A Trip Away

I was on my own, in a hotel, with nothing to look forward to but yet another day of boring meetings. I'd had wine with my dinner that evening – not enough to make me drunk, but enough to relax. I ought to be asleep, for the alarm was only five hours away, but somehow I just couldn't get comfortable lying alone in the bed. Even reading hadn't helped; the book had way too many erotic passages in it for someone to read alone.

I found myself stroking my breast, holding its weight in my hand as you so often do, my thumb just barely brushing against the very tip of my nipple which stretched out to meet it. My book forgotten I turned to my back on the bed, my other hand moving in turn to cup my other breast, both hands squeezing gently. I closed my eyes, imagining that it was your hands I could feel, aware of the pooling warmth between my thighs.

My hands had moved now, so that I could press my nipples between thumbs and fingers. Then I moved on hand down, across my belly, towards my pussy. Gently I traced the crease where my thighs met my body, before slowly moving to trace my pussy lips as they started to open with my arousal. I dipped the tip of my middle finger into the wetness awaiting me there then moved it to find my clit.

At first I simply touched it with my finger, holding it still before starting to move the tiniest fraction. It was enough. My knees rose up as if of their own accord, my legs widely splayed so that had you been at the foot of the bed you would have had a clear view of my open, dripping wet hole.

Fired by the thought I started moving my finger down again to dip it once more in my juice before returning again to press against my clit. My other hand pinched even harder on the nipple it had never stopped caressing, holding at the border of pleasure and pain. Again I moved to dip my finger, this time deeper, smearing my pussy with the proof of my arousal before returning again to forage deep within myself.

My hand left my nipple with a final tweak to travel down so that soon I had both hands on my pussy, juice dripping everywhere. One hand was on my clit, rubbing it, flicking, while the other had its fingers as deep within me as I could reach. My feet were off the bed now, waving in the air as I instinctively tried to tilt my pelvis to meet my marauding hands.

And yet even that was not enough to find me the release I sought. While keeping one hand rubbing my clit, my other reached out seeking something, anything, to alleviate the emptiness in my pussy.

Somehow my blindly seeking hand found the glass water bottle by the bed, and brought it over, fumbling the neck against my pussy before starting to insert it. My other hand left my clit to help open me up to its invasion. Slowly, gently I pushed it up inside me, moving it out and back in again further this time until it was in me up to the shoulder of the bottle and would go no further. Then I started moving it, using my feet on the bed for leverage.

Soon the coolness of the glass was gone, and only the hardness remained, filling me each time I pressed forward. My left hand no longer needed to hold my pussy open and so returned again to my clit, rubbing harder now as I rocked against the bottle. Again my feet left the bed, my legs held widely apart in the air as I gave myself up to the feelings in my cunt as I got closer to coming. All I was aware of was the unyielding hardness deep within my pussy. My whole world had contracted to that small area between my thighs. Harder I pushed, faster I drove it in until finally I exploded, feeling as if I had shattered into millions of pieces.

Eventually I came to my senses, still with the bottle deep inside me. I slowly pulled it out, dropping it on the floor by the bed. With a last thought that I'd need to be sure to put it in the bin before the room was made up the next day I turned over, cuddled into the pillow and fell fast asleep.