Mother's Day

It is Mother’s Day, and I am going to get fucked. Good I hope. Chicago is coming into to town for one night only, exclusively to fuck me. I famously have no children, so I am free. His mother’s birthday is the Friday before, and they are going to spend the entire day together. “So on mother’s day, you’re gonna be my momma,” he texted to me. I inhaled audibly upon reading this, thrilled and frightened. 

    We have been texting since we met three weeks ago. Then we started with the sexy pics (he sent me his dick, I sent him my ass), and graduated to jacking ourselves off for each other over FaceTime. Both of these thing were brand new to me, and I really enjoyed them. There was something fun and free about not having to feel someone else’s energy, yet have a mutually satisfying sexual experience. No physical or emotional clean up, if you will.

    He has made clear what he wants and expects on this night. We are going to meet up in a fancy hotel, have a nice dinner, smoke up a few blunts and then go to town on each other. I am in 100%, but I prefer to see how I feel in situations as to how far into town I want to go, and I don’t want to agree to anything beyond fucking until I am in the moment. It has to feel right in every way. And anal is not an option, at all. Ever. I have made this very clear.

    As with any new lover, it is unsure if we will see eye to eye on boundaries and consent. My biggest apprehension about all this, would be that this relative stranger could just shove his dick in my ass if he wanted to and there would really be little I could do about it. But that could be the case with any untried partner. Each experience carries it’s own risk.

     I have volunteered to pay for half the hotel room (which got a mixed reactions from my female friends, some saying right on and others not liking the idea) and he asked me to buy him some weed. Well a lot of weed. He gave me 4 specific name brands he wants 3.5 grams of each. Are you gonna sell it? I asked, cause that’s a lot of weed. No he’ll smoke it all, he says. In one night? I bought 2, and thought there would be no way he could smoke double that. It seemed highly improbable that he would really require that much marijuana in one night. I figured I would just give him the 2 and the rest of the money in cash. 

    At 8:30 he texts me that he booked a room at the Beverly Hills Marriott and he is going to be later than he thought. Like eleven. That pretty much rules out dinner, but we could still have a drink at the bar. No problem. I make a pasta and shower and am ready to go by 11:15. 

    At midnight, I am fading like a flower and he finally texts me. Flight was delayed. Phone out of juice. Blah Blah. Come to the hotel. Despite being a little pissed, I drive to the hotel, not 10 minutes away from where I live. I pick him up in the circle drive so he can go with me to find a place to park. The valet is $46 a night, and that is bullshit. 

    As he approaches the car, I get out to greet him. He looks just as handsome as I remember him looking the day we met on the beach, perfectly groomed and skin glowing. He is dressed down in sweats, but wearing really nice sneakers in bright yellow. We smile and hug. Happy to be reunited. We easily find somewhere to park the car, but we need to feed the meter at 8am (both make mental note). 

    He has a blunt rolled, and before we go up to the room, we sit at the pool and smoke it. It is about 12:30am, and no one is around. We turn on the hot tub, and I stick my feet in it as we talk and pass the blunt back and forth. We immediately pick up the banter we had during our afternoon of wonder. We talk about that day. How special it was. How neither one of us have experienced anything quite like it before. He says he has been thinking about me and this night since then. We kiss, lightly.  

    “I got tested for everything a month ago and came up clean,” I tell him, prompting him to reveal his status. 

    “Yeah, I get tested regularly. I always use condoms too, cause I’ve seen everything working in the ER, and it’s gross.” 

    We both laugh. This kind of reveal brings an ease to our interplay. And an ease to my mind about all the going to town that is about to happen. But there is more to discuss.

    “What do you think about consent? What does it mean to you?” I ask.

    “Like you tell me when I can touch you,” he says, unsure.

    “It can mean that, but also if we are in the moment and I decide I don’t want to to do something anymore, I want to know you will respect my wishes. That we will stop and do something else. In turn, I will do that for you when you want to stop.”  He looks at the ground for a moment. 

    “Yes. I get it. Ok.” We smile at each other to seal the agreement, and then kiss over the steam of the hot tub bubbling away. We become impassioned and he goes for my breast with his mouth as it easily slips out of the top I am wearing. 

    “Hey,” I say, “last time we had to be outside. This time we don’t.” 

    “You’re right,” he concedes, smiling. We get our things together and head to the elevator. He hits the top floor, and waits for me to be impressed. I kind of am; I admit. 

    We start to make out a little. He is much taller than I am and has to lean down to kiss me. When he stands erect, my head rests just below his heart. But his hands reach down to my ass just fine, and he begins shaking it and slapping it just a little. I light up at this, and let out a little whine. The elevator stops and the doors open to the 12th floor. We dis-embrace, for the moment.

