Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 04byLothario the Great©
Roger woke Wes at 4:42 a.m. The sun was not yet up.
"Wes, you bastard! You nailed Sylvia Anderson!"
Wes woke up in one goddamn hurry. He sat up in his bed and found Roger sitting across from him, grinning like a wolf. His first reaction was to bark questions, but he was embarrassed to silence.
He had no reason to be humiliated, he told himself. He was lucky to have Sylvia and she felt the same way and they'd eventually tell everyone and what was the big fucking deal and why did he have this sour feeling in his stomach at the thought of being found out? Why did Roger keep smiling? Asshole.
And so several seconds passed, and Wes said nothing, and Roger just kept smiling. Asshole. Wes rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He knew he had to say something.
"Admit it, bastard! You've been putting it to that gorgeous brunette for three nights and no one knew."
"Who knows now?" Wes asked timidly. He felt like a pussy.
"No one's gonna tell." The look on Roger's face crippled Wes, a half-shrug that guaranteed Roger was trying to hide something.
"OH MY GOD. Roger, you son of a bitch, who did you tell, mother fucker?"
Roger leaned back. "Whoa! Holy shit! Call a camera crew, I think we just saw Wesley show emotion."
"Tell me!" Wes said.
"Some guys, okay? Goddamn."
How in the world did Roger find the temerity to come off offended? Asshole!
Wes demanded, "How did you find out?"
Roger shrugged again. (Wes was about to chop the idiot's shoulders off.) "I went to Faith's room."
"Faith told you? Not with Sylvia in the room."
"Whatever, dude. You're sleeping with Sylvia. That's awesome."
Wes got up, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, left the room, hit the elevator button. He tapped his foot as he waited. Several long seconds later, Wes took the elevator to Sylvia's floor. He went to her door, knocked.
Sylvia opened the door, wearing a sweatshirt and shorts. She started to speak, then simply fell against the doorjamb and placed her hand to her forehead, as if to say, Oh cruel world.
"I just saw Roger," Wes said. He looked over Sylvia's shoulder, searching for Faith in the room. Sylvia held one finger to her lips, stepped out of the room, closed the door. Wes realized Faith was asleep.
When they were both in the hallway, Sylvia said, "Oh my god, Wes, oh god. It's all messed up."
"Are you okay?" Wes asked. He touched Sylvia on the arms in a reassuring way. Why did he do that? He wasn't a true friend; how could he be, having only known her for three days? Sure, he'd had his dick inside her for about 24 of the last 72 hours, but this game had complicated rules. Damn it, Roger! Hadn't everything been going perfectly?
Sylvia slumped to the floor like a load of clean towels. Wes sighed, sat across from her in the hall. His watch read 5:00 a.m.
"I'm tired," Sylvia said. "Roger came down to apologize, but he acted offended at the same time, and Faith said something like, 'Why can't you treat me the way Wes treats Sylvia?' And Roger says, 'Because they aren't sleeping together,' and Faith says, 'Wanna bet?' And Roger kept looking at me and saying rude things, and I couldn't keep a straight face, so he left laughing."
Wes sat silent. He felt guilty about the way he looked at her, stealing glances at her legs when she wasn't looking. What a massive horny buster he was. But no, he never looked at girls like this, with such sustained intrigue. He realized he wasn't looking at her body. He was just looking at her.
She lifted her big eyes. "I can't face anyone this morning."
"Oh shit," Wes muttered. Of course. The secret was out. They'd have to walk the gauntlet to the breakfast buffet, then again to the buses, and even during their performances. Staring eyes, snickers, pointing fingers. Wes felt truly ill. "What should we do?" he asked.
"Run? What the hell?"
Sylvia sprung forward on her knees and grabbed Wes by the hands. She was on the verge of tears. "Take me away. Right now. Please, please, before they all wake up."
"We can't just run, Sylvia. We've got the competition."
Sylvia put a hand to her throat. "I can't! I can't fucking do it, Wes! I can't, I can't!" Her eyes watered.
Wes touched her cheek. "Okay, baby. Okay. Just tell me the plan."
"Let's just hide, okay? Let's just hide."
"Like, in another hotel?"
"Yeah. You have money, right?"
Wes realized he stood on the edge of a life-changing moment. His vision wobbled, the hallway spun on an invisible axis. Miss the competition? He knew that was the only solution. No way to go on, not like this. The worst part was that he couldn't explain the reason, because there wasn't one. Shyness? To throw away one's future career path because of shyness? No, of course not. Better to say he was supporting Sylvia in her moment of crisis, to acknowledge she was his true love. Still not a good reason, but a justification of sorts.
