The hotel fantasy. It’s a fucking cliche, right? And they all come down to the same thing. Person A and person B go to a hotel and have sex. Easy to imagine, easy to get off to.
I have to admit something. I’ve been getting off on it too. The same sodding fantasy. It’s stuck on repeat in my head.
I can’t help it. Can’t help fantasizing about it, can’t help frigging myself into a stupor thinking about it. And I can’t help imagining that it’s Io fucking me. God, Io, what the hell are you doing to me?
5 am this morning.
I needed release, needed to come so bad, because dear God, did I have sex on the brain. And dear God… did I have Io and this fucking fantasy on the brain.
I grabbed my pink vibrator and turned it on, still conscious of the fact that it makes more noise than a lawnmower when turned on high. I let it rest on my labia, and soon found myself bucking up against it.
In my clouded head, I lay naked on the hotel room bed, as he dived between my legs and greedily lapped up every inch of my cunt. I imagined him to eat pussy like a man possessed. The thought of it made me press the vibrator against my clit, almost fucking it.
It wasn’t long before I slipped it into my greedy hole. I wanted to be filled by my vibrator. By him. Him and his quite possibly perfect cock.
From there on, it’s a blur. A blur and a mess of fucking and frigging and fantasizing about being taken on his hotel bed. In the end, I was too damn greedy and fucked raw.
My orgasm wasn’t the relief I wanted. Nor was my second orgasm.
It was so good, but, frustratingly enough, it was just not good enough. Goldilocks and the three orgasms. Except the third was missing.
I lay on my bed, unfulfilled. Unfulfiddled.
I don’t know what that says about this fantasy. Maybe it’s just not as potent. Or maybe this game needs to be played by two people. Maybe I do need his words…