Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 05

Sylvia was still having trouble getting up. "Are we trying to get to the security check-in in time for a long wait?" she asked with an admirable amount of cognizance.

"I don't think we have to check in," Wes said as he pulled on a fresh pair of underwear. "We're getting on a private jet."

"NO SHIT!" Sylvia shouted. She threw the covers off and exposed her body to the room. Her perfect form glowed in the morning light. "Wes, hurry, fuck me under the mirror again. I've wanted this ever since last night. Hurry!" She rubbed her pussy vigorously.

Synapses fired like Black Cats in Wes's frontal lobe. How much time? Enough to fuck, or just get started and end up frustrated? Could his cock get hard fast enough? No question – it was already growing. After a cumulative half-second of thought, Wes peeled off his briefs and made a running jump back into bed. Sylvia squealed as Wes almost landed on her, then fell upon her hard and slipped his tongue into her mouth, musky with morning scents that did not bother Wes in the least.

Their hands moved hard and fast, grabbing, caressing without gentility. Wes fingered Sylvia deep, sometimes pulling at the lips of her pussy with his dry knuckles. Sylvia yanked Wes's dick with aggressive strokes. After only half a minute of foreplay, Sylvia spread her legs wide and grabbed herself by the knees, pulling the lips of her pussy back. Her swollen clit peaked out from its hood, and the passageway into her vagina gaped slightly, a bullet-sized black hole that threatened to crush but would actually stretch to accommodate. Wes braced himself above Sylvia and shoved his hard penis inside her.

"Oh god," Sylvia moaned. "Yes, yes, just like that."

Wes quickly leaned back, just like Sylvia wanted, and they looked up at themselves in the mirror. They saw Wes's thick member disappearing inside Sylvia, saw the looks on each other's faces and the tension in their muscles as the fucking was about to begin. The relentless sex from throughout the trip was beginning to have its toll on Wes's penis, causing tender patches near the base where the rubbing had worn at his skin, but strangely, nothing soothed his tenderness like the cream from Sylvia's pussy, which she seemed to produce in mass quantities just for him. There early hours of the morning sunlight, Sylvia moved without shame or motive against the cock inside her, horny in that way both genders are horny when first waking up.

With no time to waste, Wes went after it. He fucked Sylvia like a hammer, going as deep as he could then pumping in a shallow motion with rapidity. This had a vibrating effect on Sylvia's G-spot, and she squeezed Wes's cock in response. They watched themselves in the mirror, looking like two crazed lunatics trying to win a contest with a prize only they understood, pounding their loins together with horrific vigor and unkind grinding. The sounds of their bodies crushing together repeatedly were downright vicious. After only about two minutes of very very fast and hard fucking, both kids came. Sylvia climaxed first, with her upper body rippling like a wave as the orgasm seized every involuntary muscle. Wes pulled out in time to watch his seed shoot across Sylvia's tummy and between her breasts.

"Oh fuck!" Sylvia said. She had more to say, but there was no time. She wiped herself off with the bedsheets, then bounded from the bed, looking very much awake.

Wes stood on shaky legs. He pulled his underwear back on, then dug jeans and a black t-shirt out of his bag. Sylvia pulled on an orange t-shirt and denim shorts, then stepped into sandals. As Wes yanked his shoes over his feet and started to tie the laces, Sylvia dragged luggage to the elevator bay, as well as their two trophies and her cello. By the time Wes was finally ready, Sylvia had already pushed the button for the elevator. She pulled her hair up in a clip. Wes grabbed her hand as he ran past, pulling her into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, then handed the toothbrush to Sylvia. She didn't object in the slightest to using his brush. The elevator dinged as Sylvia was rinsing, and Wes almost had all the luggage on the elevator when Sylvia finally got there.

They rode down in dizzy silence. A bellman on the lobby floor helped them carry everything to the limo. Inside the automobile they found a pot of coffee. As Wes and Sylvia took their first sips, they realized how dehydrated they were from the workouts they'd put themselves through.

There was so much to discuss, oh so much, but they didn't talk much in the limo. It was a time for recuperating, for savoring the last opportunity to rest before the long plane ride. It was a time of reflection, as they held hands and looked out the tinted windows at the familiar skyscrapers and storefronts of Chicago. It was also – and for this reason they stayed silent – a time of dread, as they both imagined the worst that could happen once they finally met with Mr. Craftsman and he determined their future together... or apart. Surely they were in control of their destinies, no one else, but all offers would be considered seriously, even those that dictated seperatation. They had to at least listen, right? After all, Wes and Sylvia: The Couple was just an idea at this point. A great idea, but embryonic.

