What Happened at the Hotel During Our Getaway

It’s been a couple of months since that first getaway in which my wife and I discovered a game that awoke in us an enormous urge to devour each other. Since then I haven’t stopped thinking about it, and here I am again, with the year almost over, putting in writing what we lived through on our last night away from home. I don’t know how to make up stories; I only tell what happened, just as I remember it.

This time we went for a full weekend to a nearby town, staying in a hotel we could afford thanks to a gift from some friends. And we weren’t alone: another couple came with us, Diego and Carla, whom we’ve known since adolescence. With them, you always laugh until your face hurts.

We left on Friday at mid-morning. Between chats, jokes, and the odd confidence, the drive felt short. As always, my head was full of plans to surprise my wife. The main one was simple but effective: I had a story I’d written about us saved on my phone, and I planned to send it to her at exactly the right moment.

When we arrived, we ate, took a short walk, and went back to the hotel to rest before the afternoon. When we got up to the room, I showed her the little gifts I’d bought. One for Diego and Carla, another for her, and one last new toy just for us.

It was a small vibrator with a built-in clitoral stimulator, controlled by a remote that, of course, I would handle. I’d bought it thinking of one of the remaining challenges in the game: using something like that in a public place, with people nearby. But as soon as I took it out of the box I knew it would be complicated.

This is going to be heard from the other end of the restaurant, I thought.

The problem wasn’t just the size, although the clitoral attachment was bulkier than it had looked in the photo. It was the noise: the suction part made an unmistakable sound, especially if it lost contact with the skin. With Diego and Carla a meter away, they’d catch us in two minutes. We’d find another occasion, maybe a day when the two of us went out alone.

Besides the new toy, our little survival kit was traveling in the backpack: anal stimulators of various sizes, oils, the jar with the game questions, and not much else. Just enough so we wouldn’t get bored.

In the afternoon we went out again to have dinner with the other couple. It was raining and there was a cold that went right into your bones, so, no matter how much we enjoyed their company, by eleven-thirty we were already back in the room.

—I’m freezing —I said, rubbing my hands together—. I propose the bathtub.

My wife didn’t need asking twice. We undressed, filled the tub, and left the jar from the game within reach. The first questions were gentle, almost a warm-up. I remember some of them.

—Massage your partner’s feet —she read.

—How lucky I am —I replied—. And I’ll take advantage so you can do mine too.

We were face to face, so we gave each other a mutual massage on those feet tired from the whole week and from the cold that night. I love touching her, whether it’s with a massage, a caress, or a kiss. Enjoying kneading one leg and then the other while I get the same in return relaxes me like few things do. With anyone else I’d rather just receive; with her I don’t mind giving.

—What would you like to do that we still haven’t done —I read on my turn.

—I’d love it if, without it hurting, you’d put me on all fours and take me from behind.

There was my wife again, letting slip those phrases that then I can’t get out of my head for days. It’s something we’ve been trying carefully for a while. We have stimulators in four sizes and haven’t managed to get past the second; I suspect that not until the third will we really get close to what we’d need. But the idea has been planted, and that’s already half the battle.

—If we had a threesome —she went on—, would you rather with a man or with a woman?

—I’m clear that I’d do it with whoever you wanted, or rather, with whoever you felt most comfortable with.

I was left wanting to hear her answer. We answered many questions both of us, but that one I forgot to throw back at her. Or maybe I didn’t want to know, in case it gave me a craving thinking about it for the rest of the night.

—Oil yourselves up and rub against each other —said the next one.

We stood up, turned on the shower, and I filled my hands with gel. I spread it over her whole body, lingering on every inch, her wet, slippery back under my hands. I went back again and again to her ass, taking longer than the challenge asked for. I kissed her while I traced her body, and I could feel how little by little she was giving in, how her breathing was changing. I ended up sliding my fingers between her legs until I felt her getting wet, and with my other hand I caressed her from behind.

Then it was her turn. She filled her hands with gel and spread it over my body, though not with the same calm in every area. She didn’t stop kissing me, caressing me, until she bent down and started sucking me off in the way only she knows how: slowly, with plenty of saliva, drawing circles with her tongue and squeezing with her hand. After that she began to set the rhythm, gripping my hips, while with her other hand she kept playing with my wet skin.

—Stop —I said, my voice wrecked—. I can’t take any more. To bed.

***

When we got out I dried off quickly and went to the room to prepare everything. Beside the bed there was a small armchair that my wife had looked at with interest as soon as we arrived, so I laid a towel over it while she finished drying off in the bathroom.

While I waited for her, I picked up the massager and relaxed my legs a little. As soon as she came in, I ran the head over her thighs a couple of times and went straight to work. I took out my phone and sent her that story I’d written about us.

—Open it —I asked her—. Read what I just sent you.

As soon as she lowered her eyes to the screen, I threw myself on her. I knew she had about ten minutes of reading ahead of her and I didn’t want to rush. I kissed around her, gave her slow passes, lingered in every corner until I felt her moving without meaning to. Ten full minutes listening to how her breathing changed, feeling how her body relaxed and ignited at the same time. When she finished reading, she took my head, brought me up to her height, and whispered, “You still surprise me.” And she kissed me the way she only does in the moments of greatest intimacy.

But I wasn’t willing to hand over the reins that quickly. I led her over to the armchair, sat her down, spread her legs wide, and kept savoring her. I went up to her breasts, bit them and licked them, and all the while I stroked inside her with two fingers. Kissing her so she can’t breathe easy drives me crazy: I feel the need she has to let the air out and, at the same time, that she isn’t able to pull my mouth away from hers.

—Stop and sit down, now it’s my turn —she said between gasps.

Now I was the one clenching my teeth every time her tongue rose from below. She started slowly, but the arousal had been building for a while and pretty soon I was at the limit. She stood up, turned around, and sat on me for the first time all night. What a sight that posture gave me: her with her back to me, leaning forward, setting a pace that threatened to finish me off too soon.

—Wait —I said, stopping her—. Let’s go to bed, I want to try the new toy.

I lifted her, positioned her on her knees on the mattress, pressed myself to her back, and kissed her neck while I caressed her in front and behind at the same time. In seconds the movements became urgent, and I could feel her giving herself over completely. I took the smallest anal stimulator in the range and carefully put it in; this time it went in without any difficulty, a sign that we were moving forward.

Then I grabbed the new toy and placed it on her front, fitting the suction part right over her clitoris. I changed position to have her close, her lying down and me within reach, and let her give me back all the attention from the night while I controlled the remote with my free hand.

Then the final stretch began. I eased the toy back a little without taking it out completely, gave her a few soft spanks where I knew she likes them most —when she’s this turned on she takes them and even asks for them— and felt she was on the verge. I picked up the remote, switched it on, and pressed the suction part against her. I saw with my own eyes how that tiny device swallowed her whole.

—I’m going to come —she moaned—. I’m coming now...

—Then I am too, with you.

What came after was pure loss of control. Me holding the toy against her sex, her unable to stay still, shaken by an orgasm that seemed like it would never end. There’s no feeling comparable to sensing how she falls apart in your hands and feeling that she takes the very last drop of you with her.

***

Honestly, I think this will be my last story for quite a while. Telling what we lived through and sticking to reality costs me little, but making something up from scratch, a fictional story, is another matter: it would take me too many hours that I don’t have right now. It’s likely I’ll write again after some wild night, though for the moment we don’t have any planned for the next few months.

So we’ll see. As always, everything will depend on her... and that, believe me, is what I like most.