Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
What could be more normal, two people checking into a hotel? Only the slight exchange of looks between us. I get the card key and you get up from the comfy chair, rolling your case towards the lift. It’s early afternoon, we’re both dressed for work… and play. I press the button for the lift. We almost can’t look at each other, no words yet. It takes an age to come; finally the doors open. Empty. Room 1917… 19th floor. I hit the button, the doors close. I see the fire in your eyes and drop my bag. You grab my head, pulling it down, kissing my lips, mouths open, tongues fighting already. The floors start to ping by, thankfully slowly. I lift you up onto the rail that runs round the lift. Your legs wrap round me, ankles behind my knees. My hands under your skirt, pushing it up frantically, the lacy tops of your hold-up stockings rus escort more than I can resist. Your skirt is almost around your waist before I slide one hand between your legs, feeling the wetness of your knickers. Your arms around my neck, you pull yourself up and start grinding against my hardness. I pin you against the wall, my hands all over you, your fitted shirt ragged, untucked, two buttons undone. Ping. Your nails scrape down my chest, my tie undone. For a second I think of hitting the stop button, but I can’t risk that. It won’t be long before we’re in the room, but I don’t want this to stop either. Ping. I pin your wrists to the wall above your head. Your back arches, breasts thrust out into my face, straining against the buttons of your shirt. I stop and yenimahalle escort look into your eyes, move you into the corner so you can perch better on the rail. Ping. You hold on to the wall and I trace the swell of your breasts, squeezing them, your nipples hard. I bend over taking a bite through your shirt as you breathe sharply. I carry on biting and sucking, one hand on your other breast continuing to give it equal attention, my other hand sliding above your stocking tops, pushing aside the lace of your underwear and rubbing your clit with my fingers. Ping. I almost burn my fingers on the hot wetness of your pussy, and your juices cover the three fingers I already have inside. Ping. I’ve lost count of the floors but we must be close. Still we haven’t said anything. We don’t need to. This is what we need. A double ping. Fuck we must be there. One final kiss. Smooth down jacket. Tuck in shirt. Doors open. Pick up cases. Walk past the maid, who smiles. Fumble with the card key. Hand shaking slightly, open door to room 1917. After you… Now it begins… Door closed. Relief. Giggles. The anonymous decoration. The huge bed. Perfect. Turning you to face the mirror at the end of the bed, standing behind you kissing your neck as your breathing gets deeper. You turn and our lips meet, my hands cupping your breasts, feeling their weight. Perfect. I break the kiss. We look into the mirror as I slowly unbutton that crisp white shirt, easing it off your shoulders as you reach behind me, grabbing my bum, squeezing tight. My hands on your shoulders, massaging, relaxing, hearing you moan as our cheeks brush. Your bum urging back against my trousers, the bulge obvious and growing. Both looking into the mirror as I slip the straps of your bra from your shoulders and unhook it. Your beautiful breasts, nipples erect, exposed, ready to be consumed.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Bir yanıt bırakın