Sneaky Hotel Room Tease and Squirting Orgasm While My Man Is Away

I had already finished him once. My gloved hand worked every inch until he spilled across my fingers, and I was ready for more. I wanted that second load. I wanted to climb on top of him right there on the sofa, feel him slide deep while my satin bikini panties stayed peeled to the side. But his phone rang. A work call. Down to the conference room he went, leaving me alone in this hotel room with nothing but my own throbbing ache.

I sat back on the sofa, the floral satin blouse clinging to my hardened nipples, those tiny panties already damp and clinging to my swollen lips. The silence made everything worse. I kept whispering it out loud, almost to myself, how fucking horny I still was. How unfair it felt to be this wet and this empty. My mind started wandering to you. The viewer. The stranger who could slip through that door while my guy was busy downstairs. I painted the picture with my voice, fingers tracing my inner thighs, describing exactly how your mouth would feel, how your cock would stretch me where his left off.

The fantasy had me flushed and breathless when housekeeping knocked.

Panic shot through me. I scrambled off the sofa, bare feet rushing across the carpet, yanking the door open just enough to stop her key card. My voice tried to sound normal, casual, but I was standing there in nothing but satin and arousal, my pulse thundering between my legs. She asked if I needed service. I managed to refuse. The door clicked shut and I leaned against it, more flustered, more desperate than before.

There was no more teasing. No more waiting.

I walked back to the sofa, slid those soaked panties down my thighs, and spread myself wide on the cushions. The blouse stayed on, brushing my nipples with every shaky breath. I worked two fingers deep inside my dripping cunt, fucking myself hard and fast, letting the wet sounds fill the room. My hips bucked against my own hand, chasing the release I had been denied. When I finally came, it was messy and loud and soaking, my juices spilling across the sofa cushions while I trembled through every aftershock.

He never came back upstairs in time. But you could have.