    In the hallway everything is gold and black and neutral colors. Sleek and elegantly designed. And impeccably clean. When we enter the room, there is a thick quilted blanket blocking the door. He moves it out of the way and I duck under. He has it tented around the bathroom door and sealing the cracks of the door to the hallway to create a hotbox of sorts with the bathroom, so he can smoke blunts in there and not get charged the $250 smoking fee. I hope it works.

    Once you get through the blanket fort, the room is the same lines of ebony and gold as the hallway. Black lamps and an ultra white bedspread pulled to hotel perfection. There is a silver couch and sitting area in front of a window that shows the sprawl of the west side. Twinkling red and white lights over the midnight landscape.  

    I have brought a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. I twist it open, pour myself a glass, and ask if he would like one. He says he doesn’t really drink, so maybe just a half glass. I stand in awe for a moment. My last boyfriend was a notorious drunk. Alcohol got in between our relationship as well as into the cracks of his own life. A man who doesn’t drink is like buried treasure, often told of and searched for, but difficult, if not impossible, to find. Also men who don’t drink get harder dicks. I know he is my age, so this is an is important note. I get hopeful.

    We toast, and I drink half of my hotel cup in one gulp. The moment has come. I’ve got to fuck this guy or get the fuck out. We kiss and I quickly get taken away in that same Odyssey as on the beach. I decide in that moment that I want to do it. And, after a full inspection, if his dick looks pretty enough, I’ll put it in my mouth, and give him the pleasure he has specifically told me he wants.

    My top comes off through a joint effort, and his large mouth is sucking in the entirety of my small breast. I love this. He switches to the other one. I’m already making noises.

     I am always a vocal partner. I have had lovers actually shush me during sex to save their neighbors’ virgin ears (or maybe they were tired of hearing me). But part of the fun of staying in a hotel is being as loud as you want, and leaving in the morning. I’m hoping he’s loud like me, and says all sorts of shit while we fuck. 

    He slaps my ass once, hard. I grunt in response. He knows I like it, but makes me wait for the next one. So I grind against him to get what I want. Somehow despite our height difference I am able to push my crotch against his, and we dry hump until it burns. He finally gives me another healthy slap on the rump, and I turn to the side and bend over gently, offering him my ass. He cannot resist this move, and the slaps come down. One. Two. He is strong. 6’4” with thick arms. Whoosh number three. It is almost more than I can handle, but I want him to keep going. At least for a couple more. 

    Then he pulls down my pants halfway, like he did in my car the last time we met. He wants to see if my skin got red. It did. This turns him on to no end, but it cracks me up because I have always hated when my skin is blotchy and red. I wiggle out of my pants to give him the full view. He asks me to stand up, and I show off my best side to him as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

    “Bend over,” he tells me.

    I do. I feel his hands come around the curvy side of my buttocks, and his thumb slips into my crack. Then he gently rubs the panties that are hiding my vulva, and I sway back and forth. He grabs the fullness of my cheeks firmly, digging his fingers into my flesh. Damn, he is strong. I hope I don’t bruise.

    Then he puts his hands around my waist and pulls me toward him so I am sitting on his lap. He puts his head on my shoulder, wraps his arms around me, and just holds me like that for a moment. I feel that energy we have again. Two suns colliding in the void. Our hug becomes another humping session, and soon I am bouncing on his lap, feeling his hard on through his pants and my underwear. 

    I get off his lap, and pull him up to stand. My hand goes for the bulge in his sweatpants, as he pulls my thong over my ass and down. He gets on his knees to pull it off my ankles, and picks up my right foot. He seats me on the bed so he can caress his thumbs along the arch. I react vocally. I see him appreciate this. The whole time he is keeping eye contact while he is rubbing down my feet. He goes for each toe as I respond in ecstasy. Then he has a quiet look of inspiration, and his eyes get sort of half lidded. He slowly deliberately leads my big toe to his mouth, and without breaking eye contact with me, puts it in and licks it like it is candy. I squeal in, delight? ticklish agony? orgasmic spasm? I can not tell which is the greater sensation. When he finally does break eye contact with me it is because his eyes are rolling back in his head, as are mine. When I come to, I find him in bliss, licking and biting my feet. He is on another planet. 

    I want to see his dick now. I remember thinking to myself that day in the car, that if he wasn’t 6’4” and a black guy, his dick would be pretty big. Not crazy or anything, just sort of like white guy big. Which is great, but not exactly what I expected. He sent me a pic of it and it looked huge, so maybe just the circumstances prevented him from getting a full erection, or maybe the angle made it look big in the picture. Either way, I want to know which dick I am going to see tonight. Also, I need to determine the oral sex factor before we go any further. 

