Dirty Martini Erotica
"A Rented Room," a sex story by Portia di Mare
A balmy August night, a rented room, a borrowed partner, a night fixed in time and set on repeat in my mind. A culmination of encounters and time spent together, a long scenic route studded with detours and smaller victories. The mental components to the night are just as vexing as the physical, since then I catch myself pouring over details that had gone unnoticed, wondering if things happened the way I remember them or if they are simply a projection of my mind. I worry that I've mythologized both the man you are and the experience, perhaps embellishing or feeling something more than what was really there. It's of no consequence, the experience shaped me and showed me a part of myself I had never really known and no truth can take that back from me now.
Dinner was a chore, a formality. Conversations with each others' partners to keep the peace, to stay connected, to justify what we were all about to go off and do. Normally I'm a sucker for a good meal and lengthy conversation but tonight there was only one thing I wanted in my mouth and it was you: the taste of me on you, the swell of your cock, your scent mixing with my sweat as I licked it from you. Check, please.
Break away, small moments, our partners going to the bodega for a few things, the quickening in my chest to send them off together so I can have you to myself. Keeping space between us in the foyer of your building and in the elevator, not wanting to give the doormen something to gossip about. I fear that they can feel the sparks flying between us already, smell the sex emanating from my pores. Seems no one is the wiser but it is torturous for me nonetheless.
The elevator rises to your floor, doors open and I lead, practically breaking into a sprint to get behind your door. The latch clicks, we are alone and you are on me in an instant, grabbing my face and kissing me forcefully, my pussy already aching for you to be inside me. Heart pounding in my head, in my chest, between my legs.
Hands on my shoulders pushing me down to my knees, "Take it out, put my cock in your mouth," growled low into my ear.
Already there, grabbing the waistband of your pants, pulling your belt open, unzipping your pants and finding your cock hard for me. I open wide and take you deep, I want to swallow you whole. Grabbing my head, handfuls of my hair in your fists, pulling me onto you. Hearing you moan low, hips flexing, a surge of heat and wetness between my legs in response to your desire alone.
Pink Nails by Dud's Erotica
Nothing else matters now, thoughts of the outside world are gone, I am more present than I have ever been.
"Stand up," you command.
I comply. You lift my dress and pull me closer to kiss me as you slide your hand into my panties to find my dripping, slick with anticipation for you. One finger, then two, gasps escaping me, clenching down on you, riding your hand while you suck on my neck and kiss me again, and then the click of the latch on the door. Our partners returning from the bodega, pushing pause and pulling apart, feeling the loss of you instantly. Breathing is torture, wanting you to look at me but you walk away. I feel weak and helpless. I do not want this, but I cannot do without it. Every portion of my controlling mind and dominant nature is screaming in opposition but something in me is breaking open, I can't help but be lead by you. I do not want this and cannot get enough.
The plans are made; our partners will stay here, while we go to a hotel. You're mine for the next few hours and I am yours. Fresh lust is intoxicating and we all reek of it, conscious and aware of what we feel for each other and trust that we will all return home to each other when the night is through. Nothing but gratitude for the man that my husband is to be secure enough to give me this gift of an experience, nothing but wet over the thought of him fucking another woman. I kiss him goodbye and he leaves my mind, as I am all yours again. Not caring about the implications, not worrying about what this thing that you do to me means.
The first stop is a no-tell motel, a seedy place that we thought would be fun for kitsch sake, tacky décor and neon lights in the foyer. We enter and I instantly feel a shift in the energy, something desperate and airless, void of anything sexy, at least to me. We approach the check-in counter; a man behind a thick pane of glass in a cage and are informed there are no rooms available, but if we’d like to wait in the lounge a room will be available in 20 minutes. He gestures in the direction of a neon-lit alcove, a woman in a tight mini-skirt and too much make-up eyeing us from the doorway. We exchange glances with each other and tell the clerk we’ll wait outside.
Outside smoking cigarettes, realizing that this is not the right venue for us. We’re playing these roles but it’s still us underneath and the sleaze factor is outweighing the sexy one. I feel like screaming, how much longer must I wait? You take out your wallet to get money for another cab, realize that your credit card from dinner is missing. We have to go back to get it first before we can find another hotel. Is this the universe telling us this should not happen, that this line should not be crossed? I can tell that you are anxious and I fear that I am losing you, and that the night will wind up being a wash. Disappointment is starting to creep up my spine. I am quiet which is a rare thing indeed.