But his reason flew on automatic. He had to at least try to talk her – and himself – out of this crazy plan.
"Sylvia," he said, "you're not being rational. We can't skip our performances, we just can't."
Sylvia would not look into his eyes. "They'll laugh at us," she said very softly.
Something solid stuck in Wes's throat. Yes, they would laugh. Even if they didn't judge him harshly – the other students with their finger-pointing, the professors with their reprimands – even if they simply wanted to slap him on the back and congratulate him, the attention would be unbearable. Sylvia was right. They had to leave. Nothing more needed to be discussed.
"Get your stuff," he said. "Meet me here in ten minutes."
Petulant, ashamed, Sylvia stood. She went back into her room.
Wes went to his own room. Roger, lively not ten minutes earlier, was now passed out on his bed. Without a sound, Wes pulled his hanging clothes over one shoulder and the backpack on the other, then returned to the elevator. He hit the button for Sylvia's floor. The doors opened, and she stepped on without a word, luggage and cello at her feet. She also had his suitcase, which he'd unpacked in Sylvia's room. They arrived at the lobby, empty of people, without even an employee at the front desk.
No cabs were parked out front. They waited several minutes before one passed. Wes hailed him, and they got in, putting their stuff in the trunk.
Wes asked, "Is their a Motel 6 nearby?"
"Sure," the cabbie answered.
An early morning haze lit the city. Milky blue skylight swam between the skyscrapers above as the car weaved its way toward the outskirts of the city. Wes held Sylvia tightly around the shoulder. The girl's tension slowly ebbed until she was asleep against his neck. With no traffic, they made it to the motel in fifteen minutes.
At the front desk, Wes signed some forms, whipped out a credit card, signed a slip. They carried their belongings to a room on the most distant corner of the property, with Wes lugging the cello. Sylvia opened the door with the key, and they dumped everything at the door. Wes closed the door, and Sylvia was already taking off her sweatshirt.
Wes pulled the drapes closed, and the only light in the room was a harsh line of white peaking out from the end of the window, which the drape did not cover.
He turned back to see her. The sweatshirt hung limply from her left wrist. Wes stepped over to her side, moved his palm down her arm, eased the sleeve away and let the garment drop. He unfastened her bra, pushed the straps off her shoulders, heard the soft rustle as it fell. Sylvia never moved, barely breathed. She seemed shell-shocked, numb. Wes pulled her shorts and panties down. They descended to her ankles, but she did not stop out of them.
Wes tried not to disturb her as he pulled off his own t-shirt, took off his shoes and jeans and underwear. At last they both stood in their socks, Sylvia facing the bed, Wes pressed against her backside. With a single finger, he turned her chin in his direction. They kissed, pressing their lips together, without playfulness. Sylvia opened her eyes, and in the dim sunlight Wes could see her eyes were wet.
The boy carried the girl down to the bed, as gravity and the bending of her knees negated the labor. He placed his body softly on top of hers. They laid like statues in that manner for a long while, listening to each other breathe, occasionally tracing their fingers lightly up and down the other's rib cage, over the hips, along the spine.
"I'm in love with you," Wes whispered directly into Sylvia's ear.
Sylvia looked at him. Her lips trembled. She nodded.
Wes felt Sylvia's legs open slightly beneath him. The warmth from her vagina radiated against his own loins, and he felt his penis begin to fill with hot blood. Sylvia turned her head, a gesture of longing, signaling that her passion had begun to ascend and replace reason. As she exposed her slender neck to Wes, he opened his mouth against her neck and licked her, kissed her, painted her flesh in a coat of saliva and warm breath from deep inside his own chest. Sylvia's palms pressed hard against his back, and her fingernails dug lightly into his skin.
Now the penis was very hard. It slipped in-between the lips of Sylvia's labia of its own accord. Wes swallowed, somehow breaking the magical spell both students had been under. Sylvia's body tensed beneath him. Her hips shifted, repositioning her pelvis so that it fit better against his, and Wes decided he was right, that two people whose bodies fit so perfectly should be in love. He curled his strong fingers around Sylvia's forearms as his cock inched itself inside her. The soft flesh of her thighs slid up and down his hips.
"Always," she muttered. "Always."
Wes elevated his body above Sylvia's as he inserted the remainder of his thick penis inside her. Sylvia leaned her head forward, watching the hairless penis fill her, fascinated. Wes looked down also, and he watched as his throbbing, engorged cock pulled out of her, glistening in the dark glow of the room, dripping wet with the girl's cream.
