Nine

Warning!  Adult sexual content.  You must be of legal age in your country to read this blog.

Nine hours.

In bed.

Feeling like lovers, we checked into the Don Valley Hotel for a Wednesday – Hump Day – $69 special (I kid you not!).  Half price to encourage afternoon delights?  We were upgraded to a suite by the lovely lady at the front desk.  I am sure it’s because Andrew* winked at her.

I wore a black business dress with black and white slingback heels.  Pink lipstick matching my wickedly wanton delicates.

Underneath the business attire was a lacy pink bra with little diamond hearts all over and a matching thong.  It had a larger heart on the front.  Andrew slid his hand up my dress in the elevator and pulled the thong down and caressed me with his thumb.  I stepped out of my panties and left them on the floor in the elevator.  Andrew scooped them up and stuffed them in his suit pocket, saying he loved the set.

I know gentlemen love red, but I love pink … it makes me feel so feminine.  It’s more delicate, less complicated and sweet.  That was my mood today.

Do Not Disturb.

The room was gorgeous!  Everything was white … the bed, the bedding, the bathroom, the furniture and chairs, the walls, the art.  Even the fireplace was encased in white marble.  I turned my back to Andrew and he unzipped my dress, kissing the back of my neck as he pushed the dress down to the floor.  His hands reached around to free my breasts from my bra, his fingers playing with both nipples.  My head went back to lean against his chest.  He unclipped my bra and slid it off.  All I had left on were my shoes and my smile.

He walked me over to the floor to ceiling mirror and played with my reflection.  Me.  Naked.  Him.  Fully dressed.  His hands slid to my hips, caressed up and lifted my arms until my fingers connected.  With his height, he could hold my wrists captive with one hand while his other one teased my body.  His fingers slid into my wetness.  “MMMmmmmmm” I said with a soft sigh.  I closed my eyes and spread my legs a little wider.  Andrew has huge hands …

He walked me over to the bed and laid me on top.  I bent my knees and pushed my slingback pumps off with my toes.  I admired my pink pedicure before placing my feet up on the bed,  legs still spread for his taking.  I wanted to run my finger through the hair on his chest, but instead lifted my foot to touch him through his shirt.  My toes rubbed his nipple.  I lowered my foot until I could rub the hardon in his dress pants.

He pulled his cock out and crawled in between my legs, entering me in one quick motion.  My back arched and my hands grabbed the white duvet cover.

Our eyes locked and we looked at each other while we made love.  His grays to my browns.  We feel connected.  We are connected.  This is what we have been craving all day.

But I wanted to play.  I broke away from him and pushed him off to grab the little bag I packed.  I put on my favourite skintight pink tshirt with HOLLISTER emblazoned in white across my chest and matching short shorts.  Braless.  I clipped a hair extension pony tail on and refreshed my pink lipstick.  I pulled out a small bottle of massage oil and slipped into character.

Let’s play out a fantasy.  You and Jenny* the Masseuse.

I pretended to ask him if he wants a massage and quote the price.

He got off the bed and slowly undressed in front of me.  Jacket.  Off and laid on the chair.  Tie.  Pulled off and thrown over his jacket.  White shirt slowwwwwwly unbuttoned to reveal his chest.

Belt.  Off.  Placed on the bed.  He undid his button and zipper but left his pants on, sexy black underwear visible.  His massive cock was peeking through the top of those.  His fist closed over his head and he squeezed.

“Look at the precum I’ve got for you” he said.

“Shhhhhhhhh.” I tell him, my index finger silencing him for now.  “Get into the storyline.” 

Shoes.  Socks.  On the floor.  Pants.  Underwear remained on.

I instructed Andrew to lie on his belly on the bed.  He crosses his arms in front of his face and closes his eyes.  I pour oil on his back and work to massage him.  My hand deftly rubbed his muscles, relaxing him.  I fix one side of his back, then the other.  Worked my way up to his neck to relieve tension.  My fingers trail down his back then up to follow his shoulders and arms.

We pretend not to know eachother, and talk as if we are strangers.  He tells me he is in a relationship.  Naughty boy.

My hand tugged his underwear down slightly so I can massage his hips.  I work my way back up his spine, my thumbs releasing each strand of tightness.  He ws so relaxed, his breathing changed as he almost fell asleep.  I ask him to roll over onto his back …

Moving onto the bed, I crouched on my knees above his head.  My fingertips work their magic to rub out the pressure.  My fingers slide down by each ear.  My client moans with bliss.

He tells me I give a fantastic massage.

I stretch the muscles down his neck … shoulders … arms.  I moved to one side and give him a hand massage, working the oil in to each finger then pulling it.  I get off the bed and do the next side.  I drip oil on his nipple and massage it in to his chest.  Down to his waist.  I skip the underwear to resume my rub-down on his thighs.  I carefully ease the stress out of his knee and calf muscle.  I picked up his foot, settled myself at the end of the bed and proceeded to give him the best foot massage he has ever had.  My thumbs press along the sole of his foot to relieve soreness and tension.  I move his foot is a circular motion to relieve the tension and pull each toe.  I lightly kiss his foot, then move to the other.

As I go back up the other leg, I slipped my fingers under the tip of his underwear to fully massasge his thigh.  He is rock hard.

I moved my fingertips to the top of his shorts under the elastic.  My nail grazes by the tip of his penis.  He smiles and asked “Does a happy ending come with the massage?”

“If you like,” I whisper into his ear “but it will cost you extra.”

He nodded yes.