Perhaps you sensed that you were losing me or you needed to regain some momentum on the night so when we hail a cab and climb in your hand goes up my dress. Legs sticking to the back of the seat, my pussy still wet from your apartment and my thighs moist with sweat as you make small talk with the cab driver. Your hand creeps up my thigh, deftly moving my panties aside and stroking my clit then pushing their way inside. Wanting you to look at me so I could tell you with my eyes how much I wanted you but knowing you wouldn't just to tease me. Or perhaps you really were oblivious to it, but I think your technique is more methodical than that.
After the torturous cab ride we make it to the hotel. I'm starving, aching, dripping, panting. You hold your cool as always, unnerving me, making me feel like an addict waiting for her fix. One more cigarette before we go in, the two of us standing outside the doors not touching, alone in our own minds, pausing before crossing the final threshold on this experiment. To see what will happen when the separate test tubes of ourselves are poured into the beaker of this room, a chain reaction that once set in motion will be hard to stop. Will we make something beautiful or explode, destroying each other and anyone close to us? We both know that we will not back out, our fear of the unknown does not outweigh our desire to experiment now, does not dampen the animal lust that is clawing it’s way up from between my legs.
Chain hotel filled with tourists, approaching the front desk to check in. No bags. The clerk takes note and smiles a sideways grin. He asks for me to sign the paper as a guest, toying with the notion of putting a pseudonym, though I decide against it. It's me who's here, albeit a new incarnation of me.
Up to the room, a blank canvas, clean sheets and nondescript decor, perfectly anonymous and ready to silently bear witness to what is about to unfold. Normally I have the urge to direct, a clear picture of what I want, but tonight I want you to tell me how you want me, where you want me, use me as you see fit.
You seem to be finding your bearings, surveying the room and the angles, I am quiet, waiting for your direction.
"Take off your dress, get on the edge of the bed and suck my cock while I stand here, your ass high up in the air so I can reach around and feel that wet pussy of yours," spoken with that laser stare of yours, right into my eyes.
Yes sir. No more dancing around it, our personas let out as soon as the door clicked shut. My urge to surrender to you is stronger than I have ever felt, no bristling of my ego or need to assert myself. I get off on knowing what I'm doing to you and how much you want me. I feel you respond to me as you get harder in my mouth, knowing it's me that’s doing it to you. There is power in submission and I offer it to you, as you gladly take it. I feel more in control and simultaneously weak than ever before; I do not want this and cannot get enough. You're in my head, down my throat, there is no resistance, you make me forget who I am and I've never been happier to let myself go.
Deep throating feels impossibly good. I want to take you deeper than ever before. Inhabit me if only for a brief while, I take you in, let you get under my skin. Undo the concepts of the woman I am, the wife I am. Any self-consciousness is gone, we reign in the same kingdom, pure sex and power. You pull me up from sucking your cock to kiss you. I'm kneeling on the edge of the bed and I start to unbutton your shirt, pulling your pants off as quickly as I can, desperate now to feel you inside of me again. I reach for a condom, tear it open and roll it down onto your waiting cock, hands shaking.
"Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you right now," you order.
"I want you to fuck me right now," I breathlessly reply.
"Louder," you say.
With as much energy as I can possibly muster while my legs begin to quiver and my breath shortens, "I want you to fuck me...right...now."
You grab me by my shoulders and throw me onto my back, pulling my knees up into my chest then pinning my arms with your hands above my head. Sliding your cock deep inside of me, already pounding into me with the force of a broken dam. I am so wet I can take it easily, already moaning with each stroke, reveling in your scent and the stubble of your face on my cheek, clenching my pussy onto you, taking you deeper than I have ever felt. Faster and harder, the pace is feverish, intense, just like you.
Slowing down briefly, sliding in and out, looking into my eyes, staring, waiting.
"Tell me where you want me," I say, truly not wanting anything except to be directed by you.
"Get on your knees facing the mirror by the edge of the bed so I can watch you as I fuck you from behind while you rub your clit," you demand.
