Luggage wheels rumble over the lobby tiles. Bland business hotel in an industrial zone, anonymous as fuck. Me and Annette, work buddies on site visits. Morning chantiers done, lunch at that dingy snack sealed it. Over falafel wraps, I spilled: she’s my secret crush, the pot to my lid. She blushed, kissed me hard. Now, keycard beeps. Elevator dings, empty. Her hand brushes mine, sparks fly. Anonymity hits: no one knows us here, flight out tomorrow—or back to base.
Hallway hums with distant vacuums. Door clicks open. Room smells of fresh sheets and AC. Window overlooks parking lot right, empty field left. Suitcases thud down. She vanishes into the bathroom. I kick off shoes, socks, drop pants. Boxer tent poles up. Heart pounds. Wife’s vows crack in my head, but Annette’s pull wins.
The Stopover
“Done!” Her voice teases. She steps out: sheer nightie, matching thong hugging curves. Average looks, but that flame-moth vibe. “Tent says it all, Jean-Charles.” I grin. She prowls close, feline. Doubts evaporate. Lips crash, hungry. Hands roam her ass, tits pressing soft against me. No more gray; full color explodes.
She whispers, “Nighty opens back here.” Buttons pop. Nightie pools at waist. Perky, heavy tits spill free. I bury my face, suck nipples hard. Tongue lashes areolas. She moans, arches. Full nightie flies off. Naked glory. I knead those fleshy globes, jiggle them. Starved, I gobble one whole, sucking voracious. Her hand guides mine under thong, to slick heat.
Bed creaks. She’s sprawled, legs wide. I dive: tongue on clit, lips slurping pussy lips. Juices flood my mouth. She grabs my hair, grinds. “Fuck, yes!” Climax hits—thighs clamp, she quakes, squirts sweet nectar.
The Transit
Her turn. Zipper rasps. Cock springs out, veiny and rigid. She strokes firm, balls cupped. I finger her sopping slit, nibble tit. “Want to suck it.” No hesitation. Tongue laps head, then engulfs half. Sloppy, deep. Heaven. I edge her clit, prolonging.
“Fuck me now!” She mounts. Guides my dick to her dripping hole. Sinks slow, sighing ecstasy. Tight, wet heaven grips. She rides wild, tits bouncing. I thrust up brutal, fingers in ass crack, pinching nipple. Balls tighten. Tsunami builds. She cums first, wailing, pussy milking. I erupt, flooding her depths. Waves crash, purest bliss. Wife who?
We collapse, sweat-slick. Minutes tick. Afternoon sites wait. Shower rush: soap suds, quick rinse. Clothes on hasty. Keycard slots back at desk with a beep. Clerk blank. Parking lot glare. Her no-panties under skirt—souvenir in my pocket, soaked.
Drive off, her hand on my thigh. Bretagne mission looms: days locked in rain, beds shared. This stopover? Paradise preview. Remorse? Nah. Regret nothing. Pot found lid. Tomorrow’s road calls, but her scent lingers.