Follow Your Fantasy

by Nicola Jane

  You don't have to use the key of course, you can just knock. If he's not dressed he'll have a chance to straighten himself out and save you both the embarrassment. You could sort the whole misunderstanding out in the doorway.

  Or...

  Well you know he’s expecting company, so where’s the harm in letting yourself in? Head to section 40 to use the key card...

  This is crazy enough as it without sneaking in a stranger’s hotel room, so you decide to knock...

  Maybe this has gotten a little out of hand and you’ll just go back to the bar, so you retrace your steps...

  Lady of the Night

  'You need a fuck.'

  The simple sentence is all it takes to put you right into character. You've never done anything like this before but this guy is so unthreatening it's easy. His assumptions do most of the work for you. You squeeze his knee, lick your lips and name a price at random. You hold your breath, scared you've given yourself away with an inauthentically high – or low – amount. But he doesn't question it and lowers his head in a discreet nod. He gulps his drink while you take long, slow sips of yours. You think of all the times you've let a man pay for your drinks. Now a man is paying for you! You wonder how different it is really but prefer not to dwell on the answer n case you lose your nerve.

  Thankfully he's not wasting any time so you don't have chance to change your mind. As he pays the bar bill, he counts out the extra cash and you palm it into your bag. The deal is done. You'd look pretty stupid if you backed out now. You both get to your feet and it suddenly occurs to you that he might not even be a guest here. That would change things. Change things a lot. If you have to drive home with him and make small talk, it'll snap you right out of whatever mood this is.

  'Have you got a room?'

  'Company's putting me up for the night.'

  He hesitates at the door leading from the bar back out to the lobby. His nervousness only serves to increase your confidence. You see yourself through his eyes: sexy, powerful, completely in charge. Whatever happens here is up to you and has been from the moment you sat down. Your shoulders pull back and you toss your air and lead the way. He follows, pausing behind you at the lift even though you don't know where you're going.

  'Going down or up?' You can't resist the cheesy line as if you're starring in your own porno. Again the words sink you further into character. You lick your lips, every gesture exaggerated for effect, and glance at your blurry form in the metallic surface of the lift doors. The glamorous girl reflected back is you but not you. You smile at her and she grins seductively back.

  He smiles weakly as you wait for the lift to arrive. Once the doors shut, he looks everywhere but at you. You can see he's afraid of you which makes you even bolder. You push him against the back of the lift and grab his crotch, cupping the soft package between his legs. His eyes widen in surprised panic and he utters a strangled groan in the back of his throat but you carry on massaging him until the elevator pauses. At the door opening chime you hold him a couple of seconds longer, risking an audience. His eyes dart to the doors like a rabbit in a trap and you release him. There's no sense terrifying the guy.

  He scuttles down the corridor, key card out before he reaches his door. He casts a glance up and down the corridor while you catch up and step inside the standard, impersonal hotel room. Once the door is closed some of the tension releases from his shoulders.

  'Ah, I don't normally…' He trails off.

  Nor do I, you think but don't voice. If there's a moment where you could take the chance to escape this is it. Can you really go through with playing out the role you've created? You're about to have sex with someone who just paid you. In cash. This has been such a crazy night that somehow thinking these things only makes it more exciting not seedy. He paid you because he wants you. He wants you so much he didn't care about the price. The craziness of it makes your head spin and your breath and pulse quicken.

  You reach out to loosen the knot of his tie. Next his jacket drops to the floor. He neither resists nor helps you and you guess he's not lying about never having done this before. As his clothes fall, yours seem to burn your skin. You push him towards the bed and massage his shoulders through his thin shirt.

  'Relax. A hardworking guy needs a break.'