I obediently comply. It seems that this is another part of me that has surfaced, and that I am channeling someone else from who I once identified as myself. I'm seeing you in a whole new light, this forcefulness and power, aggression, uncut and unfiltered. I see you and want it, see your sexual persona and how it is shaping mine, the unique chemistry between the two of us tapping each other in a way that our partners do not, at least not now. Here in this room we are partners, free to express ourselves without fear of judgment. I want to take it all; I want to offer myself to you and have you shatter it.
I watch you watching me, eyes locked in the mirror across the bed. As you rub the head of your cock on my clit I gasp, back arching up in pure ecstasy. Then you grab my hips tightly and push deeper inside, start to pound me, harder and faster...I'm starting to spin. My mind is racing, I can't take this and I need more. It will never be enough to fill me up. My want for you is a bottomless void, your cock filling me in this moment is only a piece of you, I hunger for your presence in this room, this creature you and I have become. I reach back and stroke my clit, I bring myself to the edge of orgasm and stop just before, something in me is holding back, the last vestige of control.
Around and around we go, I ask you what you want, you direct me. You pin me, push me into the bed, the wall, the floor; I am your marionette. I climb on top of you, riding you, pulling myself down onto you in one moment of dominance and I feel the rising tide of my orgasm again and then you overwhelm me, start lifting your hips to push into me so that I must stop moving, relinquish my power to you yet again. I short circuit myself again and again, my head is starting to pound, my belly a tight knot of lust and want.
Needing to find myself again, to bring some energy back up into my head from the concentrated surge of sensation in my belly I felt the need to do a headstand. A naked headstand, certainly not a position I thought I would find myself in here, but I was letting my body make the decisions for me tonight. As you sat back on the bed watching me I felt a wave of calm wash over me, bringing me fresh focus and a new perspective, looking at this rented room from the floor up is like a surreal painting, white sheets in the sky and your body tangled in them. I lower my legs back to the floor and rest for a moment, you are there at my feet guiding me up to me knees in front of the full-length mirror.
"I want to watch you sucking my cock in the mirror, watch you take it all," your voice commanding, bringing me back to the moment.
I kneel in front of you, watching myself as I slide my lips over the length of you, grabbing the base of your cock tightly, stroking up towards my mouth. Your hands winding serpentine into my hair, fixing their grip, letting me know that you're ready to take the reigns again. I break free for a moment, pulling my mouth off of you and stroking faster, you start to moan and tighten your hips, too close to the edge, I slow down and bury your cock down my throat again. What little control I have I wield skillfully.
Your voice in my head, your eyes burning into me, sensations punctuated by your words.
"You like that hard cock, don't you, you dirty fucking girl. Take it, just like that, so fucking good. You want it harder? That's nice, just like that. Look at me, tell me how bad you want my cock right now."
I want to submit to you completely, but I know I have one boundary that cannot be crossed. The one thing that I do not have permission to give you is the thing I want the most in this moment. I want you to fuck me in the ass, the ultimate act of surrender, but my husband has strictly forbidden it. His one sacred act, the thing offered to him and him alone. You know this already, but it doesn't stop us from wanting it, if anything it gives it more power, forbidden fruit. I reach over to the little bag that I had stowed away, a toy and some lube inside.
"I want you to use this toy in my ass, think about fucking me in the ass while you do. Tell me how good it would feel, all while I play with my pussy, have you taste me too." This was my sole request for the evening.
I lay on my back at the edge of the bed while you kneel on the floor in front of me. You lube up your finger first, work your way into me, slowly I start to relax onto you. My mind is reeling, I am caught between my attachment to my husband and the raw want of what I feel for you. I have never wanted him to take me like this, always felt the edge of my controlling nature assert itself and allowed him to fuck me this way conditionally, without drawing any pleasure, just something he asked for on occasion that I infrequently acquiesced to. With you I crave it, want to offer the whole of myself because you want to take it from me. Who am I in this room? What have you awoken in me and why? What the fuck is it about you that drives me to want to give you everything I have? Perhaps it is because I cannot have you outside of this realm, I cannot have you whenever I please, there are rules and conditions and boundaries and other people's feelings to consider. I feel this urge to show you all that I am because I know that you will see me and want it, and in turn show me your self. Whatever it is it doesn't matter now, I just want you to take something from me and make me forget who I am outside of this room.
