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The hotel is chic. It’s elegant and stylish, yet I sit at the bar, alone and uninterested in the hustle and bustle of the crowd around me. The air is thick with the acrid assortment of fragrances and pungent stink of alcohol breath. Top 40 contemporary hits pulse in the background. Boring. I contemplate downing my chablis and returning to my room. I could stream something lewd and lascivious on pay-per-view. 

I begin to fuss with my purse, when I see you cross the crowded room towards the available stool next to me, belly-up to the bar. The seat is open and I offer it to the handsome man before me. This could be interesting, I think to myself. I smile and turn my attention back to my wine. I don’t want to appear too willing.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask. I gesture absently with my free hand and you slide casually onto the stool. “What are you drinking tonight?”

I tell you about my wine of choice, its heady with the taste of citrus and white flowers, a dry white wine characterized by its purity of aroma and taste. I flag the bartender and offer to buy you a drink. 

“Would you like a glass?” I purr. I bite my lip and look into your eyes, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’d like that,” you say confidently, grinning from ear to ear. 

I order your drink as the bartender nears and tell you that I’ve traveled to this hotel from afar for a company conference, one that I’m finding… understimulating.

The bartender and your wine make its way back over to us. The interruption of the bartender grounds me and I blush when I realize how much I’ve been talking. I apologize and place my hand on your inner thigh for emphasis. I feel the heat of your body and swoon. 

“I’m sorry, but what were we talking about again?” You smile and resume a funny anecdote. 

My touch sends goosebumps racing down your lower arms. The bulge in your pants gets larger and you catch me looking. My face reddens and I feel my nipples harden. It’s my turn now to catch you looking. I feel the wetness between my legs and squirm on the stool, thinking that somehow you already know that my panties are soaking for you. I pull my hand from your thigh, being sure to drag my fingers across your stiffening cock. I down my wine and purr, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Not yet,” you say as you run your fingers through my hair, tugging it gently. I moan softly.

I stick out my lower lip. I’m pouting. My eagerness has betrayed me. You feel goosebumps forming on my soft skin as you trace my arm up and down. 

You order us another round and lean in close to me. “What’s the sexiest thing you’ve done this year?” You ask innocently while you move your hand deviously to the hem of my dress and my exposed thigh.

I take a sip of my wine and contemplate your question. I think about how good it will feel with your head between my legs. I think about you being inside me and I bite my lip again. I tell you a story about meeting a handsome stranger at a bar, riding him until he comes inside me, and licking all of my juices off of him. It dawns on you midway through that the man is you.

All you can think of is your head between my legs, teasing me with your tongue, when our drinks arrive. You inch your fingers higher and I spread my legs ever so slightly. You feel the edge of my panties as I place my hand on top of your hard cock. I begin to trace the shape of your hardness with my fingers, back and forth, a gentle graze. The teasing alone is enough to drive you mad. Your heart quickens as you assess the possibility that others may see us.

“I want you,” I say. I cannot stand it any longer. You stand and adjust yourself before taking my hand and leading us to the elevators. The electricity between us is tangible. You pull me close to you as we enter the elevator and slide your hands under my dress to feel my perfect ass in your palms.

The door hasn’t fully closed before I kiss you deeply. The taste of the wine on your breath is decadent. I press my body against you and feel your hardness against my leg. I whimper as we kiss.

I want you so badly…

NSFW: yes

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