The limo pulled right up to the jet. Wes and Sylvia were escorted to stairs leading into the tiny silver bullet of a machine. The skycap-or-whatever who pointed them to the stairs handed Sylvia a note as she passed by. (Wes caught the guy checking Sylvia out and simultaneously wanted to punch him and tell him he knew what he meant.)

The inside of the plane was much larger than it appeared outside. One side had what looked like a restaurant booth against the window, and the other wall was lined with a sofa and two armchairs. The whole interior was tastefully decorated in wood and polished brass, with tiny sconces lighting the "room."

"Oh hell yes," Wes said.

"Oh my god," Sylvia sighed happily. "I've never been in a jet plane before."

"Who has? Look at this thing!"

"Why get rich and famous? Answer: THIS."

"I could live this life, I really could."

Wes sat on one side of the booth, and Sylvia sat across from him. They sipped their coffees and looked out the windows, which is the mandatory first thing to do upon sitting next to an airplane window.

Sylvia opened the note. It said:

KIDS: CAN'T MAKE IT TO THE PLANE. I'LL PHONE YOU ONCE YOU'RE IN THE AIR. SORRY I COULDN'T SEE YOU IN PERSON, BUT I BELIEVE WE CAN STILL GET THINGS SORTED OUT. ENJOY THE PRIVACY. MR. C.

Wes smiled. His gut told him Craftsman was a bit of a voyeur. The guy liked thinking about Sylvia and Wes fucking each other's brains out, and Wes was happy to oblige. The line "Enjoy the privacy" was obviously meant to encourage the two students to join the Mile High Club inside the secluded, luxurious cabin. If only he knew how open-mindedly Sylvia would consider the request. Wes could see in Sylvia's eyes that she also understood what the line meant, and her smile told Wes she had every intention of making good on the opportunity.

Take-off was a stomach-flipping experience, much more harrowing than the take-offs on big airliners – not that Wes thought jumbo jet take-offs were fun. Once in the air, the co-pilot entered through the cockpit door and brought two trays wrapped in cellophane, containing an array of breakfast foods including breads, fruits and cereal bars. Wes ate a bagel with cream cheese while Sylvia picked her way through a fruit bowl.

"It's just too cool," Sylvia said as she popped a slice of kiwi in her mouth.

"I almost can't believe this is happening," Wes said.

"I know, I know. Just being up here, you know? In this awesome plane. It's like a catalyst for the whole week, for all the emotions I've been feeling."

"And what emotions are those?" Wes asked.

Sylvia smiled shyly. "Contentment," she said, then wrapped her full lips around a strawberry and bit through it. "Safety."

"You know..." Wes began. He very much did not want to say what he was about to say, but it had to come up sooner or later. There were some things you could leave to chance, to "play out" as they say of movie plots, and then there were those occurrences that change the course of your life and could not be left to fly out of control. Meeting Sylvia was that occurrence in Wes's life, and he meant to keep her in his life as long as possible, but only if this next conversation went well.

"You know," he began again, "I feel like I have to say something."

Sylvia remained silent. She was so like him in that she could remain silent and not try to fill the space. Wes was trying to find the words, she could see that, and so she let him.

"If you're saying you 'love' me just because I said it, or because you think I want you to, it's okay, you don't have to do that. I mean, I understand why you're doing it, this week has been so intense. But I just want you to know, I won't be mad if you don't feel the same way –"

Sylvia reached out and put a single finger to Wes's lips. Wes immediately went silent. Sylvia got up from her side of the booth and sat next to Wes. She looked at him for a moment, examining his face from only a few inches away, then she kissed him on the lips. She kept kissing him until Wes understood this would be the only response he was getting on the matter. The kiss was perfect in the same way so many of their moments had been perfect, communicating perfectly, executed perfectly, full of perfect sensations of taste and touch. Wes wrapped his arms around the girl and made out with her for a long, uninterrupted span of time. With the roar of the jet engines drowning out even the sounds of their own mouths, Wes and Sylvia had the sense of being in a totally silent place, out of time for an eternity or a moment or both.

When they finished kissing, Sylvia leaned her head against Wes's chest. Wes ran his fingers across Sylvia's curly hair, looking out the window and not really thinking about anything at all.

A television screen on the wall behind Sylvia's side of the booth flickered on. At first it glowed blue, then a face came up, that of Mr. Craftsman. Neither Wes or Sylvia realized what they were looking at until the face spoke to them.

"Ah, there you are, my musical prodigies. Did you enjoy your breakfast?"

Neither kid would ever be the kind upon whom the label "slow" would hang easily, but the talking TV screen was a novel experience, and for about ten seconds of non-comprehension they stared at the screen and each other, trying to decide if they were actually expected to talk back to the image. Finally, tentatively, Wes piped up.

