A Motel Room With a View

Abella Danger

Twenty-Sixth Installment in the “Latina” Series of Erotic Tales
This weekend, we visited relatives out of town. WAY out of town. As in 10 hours of driving to get to their house.

During our visit, our relatives and us took our son (age 12) to a mall, for back-to-school clothes. While there, I spotted this shimmering, satiny silver man’s mesh shirt, with hundreds or maybe thousands of tiny holes. I just kept picturing my Frank in it, the mesh magnifying every hair and every pore on his manly chest. The idea of him wearing that shirt, and me taking it off of him, made me extremely RANDY, and I told Frank so. There was a young woman in her 20s standing right there, in a tie-at-the-back bikini top and super- short, super-tight “hoochie-mama” denim shorts that showed most of her ass. Overhearing me, she smiled knowingly at my obvious horniness for my husband.

I guess I felt a little embarrassed that she overhead my sexy talk with Frank, but mostly I felt pride. Pride that I still look beautiful and sexy at age 50, and can still get horny at the drop of a hat–or, well, at the drop of my man’s slacks, anyway. Pride at my capacity for sexual enjoyment. Pride that I can still get HIM horny any time I want to. This trampy young girl looked my Frank up and down hungrily, and when Frank and I first met, I would have been jealous as hell, but after 4 years, I am very secure in our relationship, so I didn’t mind really. I knew she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting with MY man. Besides, I remembered what Frank and I have sometimes discussed, that jealousy doesn’t prove how much you love someone, it only proves how insecure a person you are.

As if to prove I had nothing to fear from this woman, or perhaps grateful for my telling him I was getting horny, Frank leaned in and kissed me. This sent the signal to that young woman to back off, and she stopped evaluating him to see what was making ME so horny–up to then, she seemed to think she wanted a piece of whatever was getting me THAT turned on.

I sent the relatives and my son on ahead to the next store, promising to catch up, and Frank and I quickly and quietly bought this sexy $30 shirt for my husband. I hid it in my purse so the relatives wouldn’t see it, and so they wouldn’t guess what I planned to do when Frank would wear it for me in our motel room.

Our son wanted to spend the night with our relatives, which fit in perfectly with OUR plans, so we let him. Who needs a 12-year-old boy asleep in the next bed, when all you want to do is have wild, uninhibited, screaming-and-moaning, body-thrashing, head-to-toe quaking sex with your husband? So we let our son and their house, and Frank and I drove to our motel. We arrived just in time to watch the romantic sunset, sinking below the mansions just barely visible on a nearby island. Our room was high enough up to have a pretty nice view. I loved that we were alone in a motel room, no kids, no job pressures, just two soul-mates ready to pleasure each other in EVERY possible way. It had been over 4 hours since I’d first spotted that shirt in the store, four hours of being a good little girl and holding my raging lust in check. So it was WAY past time to let loose the restless sexual animal that was caged inside of me.

While Frank changed into his sexy new shirt in our motel bedroom, I snuck into the bathroom and changed into one of the many sexy outfits my Frank has bought me. This one consists of a sheer lacy purple bra with peekaboo cutouts around my hardening nipples, and matching sheer purple panties with snap crotch. Over this is a wispy, white, transparent baby-doll that doesn’t quite completely cover my purple panties. Putting my outfit on, my heart started pounding with the excited anticipation of what we were about to do. I felt warm and wonderful and deeply loved and very loving toward my husband, and my pussy was pleasantly moist, without being unbearably aching with lust just yet.

When I emerged from the bathroom and saw Frank, I nearly came in my panties right then and there. Talk about a motel room that gave me a great VIEW! That new shirt was muy caliente (very hot), showing every chest muscle and his manly hairiness right through the satiny-silver mesh. I WANTED him. Oh, I really WANTED him so bad! But somehow, I found the patience to VERY slowly unbutton him. I guess after spending $30 for him to put on a garment whose only purpose was for me to take it back off of him, I didn’t want to risk popping a button or tearing the fabric in my excitement.

“If you wear that shirt out in public,” I said, “You WILL have to wear a T-shirt under it. I don’t want other women lusting after you!”