    I take my toes out of his mouth, and stand him up to lower his pants. He has on very stylish underwear, but I want those off too. Now we are both fully naked in front of each other for the first time. He is lean and strong, and his skin shines like oiled teak. His dick is semi erect. I reach for it and give it a squeeze. It reacts by becoming thicker, more firm in my hand. I take a long look at it while his eyes are closed. Clean. Smooth. Even skin. No visible sores. I switch grips with my hand, so I can lift up the dick and look at the rest while he is confused with the change. The sac looks good too. Nothing protruding or bulging, no bumps. Very little hair even, so it is clear what I am dealing with. 

    I lick my hand and go back to the head of his penis. He bends his knees a little deeper with this, and lets out a baritone sigh. He reaches for my pussy, and immediately begins to look for the opening. And we stand there for a few moments, jacking each other off. Then he disengages, and lays me down on the bed. He bends his mouth down to reach the place he was just touching. I squirm under his tongue. He is not incredibly skilled at oral sex, but he is not terrible either. I doubt I will have a clitoral orgasm, but this is fun none the less. 

    He is really going at it and I feel I want to reciprocate. I lift his head from my chasm and squirm around until I am laying so my head is at the edge of the bed and my pussy is pointed toward the middle. I arch my back and give him a show of my little body contorted, then I flip over and greet his dick with my mouth. I roll my tongue around the head several times, and let my spit build up. Then I take the head in my mouth, keeping the swirling going with the tongue. He is too happy. He reaches his fingers to the crack in my ass and walks them down to my pussy, which is dripping wet. The sensation of being doubly penetrated is exhilarating me (I can’t help but greedily think of my local lover and how I would love it if he were behind me right now). And as my throat opens, his dick gets harder. Then it is the dick from the picture, almost 8 inches, with a large bulbed head. Nice. 

    He puts on a condom while I get on all fours at the edge of the bed. I know he wants it that way because he texted me he can’t wait to hit it from the back about three times. This is probably my favorite sexual position, so I decide to gift him with first entrance from behind. He blindly stabs at my opening with his engorged sword, but he can’t find it to save his life, and he is beginning to hurt me. He doesn’t know that I am tight. I thought about warning him, but didn’t do it. It is something I have been told multiple times by surprised partners. I take his dick in my hands and guide it to that place hidden where he will be able to penetrate me. 

    We guide each other down the glittering road of sexual exploration. Each taking turns as the leader, until the other needs to change course. Then handing over control to the other and back and forth it goes. Our bodies become fluid and respond to the energetic waves we are generating. 

    Ten minutes into our journey, and I am on top riding myself to my first complete orgasm of the session, when he comes without communicating to me that he did. I have no idea and keep riding away. He whispers to me that he just came. I grind to a halt, disappointed. My orgasm is incomplete. 

    I climb off of him and immediately go for the Sauvignon Blanc. He begins to roll another giant spliff with the weed I bought for him, naked with his condom still on. 

    “We’ll get more in the morning,” he assures me. I keep my response to myself and make my way through the blanket fort to the bathroom to splash water on my nether regions. 

    After, I put on the hotel robe, and let him have a turn at some privacy in the bathroom. Then he calls me in to join him. He is in his underwear, and the shower is on as hot as it will go.  The room is filling with steam, and he seals up the front door and then the door to the bathroom with the blanket. After the room is completely misty, he lights up the blunt he has so carefully rolled. We smoke and continue chatting away, but this time, our hands are all over each other and conversation melts into his fingers in both of my lower orifices, as I take a fat hit off the blunt. Then I hold it to his lips as he inhales, never letting up on the work he is doing on me. I am close to coming and I want to so badly. I’m standing, but bent over the sink. He is standing at my head and bent over my back with his one hand reaching between my thighs and the other down the crack of my ass. I put the blunt down in a safe place and grab for his dick. I fish it out of his underwear, and help him wriggle them down, so he doesn’t have to use his occupied hands. Then I grab it until it is full of blood again. 

    We carry on like this for a few minutes, when I am inspired. 

    “I like your finger in my ass,” I begin, “Can I do it to you too?”

    He responds an adamant No Way. Ok, I say, no big deal. 

    “I’m not even close to gay,” he says, removing his fingers from me. He picks up the blunt and begins to smoke again. 

    “What does a woman think of a man who wants that done?” He asks me in all seriousness.   “I would think it was hot,” I say, “Everybody likes different stuff. No judgment for any of it.”

