The Art of Erotica

Keeping Things Interesting

My friends often ask me how I ever endure being in a long-distance relationship.

What I tell my friends and acquaintances is that he’s an extraordinary man who I connect with like no other person in my life. He’s the most dearest and most honest of friends. The time we spend together is well worth the wait.
What I’ll tell you is that we keep things interesting.

Jack cleared a couple of days to come into town for a visit. Normally, I would have planned some special things to do, but this time he said, “Don’t plan a thing. I have it covered. Just pick me up at the airport.”

He came in on one of the first flights of the morning just as the sky was turning light. I pulled up to a spot in front of the door he would be coming out of, and leaned against the side of the car dressed in a royal blue trench coat that barely covered the top hem of my stockings and the clips of a black garter belt. That and a black lace push-up bra with a nude lining and a pair of Christian Loubotin knock-off pumps were all I wore. I had a dress in the back just in case he wanted to make a stop for breakfast on the way.

He had the cheekiest smile on his face as he walked toward me. His kiss was unlockingly welcoming and he discreetly reached under my coat to grope my bare ass without anyone noticing. He held me against him to let me know the next thing he wanted to do was had nothing to do with standing in an airport arrival curb in front of a growing number travelers and taxicabs.

We got into the car and he said, “I need to get to the Townsend. I have a meeting.”

“A meeting? Really?” I was a bit disappointed, but I knew work was sometimes involved with his trips to town.

“Yes, with a sassy and sexy woman,” he said. “Product testing … six hundred-count Egyptian cotton sheets, in-room stereo system, and supposedly the best brunch in town, served privately for two. I want to see if this place lives up to its reputation.”

Damn, it wasn’t necessary. I spent the last two nights cleaning my place. But how could I pass up time with him in the most elite hotel in the swankiest part of town? Besides, there was nothing quite like hotel sex, and in our experience, the nicer the hotel, the better it was.

As soon as the bellhop left us in the room, he quickly got to the business of untying the sash of my coat and unfastening each button in slow motion. He let the coat slip off my shoulders, down my arms, and onto the floor as he pulled my body firmly against him. His hands softly swept down my back from my shoulder blades to the bottom curves of the cheeks of my ass, softly cupping them as I unbuttoned and pulled off his shirt and made his trousers and boxers disappear. My touches mimicked his — hands barely gliding over the skin and the contours of our bodies, finding those unsuspecting spots that got his dick hard without ever touching it. They were the same touches that made me unaware that I had already parted my legs as he slid his fingers over my wet and wanting pussy lips before slipping them in … first one, then two, and then tree, swirling them within my tightly confined walls until he couldn’t reach the tips of his fingers any deeper inside of me. It was my orgasm – the kind that rattled my body and set off flashes of lights and colors in my head — only for me.

The other four times I came, it was all about us together. I saturated his cock with my juices as he slid it in and out of me, building up speed and intensity every time I came. I wanted to feel the tightening of his body release as he came inside of me, but he held off until after the moment I let out a cry that seemed to go on for minutes. Not one or two, but maybe five. I had no idea. It was unending ecstasy even I was surprised I could sustain as he pummeled me from above as he savored the buildup I could tell was wracking every muscle inside of him.

After he was finally spent and after his long, luxurious strokes inside of me, a grin broke out onto his face. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Good morning, my love. I’ve been thinking of starting the morning with you like this ever since I got on the plane.”

I wrapped my arms and legs around him and was surprised he hadn’t gone soft inside of me. In time, we were at it again, only more actively and acrobatically. He took me to the edge of the bed, held my legs up at twelve and three, coming into me standing at an angle that made me gush not once, but twice, soaking the edge of the mattress for as far as I could feel. Our cries comingled in a sweet, raw harmony that didn’t want to have an ending. But when it did end, he was full of smiles and playful kisses with only a sheet on top of us to retain our warmth we generated.

Over breakfast in bed just before lunch time, I remembered that I really didn’t have anything to wear the rest of the day except for my dress, which would have been a bit formal for just about anything he may have had in mind for the rest of the day.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I have that covered.”

We headed out toward some chi-chi boutiques that were within walking distance from the hotel. He hadn’t let me in on the rest of the plans for the day, so I asked what I should be looking for.

“How about something you could wear for oysters and champagne in the lobby bar before heading downtown to see Madeleine Peyroux in concert this evening?” he said.

“You’re kidding!”

I wasn’t just excited; I screamed and jumped up and down like some game show contestant in the middle of a boutique.

“You told me you wanted to see her a month or two ago, and I got the tickets,” he said as he picked up a sleeveless royal blue trapeze dress and told me to try it on.

I motioned him to come inside the fitting room as soon as I had dress on …

Read the rest of the story in A Good Woman’s Dirty Mind available in several eBook formats at Barnes & Noble and Smashwords.