hi. : )
It’s been a minute, huh? I’ve been…doing stuff. Writing a lil bit. Traveling a lil bit. Momming a lil bit. Procrastinating a lotta bit. Since I’ve been banned from twitter/fb, I cut up a little on Instaboogy, but mostly I be chillin. Today, however, I was inspired to share a little something I started writing and think I may periodically come back to as a sort of serial for this here blog. Frequency? I’m not sure. Length? Also, unsure as well. But here’s the first installment that I hope you enjoy. :) If you do, feel free to comment below. If you don’t, please don’t tell me. Just talk about it in the group chat with your reader franz. LMFAO.
It Has No Name Pt. 1
It started with a trip to a rooftop bar. Actually, it all started with a command from my boss. I was sent out of town for business, a trip deemed necessary by my boss but bequeathed unto me because Robyn couldn’t miss her daughter’s debut as Elsa the Snow Queen in a local middle school production of Frozen. So, I was the one sent out East to meet with leadership at our parent company. Hour after hour of boring meetings that I smiled and bullshitted my way through for three days. Extend your trip through the weekend; take in some of the sights, my boss said. The company would cover the expenses of hotel and flight so why not take advantage she further insisted. So, I did. Even invited one of my good girlfriends, Ebonée to take the train up from DC so we could party in the City. But we weren’t the young whipper snappers we once were, and mommy duties called for Eb as well, so it was just me...and the rooftop terrace bar, eventually. We’re not there yet, but I’ll get there.
First, there was dinner. The hotel in which I was staying housed a renowned celebrity chef owned and operated restaurant that I’d wanted to try for quite some time. I was fortunate enough to snag a table because I went down at the right time. I’d been sitting—pretending to look at the menu to figure out what I was going to eat despite having obsessed over it before I stepped foot in the place, so I knew exactly what I wanted already—when I felt that eerie sensation of being watched. Covertly, I let my eyes flit about the restaurant trying to find the source but there was no one visible to me that seemed to be paying me any extraordinary attention. Shaking off the feeling, I returned to my fake perusal of the menu until my waitress appeared to take my order. She was the overly perky, way too glad to have her job, taking entirely too long to tell me the specials type—my absolute favorite, of course. I cut her spiel short, informing her that I knew what I wanted to order for not only dinner, but dessert as well. I made sure that although I was curt, my tone remained polite as I conveyed my desires to her, not wanting to earn any ill will with anyone who had the power to fuck over my food. I was just all small talked out after having been in meeting after meeting after meeting this afternoon.
Yuliya, my waitress, was way more in tune with the human condition than I’d previously given her credit. She quickly picked up on my mood as she strutted away to put my meal order in. After about ninety seconds, she returned with a glass of red wine. I peered up at her curious because I hadn’t asked for anything more than room temperature water and a straw.
“I didn’t—” I started but was quickly interrupted by Yuliya.
“This was sent over by the gentleman seated at the end of the bar. Said you looked like you could use it,” she said, “I told him that you probably weren’t going to accept it, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. It’s a Spanish red blend—Tempranillo, Graciano, and Garnacha. Say the word and I’ll take it back to the bar.”
I looked over to see a fine brotha seated at the end of the bar with smooth ebony skin, neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and shiny bald head. Our eyes met briefly, and he lifted the glass of brown liquor he’d been clutching in salute. Involuntarily, the left side of my mouth lifted in a smirk—my only gesture of acknowledgement.
“You can leave it, Yuliya,” I replied, smoothly, “and tell the gentleman his overture is appreciated.”
“Will do,” she trilled, setting the glass down before retreating from the table.
I fully expected that once she delivered that message that Mister Tall Fine and Delicious would undoubtedly make his way over to me to occupy the seat on the other side of my small table, but that’s what I got for assuming. He continued to sit at the bar and finish his drink, then left the area altogether with no further acknowledgement of me beyond that glass of wine. Which was super delicious by the way! How he knew I was a dry red kind of girl was beyond me, but I was definitely thankful for the assist. I’d been unable to make a decision on my own which is why I’d ended up with water. Soon my meal arrived—short rib risotto that was cooked to perfection and I made love to every delectable morsel with my mouth. I ended up canceling my dessert order, so stuffed from my dinner. I settled up with Yuliya and slowly made my way out of the restaurant and over to the elevators up to my room. Since Eb had abandoned me, I’d be calling it a night early.