    He is not convinced and assures me it means a guy is gay. Am I gay, though, because I let him put his finger up my ass. No of course not. It’s different for women…

    We continue to sit in the make shift sauna and smoke. I look in the mirror. I am naked, but for my open hotel robe and signature garnet necklace. He is completely naked and beautiful, sitting on the toilet smoking a blunt. The room is filled with steam and marijuana smoke. I kind of wish I had my phone, because this is a scene worth capturing. I mean, at least for me, this doesn’t happen every day. 

    We begin again with the jacking each other off, and then escape the steam room to get a condom and fuck again. This time he loses his erection when I start to come. So I suck him off to make him hard again. He comes sooner than I expected while I am sucking him off, this time, thankfully, with some warning. I let it drip onto his belly. 

    I haven’t fully come yet, and I’m starting to get a little annoyed. The closest I’ve been was in the steam before he got offended at my sexual request. 

    I look at the clock next to the bed and read 4:55. Holy shit. I can’t remember the last time I was up this late. He is an EMT who works the overnight shift in a different time zone, so he is buzzing around like no big deal, but I am quickly wilting. I lay down in the very comfortable bed and he joins me. He is a great snuggler, comfy and warm all over. I doze off in his embrace.

    My alarm goes off at 7:45 to feed the meter. Last night there was some pretense of him doing it for me, but it is clear in the light of day that I am on my own on this one. 

    When I get back, he is up. I’m still tired, so I lay back down. 

    “When does the weed place open?” He asks. 

    It opens at 8am, and since he is asking already, I fear he may want to go right now. 

    “Like 10,” I say, and close my eyes to drift back to sleep. 

    My rest is short, as he gets back in bed and begins the ritual of the morning fuck. I know it and love it. He slides up behind me, pressing his morning wood against me until I start to grind in return. He does me from behind, on our sides. I have my knees in my armpits and am about to come, when he looses his erection again. And again, I help him out with my mouth to make him come. The lack of coming and all the head I’m giving don’t add up. I’m still really tired though, so I try again to get a couple minutes sleep in. 

    He pulls me out of a dream about him and I walking in a field of red flowers, saying he wants to go to the weed store now. It is almost 10. 

    On the way, I am cranky. The first thing I do every morning is make and drink a cup of Irish Breakfast tea with a tablespoon of honey. It is safe to say I am addicted to the caffeine and the sugar. He is annoying me with all the specific name brands of the weed he wants. This is why I couldn’t get him exactly what he wanted yesterday, because they didn't have the names he wanted. I can’t believe he wants to do this over have a morning in bed with me. 

    When we get to the dispensary, I go in with he intention of getting him exactly what he wants. I get two 3.5 gram jars of something in the family of what he asked for, but when I bring it to him, it isn’t what he wants. He doesn’t like the way it smells. He wants to come in with me. I tell him he needs a Cali driver’s license, but he refuses to listen. He tries to enter, but they won’t let him in. We leave and get back in my car, but he wants me to go back in and try again. I am getting pretty tired of this, and I can’t understand why anyone would need this much weed. I vent vocally, saying are you fucking kidding me? Or something in exasperation, then slam the car door as I get out. 

    When I enter again, the security guard asks if I’m ok.  “Yeah,” I say, “he’s just being really annoying.” I try one more time to get what he wants. In total I spend about $145 which is almost exactly half of the hotel room. Spot on, but I am so ticked off at how the morning went, and it feels like it has extracted more from me. 

    When I get back to the car, he is ready for a fight. I have zero interest. When he demands to know why I’m mad, I say, “I was annoyed with you in the moment, I’m not mad anymore. Let’s just move on.”  I want to get in the hot tub back at the hotel, I fucking paid for it after all.  It’s only 10:30, and check out is at noon, so I can get in at least an hour of soaking time. 

    He lights up the blunt he was rolling while I was sleeping this morning. We pass it back and forth as I drive back to the hotel. Hardly talking. It reminds me of the silence that would fall at the end of my last relationship. It feels thick and uneasy. 

    When we turn onto Beverly, he says his friend texted and is coming to the hotel in 10 minutes. He needs to go up and get ready.  I kind of don’t want to spend anymore time with him. I do want the hot tub. But that is not offered and I don’t feel like negotiating for it. I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I stayed up half the night and I haven’t even come. I have my bag and all my shit, so I say good-bye. I pull into the circle driveway of the hotel, and we get out of the car and hug. This time his sun feels like a black hole. He says he’ll text me. I kind of just nod in agreement. 

    I drive away, and curse the old lady in front of me who can’t seem to make the left turn onto Pico. 

    The very next morning, I get my period. My body couldn’t wait to be rid of his energy.