I dragged my suitcase through the airport hotel lobby at 5:20 PM sharp. Jet lag from the school day back home mixed with anniversary dread. Bernard and I, celebrating 20 years in this anonymous transit spot near the runways. No one knows us here. Perfect for our yearly duty fuck. I swiped the magnetic key card. Elevator hummed up. Corridor noises: distant moans, cart wheels rumbling.
Unpacked in room 412. View of planes taxiing. Bernard in suit, apron over it, grilling lamb in the kitchenette. Smells filled the air. I hit the lounge bar downstairs. Four women there, colleagues from the flight chat. Giggling over nicknames. ‘Call me Avalérie,’ one slurred. ‘Love eating them out as appetizer.’ My face burned. They eyed me. ‘Quiet ones are dirtiest, Raymonde.’ I grabbed my bag. Inside, the pink pills from school punks. Forgot to report them. Why not?
The Stopover
Back from my walk around the terminal, secretary’s office door ajar near lobby. Thuds like a washer. Gasps. ‘Fuck me deep, you pig.’ Peeked through blinds. Hotel manager plowing the clerk doggy-style. His horse cock slick, buried in her ass. She squealed filth. Nausea hit. Rushed to bathroom, splashed face. World gone mad.
Back in room, Bernard poured fruity red wine. Phone rang—Mom’s wishes. I split a pill, dissolved halves in our glasses. He vanished to shower. Sipped. Warmth spread slow. Dinner: tender lamb, empty bottle. Touched his arms. Felt his hair for first time. Kissed. Tongues danced wild. Heat pooled low. Moist.
Leonard Cohen crooned ‘Dance Me to the End of Love.’ Swayed close. Hands on my ass cheeks—firm, round. Fingers slipped under panties, soaked. I yanked his tie, unbuttoned shirt. Inhaled his chest musk. He hiked my skirt, tugged panties down. Fabric teased my pussy lips. Belt off, pants pooled. Cock sprang free.
The Transit
Dropped to knees. Lips on his thick shaft. Sucked deep, tongue tracing veins. He groaned. Pulled out, bent me over couch arm. Plunged face between thighs. Lapped my swollen clit, gulped nectar. Waves built. Exploded. He rammed cock down throat.
Switched. Licked his balls, rimmed his puckered hole. Tongue fucked it. He growled. Lifted me to stool. Cock nudged wet slit. Slow thrust. Fused. Rode hard. Climax crashed. Pulled out, spurted. I milked every drop, swallowed salty cum.
Carried to bed. Slept tangled. Woke hungry. Guided his morning wood to my ass. Inch by inch. Spooned tight. He woke, flipped me. Ass up. Pounded deep. Shared screaming orgasm.
Dawn. Runway lights blinked. Effects faded. Awkward smiles. But grins too. Checked out, key card surrendered. Bags zipped. Plane awaited. That night replayed: slick cocks, gushing pussies, ass-fucked bliss. Anonymity unlocked us. Back to normal? Maybe. Pills stashed safe.