Sylvie was tossing in her bed, the bed to be precise, in room #804 of our famous hotel.
It was a bad choice, Sylvie had thought as she walked into the familiar lobby, relieved though to find unfamiliar faces at the desk, an older bartender at the bar, and Jean-Paul not loitering in the lobby. Sylvie took her sunglasses off–it was night, after all. She set her suitcase on the ground as she waited for the elevator. L. Yes, here. No one stepped off. She stepped on, up, down the hall, to her room.
Her exhaustion gave way to crisp sheets, the Mozart playing low beneath dimmed lights, the Andes mint on the night stand. It was all so predictable, but so comforting. Sylvie undressed, and let the cool cotton envelop her. She slept.
Todd slept, as well, fitfully, as he was not sleeping in his own bed, as he had become accustomed, but in Sylvie’s bed. It was too soft, too warm, and to top it all off, an obstacle course through various toys that she used, quite evidently, when Todd was absent.
It was late when Todd awoke again, nearly 11pm. The wood fire was surely out by now, but lingering fatigue was the winner in the argument, and he stayed in bed, disrupted at last by the small rubbery item that had rolled out of the bag beneath the pillow. Todd thought to tend the fire, but grabbed the toy, the tapered soft tip vaguely familiar, vaguely arousing as he wrapped his fist around, remembered it, perhaps, remembered it opening him up one night, one rare night so long ago now it seemed…
The lube was prominently displayed on the neighboring nightstand–his, when he’d have it. Todd reached for it, popped the cap up and squirted a small drop into his finger. On his side, he could reach back, finger his tiny dirty hole. He felt himself blush, he thought, so enticing the sensation, so exquisite the memory of Sylvie’s fingers filling his ass as his cock filled her mouth. Yes, yes, a climax that seemed never to come, then never to end. He coated the toy with lube, and drew with it gently beneath his balls.
Oh, Todd! Sylvie was dreaming. Her sleep mingled with the day’s unfulfilled desire. Exhaustion only exacerbated by the slumber that had overtaken her, but as if only to tease her. Sylvie lay restless in the bed, her legs now loose and open, her hand absentmindedly finding its way between them.
She was wet–no, moist. He was not there, and she was sleepy, only a little tempted, perhaps to touch, perhaps more to relieve the tension as she so often did, finger on clit, round and round. Yes, so lovely, these daily masturbations. But now she needed, she wanted more.
The cord of the Hitachi dangled from her bag, and she yanked the massager out by it. She followed the length of the lamp cord to find an outlet quickly. Sylvie lay on her belly, and pushed against the wall to move the bed back far enough, pulled out the lights and fit the plug of the Hitachi into the wall. She turned over and opened her legs, the large mechanical white head near as she pulled the covers around her, as she lay back against the multitude of pillows, some propped beneath her legs as well. So long, Sylvie thought, since she had surrendered to the unmistakable hum of the machine. She pressed the button to the lower setting, still strong, and placed it above her clit, tensing from it, then pressing into the power, near the precipice, higher, her breath light in this world, a warmth still overcoming, her skin on alert, and still, still unfilled, oh, that gripping desire. She reached into her bag, but the other toys were not in it. She was wet, testy now so close to relief. Sylvie turned the vibrator to high, her body shrinking, shaking, shrieking, yes, at last, at last, as she collapsed into the pillows, the comfort of the strange bed surrounding her, welcoming her, even in her tears, her loneliness, her freedom, her dreams.
Todd raised his knee, rolling onto his erection as he found more lube and relaxed, letting his fingers, the dildo, enter him, burning first, then relinquishing resistance, in, the tightness now his cock stiffer, the memory of Sylvie standing behind him, strapped onto the toy, penetrating, pushing gently in as she pressed the small of his back with her small hands, her power radiant as he told her to fuck him, fuck him hard. He rolled now onto his knees, reaching back to push the dildo in, then out, damn, yes, his balls filling, near. But no, not quite. That distant night so long ago, Todd had reached back for Sylvie, reached back to feel her excitement, her delight, she said, as she watched her new cock slide in and out of him, his gasps, and at last his request. Take it off, he wanted, yes, and she had left the dildo deep in his ass as she turned him over.–Todd turned over now, too.– Sylvie had climbed on top of his swollen cock, her juices warm, tightly taking him in, fucking him… his hand now in that place, lubed, her pillow near as he smelled her hair, her perfume, but not her warmth, faster. She had swallowed him sometimes, his cock holding back as it pushed against her throat, the vibrator then beneath his balls then irresistible, ecstasy, as his come shot into her mouth, into her cunt, into her, skin, gone. Todd looked beneath the pillow, but the vibrator was not in its usual place. He arched his back, the dildo tight against the bed, deeper, mmm, as he ran his hand faster, yes, more lube, faster, at the top, his hand coated now, relief, sleep, sadly invading.