I got up to my room, showered, moisturized and changed into my night shirt, crawling into bed with the remote, hoping to find something streaming to binge. My room was outfitted with a Smart TV that I could use to log into Netflix, Hulu and other streaming services to indulge in hours of mindless television to my heart’s content. I quickly found a series that Eb had told me about and started the first episode. I ended up restarting the episode a few times before I couldn’t seem to actually stay focused on what was going on. I was restless and listless, going back and forth between scrolling social media mindlessly and trying to give a damn about the show currently on the screen. I gave up on the show after the third restart—getting out of bed, throwing on a cute little dress and making my way to the rooftop terrace. The weather wasn’t exactly right for this type of establishment, but it was mostly enclosed, with a few brave souls braving the slight chill in the air to take in beautiful views of the city that were definitely Instagram—with the caption hashtag no filter—worthy. I posted up at the tiny bar that was in the center of the room, snagging the last stool at the corner end of it. The bartender, an adorable tiny sprite of a woman, signaled to me that she’d be with me shortly as she finished pouring a couple drafts for a server who stood there waiting.
Once again, that eerie feeling of being watched came over me, but I shook it off.
“What can I get you, doll?” the bartender asked brightly, grinning broadly at me and looking slightly unhinged.
“Whatever’s the best drink you make…I’ll have that,” I replied.
It was a calculated risk. People tended to do their best when showing off. I didn’t do it often, but in establishments where I thought they held their employees to a certain standard I made it bartender’s choice. It usually worked in my favor because the bartender was composing a drink to impress so I knew it would be delicious.
“Anything you don’t drink?” the bartender asked.
I shook my head slowly.
“Okay, I got you,” she squeaked before turning on a heel and heading to the middle of the bar where most of her mixology equipment was. A few minutes of her pouring shots and tinctures into a shaker passed before she floated back over to me, serving my drink with a flourish.
“This,” she said as she pulled a coaster for the drink to rest upon, “is the Truth Serum. A couple of these and you’ll be unable to stop yourself from blabbing your truths all over the place.”
“I’ll be sure to have just one,” I laughed, “I don’t need my business in the streets of a town that ain’t even mine.”
“What brings you in town?”
“Hold tight, stranger danger, I don’t even know your name and now you want my life story. Typical barkeep,” I giggled.
She wiped her hands on a small towel behind the bar before extending her left one in my direction, “Abril, nice to meet ya!”
I returned her enthusiastic handshake and couldn’t help cracking on her name, “April in Spanish?”
“Girl, my mama thought she was being creative. Only has led to a lifetime of people calling me April any damn way.”
“Everyone in this place has such unique names,” I remarked, “First Yuliya downstairs now you up here…is that a prerequisite for a job in this hotel? I’d never get a job here in that case, I’m just plain ass Jane.”
“Oop! Looks like the truth serum is already working,” Abril laughed, “Let me grab you a glass of water. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Spanish April,” I called after her, bobbing my head to the music playing in the background that had seemed to get a bit louder since I’d taken a couple sips of my drink.
My drink, which was damn delicious by the way. Bartender Roulette paid off in my favor tonight, I thought. Swiveling on the barstool I took in the scene around me. The place was moderately crowded with a mix of folks who looked like they were holdovers from the happy hour set and others who were just getting their nights started. Everyone was smartly dressed, attired in various ways that made it easy for me to partake in my favorite pastime of making up stories about strangers. I usually preferred to do this when accompanied because sharing the stories was part of the fun of the pastime. I grew annoyed at once again being out dolo and turned around to my phone that was perched on the bar to shoot off a text to Eb.
In that rooftop bar we were coveting when these plans were made, sad my bestie isn’t here to hear about the tales of these folks in here. We’ve got some doozies.
She should have been here, honestly, but her asswipe of an ex just happened to have forgotten that it was his weekend to have the kids. So, to make up for their weak ass father, Eb planned a weekend of activity to keep their minds off the fact that their dad was useless beyond the hefty monthly check he wrote to help supplement their care.
