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I was lying in a hotel bed with my arms spread to either side, pinned by my two sleeping children. Preschool age, both of them, and they’d just fallen asleep, which meant I needed to lie still for another fifteen minutes before I tried to extricate myself — otherwise our four-year-old, who swears she’s too old for naps, would wake up.
She needed the rest — we’d traveled to a conference for my spouse, all of us, since we were heading off to visit my parents afterward, and kids struggle with anything that disrupts their routine. This conference was being held in a part of the city that isn’t very walkable for small children. The only exercise our kids were getting was in the hotel pool. And careening through the halls. Not ideal. And we definitely weren’t acclimated to the time zone — their normal wake-up was before five, local time.
They needed a nap.
Which meant I was stuck there, trying to meditate. Not what I would have chosen. I’d rather have had the chance to get out of bed, sit at the little desk, and type. Catch up on some of the work I was letting slide to take care of our kids. Or, if I had to lie in bed to keep the kids asleep, it would have been nice to read a book. But the book I’d brought was out of reach, and I had no interest in re-reading the naptime classic A Kiss for Little Bear on my own. So my options were either to lie there and ruminate, or else close my eyes and pretend that I’d planned to use the time for a bit of self-care.
Breathe in, breathe out, and just wait until the kids fell into a sufficiently deep sleep that I could get up.
But then my spouse softly knocked and let herself in the room. She walked over, peaked around the corner, and whispered, “Are the kids asleep?”
“Good. I needed to grab a few things for the next session. And is it okay that my friend Maggie came? She really wanted to meet you.”
I nodded again, but said, sotto voce, “We’ll have to whisper. The kids aren’t super well asleep yet.”
My spouse shrugged, then waved Maggie inside. She was cute, with waves of black hair that tumbled past her shoulders, framing her rose-touched face. And she was wearing DNA-strand earrings. Other than that, Maggie was dressed in conventional conference attire, dark slacks and a white blouse. Not especially revealing, although the blouse was tight enough to hint at what she might have to reveal.
And she smiled at me — bright eyes crinkling, cheeks dimpling. Her front teeth were ever so slightly separated at their bottoms, a tiny deviation from perfection that made her smile seem that much warmer. Genuine and inviting.
“You can talk a little,” my spouse told her, “while I get my stuff. But you’ll have to whisper, so you’ll want to get close. Maybe climb onto the bed?”
Maggie gave my spouse a look, to which my spouse nodded, and then Maggie shrugged. She climbed onto the bed … and settled her weight over me, straddling my legs. In a way that belied the nonchalance of her words.
“Hi,” she said, “I’m Maggie. I’d offer to shake hands, but looks like you can’t. Anyway, your wife has been telling me about you.”
“My pleasure,” I whispered back, and blushed. I realized that I was getting an erection. I was wearing jeans, but she still might be able to tell, since she was perched so close and I couldn’t shift my weight to compensate.
I tried to banter. “Shaking hands is always nice. Greeting someone with most of your brain. Have you seen those models of the sensory homunculus? What our bodies might look like if parts matched how much space they take up in our brains?”
“Oh, the tiny aliens,” Maggie whispered back, smiling again. She smiled with her whole face, thin lines whiskering alongside her eyes. Each of her smiles brought another burst of ardor blooming through me.
“I have seen those,” she said. “Our brains are all tongue and hand, the way an elephant is all trunk.”
“Oh, right, a prehensile nose! So agile they can lift food, or even paint. I have no idea how they do it.”
“Like this,” she whispered gleefully, and twitched her nose like a chipmunk.
I swallowed a laugh. I didn’t want to wake the kids. Still, it was quite impressive. And what a treat. Maggie’s warmth was spreading over my legs, and her smile made me feel less tired. I gave up trying to hide the attraction evinced by the contours of my jeans.
“See,” whispered my grinning spouse, “I thought you two would like each other.”
Maggie turned her head toward my spouse — from the curve of her cheeks, Maggie seemed to be smiling at her, too. With, I assumed, the same sunshine expression she’d graced me with.
But then it was time for them to leave. Maggie extricated herself, trying not to jostle the children awake. My spouse gave my foot a squeeze.
A little wave, and they were out the door.
I felt all riled up. At that point, attempting to meditate didn’t even help. I listened to my children breathing, snoring softly in their sleep.