  He passes his hand over his face and takes a deep breath. 'You're right,' he says and then takes an even deeper breath as you return to his crotch. You rub it more insistently until you feel the twitch of something starting to come to life, seeking and questioning what's to come. An answer throbs inside you and you drag the zipper down and fumble inside, looking for a gap in the loose boxer shorts. As your hand closes on his soft penis you feel a rush of power like heat inside you. Your other hand unclasps his belt and the hook of his trousers and at last his cock rouses.

  You sit astride him, grinding against his erection and pull your dress over your head. The feel of his fully clothed body against your naked skin adds to the naughtiness of the situation. You shed your bra and pull him close. His shirt scratches against your nipples. He makes no move to do anything but looks up at you, surrendering every last bit of control.

  You press his face to your breasts and his breath is hot and damp. Some primal urge takes over and he nuzzles at them. The action doesn't do anything to excite you but the hard cock now pressing against your thigh shows the effect you're having on him. How helplessly under your control he is acts as its own turn on.

  Part of you is getting off on the seediness of it all. This is exactly how you imagine a prostitute is with a client. You're providing a service and he's paying for it. But you're going to get what you need first. You pull your panties down while he stays buried in your breasts. You sit back and squeeze his cock at the top and then slide down to the base where you hold and then press it against the folds of your pussy.

  With your knees wide apart, you find the nub of your clit and rub his cock against it. Like a conductor it draws heat from inside. You can feel your arousal stirring. Your breath quickens, quicker, quicker. Tension builds along your inner thighs, pushing waves of increasing strength towards your groin. His forehead is shiny with sweat and he kneads your breasts now they're out of reach of his mouth. He's oblivious to the pleasure you're using him for. You push his cock down to the building wetness , wet, wetter, wetter. You apply just the right speed and pressure to your clit. His erection is swollen, red. He mustn't come too soon. You squeeze firmly. It doesn't take long for you to hit the spot. The waves spiral tighter and tighter. They centre in onto the tiny concentrated spot at the apex of your thighs. You shudder, shake, shudder, violently then gently. The orgasm you've taken from him without him even realising.

  A quick change of angle and he's inside you, your pussy slippery with your spent orgasm, and you clasp his head against your breasts again. You thrust your hips until he grunts, muffled into your breasts, goes soft and slips out of you.

  You kiss the top of his head, maternally almost, and let him lay back on the bed. 'Now you should be relaxed enough to relax.'

  His eyes are closed and the lines on his face have smoothed out as he smiles in contentment. 'I think I am,' he says, without opening his eyes.

  It's the happiest you've seen him since you met in the bar. You've done a good deed in a way and released the sexual tension that's been brewing since dropping that thong in the doorway of Room 942.

  You move carefully so as not to disturb him, get back into your clothes and leave him to sleep.

  The end

  Or...

  Well that was certainly worth the build-up, but perhaps you’re still hungry for more? There’s still plenty of fun to be had so you retrace your steps...

  The Restroom

  You can make it easier for them. You hop off the barstool with your drink, lean towards the nearest guy and whisper in his ear loud enough for his friend to hear.

  'The ladies' room is on the left before the lifts.' Bait cast, you turn and walk off, heart pounding. You don't dare to
look behind you to see if they're going to follow. They could just be sitting there laughing behind you departing back and getting back to their beers. You think back to the expression on their faces when you opened your thighs and they drank you in with their eyes. You shiver with excited anticipation. Those guys will be hot on your trail if their reaction was anything to go by.

  You cross the lobby to the plush toilets. There are two empty cubicles and the left hand wall is mirrored above the pair of sinks which stand at just below waist height. You challenge your reflection to tell you to behave but it only looks back at you with bright eyes and a lascivious smile.

  You perch between the sinks with your back to the mirror and pluck at your skirt, arranging and rearranging it. The longer you wait the more your bravado falters. Someone from the hotel could come in at any moment. But if they did, what would they see? A girl sitting at the washbasins would raise an eyebrow perhaps, nothing more. At the moment, there's nothing to see. They must not be interested after all. You sigh and swing your legs to stand on the floor, back to earth, fantasy wilted.