You need to focus that energy onto seeing if one of these strangers you’re profiling is single and get some out of town dick, beloved. -Eb the Great
Chill, Eb. I fired back immediately.
Ain’t nobody tryna end up with stranger danger dick.
Clear out the cobwebs, sis. You deserve. – Eb the Great
She was right…I did deserve. It had been entirely too long since I’d felt or seen a warm dick in person, but I wasn’t fucking a stranger just for the hell of it. And even if that was something that I was open to? Pickings were slim as hell in this place. The crowd was mostly groups of women, the occasional man sprinkled in here and there. None of them were looking remotely interesting to me nor interested in me. I texted a little bit more with Eb before flagging down Spanish April for a refill.
“You sure?” she asked.
I nodded emphatically, “I’ve just got a short elevator ride to get through, so I can’t get into too much trouble.”
“Be careful what you wish for Plain Jane,” she replied ominously, before breaking into high pitched giggles.
I finished off the last sip of my first drink just as Abril placed the second one in front of me. I grabbed it up quickly, taking a greedy sip. The warmness of the alcohol seemed to flood my body much more intensely this go around, sending prickly sensations of energy throughout my body. Suddenly, the music switched to one of my favorite songs and I was overcome with the need to get up and dance. Gathering my small clutch, I threw my phone in there, and then slipped it onto my wrist before grabbing my drink and heading to the makeshift dancefloor area in the center of the space. It was completely empty, but the Truth Serum apparently contained courage as well because I was unbothered as I sipped and got my groove on, rapping along to the old ass Lil Kim song that played.
Apparently, all everyone else was waiting on was one fool to get the party going because before long, most of the people who were in the bar were crowded onto the dancefloor, dancing and singing along with the set that the DJ had slid into, which was full of late 90s and early 2000s hip-hop. It took me back to my days of undergrad, when my girls and I stayed in the clubs and bars from Wednesday night through Sunday. It was a miracle that I’d managed to graduate not only on time, but summa cum laude. After partying my ass off for a couple more hours, with a couple more truth serums, I was reminded that this was not undergrad as a sudden tiredness swept over me in a wave. I went to cash out with Spanish April and grab a bottle of water for the elevator ride when my gaze collided with a smoldering, obsidian one.
“It’s you…” I breathed out, as if he could hear me despite him being halfway across a room that was booming with music from the DJ.
The fine, wine sending brotha from the restaurant earlier was standing near the exit, and still happened to be there after I had settled my bill and walked over to the elevator and waited for to arrive. As a group of people came up the stairs and he checked their IDs, and instantly I felt a bit deflated. I’d chalked his presence up to stalling until I arrive so that he could finally say something. I could still feel his gaze on me, but he said nothing. It was unnerving yet thrilling. The attraction between us crackled in the air. Just being in this man’s presence had my pussy weeping. Something about him instantly made me imagine how he’d look with that shiny bald head between my thighs or with my feet pressed into his shoulders as he piped me down with rapid-fire, pounding, breathtaking strokes. Hell, maybe Eb’s idea of stranger danger dick wasn’t such a bad idea I thought before giggling to myself. I shook my head trying to rid myself of the lust-filled thoughts that were playing in full-color HD in my imagination right now. Where in the hell is that elevator?
“The elevator always takes forever,” he spoke in a deep, rolling tone.
I shifted, turning in his direction.
“Did…I say that out loud?” I asked.
That low murmuring answer brought the lusty thoughts right on back as I saw myself riding him, reverse cowgirl, as he murmured his agreement when I asked him if my pussy felt good to him. I shook my head once again, and then tilted it in his direction.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Nigel. And yours?”
I moved closer to where he stood, closing the space between us.
“Jane. Nice to meet you,” I replied holding out my hand.
He captured it immediately, raising it to his mouth for a brief kiss, “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”
The elevator dinged and a group of folks came off. Nigel commenced to doing his job, but not before calling out to me, “You have a good night, Ms. Jane.”
“You too, Nigel,” I called out just as the elevator doors shut, so I was unsure he even heard me.
