Without a Hitch(26)

“Fu-uck.” she groans, and I feel the fire at the base of my spine. I won’t hold out much longer.

“Did you like my tongue on your ass, baby? Would you let my cock fuck you there too? I’ll open you up with my tongue and my fingers. I’ll get you so wet you’ll think you’re swimming. Then I’ll ram into that virgin hole over and over again until you come so hard you forget to breathe. Is that…”

She comes with the force of the Royal Navy, and I clench my teeth as she shudders around me.

When her tremors begin to subside, I pull out, rip off the condom and jerk off until my load coats her back and ass. Rope after creamy rope marks her as mine.

For the night. Mine for the night. But it’s a beautiful sight. As the last stream exits, I roll her over and find startled eyes staring back at me.

With a wicked smile, I make good on my promise. I torture her clit until she’s panting, pleading, and begging for mercy. I lick her until she coats my face, and her scent and taste are committed to memory. I lick her until my tongue rebels, and she passes out in my arms.





LOVE IN THE LOBBY

Hello, lovely readers,

How do we feel about one-night stands? For ages, it’s been a pseudo-acceptable pastime for men, so I’ll start by saying I’m not interested in your approval, hate, or condemnation. Cool? Good. Let’s dig in…

By definition, a one-night stand is not a relationship to build a future on. But what if…

What if you meet “the one” at, let’s say, a wedding, and one night of passion ruins you for all other men? What then?

Sigh. Sometimes, one night is all it will ever be.

This week’s Love in the Lobby takes place at The Dorrety in San Francisco, California.

The Dorrety is a truly magnificent shell. I’m sad to say that it falls into the average category everywhere else. Could you have a perfectly acceptable wedding here? Absolutely. But why settle for acceptable when you can have extraordinary?

Let’s talk about weddings for a minute, shall we?

Nothing makes my rage-o-meter fly into orbit faster than someone intentionally trying to ruin a special day. Nothing.

At this particular wedding, the bride had contingency plans in place. And the event planner at The Dorrety did an excellent job of making sure everything within her power went precisely as planned.

She’s the only reason for the higher ranking though.

So, can The Dorrety deliver a Happily Ever After?

Here’s my Five-Diamond-Rings Rating:

Cleanliness - Five Diamond Rings: (As always, don’t forget to tip!) My suite was very clean, and housekeeping did a great job of checking in during my entire stay.

Friendliness - Four Diamond Rings: The staff I interacted with went above and beyond. They lost a star because finding the staff was sometimes an issue.

Location - Two Diamond Rings: Once you’re here, plan to stay put or rent a car. There is no easy access to anything outside of the resort.

Amenities - Three Diamond Rings: It had everything you could need but not enough staff to cover all services.

Last Call: With a few improvements, The Dorrety could be a contender. Make sure you specify your service needs ahead of time, and your wedding just might go off without a hitch!

17K likes. 2K Comments.

BanBB: How do you fact-check your information?

BanBB: Sometimes, one-night stands are too memorable.

Exeter432: Slut.

Momager69: Ignore the idiots. One-night stands are a healthy part of growing up. Experimentation is the spice of life!

Girlwomanfree: You are the owner of your body! YOU make the decision. Get it, girl!





C HAPTE R 9

TILLY

“W hat do you mean, you snuck out of his room? After all those orgasms, you didn’t stay to get his number, or at the very least, another orgasm? Are you insane?” My sister Eli scolds while Delaney watches on, her anxiety draining all the color from her face. Hadley paces behind us.

“I mean, it was a one-night stand. Why would I want to experience the walk of shame in front of him? I wouldn’t! So, I snuck out before the sun came up.”

“How were you even walking after that?” Delaney gasps.

Eli and I try to hold it together, but the second we make eye contact, laughter bursts from our bellies.

“Take a sitz bath if your kitty’s sore,” Mable, our seventy-year-old neighbor, calls through the vent in the floor.

We all freeze.

Her kitchen table sits directly below our family room, and she can hear everything through the grate on our floor. We’ve become real-life versions of her daytime dramas she calls out of the senior center to watch.

How can you call out of the senior center like you’re calling out of work? We’re not sure, but she seems to do it more times than not so she can stay home and sip her sweet wine.

“Mable! Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Eli yells down at the grate.

“Not when I’ve finally got some gossip to hear, Eliza,” she calls back up. “Y’all have been boring me to tears lately. I’ve had to go to Fiddle the Bean four times this week just to hear anything interesting.”

Only our neighbor would own a chain of coffee shops called “Fiddle the Bean.”

“You’re a dirty old bird, you know that, Mable?” Eli laughs.