I’d checked into the airport hotel the night before my early flight to the US. Bags packed, passport ready. The room was generic: king bed, minibar hum, window overlooking runways blinking in the dark. Swiped the keycard, dumped my suitcase by the door. Wedding of a mutual friend was nearby, so I suited up, headed out.
Back late, buzzed from drinks. Lit a smoke outside the venue, jacket on against the chill. Lylia appeared, that familiar smile. She’d been clingy lately, ever since I announced my move. We walked away from prying eyes. Her hand on my chest, lips hunting mine. ‘Not here,’ I muttered, cig dangling. She whispered about big bathroom stalls inside. Too risky, too drunk for that noise.
The Stopover
She pressed closer, thick lips wet, breath hot. ‘One last time, you’ll miss me.’ Nibbling my neck, hand grazing my crotch. My dick stirred. She smelled good, curves pressing in. ‘OK, my hotel room. Quick.’ Eyes lit up. We slipped away, her heels clicking on pavement.
Elevator ride up: her tongue in my mouth, hands everywhere. Keycard beeped green. Door clicked shut. Hallway echoes faded. She dropped her purse, yanked my belt. I pinned her against the wall, groped those full tits through her dress.
Pants down, she knelt. Fished out my cock, fresh from a piss but clean enough. She dove in, slurping loud, like popping candy. Wet pops filled the room. Fingers found her soaked thong, plunged in. She moaned around my shaft. Thought of Jimmy inside, laughing, clueless. His girl, mouth stuffed.
Grabbed my phone, killed flash, night mode. Stretched arm, snapped three silent shots of her cheek bulging, lips stretched. She didn’t notice, too lost.
She stood, kissed me sloppy. ‘Fuck me now.’ Wallet condom on. Back on bed, her straddling reverse, fat ass toward me. Slid in deep. She rode hard, twerking, sweat beading. Slapped cheeks red. Thumb circled her asshole, teasing. She rubbed her clit, came shaking, pussy clenching.
The Transit
Panting, she asked, ‘How do you wanna cum?’ ‘Suck me off.’ Condom off, she went down again. I softened briefly—booze, nerves—but hardened fast. Last time with her. Pushed her head, fingered her ass deep to distract. Built rhythm, called her filthy names: slut, whore. She gagged but took it.
Held her skull tight, exploded down her throat. Growls escaped, her body tensed, throat glugging, nose snorting wet. Pulled out slow. She grimaced, spit and cum dribbling on her dress. ‘Asshole,’ she spat, wiping up with tissues.
‘Told you to swallow.’ Smirked. She fixed makeup, wanted more kisses. ‘Gross now.’ Humiliated her a bit, loved it. Quick hug, sent her off. Lit another smoke by the window, watched planes taxi.
Door clicked shut behind her. Checked pics: clear enough, her face unmistakable. Picked best, SMS to Jimmy. Delivered. Phone to airplane mode. Crashed hard, alarm set for dawn.
Morning: bags zipped, keycard dropped at desk. Taxi to terminal, mode off. Rage calls, texts exploded. Ignored till wheels up over the Atlantic. Laughed reading them later. Sadistic rush imagining her walking back in, him staring at his phone. Vicious? Yeah. Freeing? Hell yes. Jimmy got truth before wedding bells. Good riddance.