He smiled, laughed, and gave me a reassuring kiss. My tinge of jealousy calmed down, but my sexual heat, which had been growing since I first spotted Zonguldak Escort that shirt and fantasized about him wearing it, turned up another notch or two.

I had his sexy mesh shirt fully open now, and folded back the sides to expose his whole torso to my eyes, hands, and lips. That shirt looked just TOO damned good on him, for me to take it fully off of him just yet. So I just kissed my way down his torso, down to his navel. Somehow, I managed to be slow and seductive in unbuckling his belt, but when I got to his zipper, I just couldn’t WAIT any more, and I think I set a new world’s speed record unzipping him and tugging his trousers down to the floor.

What I found underneath was a real surprise and a genuine treat. I had seen him put on very non-descript, plain gray boxer shorts that morning. But while I had been changing in the bathroom, he had changed to one of his four G-strings, and put his trousers back on. This particular G-string has two thin lacy black bands at his hips, and a third thin band running right up the crack of his firm masculine butt. The front is a tiny pouch of fake tiger skin, sort-of golden with swirling black stripes. Even mostly flaccid, a hint of his cock-head rose above the top of this tiny pouch. I licked my lips in anticipation, and was just about ready to apply some of those licks directly on his G-string pouch. I’m glad I didn’t, for he now took charge of the situation, and the things he did from then on were FAR better than anything I could have cooked-up. By now, I was SO hot for him, I was ready to do ANYTHING he told me.

He spun me around, and he began softly kissing and nibbling my neck from behind, as his arms wrapped around my waist, and his G-string covered cock pressed against my tiny panties and baby-doll outer wrap.

“Mmmmm!” I moaned, as I leaned back into his enfolding arms and melted. I was ready for whatever he would do to me next.

He had me lie flat on my back on the motel room’s KING-sized bed. We have a queen-sized bed at home, and I thought THAT bed gave us plenty of room for love play, but this one was even roomier for us to roll around on, and to explore inventive new positions on, without falling off. Just as he was about to join me on this huge, inviting bed, I told him to take off that $30 shirt, so it wouldn’t get ripped or wrinkled during our bedroom gymnastics.

“Why don’t you take my shirt off FOR me?” he smiled.

I loved sliding the satiny-smooth mesh shirt down his rippling arms, and fully off of him. Still wearing his tiger-skin G-string, he climbed face-down on the bed beside me, and he resumed kissing and nuzzling my neck, but from the front instead of the back this time.

From there, his kisses trailed down the front of my neck and into my cleavage. He lightly kissed my nipples through my purple peekaboo bra, then teased me by kissing and licking around the bottom curve of my breast, before returning to my nipples to properly and thoroughly kiss, lick, suck and nibble them to full hardness. By now my nipples were jutting so hard through my peekaboo bra, that I could have poked his eye out, as he continued pleasuring my breasts.

He then laid me sideways across the bed, and softly kissed his way down my torso, right through my wispy white baby-doll outer wrap, lingering at my hips and my navel. Again he teased, completely bypassing my skimpy purple panties, to lovingly kiss my inner thigh about 15 times.

He then kissed his way across the very top of my panties, directly over my thick, dark, bush. Instead of kissing lower down the front of my panties, he teased me again, skipping my panties entirely, to land about 15 more delicate kisses on my opposite inner thigh. So CLOSE to my wet, horny pussy and my throbbing clit, yet not actually making contact yet. He was driving me CRAZY with lusty desire for him, and he knew it!

He started kissing his way up my inner thigh, inching ever closer to my pussy. Then he teased again, moving back up to kiss directly over my thick pubic fur again. He then SLOWLY kissed over my clit through my panties, while pressing his index finger against the front of my lacy purple panties, to push them just slightly into my open slit. This exposed just a hint of my outer pussy lips to his gaze, and I hoped soon also to his tongue.

Holding my panties just inside my entrance, he slowly kissed in a big circle all the way around my exposed pussy lips, before returning to the top of my pussy to kiss and lick at my panties over my pubic hair, then taking a few more delicious licks through the fabric over my clit, and finally using his tongue to push my panties even deeper into my juicy slit.