The Ankara escort kids and I made it through the day. They ate many snacks. I read books aloud. We played a memory game in which I somehow kept turning over cards that didn’t have the same picture. The kids were gleeful at how many more pairs they found than I did. And we set out from the hotel a few times for extremely small, manageable adventures.
We ate a bland dinner. I took them swimming, again. Gave them a bath. Finally it was time for bed.
After the kids fell asleep, I lay in bed reading. My spouse was at a drinks and schmoozing event for her conference, and she’d said it might last a while. But that seemed fine — I like reading.
It was late when she came quietly into the room. I set my book aside, stood up, and hugged her.
“Are the kids asleep?” she asked. It seems we ask this pretty often.
I nodded yes, and she kissed me on the lips.
“Are you awake enough to stay up a little longer?” she asked, starting to unbutton her shirt.
“I could be coerced into a few more minutes’ wakefulness,” I said, and went over to push our bed toward the windows. Then I piled some blankets at the near edge, to create a sight-blocking mountain of fluff between us and the sleeping children. My spouse and I stripped out of our clothes. Hotel rooms breed haste, especially when the goal is to get your loved one off before the kids stir.
We spooned, inches from the glass. I know — totally marks us as small-town tourists, eager to cavort next to our twenty-fourth floor view. Our room was fairly dim, with only the bathroom bulb left on, but there was an exhibitionist thrill, rubbing against each other while watching the world below. Pedestrians were traversing the sidewalks even at that time of night, and we could see people moving in the lit apartments across from us: tidying up after dinner, watching TV, laughing over drinks. No make outs that we noticed, but the long-term denizens of a downtown apartment are probably less eager to flaunt themselves than visitors.
We could imagine, though. The idea of watching them, and being watched. With my free hand, I gingerly circled my spouse’s nipples: they were pertly attentive. She reached back to slick my cock with saliva and guide it to her. She was quite wet already — after the second little push, I was in.
“Mmm,” she said, “I like that.” And also — we’re the sort who chat during sex, especially because sometimes, what with the kids, there’d be no other time to chat — she said, “Maggie enjoyed meeting you today.”
“I liked her too,” I said, punctuated by a breath halfway between a grunt and a laugh.
“Yeah, she could tell.”
“Hmmph,” I said.
“You don’t have to ‘hmmph,’ I like that you get hard.”
“Suppose that’s true.”
“But …” my spouse said, “… don’t you want to ask about when she told me?”
“Is there a good story?”
“I think you’ll … mmm … right now, especially, I think you’ll really like to hear it.”
“You’d rather tell a story than people-watch?”
We had a slow rhythm going: the top of my thighs pressing the backs of hers, her bum snug against my pelvis, her swollen lips encircling my cock as I slid in and out, in and out.
“Mmm, I think I can do both,” she said. “Look, they’re turning in for the night.” She pointed, and for a moment I saw two people kissing before they turned off their living room light.
“So, Maggie?” I asked.
“Well, she was … I guess I didn’t mention, she just got divorced. They were only married, hmm, a year, two years. She didn’t say why. I mean, no matter what they thought by the end, the real problem is usually ‘not enough talking.’ Anyway. She was … she’s been feeling kind of, um, pent up in her life. And we left the poster session together. Planned to go to the sauna, but I didn’t want to come get my swimsuit in case the kids were still falling asleep.”
“They actually went down easily today,” I said. “Tired out from swimming. They’re making it farther before I have to catch them.”
“Oh, good. Well, didn’t want to chance it. So we went to the sixth floor, back through the gym, and stripped to our skivvies. The saunas are in the back of the locker rooms, but the women’s was out of order.”
“I think I can see where this is going.”
My spouse let out a little laugh. I stroked her cheek, then her chin, then her lips. She gently bit the edge of my thumb.
“So we went through to the men’s room. We went through on the pool side. Since the sauna is right at the back of the locker room, we barely walked through. I don’t think anybody noticed us. And it was fine, at first. We sat in there are talked. Even when we started to sweat, we kept on our bottoms.”
“Fancy ones today?” Shamefully, I hadn’t even noticed what she’d been wearing. In my defense, we both shucked our clothes pretty quickly.
“Yes, actually! The new ones, the feather print. Maggie was dutifully impressed.”
“Money well spent,” I said. Ankara escort bayan “But then?”