  Seconds later the door opens, freezing you in mid swing. The faint murmurs from the bar swell momentarily and fall away again as the door closes behind the dark haired man. His friend is briefly visible as he takes up watch outside. The guy hesitates in front of you. He must have been convinced by your show in the bar and is unable to call any shots. His uncertainty is a reminder of who's in control. You.

  A surge of confidence powers your movements. You hook your feet behind his knees and pull him towards you but stop him before your bodies meet. Your skirt is rucked up and you push it up further, exposing yourself as he looks down, still unable to believe his luck. You could let him take you right now but you want this to be worth your time as well as his.

  You bring one hand to your mouth and suck your finger. You moisten it and then push down between your legs, holding yourself open so he can see. He makes no attempt to touch you. You don't need him to. Your fingers slip over and around the edges of your sex, plunging inside and thrusting hard. Tension gathers and circles, pulling your arousal into a vortex at your fingertips.

  He fiddles with the button and zip of his jeans while you fuck yourself with your fingers. His belt buckle crashes on the marble floor and he unleashes his cock. On the brink, you clasp his cock in hands slick with your own juices, and lay it along the length of your pussy onto the heated, slippery flesh.

  Then you push him away from you and turn to face the mirror, your skirt bunched up around your waist and your naked ass pressing up against him. The hairs on his legs and crotch tickle the backs of your thighs. Feet planted wide, you watch in the mirror as he enters you from behind. The thickness of his cock disappears into you, filling you up and forcing you forward. Your lean your weight on your hands and grip the sides of the ledge as he hammers into you. He grips your hips so hard you'll have bruises. His eyes are closed but you're watching yourself more than him and you don't care where he might have gone in his head.

  The door opens an inch and you flinch, forgetting momentarily that his friend is keeping watch. Through the crack you lock eyes with the blond guy as he watches. The noise from the bar brings the presence of crowds of people, any one of whom could enter the scene. You imagine what would happen if another woman were to walk in now. If she were ashamed would you be more brazen? If she were disapproving would it make you more shameless? If you saw a gleam in her eyes would you share? The two of you being fucked up against the sinks, panting and thrusting–

  'Ahhh.' His sharp cry interrupts your audience participation fantasy and he comes.

  Your arms brace as his weight falls onto you briefly. A signal passes between the two friends and the one waiting knows his turn has arrived. The first guy pulls out and turns away to clean himself up. Fluid trickles down the inside of your thigh but you have nothing to wipe it with and no time.

  You watch the new arrival in the mirror as he unzips and motions his friend towards the door with a jerk of his head. The first guy doesn't leave though and stays this side of the door, leaning against it so no one else can come in. Perhaps he wants to watch what he missed while he his eyes were closed. You don't care. Watching yourself being fucked, being watched by the guy who just fucked you only adds to the layers of filthy tension. He's inside you and your fingers reach down to open up the pink flesh so you can see your clit in the mirror. His cock pounds into you from behind. You rub, flicking the little nub until it stands upright. He's pinning you against the sides of the counter as he slams in and out, harder and faster than his friend. Red pressure welts appear on the fronts of your thighs as they repeatedly hit the counter's edge. Then you're only aware of the throbbing under your fingers and your legs shaking as jagged streaks of heat surge out from your busy fingers.

  You don't know if he felt it but he sags against you, his breath coming loud and hot on your neck. His friend slips out of the door, the unspoken protocol meaning he doesn't need to stick around now the show's over. You drop your head and let your hair hang over your face as you get your breath back. Your legs are only just strong enough to stand. There's nothing to say and you remain head bowed until he's left.

  That was definitely more than a beer buzz.

  The end

  Or...

  That was incredible! But there’s still plenty more fun to be had, so you retrace your steps...

  Double Trouble

  You let your words hang to see what they make of them. Another mouthful of beer fills the pause and a glance passes between them that you can't read.

