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It was past midnight and I was supposed to be in bed, but the thought of a hotel rendezvous had me all worked up. I went downstairs to the hot tub and waited patiently with a drink, hoping to find the perfect man (and, hopefully, the perfect cock) for my needs. It wasn’t long before he showed up.
He was all strong angles and restless energy. He didn’t ask if he could join me. Instead, he just sank into the bubbling heat on the opposite side, as the water surged around his chest. “You look like you’re waiting for something to happen,” he said. His voice was a low, gravelly vibration that made my pussy throb.
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I didn’t answer. I just watched him. He was sexy in a way that made my skin itch and gave the vibe that he clearly didn’t believe in consequences. When he moved, he moved with a predacious sort of grace, closing the distance between us until our knees brushed beneath the churning foam of the hot tub.
I don’t remember who reached out first. It was impulsive, like a desperate grab at forgetting about the creeping numbness of my life as a student. His hands were calloused, searing against my damp skin, and when he pulled me onto his hard dick, the rest of the world ceased to exist.
Everything from that point on was a blur. The sting of the chlorine, the erratic thump of my own heart, and the scent of his cologne, which smelled like rain and cedar. I bounced up and down on his cock, squeezing the tip with my pussy, while he tended to my nipples, licking and sucking them as if they were the most luscious of candies.
He came hard, filling my pussy with his hot load as I moaned. As soon as his balls were emptied, he lifted me off of him and stood up. The water shed off his lean frame like liquid glass. He didn’t look back, nor did I want him to. He walked away and I went back to my room feeling satisfied.
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