I ran my hand along the length of his cock, feeling all the inches.  I count them out and tell him he is a big boy.  I squeezed him through the cotton and rubbed, building his excitment.  He grunted with frustration as my hands moved back to his stomach.

He reached out and slid his hand between my legs to explore … I danced out of his way.

Finally I reached for his sexy black underwear and peeled them down his thighs.  I dripped some oil in my hands and started to massage his cock.  Like a pro.  Both hands rubbing down the length, then back up to twist over his head.  I cupped his balls in one hand and jerked him off with the other.  My tongue licked the tip.  Just the tip.

His cell phone rang.  I wordlessly handed it to him.  He looked at the caller and grinned.  His ex-wife.  Helga*.

“What’s up?” he answered.  With the other hand, he pushed my head back down on his cock and held it there.  My mouth took all of him in that I could.  While he talked to his Ex, I gave him the blowjob of his life.  My tongue doing things that he loved.  The tip. The shaft.  His balls.  Back up.  My hands helping get him off.

His conversation with Helga halted briefly as he came.  His body tensed and stopped, all focus on coming in my mouth.  He held the back of my head and groaned.  I imagined that Helga wondered what the fuck was going on … she hasn’t heard that sound in ten years.

He stroked my hair as I cleaned him up.  I moved from the bed to fetch a white facecloth from the bathroom.  I held it under hot water and squeezed the excess out.  I clean my man up, holding his cock in the warm cloth.  He loves this (try it!) and moans with more pleasure.  Nothing like making him feel like my King.  And he responds by making me feel like his Queen.

I pulled my clothes off and crawl into bed next to him.  He wanted to continue the game and asks me my name.  “Jenny” I said.

He rolled on top of me and held me down.

There is something so fundamentally right about missionary.  We are the only animals who couple that way, aren’t we?  Maximized experience.  His tongue pushed into my mouth and his hands held my head,  one hand cupping my neck as he slid in and out.  But he stopped.  We had hours more to play.  He rolled over and pulled me up on top of him.  My hands were braced at the side of his head.  I lowered myself to kiss him.  Suck on his lips.  Lick.  His hands and fingers explored my mouth,  my breasts,  my hips.  My ass.  His finger slipped in just a touch.  It’s so erotic.

I positioned myself over his cock and inched myself down.  It felt so good.  He fills me completely.  I can feel the pleasure within as he strokes my insides.  The head of his cock is huge and rubbed all the right places.  I will feel traces of him all through tomorrow, unable to walk.

For me, an orgasm from sex is the holy grail.  It fills my insides with an intense rollercoaster of sensations.  Andrew knew each button to push and could make me come almost instantly.  My breathing was fast as I worked for both of us, but Andrew wanted to finish the job. He rolled me over onto my back again, still inside me, and pushes my legs farther apart with his knees.  Deep.  Long.  Slow.  Faster.  Hot.

I am panting.  I want to come.  My brain had shut off everything except experiencing the sensations and feelings of his cock move in and out of me.  I position my body so that my clit and vaginal walls are getting the most out of each stroke.  My legs strained in effort.

I want to come.

I can feel the tension as my body gets closer and closer.  I raised one leg and Andrew puts his arm under it, pinning me down.  We wordlessly slipped through a a selection of erotically charged yoga-in-bed positions, each of us knowing what the other loved best.

“Oh my God.” Andrew said “You feel so fucking good!”

I’m straining forward, trying to push myself off the edge faster.  He’s got me right there and my whole body shakes as I orgasm.  The rhythm told Andrew I came first, and he allows himself follow me.  He grunts with one last thrust … and cum fills me completely.

He eventually rolls off me.  Our hearts our beating wildly.

20% of women are non-orgasmic.  Me?  I am in that lucky small percentage that is multi-orgasmic.  I could come by crossing my legs and squeezing … I enjoy sex.  And think of it often.  At least as much as a guy.

Andrew and I cuddle in the big bed, afternoon sun streaming in the window.  We face east, away from the highway, overlooking trees and the east end of town.

We fall asleep for thirty minutes, but he wanted me again and has reached for my hand to awaken him.  I want to be fed.

We ordered room service and I dove under the sheets to hide from our waiter.  Andrew, with just his pants back on, tipped him and brought pasta and wine to bed.  We fed eachother linguine with a clam sauce, sipped Pinot Grigio, watched some television, and napped to regain our strength.

Nine.

Nine hours.

Nine hours of sex.  On the bed.  Once dark, in the window (it’s our hotel thing).  In the shower.  Up against the desk.  Late night before leaving, we quietly screwed against the hotel room door.  I opened it and removed the Do Not Disturb sign.  He pushed me out into the hall!

We laughed and reentered the suite.  Andrew sat on the hotel room chair.  I climbed up on top of him and rode him again.  He asked me to get up, then dragged the chair in front of the mirror in the entrance way.  He sat back down and pulled me on top of him.  We watched our own show, both of us entranced by the performance.  He loved watching his cock slide in and out.

One more for the road.

Finally spent, we packed up to leave.  With children at home, we couldn’t spend the night.  But we had nine hours of uninterrupted bliss.

Andrew and I headed back up the Don Valley Parkway and waved to eachother through our sunroofs as he headed west and I headed east.

Nine hours of sleep when I got home.  Exhausted and well fucked.  I’m feeling quite sore from the nine hours of sex … and know that his big cock left reminders for tomorrow.  Walking will be sexy fun.  I love feeling fulfilled.

Rocking the $69 special,

Lisa

*Name(s) changed to protect the guilty!

Read the Fox Blog:  hear what the Fox really has to say

© Lisa Jobson 2017

 

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