The smallest part of me wanted to press the door open to make sure he heard me and also invite him down to room 1882 after he got off work, but the larger part of me tamped down that crazy talk and took my ass back down to the eighteenth floor, washed my face, brushed my teeth, put on my bonnet and changed into my PJs before crashing onto the bed looking like a human starfish.
The next morning, I woke up and decided to spend the day being a tourist. I rode two level buses, ferries, trains. I went up in some very tall buildings, capturing views of this city from many different angles. Ones I’d never even taken the time out to acknowledge or enjoy any other time I’d been here in the city. I wanted to make the most of this day because I had a stupid early flight out in the morning. For some reason, probably frugality even thought this trip was being expensed; I’d booked a very early morning flight home. So, my plan was to be on the go all day today so I could crash early because I needed to be in a Lyft by 3:45am at the latest to make it to the airport on time for my flight.
However, even after traipsing all over this city for nearly ten hours I was still keyed up. I came back to my room, showered and hoped that would bring me down but I was still too wired. Thinking about the great night’s sleep I got after drinking those Truth Serums—without hangover, despite overindulging—I decided to make my way up to the terrace for a drink. And if I was being completely honest, the drink wasn’t the only thing driving me toward the terrace. My brain had bombarded me with imagery of Nigel’s handsome ass face all throughout the previous night, causing me to awaken with a stark feeling of disappointment to wake up to my own hands between my legs, furiously sending me careening headfirst into orgasm.
So, I slipped on a little black dress, fixed my face, and carried my ass up the elevator to the thirty-sixth floor where the terrace bar was situated. It took a minute for an elevator that wasn’t ridiculously crowded to make a stop at my floor. As I rode up with a handful of other folks, my nerves rattled in the pit of my stomach. If Nigel was here, what would I say? Would he even remember me? I’m sure he meets plenty of people on a daily basis working here and doesn’t remember every random female that strikes up a conversation with him while waiting for the elevator. The ding of the elevator signaled our arrival and as soon as the doors opened, a familiar wave of heat washed over me. He was definitely here, dressed in all black from head to toe, he checked the IDs of my elevator pals, as I purposefully made it so I’d be the last person to enter in this wave of people.
Wordlessly I held out my ID.
“You came back,” Nigel rumbled with a slight grin on his face.
“Who can say no to Spanish April’s Truth Serum?” I tossed out lightly, “Is she working tonight?”
Nigel nodded, “Yep, we’re both here all night.”
“Cool,” I replied, instantly feeling stupid after I’d uttered the one word, “I’m just gonna…” I gestured with my hands toward the bar.
“You enjoy your night, Ms. Jane,” Nigel called after me.
I barely heard him over the thumping bass of the music playing. The vibe was distinctively different tonight, way clubbier than it had been last night. I made my way over to the bar, slinking through gatherings of people to the end of the bar where Abril was working.
“PJ!” she yelled out, waving at me.
I pointed to myself.
She nodded, waving me closer, “PJ! Girl you had it crackin’ in here last night!”
“Are you sure you mean me?”
“Jane, right? You don’t have a twin, do you?”
I shook my head, apparently remembering less of the night than what actually happened. But no, Abril was just talking about me singing and dancing all around like I didn’t have a care in the world. I ordered a Truth Serum and water, hoping some space would free up so I could nurse my drink at the bar, but it was hella packed. I would up snagging a piece of wall space not too far from the DJ. It didn’t take long before I’d made my way to the dance floor, with a fresh drink in hand. Grooving until I felt my body finally coming down from its earlier buzz, so I settled up with Abril and headed to the elevators. I pressed the button and stood waiting, all the while feeling singed by Nigel’s gaze. There he goes with that staring but not saying shit thing again. I should say somethin. But what… I thought before sauntering over in his direction to stand in front of him.
“You know, I never got to properly thank you?” I said, peering up at him.
He had me dwarfed by nearly a foot, so it hurt my neck a little to keep it craned up at him, making direct eye contact.
“For?” he replied, looking puzzled.
“My wine? At the restaurant. That was you, right?”
He chuckled, biting his lower lip, “Yeah…Yuliya wasn’t exactly supposed to put my business out there. I just saw you sitting there, fine as all hell, but clearly stressed. I took a chance on my choice, but just wanted to see that beautiful smile that graced your face after you took that first sip. I felt called by a higher power to be the one to make you smile that day.”