His kisses and soft licks returned to my inner thighs, then moving inward to my pussy lips, and finally kissing and licking Zonguldak Escort Bayan inside my slit, and moving up to my clit. I wanted him to unsnap the crotch of my purple panties, but he teased me. His fingers pushed my panties to one side now, giving his sweet kisses and licks completely-unobstructed access to EVERYTHING now, without unsnapping my panties. His pushing my panties to one side seemed so much more urgent, more raw, than if he had taken the time to unsnap them as I had wanted. I knew that his way was MUCH better, and it made me want him even MORE, if that was possible.

He took 15 or 20 slow, swirling, circular licks against my clit, barely exposed under my pushed-aside purple lace panties. I bucked my ass up off the bed, and swayed my hips side-to-side. Moaning loudly and uncontrollably now, I came in a thick ooze on his handsome face. He eagerly licked and sucked it up, and when I was just panting (instead of gasping) for breath, he moved in to again kiss my clit.

“MMMM, baby, right THERE!” I yelled as I came again. I don’t know why some women fake orgasms. The real thing is SO much better, and faking it teaches men to repeat patterns that do nothing for you. I can’t fake it with my Frank, especially during oral sex, when he expects (and gets) a faceful out of my pussy–you can’t FAKE that!

He then inserted his long, thin, middle finger into my moist depths, and he let his fingertip massage my G-spot. As he did this, he sucked my still-throbbing clit up into his mouth, alternating swirling licks with gentle nibbles.

I literally screamed in pleasure as I orgasmed through my clit and my G-spot at exactly the same instant. Have you ever heard of having a clitoral AND a G-spot orgasm at the same time? Either one alone is FANTASTIC, but both at the same time, you’ve died and gone to heaven! The juices that ooze out from around my clit are thinner and more watery, sometimes they gush rather than ooze, but it is NOT piss. The fluids from under the cliff-like G-spot are thicker and creamier, more like a man’s come. Both are different from each other, and from the moisture that lines a woman’s inner walls.

I have never been with a man, other than Frank, who could make me simultaneously come from my clit and my G-spot, and other women I’ve told about this have never experienced what I describe. You men reading this, should take it as a personal challenge to get creative with your fingers and tongue, to give your ladies a simultaneous clitoral and G-spot orgasm like this. And you women reading this, you need to find a way to seductively persuade your men to do this for you. If you have to, suck, swallow, whatever it takes to get him to want to return the favor by pleasuring you like this in return. Every woman deserves to experience this at least once in her life. I’ve lost count of how many times my Frank has made my clit and my G-spot orgasm at the same moment, and it feels WONDERFUL every time! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m one VERY lucky woman.

After 3 orgasms, the third one strongest of all because of “coming” from two places at once, I was THOROUGHLY drenched inside and out. He valiantly tried to clean-off some of my thick glop with his tongue and fingers, but I was coming faster than he could clean me off. Still, his kindness in that way turned me on all the more. I wanted him to enter me BEFORE I could stop coming.

“Can daddy come in now?” I cooed, half-asking, half-begging for him to slip me his thick, throbbing cock. I quickly slid his G-string off of him, as he slid my soaked panties off of me. I still had on my peekaboo bra and my sheer white baby-doll wrap, but he was deliciously naked from head to toe. I kissed and licked my way up his gorgeous shaft, starting at his balls. When I kissed his cock-head and tasted a sweet, pearly drop of his pre-come, I knew he was as ready as I was. He aligned his pelvis to mine, and he slowly sank in. I was so slippery with the residue of my multiple orgasms, that about halfway in, he just slipped and slid against my moistness, very rapidly and uncontrollably, until his balls hit my pussy lips, which were stretched wide, to tightly surround his thick, beautiful, hard, invading but very welcome cock.

I squeezed and squeezed and squeezed against his cock, as he pulsed and throbbed deep inside of me. I was moaning loudly enough to just about wake the dead. I couldn’t help it: after being horny for four or five hours, he was FINALLY fucking me SO good! He swayed his hips to let his cock head rub all over my insides. I was feeling WAY to good by now to care whether people in adjoining motel rooms could hear us.