You grab the toy and lube it up, start to work it in and out of me slowly while talking to me.
"How good would it feel if this was the head of my cock right now? You want me to fuck you in the ass, don't you?" you say with an edge of something in your voice, anger or angst, or a little of both.
"Yes," I whisper, "I would love to feel you in my ass right now, my pussy is so wet, I'm aching..."
You move the toy slowly at first then start to speed up, pushing it deeper and harder into me as I relax around it, surrendering my body, my mind, my self. I feel something start to well up in my chest. I feel like my heart is breaking. I cannot take this, I am not ready to let go. I want to, but something is stopping me. Some edge in my mind has been reached, I need to jump but can't.
"I can't, I want to come, I need you to fuck me, I need you inside of me," I beg.
"Take my cock in your mouth and make me come," you say.
It is not what I want but I cannot deny you. You lay back on the bed and I straddle you, start to move you further down my throat, stroking you harder and faster. You stop me for a moment to lock your gaze on mine, and then start to talk to me while you move my head on you, deeper down my throat.
"We rented this room just to come here and fuck. We are here for no other reason, just fucking while other people in this hotel do the same thing, or not, maybe they can hear us. Hear you screaming while I fuck you. This is why we are here."
I start to moan as I feel you getting harder, close to the edge, your body beginning to tighten beneath me. A few more strokes and you are there, coming down my throat. I swallow it all, I hear you moaning, sounds escaping you, your whole body tensing, I feel you leave the room. I am fixed in time and space, I want you to take me with you but I can't go. I feel alone at that moment but happy, happy to have given that moment to you, happy to give you myself.
You go limp beneath me, body soft, breathing erratic, silence. You ask me to come up and lay with you, my head cradled in your chest, the first moment of tenderness all night. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I want to stay here and I want to leave, I want to be with my husband but I want to be in this space with you breathing in the fleeting afterglow. How long before you push me away? How vulnerable have I made myself to you? Resisting the urge to get up and run so I don't give you any more control than you already have.
Then you change, you soften, the animal in you is gone and it is you, the personality that I've connected with for all of those months before this night. Cracking jokes, and asking how I feel, if it was good for me. Telling me that not many people have been witness to that, to what you just showed me. How much you needed it. How you wouldn't want to have nights like this very often, that you thrive on the edge of satisfaction, that angst keeps you motivated. That I'm like chocolate ice cream, an indulgence. That if you were a baby that had been on a steady diet of strained peas and had just tasted chocolate ice cream for the first time that you'd want to gorge on it but then it would be bad for you, lose it's specialness. All I can do is listen and try to stop my head from spinning, try to pretend that I'm not afraid of who I am. Try to pretend that I am OK, but I am not. I'm afraid of myself and that I've given you too much power over me, that I am addicted to how you make me feel.
We dress and head back into the August night, cooler now and all the urgency in me gone. Feeling raw and wanting to find my husband to ground me, to give him back my heart and my body. My mind I'd like to keep for myself for the time being.
We go back to your apartment and meet up with our partners. I am exhausted on all fronts: mentally, physically and emotionally. We say our goodbyes, you give me a light peck on the lips, not letting anything show of the passion and power that was exchanged only a few short hours before. I make the long drive back home with my husband curled up in his lap fast asleep, dreaming of your mouth, of your words, of your eyes burned into mine.
We get home and he undresses me, lays me down and covers me with his mouth, kisses and fingers making their way inside of me. I have nothing left to give, I have been used up, but I offer what little I have. I feel my heart breaking again, and I come, hard and loud and collapse into tears under him. I've had two men inside me tonight, this fact both bringing me an instant sense of satisfaction followed by a sharp pang of shame. Shame that I enjoyed it as much as I did, over giving myself to another man in a way that I have not to my husband, over giving anyone this much power over me. My husband strokes my face, placing his hand on my chest to quiet my sobs. I love him more than anything in this moment and hope that I never hurt him. Hope that my tendencies will not destroy what we have, wondering if he showed her something of himself that I have not seen, if he is aware of what I have become.
Originally published July 2010