It was like those words flipped a switch in me, my previous shyness completely evaporated as I damn near purred, “What time are you off tonight? I owe you a proper thank you.”
“We’re open ‘til two tonight,” Nigel replied smoothly.
“Oh yeah,” I said, sliding even closer to Nigel as I opened my clutch, pulling out my spare room key and sliding it into the front pocket on the slacks that he wore. As my hand retreated, it brushed against notsolittle Nigel and I hoped like hell I wasn’t shooting this shot to get it batted down. I’d opened my mouth to tell him my room number when the elevator dinged. I backed toward the elevator, keeping Nigel’s gaze ensnared in mine, “Eighteen eighty-two if you want that thank you.”
As soon as the elevator doors closed, a small part of me was immediately stricken with regret. What the hell was I doing, inviting a perfect stranger into my hotel room that I didn’t know from a can of paint? Who cared that he worked for this hotel, there was no telling if he was a crazy psycho serial killer and I’d just set myself up to become his next victim? The larger, more adventurous part of me was completely satisfied and won over. I had about two hours before Nigel would be off work and possibly at my room, so I decided to take a quick cat nap, get up and freshen up so I’d be ready for whatever, whether he showed or not.
Fifteen minutes after two am, I heard the lock to my room’s door disengaging, which made me sit up from my reclined place in bed. I popped out of bed just as Nigel crossed the threshold of the door.
“Whassup?” he asked, licking that damn lower lip again.
“Hi,” I said, shyly, like I wasn’t the one who invited this man down to give me a dick transfusion.
Nigel engaged the deadbolt on the room door then headed toward me with his jacket and a cup filled with some undetermined brown liquor and a couple cherries in it. He dropped the jacket on the little bench that rested at the end of the bed and walked right up on me. He said nothing as he looked down at my attire, and then took a slow sip of his drink. The simple sleep dress I wore seemed inadequate when I came back to my room to weigh my options of what I should or should not be wearing if he showed. The fire in his eyes as he gazed at me now, however, made me feel silly for my earlier freak out. He sipped and stared a little too long for my liking, as I squirmed under his perusal.
“What are you drinking?” I asked.
“You wanna taste?” he replied.
I shook my head, “I have to get up early in the…well, actually I should be getting up right about now.”
“I didn’t ask if you wanted a sip, I asked if you wanted a taste,” Nigel replied, leaning down to press a soft, fleeting kiss against my lips.
He continued to tease me with those barely there kisses until I put my hands behind his neck and deepened the contact, immediately opening my mouth for his tongue to slide in and give me a taste of whatever he was drinking. I wasn’t too much a brown liquor connoisseur, they all tasted like burning to me, but whatever it was had a kick of spice as our tongues tangled and dueled with one another. Nigel placed his drink down on the end table next to the bed before hands moved down to grip my ass. I yelped as he lifted me to straddle his waist in one easy movement, not breaking our kiss at all as he maneuvered us. He placed me onto the bed, continuing to stand and removed his shirt, the tee beneath it and his belt; before he leaned down to connect our mouths again. Nigel’s kisses moved from my mouth to my neck as he played with the spaghetti straps of the sleep dress I was wearing. Slipping the straps down my shoulders one by one, Nigel exposed my breasts to his view, grinning broadly as the nipples immediately hardened from his penetrative stare alone. His hands slid up my sides until he was palming a breast in each hand, my erect nipples abrading against his palms. I hissed a curse as he used his fingers to pluck and pull at my nipples, stimulating me to fever pitch once his kisses wandered from my neck further south. At the feel of Nigel’s wet mouth suckling at my breast, I moaned aloud. He went back and forth using his mouth and hands to stimulate me, bringing me damn near to orgasm solely with nipple play.