“Well, some guys barged in. I think they were a lot more embarrassed than we were. Despite it being their locker room and all. They offered to leave. We said they should stay. And, well, we’d been talking … I guess Maggie was feeling really frisky. Anyway, we all sat in there for a bit, the guys trying not to stare at our chests, and also fidgeting some, probably trying to keep us from noticing if they had erections …”
“Just towels?” I asked.
“For them? Yup. But, anyway, Maggie offered to give one handjob. She just blurted it out.”
“One?” I asked. “For the group?”
“They were similarly confused. But, yes, she only offered one. And they kind of looked at each other for a moment, and one guy said something about drawing straws, and they were probably about to run with that and start comparing cocks when Maggie had them play odds and evens.”
“I’d pick even.”
“That’s what the winner picked, today. The guys all looked a little bro-y, but they were cute. Friendly and fit. And Maggie had her winner sit next to her while the other two guys watched. I think she did well, actually, making it look sexy. She was making eye contact by turns with everyone, and from how fast her lucky winner turned bright red, his face and his whole neck, I think she was doing a good job with her hand. She held it out to me, her hand, about halfway through, and I kissed and licked her palm, getting it slippery again for her.”
“And those other two guys …?”
“They just sat and watched! Total bug eyes. I think they should’ve masturbated — I think they wanted to masturbate — but Maggie had said ‘one handjob’ and maybe they felt too shy to ask.”
“It’s an unexpected situation to find oneself in.”
“No doubt. Too few of us make contingency plans for casual trysts in the hotel sauna.”
“I’ll have to keep my wits about me, should my stars ever similarly align. Mmm, they’re strolling hand in hand,” I said, gesturing to the street.
My spouse touched a hand to the glass, but then pulled it back. “Cold,” she said. “Some other time, you could press me up against it.”
Our room was dim, but not so dim that a roving eye would miss our bare bodies on display, her breasts flush to the pane, our hands clasped as we fucked against the glass. A circle of fog from our breath. Her bush tickled by the city lights, all those cars winking below us as they crossed the bridge.
“Something different I could be doing, like this?” I asked.
“Did we pack … could you get my vibrator?”
“We did, I can,” I said, pulling out, retrieving the toy, and sliding back into place behind her. She waited until I was in again before touching the buzzing tip to her clit.
We worked up our rhythm again. She was breathing more loudly, now. With the vibrator, she’d be coming soon.
“And, the lucky winner of your story?” I asked.
“He, ahh, we all, mmph, at least I was wondering if she’d use her mouth. She didn’t.”
“More’s the pity,” I said. Maggie had a cute face and lovely lips. Plush. Pillowy, almost.
“But she did put a, ahhh, a hand down her own … she kept them on, but she … ahh … he was sitting on his towel, and the other two, ahh, wrapped up in theirs, and we were … all watching Maggie, with a hand … pumping him, and the other in her … that’s when he came.”
“Ahhhh … she … ahh … nothing fancy. Borrowed his towel. Gave him … ah … quick kiss on the cheek. We grabbed our bras, waved, and walked right out.”
“Through the pool?”
“It was … ahhh … empty when we went in. First time. But not … ahhh … not then. We … ahhh … scampered. Maggie smelled like cum.”
“And that’s …?”
“Ahhh wait wait wait …”
My spouse came. I stopped moving when she pressed a hand back against my hips. She fussed with the vibrator, pressing, pressing, finally getting it to stop. Her body was quivering a while. Maybe half a minute before she was ready to talk.
“Okay, now your turn.”
“Like this would be great,” she said.
“Do you want your vibrator again?” I asked.
“Hooo no, I had enough for now. Woo. That was good. That was … the story, pool people staring when we darted between the locker rooms, getting dressed … that’s when she mentioned liking you.”
“Mmmm,” I said, nuzzling the back of her neck.
“And I said I thought you probably liked her too.”
“She’s cute,” I said, “and clever. I definitely do.”
“Well, I told her that I’d see what we could do.”
That was when I came.
The next morning, with the kids, was much the same as the day before. We had our low key adventures, exploring the hotel. Display cases! Escalators! Taking turns pressing the buttons inside the elevator! Then lunch and nap and up again.
We were just about ready to head out for another stroll of Escort Ankara the premises when we heard a knock on the door.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” my spouse said as she walked in. “I have some time before my next session, so I’m taking the kids on a little outing, about an hour.”
Our eldest shouted “Yay, mama time!” and they both ran to her and clutched her legs as she patted them.
