Swipe the magnetic keycard. Door beeps open to our airport hotel room. Runways gleam outside the window, planes roaring. Perfect anonymous stopover. No one knows us here. Suitcases dumped by the bed. Estelle bends over the mini-fridge, head inside hunting butter. I rub hard against her ass.
“Please! Before the kids show up,” I beg.
The Layover
“Stop! They’ll burst in any minute!” Her voice high, amused.
“Two minutes? Plenty for a quickie! Love your ass in my face like this!”
“Paul! The kids…”
“Hi dad, hi mom.”
“Morning Kevin!” Estelle smirks triumphantly.
Kid grabs bowl, pours cereal, milk. Manaëlle and Jules tumble in. Send Jules back for socks, Manaëlle for glasses. She squints.
“Mom, can I go to Léna’s after classes?” Kevin asks.
I frown. Léna? Who’s that?
“To study history test tomorrow, right?” Estelle guesses.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Liar. So obvious.
“Great idea, honey,” she says.
Young ones return, geared up. No time to argue. Kids bustle out to hotel kids’ club shuttle. Door clicks shut. Kitchenette clear. Whisper to Estelle while tidying.
“Why agree? He ain’t studying!”
She points fridge magnet agenda. Today: ‘Manaëlle: flute lesson. Jules: judo class.’ Add ‘Kevin: Léna.’ Equals two hours free.
“Be back by 4:30pm, whatever excuse,” she orders, sauntering off.
I tremble. Semi-hard already. Two hours? Grin alone. Heat floods cock, belly, spine. Sweet layover treat.
Fake dentist call gets me off work early. Model employee perks. Rocade empty. Pull up on time. Hesitate at door. Swipe keycard. Shoes off, jacket hung. Living area: Estelle glows. Hair perfect, makeup flawless, dress hugging curves, heels sharp.
“Spent all day prepping?”
“Afternoon only. Morning headaches got me off early.”
“Devil!” I laugh.
Flute of champagne. Half-bottle pops. Toast arms entwined.
“To rare kid-free snacks,” she says.
“May Kevin bang Léna often,” I add.
Laughter. Sip. I dive for lips, smear makeup planned. But hold back. Two hours. Savor.
Table low: candies. Sit couch. She perches close. Skirt rides up. Garters flash on black stockings.
The Hookup
“White lingerie?” I choke.
Slow nod, tongue licks lips.
Tremble. Want to rip dress, reveal fave set. Restrain.
Grab chocolate, eyes locked. She leans, tits strain lace bra. Groan. She giggles. Ache builds.
She bites chocolate. Booze drips chin. Lick it off. Burn sweet. Trail neck, kisses. She laughs delighted.
Unbuttons my shirt. Off flies. Nibble her bare shoulders. Flip her down. Yank top up. Pin arms overhead with left hand. Right gropes tits over lace. Lick, bite nipples thru fabric. She moans, arches.
Release. Top off. Crush mouth. Hands roam her ass under skirt. Hers squeeze mine.
Sip bubbly, praline choco. She pushes me back. Straddles.
Love her taking charge. Natural rhythm. Wet kisses neck, chest. Nipples teased. Fingers belt, button, zip. Hips lift. Pants gone.
Kisses cock thru boxers. Semi-hard. Kids dulled edge. She frees it. Sucks deep. Slut eyes lock mine. Varnished nails stroke shaft. Tremble. Fuck, she owns it. Laugh nervous-happy. Grows thick in hot mouth. Balls tighten. She stops. Smirks. Sips champagne.
Admire curves. She eats choco. Stands. Skirt drops smooth. Hands on head, spins. Groan. Hot as hell.
“Remove panties with teeth?”
Grab lace. Slide down thighs slow. Heels stay. Rare treat, back hurts usually.
Gaze up: toned calves, thighs, trimmed bush hiding wet lips. Kiss pubis. Tongue flicks clit. Foot on couch. Wide open. Taste divine. Lick endless. Fingers join. She bucks, cums sharp cries.
“Fuck me!” begs.
Clock: ninety minutes gone. Flip her ass up. Slam pussy doggy. Hips grind back. She rubs clit. Cums hard.
Pull out. Eye dark pucker.
“Hell yeah!” she gasps.
“Rare chance.”
“Ruin my ass!”
Finger prep. Gland pops in. Full thrust. She bites cushion. Slow deep pumps. Fingers pussy too. She quakes. We explode together. Screams, laughs, gasps.
Shower caresses. Couch cuddle, champagne, sweets. Door beeps. Kevin eyes us tangled. Half-smiles.
Going upstairs, I yell: “Condom?”
“Duh, dad. Not ready for kids!”
Murmurs ‘he’s nuts.’ Laugh.
“No denial,” I grumble. She giggles.
Life resumes. Check-out tomorrow. Swipe key back at desk. Plane boards. Cherished filthy memory lingers.