He removed my sleep dress entirely, leaving me lying before him in just my panties. I felt self-conscious under his perusal, wondering if he was counting all of my imperfections that I could name off without a second thought, but that was short lived as he removed his pants leaving him clad in just a pair of tight black boxer briefs. The oversized bulge in his underwear made my earlier feelings of insecurity feel silly as there was zero doubt that this man liked what he was seeing very much. Nigel nudged me to move back on the bed some, as he stalked over me caging me in with his arms and legs. He leaned down applying those teasing kisses to my lips again before I looped my arms around his neck forcing deeper contact and for him to completely cover me with his body. We made out and hunched with our underwear on like novices before Nigel removed my panties and treated me to some of the best head that I’d ever experienced in all the years I’d been letting guys eat me out. His mouth seemed to be all over my lower lips as he licked, sucked, lapped, and fucked me with his tongue.
It didn’t take long after the first touch of his mouth to my pussy for my legs to begin shaking signaling that I was close to release. I tried moving back, escaping his rapacious tongue, but Nigel locked an arm around my thigh, securely holding me in place as he went after me with his mouth, tongue darting about as if it was seeking a sweetness that could only be found between my thighs. I came with a sharp curse, the word slicing through the air that had been previously peppered with the sounds of mine and Nigel’s moans alternately. Instead of letting up since I was cumming, that cause Nigel to go even harder, his tongue moving as if revved by a power motor, sending my ecstasy to an even higher level. I rapped on the top of his head, beating insistently but he refused to relent. Apparently, the cure to whatever ailed him was in the depths of my pussy and he refused to give up until he consumed every last drop of me.
“Ni…I…cannaaaaaa…plea…oh God oh God oh God oh God…Jesus I’m…whew, shit!” I exclaimed with a hard slap to the top of his head as my back bowed in pleasure once again. This time he let me come down from the orgasm completely and I said, “You fuckin’ play too much!”
Nigel chuckled against my sensitive skin and replied, “Believe me sweetheart I definitely wasn’t playing. This is playing.” He said that as he inserted a first, then a second finger into my slickened flesh. I moaned at the penetration and he murmured, “So fuckin’ tight. When’s the last time this pussy been fucked, baby?”
I was initially jarred, but quickly turned on by the question. Before I could answer he continued, “This pussy ain’t been played in for a while huh? Why have you been starving her? Pussy this good deserves to be sucked and fucked as often as possible.”
I grew impossibly wetter at those words and Nigel withdrew his fingers from inside of me, tucking them in the waistband of his underwear to pull them down. And out dropped a whole lot of dick. Before I knew it I had reached out and grabbed it, marveling over the fact that I needed two hands to hold it completely and he wasn’t even fully hard. Sheesh, dassalotta dick, I thought.
Nigel’s chuckle in response let me know that thought hadn’t exactly just been in my head. I didn’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed because I was too enthralled with his dick. I let go of it briefly, licked both of my palms, then continued stroking it. Nigel’s eyes closed as I hit a pace that must’ve felt too good to him as he groaned and pistoned his hips into my hands. Before it got too good to him, however, Nigel removed my hands from his dick, positioning the tip of it at the entrance of my lower lips before I pushed back alarmed.
“Wrap that pickle up, jack!” I snapped.
Nigel shook his head, blinked and looked at me before laughing, ‘Wrap that pickle up? Yo what in the country hell was that?”
“I said what I meant,” I laughed, “We need protection.”
He grabbed his wallet from his pants, retrieved a few condoms that he threw onto the nightstand, and then slid one on before moving me back into the position he wanted me in. As his body covered mine, he slowly slid into my depths, groaning when he was fully seated.
“I’m ’bout to stretch this shit out, baby girl. You ready to get stretched out?”
My reply was nothing but a garbled moan as I adjusted to his size. He was still for a couple beats, allowing my body to adjust before he retreated with a slow stroking rhythm that drove me crazy and had me crying out for him to fuck me faster and harder. He kept on with those painfully slow strokes as I cried out in passion, sounding like I was in a damn porno with all of the panting, screaming and cursing that I was doing. By the time Nigel decided to pick up the pace, my voice was getting scratchy from the overuse of my vocal chords as I screamed out adulations and admonishments to Nigel, giving him total control of my body. He pounded into me mercilessly, my loud, sharp cries fading into an open-mouthed hum as I spasmed, cumming in waves of bliss that rocked me from the tip top of my head through the soles of my feet. I vaguely registered that Nigel was still moving, and it wasn’t much longer after I’d succumbed to bliss that Nigel came too, driving into me with a force that almost had me thinking that our bodies were irrevocably fused together.