Then he pulled almost all the way out, and he tried to start another long, slow descent, but I was just too slicked-up and slippery, and he Escort Zonguldak again slid quickly and deeply against my moist inner walls. Have you ever slowly, gently, sensually rubbed a fine new silk scarf across your arm? His slliding against my slipperiness felt like that, like nature had designed my pussy JUST so it could experience this very moment.

He withdrew again, only halfway this time. I knew this is his signal that he is getting ready to EXPLODE, hard and fast, deep inside me.

“MMMMM!” I hollered. “GIVE it to me. Give me your SWEET love juice, baby!” I sucked in my breath in anticipation.

Sure enough, after pausing halfway out, he slammed back into me, hard and fast. I let out my breath, and I came hard, drenching the outside of his shaft. A split second later, he twitched, throbbed, and came deep and hard inside of me, both of us moaning loudly, uncontrollably, both of us COMPLETELY uninhibited now, both wrapped-up in the love and the lust and the moment.

He turned his body 90 degrees to mine, forming a T on the bed, and allowing his cock to effortlessly slide even deeper into my very slick walls. My legs were spread wide, my knees raised high, my feet flat on the bed. My knees gently squeezed against his hips, as his cock continued to throb deep inside of me, and my pussy muscles continued to squeeze him.

We lay there like that for a while, until my knee got sore against his hip, and his hip got sore from my knee. He slowly, carefully withdrew his semi-hard cock. And then he turned over and lay face up, his arm around me, his hand cupping my bare ass cheek through my baby-doll. I rested my head on his bare chest, my palm cupping his balls, my fingertips resting against his still-hard shaft.

I asked him if he thought the neighbors in the next motel room had heard us.

“What if they did? They are strangers, they will never see us in person, and they will probably never cross our paths again.”

Frank had a good point, and I relaxed, and soon I feel asleep, all safely tucked away in his strong, loving arms.

After we packed, as we were leaving our motel room, the neighbor opened his door and saw us as he was lugging his suitcase out of his room to his car. He smiled at us both, knowingly, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. We all knew the secret we had shared.

I was glad the stranger from the next room hadn’t spoken. That let me be proud and happy that Frank and I had shared such loving intimacy, and I could (and did) glow with our love all that day. But if the man had said anything, I would have been scared what he might do, and very embarrassed, and I would probably have been crabby all day. I would very likely have been evil toward my husband all day, for putting me in that predicament. And after the loving treatment he had just given me, he clearly did not deserve such evilness from me.

When the stranger smiled at us, Frank very gently, sweetly, and lovingly put his arm around my waist, his hand on my hip, as if to protect me from the smiling stranger. When the man had walked away and could no longer see us, I returned the gesture, putting my hand on my Frank’s butt as we walked to our car, with our arms wrapped so lovingly around each other. I felt safe and secure and loving, and so very loved in return. My pussy was still all warm and wet and happy and contented with the mixture of his juices and my own.

When Frank and I were dating 4 years ago, we walked around Chinatown, window-shopping. We held hands and made eyes at each other the whole day, and stopped about every half-block to kiss, sometimes softly and sweetly, and sometimes with just a bit of playful tongue. The young and old, male and female, all smiled at our obvious love as they passed us. Looking back on it now, four years later, they were probably like the man who overheard us from the next room last weekend: they could TELL that we were screwing like little bunny-rabbits every chance we got, which of course we were (and luckily for me, we still are).

If I had sensed THEN, what they were thinking, I would probably have been deeply embarrassed and felt awkward. But after 4 years now of a spiritual bond with my soul-mate, 4 years of living life together, cooking meals together, cleaning house and washing clothes together, raising our adopted 12-year-old son together, paying bills together, all coupled with the most incredible sex imaginable on nearly a daily basis (and sometimes more than once a day), I think I would have smiled back, maybe winked saucily, proud that all the Chinatown residents could tell that I am a mostly-uninhibited sexual creature. Proud that they could RECOGNIZE the hidden sexuality that my first husband had so deeply buried with 17 years of his disinterest, and that my Frank coaxed back to the surface the very first time we made love, on our 4th date.

I had left Chinatown that day four years ago, and the motel last weekend, happily in love and in lust with my Frank. If anything, the past four years of commitment to each other have DEEPENED that love and that lust, compared to four years ago.

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