The tryst of the one who got away part six

The hotel was a brick affair with long hallways branching left and right off a central elevator shaft. After a giggly check in (did the staff know?) they rode up three floors (still holding hands) turned down the left corridor and got to room 305. A passkey flashed the green light of no return. Two queen beds, TV, chair with night stand. Big picture window with shades and curtains. They each awkwardly put their luggage down, surveyed the room. She went up to him, hugged him, asked, “Can I kiss you?” He replied, “Yeah.”

The kiss was an icebreaker. Yes. This is what we’re here for. Nerve endings all electric. Tongues searching each other. This was the opening salvo. There is permission. Consent. On the same level. If an entire body could sigh, it would feel this way. Unfortunately, it would have to be just a kiss at the moment. He still had a half hour to put orders in before cutoff. She parted lips, pumped both fists in the air smiling declaring “First kiss!” He sat with a tablet in the chair facing the bed while she kicked off her chucks and lounged on the other bed checking her phone. Each stole glances at the other when they weren’t aware. It was the longest 30 minutes for each of them.

Then at last, he could call it a day. Nothing until the bothersome meeting the next morning. He made a grand display of putting the tablet down, then walked over to her bed, pulled her to her feet. “All done?” she asked smiling. He grinned and nodded, drawing her into more of that unbridled kissing from before. Inevitability. No turning back. Their hands and arms tightened the hug into a desperate anchor, lest they fly off into the sun. Quickened pulse, swishing mouths, hungry moans. Every broken kiss was immediately punctuated with smiles. He sucked her tongue when he could trap it, and her moans confirmed she enjoyed it despite the surprise.

At last, the gap in the faces cleaved. He relieved her of her shirt. Went to work on the jeans button, slid them down along with the panties and socks, all in one solid mass. She managed his shirt off in the meantime, while he unpinned her bra and tossed it onto the nearby chair. He rid himself of pants and boxers and socks, with his cock bobbing straight out, a dewdrop of pre-cum streaming in a tendril delicate as spidersilk. They’d both sent nude pictures to each other so there was no assessing of areola size or body hair. It was an enticing ritual of finally getting to know what it finally felt like.

She had mentioned how she had never cum from oral sex, so that was his first action. She lay back on the bed and he kissed her mouth, swirled tongues. Next, he dotted a map of kisses down her neck, gave attention to both breasts and nipples before proceeding a tremor map down her belly, and knowingly kissing a trail down her left thigh to the knee, then to the right thigh, down to the knee, before finally zeroing in on her beautiful engorged vulva, wet with desire and anticipation, a salty dark honey zone. He lapped her nectar, flicked back and forth on her clit, experienced her writhing on the bed. Her opening was wide already so he slipped his long middle finger in and moved his fingertip back in a beckoning motion on her G spot. Each stroke punctuated with tongue clit vibration.

After motions and sounds he assumed to be her orgasming, he raised up, chin wet. Her arms pulled him up and on top of her, her mouth an open, panting delight. Her cheeks red, her forehead sweaty. His rigid cock guided towards her, glided into her like a perfectly tailored glove. These bodies were supposed to be for each other. They fit so amazingly together.

He lifted her legs and glided in and out of her and her eyes got wide.”Whatever spot you just hit feels so good. Don’t stop.” He didn’t. He held her wrists down to the bed, something else she said she enjoyed via the texts. She writhed, panted and smiled. He smiled too. This fire which he had assumed gone in the youthful days was back and stronger than ever. He loved giving this pleasure to her. It was a turn-on to have someone actually interested in sex again. This felt so right, so natural. Why had they waited twenty years?

He took one nipple, then the other, into his mouth. He swirled their rising tips with his thumbs. She bit her lip in ecstasy. They worked a rhythm in the late afternoon sunset, enjoying the touch, the heat, the carnal attention. At last, he thrust a few hard strokes and withdrew, spurting three lines of cum onto her belly. He retrieved a white towel from the bathroom and gently cleaned her off, then collapsed in a sweaty pile next to her, smiling and exhaling. His hip muscles ached with effort and he nicknamed them the Board of Thrustees. They lay for a while, clammy and exhausted, and at some point he rolled her onto her stomach, massaged her shoulders. He kissed down her back, raised her up a little and parted her ass with his tongue. She moaned an “Oh” with as much pleasure as surprise, then his fingers strummed her vulva in beautiful circles. His cock was back at attention and he entered her from behind, using one thumb to tease her ass.

Grabbing her hips, he slammed into her faster and faster. He clutched desperately at her breasts from below, squeezed them. A neon energy built and crackled until he had to pull out again and sent warm stripes onto her back. He cleaned this off with the towel and kissed her shoulders. She turned her face to him and their tongues danced in each other’s mouths. Moans of delight. Smiles. Searching eyes. More kisses. All was perfect.