you fall back on the bed, giggling at me holding your sodden panties.

As I walk through the lobby I pass a tall, fit man carrying a clear food container. A spinach salad, no bacon, a few olives, and feta cheese. I turn and watch him disappear into a closing elevator, turn again and push through the revolving door, down the steps to Front Street as the cool north wind soothes my burning ears. I grip your wet panties in my jacket pocket, squeezing them tightly. A yellow cab is waiting, the driver smiling as he leans against the car, and I open the rear door and sit down, disappearing into nothing.