The seeds of our latest escapade were sown when discussing strip clubs. Michelle revealed that it had always been a fantasy of hers to enjoy a private dance while sucking someone's dick. A week later, I was on a train to London and she was flying in from Italy.
As always, we kept in touch by text, and I was gratified to see her message on landing -
From this moment on, I am officially Yours and only Yours.
I replied - I'll race you to the hotel.
I willed the train to get me there faster.
The train arrived at Waterloo at one in the afternoon. I ran through the station, down to the Underground and on to the Northern Line. I had only one main criteria when it came to booking the hotel, that it was in Soho. St. Giles fit the bill.
I alighted at Tottenham Court Station and leapt up the escalator stairs two at a time. When I emerged onto the street my phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked at the screen. Beat you, it said. I'm in the lobby.
My body tingled as I realised just how close we were.
Oxford Street was pleasingly manageable and I navigated through the throng with a clear sense of purpose. I reached the hotel in a couple of minutes and checked in immediately. My eyes darted around, scanning the lobby for any sign of her. The receptionist handed me the key, and, heart beating fast, I turned to survey the lobby in earnest.
There she was, sat among a group of backpacking tourists looking like the most interesting person at the party. Her hair was shocking pink, making her look like Monica Bellucci channelling Ramona Flowers. She was dressed like Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice - a black leather jacket with a short frilly black lace skirt and black and white stockings. I couldn't help but grin.
She stood up as I approached, matching my smile with one of her own. "Glad you could make it," she said, before kissing my lips lightly. I held her by the waist and looked into her pale green eyes.
"We are going to have a lot of fun." I said. She nodded and kissed my cheek.
I gestured towards her case. "Can I take your bag?" I picked it up as she thanked me. "It's light," I said, surprised.
"It should be. All it has in it are sex toys and underwear. In fact, the customs guys opened it up and went through them with a lot of interest."
"Good God! What happened?"
"It's okay - I'm used to it. It was pretty funny."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "And exactly what toys do you have in your case?"
"Umm... let's see..." She squinted in concentration. "The remote vibe," I nodded appreciatively, "a handily small but powerful rabbit vibe, a collar, a leash, a plug, a ball gag, kitty ears and a babydoll."
"That must have put a smile on their faces."
"Hopefully more than that, Sir."
I noticed that a couple of the backpackers were staring. "Let's get up to the room."
She nodded and we walked over to an open lift, stepped in and pressed the button for the seventh floor. As the doors closed behind us, we set upon each other. I had so missed the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body against mine. She pulled away before the lift came to a stop.
"Before we go any further, I have to warn you. I have some bad news."
My mind raced. "What is it?"
"I'll tell you when we get to the room."
I studied her expression for a clue. It was regretful, but there was still an apologetic smile. It can't be too bad, I reasoned.
The doors opened and we walked to room 752. I slipped in the key card and opened the door. I looked at her again quizically but she pressed her lips together tightly.
We walked in and flicked on the lights. It was a standard room, a big bed and enough room to walk around it. I dropped our bags in a corner and she sat on the edge of the bed.
I stood over her. "So, what's the bad news."
She looked up, cowed. "I'm on my period."
Any disappointment was overwhelmed with relief that it wasn't anything more serious. "Oh baby girl," I said in a mock chiding voice, "that is bad news."
"I don't understand it. I should have been clear, but it arrived six days early." She pouted. "Six days!"
"It's okay. We'll work with it." I placed my hand on her cheek, framing her jawline with my thumb. I leaned in close and spoke slowly and clearly. "But of course you realise that this means I will be using your throat and your asshole as if they were your cunt."
She nodded, and I slipped my thumb between her lips. "Yes Sir," she said around it.
Her hands reached to my belt and unfastened it, unbuttoning my fly to reveal the stiffening bulge against the fabric of my
tight white underwear.
"Oh Daddy," she sighed, as she traced the underside with one finger. "How I've missed this beautiful curve."
I nodded and, placing my hand on the back of her head, pulled her face to my groin.
She slid like liquid off the bed onto her knees. She opened her mouth with a gasp, kissing the very root of my shaft, starkly outlined against the constrictive material and moving her lips up to the tip and back.
She wrinkled her nose. "All I can smell and taste is fabric conditioner. I want to smell and taste your cock."
I nodded again and hooked my thumb into the waistband of my underwear. Slowly, tantalisingly, I pulled it over the head of my cock and down its length. Her eyes widened and she pressed her it to her face, inhaling deeply. "Ah... there it is." She fastened her lips over the tip and began to suck.