After a few moments, Nigel retreated from my body, going into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. I laid splayed out on the bed, helpless, boneless. I heard water running and assumed that he was cleaning himself up and about to get out of here. Instead, Nigel walked back into the room carrying a warm soapy towel that he used to clean me up before he collapsed onto the bed beside me. I saw his eyes start to drift close and I nudged him, “Hey…don’t fall asleep, I’ve gotta get outta here soon.”
“Say what?” Nigel replied.
“Yep, I have a flight to catch in about three hours. So, you can’t fall asleep now,” I said, “because I can’t go to sleep. So, I guess we’ll just have to come up with something to help waste some time.”
I leaned forward to press a kiss to his mouth and we lazily made out, hands exploring each other’s body and getting acquainted. Soon that easy exploration gave way to more insistent and intentional pathways being taken with our hands running along the landscape of each other’s bodies with purpose. Lingering touches to incite a moan here, deeper caresses to draw forth a groan there. We were content rounding every base but home until I slid on top of Nigel, grinding my pussy along his renewed erection, wetting up his shaft with my juices. I quickly grabbed one of those condoms from the nightstand and sheathed him so I could ride him into oblivion. But my body didn’t get my mind’s command because as soon as he was fully embedded within my walls, I began to move my hips in slow, winding circles that eventually gave way to a carefully modulated rolling of my hips.
Nigel’s hands at my waist guided my movement, dictating the tempo of our connection as he sat up slightly to bring our mouths together once again. As we kissed, his hands moved from the grip that had settled upon my hips to palming an ass cheek in each hand and he drove his hips upward, driving into me with purpose. Each deep stroke robbed me of the ability to think clearly let alone vocalize an answer when he disconnected our mouths to ask if this was good for me. My only response was a high-pitched scream as he flipped us over and settled between my thighs, still delivering powerful strokes that were driving me completely out of my mind. With my both of my legs hooked over his shoulders, Nigel slowed the tempo once again, retreating then reentering my walls unhurriedly. The combination of those deep, slow strokes and his thumb on my clit was too much and I was cumming once again, hurtling headfirst into the throes of ecstasy panting and screaming for him to never stop doing what he was doing because it felt too good.
“Fuck,” Nigel groaned hardly before going over the edge himself, shuddering through release and collapsing onto me. My mouth instantly curved into a smile, finding comfort in the feel of his warm body resting upon me fully. After less than thirty seconds he slid off of me, lying right beside me, hooking an arm around my waist as his fingers traced tiny abstract shapes along my side. We laid there for a few minutes, completely silent until I turned my head to look at the clock on one of the night stands, and then tapped him on the shoulder.
“Okay, now you really gotta go,” I giggled.
“Do I?” he asked, trailing nibbling kisses along my neck.
My body’s reaction contradicted the shuddering yes that I let out as he zeroed in on a particularly sensitive part of my neck.
“I…shit…I’ve gotta get to…mmmm…the airport soon,” I breathed out.
“So, you just gon use me for my body and discard me, huh? Damn cold world,” Nigel said, lightly pressing his lips against mine.
I giggled and slapped his shoulder, “Shut up! Besides, you know you loved every minute of it.”
“That I did indeed,” he murmured before standing from the bed and stretching.
His beautiful dick was still semi-hard, which almost made me reconsider this early flight and paying the change fees to hop back up on that thang and ride it like a motorbike, but I had things that I needed to get back to at home, so my fun was over. Nigel ambled into the bathroom and I heard sounds of running water for a few minutes before he returned half dressed. I sat up and watched him put on the rest of his things silently. He sipped the last of the liquor in his cup before leaning down toward the bed, his arms resting on either side of me caging me in.
“So, this was fun…” I offered for lack of anything better to say.
We both laughed at that awkward ass ice breaker before he learned even further to kiss me once again. Just his kisses and soft caresses of my body had me revved up once again, so I groaned in protest when he pulled away once again.
“Safe travels, Miss Jane,” Nigel said before grabbing his jacket and walking toward the door.
“Hey!’ I called out just before he crossed the door’s threshold, “Was that a proper enough thank you?”
He chuckled, “Yeah…and…you’re welcome.”