"Oh god," Sylvia said. She did not whisper, and her voice was deep and starving. She pulled Wes down and kissed his mouth, digging her fingers into the flesh of his ass. Wes impaled Sylvia, then he did it again, then again, and then he pressed hard against her and began fucking her, with his open mouth drooling against her cheek and ear. He moved his hand up to her tits, already starting to warm with sweat from the un-air-conditioned room. The feel of her hard nipple against his palm sent a jolt through him, and he jolted Sylvia's pussy with his cock as a result. She moaned, spread her legs wider.
The two lovers ground into each other, sometimes slowly, sometimes deliberately, always with desperate intensity. Sylvia began to whimper. Four hands moved and explored, touching, pressing, greedy in their search for more flesh. Sylvia moved her socked feet up and down Wes's legs. Wes felt his own feet growing hot and sweaty inside his socks, and the rest of his body was beginning to drip sweat as well.
Time slowed to a fraction of its true speed. Wes expected one of them to come sooner or later, but neither of them did. They simply looked into each other's eyes, saying things they could not say with words. Often they kissed, or licked each other wetly. Sylvia's breasts became very slick with sweat, and Wes moved up and down her body as though against a sheet of damp silk. His penis twitched and thumped inside Sylvia's pussy, fully aware of the texture of her vagina walls, aware of his swollen head stroking her deep inside. He moved his prick like a precise tool, probing every inch of space, up to her uterus and then to the sides and back to the spot near her pelvis that made her moan and claw at him like a sleepy kitten.
Sylvia began to shiver. Her legs closed around Wes's body, but not like a clamp, more like a hug. She closed her eyes and mouth, pressed her face back against the pillow, breathed noisily through her nostrils. "Mmm, mmm, mmm," she moaned. Her strong hands pulled at the hair on Wes's head, the way a cowgirl steers a horse through his mane. She milked Wes's cock with her contracting pussy, gripping him, gripping him, coaxing the semen from deep down in his balls. Wes slipped his damp fingers deep inside Sylvia's bouncy curls of hair as his sperm flowed from his body into hers. His body shook as though chilled, which could not be explained because not a hint of cold could have existed in that place.
In that same slow time, they laid there, glued together with their own fluids.
With her eyes closed and her face buried in Wes's neck, Sylvia said, "I'll love you until the end of the world. I'll never leave you. I'll always love you." Then she licked Wes's face like a puppy, kissing his eyes and his nose, drinking the sweat from his forehead.
A profound affection welled up inside Wes, filling his mind and spirit like a flood. For no reason at all he began to cry, but he did not want to cry, so instead he rolled onto his back and pulled Sylvia on top of him. She followed him into this position, the hard cock still inside her. They french kissed as Sylvia lifted her feet up alongside Wes's torso, so that she sat squatting above him. Wes pulled Sylvia's wet socks off her feet and flung them against the wall. He reached up and grabbed her tits, fondling her with a gentle massage, flicking her nipples. Sylvia growled. She started to fuck him.
Wes knew this position reminded him of something, but at first he couldn't think of it. Then he knew – she was working herself like an engine cylinder, up and down, up and down, lifting her hips above Wes's body, then bringing them down to slide against his wet body, all the while pumping her body around Wes's cock over and over again. Wes reached under her and grabbed her ass, helping to lift her each time she moved.
The movement sped up. For the second time Sylvia looked down, fascinated by the sight of their two bodies slamming together at the genitals. Her mouth opened and a loud moan came out, perhaps without her knowing it. She slammed, slammed, slammed down onto his body, filling herself with the hard penis each time. Their hairless loins slapped together wetly, and the bed began to squeak.
"God yes, god yes," Sylvia said clearly.
"Sylvia, Sylvia," Wes chanted.
Sylvia laced her fingers around Wes's neck. She stared into his face, as though trying to convince him of something. "My heart is beating," she said. "My heart is beating." All the while she continued to fuck Wes as hard as she could, grinding her pussy down onto his cock. "So good, so good, sssssssssooo..." She trailed off, breathing quickly through pursed lips. Then her head began to vibrate, and her entire body reeled back like a whip, twisting one way then the other. "AHHH! AHHHH!" she screamed, unafraid to vocalize her orgasm. She pulled at her own hair as she turned this way and that, her breasts flinging sweat into Wes's face. Once more she milked Wes with her tight cunt, squeezing his body hard between her legs.