  'You staying in the hotel?' It's a question that would have passed for small talk if it hadn't been for the glance.

  'Nope.' Does that mean they don't have a room? Damn! You're not taking them home. The fantasy would shatter as soon as you got in your car, never mind your bed. 'Do you?'

  'Well, yeah but we're kind of sharing it.' You can tell they're checking to see if you're offering what they think you're offering.

  'I love men who share,' says this new, shameless you.

  They down their drinks, in identical haste and rise from their seats. You finish yours at a more leisurely pace, forcing them to reverse the arc and sit back down. Control subtly established, you stand and walk out. As the bar fades from your hearing you resist an Orphean urge to check if they're following you.

  The lift doors smudgily reflect two man shaped blobs coming up behind you as you press the button to call the elevator which arrives empty. From the corner of your eye, you see the guy in the black shirt select the tenth floor and sneak a glance at his friend, unsure what to do next. Only when the doors close do you act as if you know they're either side of you.

  You reach out sideways and reel them in like fish by the waistbands of their jeans. As they step closer you pull the dark haired guy's head down and kiss him while tugging his friend closer so you're pressed between them. He kisses you back and you run your tongue along his lower lip as his hands stroke your waist. You twist inside the double embrace and kiss the blond, rubbing the crotch of the other with your ass as you move your hips.

  His kisses are more forceful, more demanding, than his friend's. Perhaps he's the more passionate of the two. Perhaps he's understood more fully what's about to happen. Or perhaps he's just more turned onto the idea. Experiencing two men in direct comparison is like owning a sweet shop.

  The ping of the lift as it comes to a stop isn't enough to interrupt things, but the sudden realisation that there might be other hotel guests beyond the doors is. All three of you resume orderly lift positions, facing forward, no eye contact. A flick of your eyes upwards tells you it's their floor.

  For the first time, you let them take the lead seeing as you don't know which their room is. It gives you a chance to assess them now they're not sitting at the bar. The dark haired guy in the black shirt is the taller of the two, lean to the point of skinny while his blond friend is broader and stockier and looks the more powerful. You wonder which one you w
ould have picked in more normal circumstances.

  The taller one swipes the card lock and you follow them into the impersonal twin room with its bland décor and white sheeted double beds. In the lift you were very sure what to do next but the wider space of the room is more difficult to cross. There's a silence and you fuss with your bag wondering what the hell you're doing here.

  'I'm Pete,' says the dark haired guy into the pause.

  'Richie,' says the other, extending his hand. 'And you are?'

  The ice-breaker ends your paralysis. 'Very pleased to meet you,' you reply, skipping the part where you give your name as well as the part where you shake hands. Instead you take his hand and slide it around your waist to the small of your back. Pete needs less encouragement and is immediately behind you, lifting your hair aside and kissing your neck. His kisses are dry and firm, punctuated by nips from his teeth which send shudders down your body. Richie reaches down and kneads your ass, roughly pulling you towards him as he sinks onto one of the beds. You bend over him, rattle his belt through the buckle and grapple with his jeans.

  Pete bends with you, his body hard against your back, and slips the straps of your dress and bra down over your shoulders as he kisses his way down your neck. You shiver and your skin prickles in anticipation of where his hands will go next. You will them down, desperate to feel his touch as he frees your breasts. He cups and squeezes and you melt into his hands. He frames your stiffening nipples with his fingers, offering the first look at them to his friend. Richie sits up and takes one in his mouth. He bites down and then sucks hard and fire streaks across your skin.

  You close your eyes and revel as two pairs of hands peel your dress down to leave you standing between them in only a bra, panties and high heels. Rough denim chafes the sensitive backs of your thighs and buttons indent your flesh. One or both of them rubs between your legs, heating you up from deep inside. Richie is licking your nipples and someone's hands play with your breasts. Fingers explore at the edge of your panties and you move your feet apart willing them to probe further.