Marcus and I are fucking in our hotel suite. It is 5 AM and the kids are sleeping in the other bedroom. We have the baby monitor set up by their door and the receiver on my side of the bed.
Sneaky Sex and the Single Parent. I should write a fucking book.
Marcus has stuffed a pillow between the headboard and wall, since I separated them last night.
We had put the kids to bed and Marcus poured bourbon. Brought it in as I was sliding between the sheets.
“Oh, sweetie, thank you!”
“You’d better have a nice long drink from that, Madeline; you never know when you’ll get your next chance.”
I take a long draw, swirling it in my mouth and letting it slide down my throat. “Nicely done, Marcus! This is very good bourbon.”
“Put your glass on the table.” He is looking at me intently.
I smile, take a breath and set the glass on the desk. Marcus flings the sheets to the foot of the bed. The lights are on.
Normally I prefer the dimness of candles or sunrise when I’m having sex, but this incandescence suits me fine—especially this weekend.
This weekend we are in parental mode; each of us dealing with the strange dynamic between brothers. We get frustrated; we raise our voices above the cacophony in the back of the car. We put kids in timeout. We commiserate. We are exposed in the glare of reality.
So leave the fucking lights on.
Marcus takes me by the shoulders and pushes me back. He reaches down and pulls his duffel onto the bed. Unlocks it with the combination. He proceeds to pull out a blindfold, the clitlicker cockring and minivibe, nipple clamps and that perennial favorite: the dual egg bullet vibe. Sex toys and lube, safely hidden from small hands and curious minds; it’s what we parents do.
Last time I wasn’t thrilled with the clitlicker, and this weekend I am premenstrual, so my nipples are extra sensitive. Toss the clamps and the cockring, honey.
Marcus starts with a finger on my clit, then two. Replaces them with his tongue and lips as his fingers slide into my cunt. He is using two.
“I need you to rub my g spot…curve your fingers up, sweetie.”
He does, and soon I am cumming with his fingers deep inside me. I hear the sounds of his licking and sucking, drinking. He comes up to kiss me, his face wet with girl. I kiss myself from his lips.
Kneeling between my legs, Marcus blindfolds me. I can feel my legs quivering from my orgasm, and my heart beating in my chest. I am keenly aware of his presence, and my breathing quickens as he moves up and sits astride my right leg. His left hand holds my wrists together as his right begins slapping my pussy.
I can feel myself getting red. My clit is swollen with blood, and my lips are stinging from his slaps. Then. Ripples. Waves. The low beginnings of my orgasm starting in my belly and spiraling upward to the back of my throat and down toward my toes. The giggle turns to laugh turns to silent hysterics.
I hear the tearing open of foil once, then again.
His hand is on my inner thigh, then my perineum. He turns on the dual bullet vibe. The eggs clack against each other on the bed to my left. I catch my breath, turning my head toward the sound.
Soon I have a condom-wrapped vibrating egg in my cunt. Soon after, the second is in my ass. Marcus is sucking my tits and playing with my clit. My entire body is humming.
Suddenly, he stops touching me. I hear the tearing of more foil. (What could he possibly be wrapping now??) The eggs are still going, and they feel so fucking good inside me, but my clit is protesting. I reach instinctively with my left hand to finger it.
My hand is slapped away and pushed to the mattress. I know this game. He knows it, too. I bite my bottom lip and wait a few seconds. I reach down again. He slaps my hand away and plunges his cock into my pussy.
I am gasping, he is moaning; thrusting deeply and slowly. Fuck, he has the tip of his dick sliding up against a vibrator nestled inside me…
The blindfold comes off, and he is kissing me, and then throwing his head back, fucking. I am holding my heels aloft, rocking up to meet him. “Fuck, yes…thatissofuckinggood.”
His right hand encircles my throat, fingers along my neck just below my left ear, thumb resting on my right carotid artery, poised.
This is where it gets really good.
The intensity of the choking is not dependent upon the pressure he uses on my throat; it is about my ability to make myself believe he is actually choking me, and the way he watches my face while he does it.
At no time am I deprived of oxygen for more than a few seconds; he squeezes and releases my throat, never looking away from my face, never breaking his fucking rhythm. It’s another euphoric rush. It is waves of lightheadedness and intensity. When I’ve had enough, and if I can’t speak with his hand on my throat, I blink my eyes several times while looking at him, and he stops.
I have only done this with a few people. And then only when I trusted them implicitly. One of the greatest things about kink is how dependent the physical realm is upon the mental. How suggestible the physical body is when the mind psyches itself out. It’s the idea that he could strangle me with his hand that is so powerful. He doesn’t even need to come close to it for me to be incredibly turned on.
He switches to fucking my ass. Again with an egg vibrating on the tip of his cock with every thrust. He is pushing my legs back and fucking me hard. I reach down to finger my clit. This time he lets me.
He slows down, and then stops, eyes gleaming. Opens another condom. And another.
He pulls out of my ass and retrieves the egg from my cunt. Marcus takes one of the condoms and rewraps the egg. Lubes it. Reaches around and inserts the egg into his own ass. Stops, gasping, mouth wide open.
He replaces the used condom on his dick with a fresh one and sets to fucking the hell out of my pussy while both of our asses are buzzing.
This is when I pull the headboard off the wall.
Let me tell you something about Marriott hotels (at least the Marriott hotel where we stayed): the headboards are just big slabs of wood hung over brackets on the wall. Yes, they are fucking heavy, but when the fucking gets heavy and a girl needs to grab hold, the Marriott headboard is definitely not the way to go.
I am writhing underneath him, my legs hung over his shoulders, my hands reaching over my head to grab something for leverage. I feel the bottom edge of the headboard. I hook my fingers between it and the wall. As I grab the board, the top edge comes away from the wall and off its bracket.
The thing is heavy. I can’t hold it up, and I just let it fall to the floor between the bed and the wall. It slides down and hits with a thud.
We laugh, and fuck until we can’t. He pulls out and removes the eggs from our respective baskets. When we’ve both regained our speaking abilities, I look at Marcus.
“What the fuck was that?”
“That was insane!”
“Have you ever put that vibrator up your ass?”
“Never! I didn’t even plan it; it just seemed like a good idea! And while fucking!”
“Well, I guess you’ve added a new trick to your repertoire.”
“Shit, girl. That was some crazy sex!”
He is right about my pussy being hungry. It can’t seem to get fucked enough lately. In a few hours we will start up again, before dawn, with the door locked and an ear to the baby monitor.