“You should set a timer for fifty minutes,” she told me, “then get ready to have the kids again. And, also, you have a guest.”
Maggie stepped into the room behind her, and my spouse gave her a quick smile before ushering our kids out of the hotel room. “Have fun!” she called back. Then the door closed and the lock engaged with a click.
“So … fifty minutes?” Maggie asked, sloughing her backpack off her shoulder onto the floor beside my spouse’s. That’s another nerd emblem — you’re inside all day, staying at a schmancy conference hotel, but instead of a purse you’re carrying a backpack. Lets you haul more stuff!
I nodded, grinning so hard it almost hurt. “That’s what she said.”
“Then something’s gonna have to give,” Maggie said. “Either the ‘get to know you’ chit-chat, or the foreplay, or the sex.”
“Mmm,” I agreed. “I wonder if there’s some kind of shorthand, a way we can signal that if we’d had a chance for conversation, we would’ve found out that we liked each other. Just so we don’t fool around now and then find out later that we’ve fucked our mortal enemies.”
“Oooh, and that’d be doubly bad if you were good in bed,” Maggie said, stepping up to me, “since I’d regret the sex we had and the sex we weren’t going to have again in the future.”
“Too true,” I said, helping get her sweater over her head. “Wouldn’t want to be an archvillain with irresistible– ” My words were cut off when she pressed her lips into mine.
She was a good kisser.
“Like Star Wars?” she asked after we broke off. She was unbuttoning my shirt. Very nimble — for each button that I undid, she managed two. My skin broke out in goosebumps when she traced her fingertips over my ribs.
“What’s like Star Wars?”
“No,” she said, “I mean, do you like Star Wars?”
“Oh,” I said, unclasping her bra. “That depends. I still haven’t seen the new one.”
She undid my pants. “Oh, you should, it was actually really good.”
“I heard!” I said, stepping out of my jeans. She traced her palms over the swollen front of my boxer briefs. “Finally a female Jedi. Cool, except for the debacle where they left her out of the toys. But it would’ve introduced weird, um … ” I stepped out of my boxers after Maggie pulled them down, “… discontinuity problems. Because I live in a world where there are only two and a half Star Wars films. Where Leia needed help from weird-looking aliens in Revenge of the Jedi, and that film ended with Luke donning the mask and saying ‘Now I am Vader.’ ”
“Mmm. The first time I saw somebody’s erection, I thought it looked like a weird alien.” Maggie opened her mouth and gently took my testicles between her lips. Her breath felt so warm and nice. The sight of her kneeling with the base of my cock in her mouth was wonderful. This angle made her rounded cheeks look so angelic. A caravan of freckles led there from her nose. And her brown eyes on me were a joy.
Over her shoulder, I admired the cello swell of her bottom beneath the svelte curve of her bare back. Her underwear peaked from the top of her pants. I reached down to stroke her shoulder.
She rose, giving me another lick on her way up, and we kissed again. Her hands roamed my back; mine were cupped around her bum.
“Well,” Maggie said, “I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave that world for the travesty of Jar Jar Binks. But the new film really was good.”
“I guess I’ll have to see it sometime.” I helped her out of her pants. Then her underwear. “Maybe I could pretend it’s set in one of Hugh Everett’s alternate universes, a world without the ewoks. And hey, could you, if you lay down, I could … ”
She settled down upon the bed and spread her legs. I lowered myself between them.
“I always liked the phrase ‘eating out’,” Maggie said. “I think it sounds sexier than ‘sucking cock’. Like, you’re making clear that, oh, just a little higher, please.”
I shifted where I was circling my tongue. Her folds were slippery and sour. I ran my hand along her belly, then said, “Our kids both went through a phase where they said ‘wanna eat you up,’ to express love.”
“Yeah, love something and want it inside you. Like animal crackers. Or sex.”
I lifted my head again, licked my fingers and slid them into her. “I read once that in a feminist world we might say ‘envelopment’ instead of ‘penetration’.” Then I dipped my mouth back to her slippery scent and swollen clit. She squirmed encouragingly, pressing her thighs close alongside my head.
“You’ve got strong legs,” I said the next time I came up for air.
“Yeah, still do. I did speed skating, growing up. Like, my parents drove me to competitions and things. I dunno if they thought it’d get me a sports scholarship or something, but that didn’t pan out. I’m not sure if any colleges actually have speed skating teams.”
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