by Max Cherven
(11/19/08)
It hadn't been the wild and passionate getaway that I envisioned. We were on the road four nights now, and sexual congress had not been involved. It was always too tired or bad stomach or some such thing. Tonight it was the latter, so we settled in. I read for a bit after television, the usual. Then, lights out, we went in for a little snuggle, but it wasn't happening, not tonight anyway. And off to dreamland it was.
We were awakened an hour or so later, it was 1:30 a.m., and people were returning to their rooms. The hotel was hip, urban city, with a young skew in its clientele. We were certainly in the north end of its audience, and I liked the place more than a bit. Doors either side being slapped shut. In fairly short order, sex sounds from the other side of the wall. Hers. My wife was less than pleased. "Oh no" was her reaction. Me, I was pleased. I wanted some, however I was going to get it.
First it was deep breathing, lots of ohs, oooohhs, and mmms. And it was all hers, no his, maybe it was a different arrangement. I could hear her as her breath quickened, moans deepened and orgasms rolled in. I was there, my chest tightened, and under the covers my hands did a tour of my body. I was ready. I rolled in for another snuggle, and this was still not happening. My neighbor continued on her road to pleasureland. I could hear her/them starting up again, and I settled in for more listening, for more imagining that it was me she was fucking. All I heard was her, so therefore, she was fucking me. She was on top of me, moving her perfect hips, moving me in and out of her, she dropped her head back, her short red hair falling back, my hands tweaking her rosy nipples and her thin breasts bouncing a bit with every move. I matched her easily, as I could fall into her breathing pattern and into her, into her. She leaned into me, her gray eyes locked into mine, she came again, and her soft moans were now deep in me, too. And then, the post-orgasmic pause.
Then it was breeeep, two, three, four. Cell phone: his. His deep voice unintelligible through the walls (It was a him after all), replying to his phone, and then the door closing and steps leaving. Not very cavalier, but at least I know that she got hers. My wife went into a deeper sleep, less tossing and turning. At first, I lay there wired, wanting some of her, my lovely and loved neighbor. I knew her paces, her wants, and I wanted her now. In time, I dozed, thinking this was a nice end to the evening, and feeling almost laid.
In time came the noisy return of the man, door slapping shut too loudly, then back into the saddle almost without pause (how did he do it?). Her breath quickened, I knew immediately that he was in her (or maybe it was me), her breath hard and deep. I had her now on her knees, tucked up into her armpits, and could feel myself entering her, entering her, and it was ohhs, oooohhhhs, and ahhhhhs. Now I reached up and massaged her scalp, then tightly grabbed a handful of her now dark mid-length hair in my hand and we went through our paces. It went on and on and on. I was there for it all. I have to commend the pair for their stamina, they were certainly younger than we were, but me in my bed, cock in hand, could stay with her. Again, all the sounds were hers, I loved it, it was me into her. With a break now and then, she/he/I went at it again and again.
And then, he left...again. What the fuck. She had me, I wouldn't leave, I'd be hers for the night. I slipped into the bathroom and brought myself to my solo climax, thinking of me into her, me into her, me into her. And then I slipped back into our big hotel bed. I was still too wired, and still wanting her. I pleasured myself ever so silently in our bed thinking her hand part of the pleasure. And then it was off to la-la land for me, finally. It was now 4 in the morn.
Next morning, I heard his deep voice through the wall again. Somehow he'd returned and I missed it. And then, of course, he left again and returned. Damn, I wish that guy would settle in. On our side of the wall, I imagined her on the other side of the wall in her adjacent bed, breathing in her well-earned slumber. As for us, we showered, prepped for breakfast, and an outing. And wouldn't you know it, as I'm brushing my teeth, I hear my dear neighbor's breath deepening, again. Again! Her moans begin anew, and I knew the pace, it was tightening, quickening. Each moan ended with a soft smile, her head thrown back. This time her blonde hair is laying on the pillow, her green eyes are locked into mine and her legs are up around my shoulders as I match her breath, her breath, her breath with mine, her smile in me. I can guide her to another orgasm. Her legs now wrapping around my back, we slide deeper into our bed...but no, I can't get that last orgasm of the morning, I have to leave for breakfast. Enjoy your morning, my dear, and thanks for the orgasms, yours and mine.
Later, upon return, I look at every woman in the lobby, thinking: is it you? is it you I was almost fucking? Wanting to so, so much. Are you my secret lover? I couldn't lose her the rest of the day, nor did I want to, I wanted to hear her fuck me again. I wanted the night to come, so we could share our beds separated only by our thin wall.
And again that night we settled in for a night of passive marital life, our last night on the road. My wife fell into her sleep and I waited for my secret lover to return. I waited, and finally heard the click of the latch, my chest tightening. I wondered how long until...but it was someone else, another couple, or person. The weekend was over, she was gone, and I had her sounds, her sounds, her sounds. And my imagination.