Finally she collapsed onto Wes's body, breathing very hard. "Did you come?" she asked too loudly.
"Not yet," Wes admitted.
"Are you close?"
Sylvia pulled the penis out of her sopping cunt and wormed herself down toward Wes's cock. Without hesitation she wrapped her entire mouth around the member. Wes felt a surge of pleasure/pain shoot into his cock, and he involuntarily grabbed Sylvia's head between his hands. Sylvia sucked and sucked and sucked, her tongue and mouth cavity vacuumed tightly around the shaft. She literally summoned the jizz out of Wes's penis hole with her vicious suck. At the first taste, she pulled the penis out of her mouth and aimed it at her own face.
Two messy ropes splashed against her mouth and cheeks and onto her left eyelid. She used her fist to continue pumping Wes, urging the last clear drops out onto her hand. After this, she snaked her body up onto Wes's exhausted form, straddling him, rubbing her still soaked pussy flesh around his deflating penis. She shoved her fingers into Wes's mouth, forcing him to taste himself, then she offered her face for him to lick clean, which he did hungrily. When the sperm was cleaned from her face, they found themselves kissing tenderly, giving their kisses to one another.
Wes placed Sylvia on her back. She looked up at him, with that kind of questioning look lovers have given after sex for ages without number, a look that said, what in life could ever follow such sweet perfection? Wes gazed deeply into Sylvia's eyes as he moved his hand between her legs and placed two fingers inside her. He stroked her g-spot as he suckled her nipple with his mouth, nibbling her softly.
Sylvia came, her back arching, her legs closing. Wes slowed his stroking but did not remove his fingers. Once Sylvia had caught her breath, he moved his fingers again, moving his hot kisses up to her neck.
This time she came quickly but not so intensely, her legs rubbing together in a sexy way as the orgasm washed over her. And still Wes did not stop stroking her. She came again, and this one was hard, not gentle at all. "OH GOD," she cried, "Wes please, please..."
Wes moved both his arms around Sylvia's midsection in a warm embrace, nothing more than a hug. He licked her neck, firmly, and Sylvia came again. She moaned loudly but could not form words. Then Wes pinched her nipple, and yet another orgasm hit Sylvia. "Plea... please..." Sylvia groped for the words. Wes kissed his way down to Sylvia's belly button, digging in with his tongue, as his hands fondled her breasts, and Sylvia came again. At the precise moment Wes placed his tongue against Sylvia's clitoris, the girl spasmed against his face and the bed, ripping the mattress cover away from the mattress. She kicked and kicked at the air. She seemed to recover as Wes licked deep inside her vagina, his lips moving with pressure against her smooth meaty walls, but the respite was brief as another shattering orgasm hit the girl. She bounced like an object struck. Then Wes shoved his fingers back into her pussy as he moved down to lick her asshole, relishing the sour wetness between her cheeks.
For the next five minutes, Sylvia came repeatedly, calling hoarsely for Wes to stop, trying without strength to push the boy away from her body. She orgasmed, she orgasmed again, then she suffered through another one and another. Wes rubbed her legs and stomach with his hands, he grabbed her tits and arms and ribs, he licked her thighs and kneepits and sucked her toes. Sylvia writhed helplessly across the surface of the bed, sweating profusely, twisting her head back and forth.
Wes slipped a single finger deep inside Sylvia's pussy, and she screamed very loud and shot off the bed as though she'd been burned. She huddled herself into a ball in the corner of the room. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa..." she wailed quietly.
The single ray of sunlight illuminated the sweat in her hair. Wes flopped onto the bed, exhausted. He absent-mindedly masturbated, rubbing his dick with his own fist, still surprised by how good it felt to have all the hair shaved off. He didn't think he could come again after the first two, but it felt good just to play with himself.
Eventually, Sylvia spoke. "Oh jesus, Wes. Holy shit."
"You okay?" Wes asked.
"Well," Sylvia said, "if by 'okay' you mean 'the happiest girl in the world,' then yeah, I'm okay."
Wes felt his cock get harder. "That was fun," he said.
"I need water," Sylvia said. Her voice was still hoarse.
Wes filled a glass with tap water and brought it to Sylvia, still sitting naked and wet on the floor. She gulped down the water, coughing a little at the end. "More," she said. Wes returned to the sink, but he heard Sylvia walk up behind him. She turned Wes and embraced him. "Hold me," she demanded gently. He did. They stood in that spot for minutes.