The room key

I booked the room myself on another night off, because I wanted a key that was mine and a man who already knows the terms. Finn tends bar at a different place. He is thirty-four. He came over after his shift, still smelling like citrus and well soda, and he is not a regular I have to serve. I was on the edge of the hotel bed in a white shirt and black trousers, bun coming loose, the key card on the nightstand. I told him about Tomas before I told him to take his cock out. May, the service elevator, a guest, cum in my cunt, me showing it and leaving. Finn's mouth went soft and hungry. I said I fucked Tomas and I am going to fuck you, and neither of those facts owns the other. He said he knew. Good. Then I stopped being funny.

I opened his belt and sucked his cock until he had a hand in the sheet and not in my hair. I told him the rest with my mouth shiny. Tomas fucked me on that bed that was not this bed. I came on his cock. I made him watch his cum in my cunt. Finn groaned like the story was a hand. I pulled off and shoved my trousers down and told him to fuck me while I kept talking. His cock pushed into my cunt and I sighed, full, pleased, not surprised. I told him how Tomas had stayed inside when he came. I told him I had liked the leak of it on my fingers. Finn fucked me harder because I said he could. I held his shoulder and talked until the words broke.

Then I wanted to ride. I pushed him onto his back and sank down on his cock, shirt open, bun a lost cause. I fucked myself on him slow, then mean, clit on the grind. I came with my forehead on his, cunt clutching, and I did not climb off. I stayed there, his cock still in my cunt, and I said it into his mouth so he could not miss it. I am not your girlfriend. I am going to fuck other people. You can cum in me anyway. He nodded, eyes blown, and I rolled my hips once, twice, and told him now. He came in my cunt, deep, a rough thankful sound. I lifted enough to see it when I settled back, cum slicking his cock and my cunt, and I watched. I made him look too. Same ritual, different man, same week.

I got off him and sat on the edge again. The key card was still on the nightstand. I told him he could shower or he could go, and that I was not walking him out like a date. He laughed, kissed my knee, and left. I lay back on the hotel sheet with a filthy cunt and a clear head. Finn is sometimes. Tomas was once. Next week can be whoever I decide. The shade at the studio can stay taped. I do not need this room in the morning.