"Yes sir, Mr. Craftsman. Uh, thank you. Can you hear me okay?" He asked this partly because the engine roar was so loud, but also because he believed it was possible there was no one out there to hear.

"Certainly, Wes. How do you like my picture phone? It's costing me about a quarter of your tuition to talk on this thing right now, so I'll make it brief. Sylvia the cellist. I heard you play at the final. Would you like to go to school in Germany and possibly find a position in a European orchestra?"

Sylvia nodded. Then, fearing she could only be heard and not seen, she said, "Yes sir. Very much."

"And you'd like to be near your friend Wes, correct?"

Sylvia blushed, then held on more tightly to Wes's hand. "Yes," she stated simply.

"Well then, you're both coming to Germany when you graduate. Is it a deal, Wes?"

Wes realized how deeply he'd been dreading this moment, but in the midst of its arrival, he knew it could not have turned out any other way. His instincts about Craftsman had been correct, and the man did right by him and his girl. "Yes sir," he answered with a big grin.

"I'll contact you at school later this month, after the arrangements are made. You should both get passports made as quickly as possible, so we can set up visits to the Institute. Do you have any questions for me?"

Wes didn't intend to keep the man on the expensive call any longer than he had to. Surprisingly, Sylvia did have a question, and it was a very surprising question. "How much longer is the flight?" she asked. Her tone was matter-of-fact, but the intent behind the question was rather bold.

Mr. Craftsman smiled knowingly. "Long enough," he said. Then the screen went blank.

Sylvia stood, her head almost touching the cabin ceiling. "You heard the man," she said. Wes watched as the girl gripped the bottom of her t-shirt and lifted it above her white brassier, over her chin, off her head and down to the floor. She reached behind and unclasped the bra, then dropped it down the length of her arms as well. She stepped out of her sandals at the same time her fingers fumbled with the fly of her shorts.

Wes didn't waste a second. He stood and started undressing. For a moment he wondered if there was a camera in the cabin that might be recording them – and what if that co-pilot came out again? – but quickly he decide that devoting even a second of energy to this line of thought could stop him from proceeding, and he had no intention of stopping.

Sylvia, naked and glorious, pushed Wes into the sofa, then got on her knees.

"We're going to do this every night in Germany," she said as she coaxed Wes's trouser package from its limp state into a muscular pole. "We're going to do this for years."

Wes leaned his head back and groaned. "You got that right," he said. He watched Sylvia pump his penis with her fist, then lick the shaft with her long tongue. The light from the windows moved briskly across the cabin as the plane changed directions, until bright sunlight fell across Sylvia's back, creating a halo around her beautiful dark hair. She sucked Wes off, slobbering on his penis as her hands caressed the inside of his thighs. Wes reached under her chest and fondled her tits.

"Sylvia," Wes moaned in a silky voice. This turned the girl on, and she sucked him harder. She moved one hand between her own legs, getting her pussy lubricated in preparation for the oncoming collision.

"I'm so in love with you," Sylvia said as she leaned up to kiss Wes on the mouth. Wes tasted the musky scent of his own penis inside her mouth.

"We're just getting started," Wes said. He ran his fingers between Sylvia's pussy lips, and when he lifted his fingers to her mouth, they were covered in her thick cream. Together they licked the fluid from Wes's fingers, entwining their tongues again and again as they shared the nectar.

Wes pulled Sylvia onto his lap, so that her knees cozied up beside his asscheeks on the sofa. Wes held Sylvia's ass firmly as she grabbed his penis and aimed it at her pussy. Before putting the tool inside her, she looked Wes in the eyes. Wes was surprised to have forgotten how beautiful her eyes were, wide and honest. Didn't they haunt his dreams, after all?

"This is our last sex of the Chicago trip," she said without smiling. Sexual hunger possessed her.

"I won't forget," Wes said. "I'll never forget."

"I'll never forget," Sylvia said. She slipped the thick head of Wes's penis between her pussy lips, pushing the folds apart and releasing a trickle of fluid down the shaft. Sylvia's eyes closed involuntarily as she dropped her weight on the hard cock inside her. Wes relished the delicious warmth of the girl's tight pussy walls, as his world was instantly transformed by the sensation of her smooth, wet vagina.

"Oh baby," Sylvia cried. She dug her hands in her hair and, with her elbows lifted in the air, writhed seductively in absent-minded bliss. Wes reached up and played with her boobs, pinching her ever-hardening nipples, encouraging the areolas to engorge and swallow the stones in their puffiness. Then Sylvia started bouncing her bald pussy against Wes's hairless loins, and they were smooth fucking at last. "OH BABY," Sylvia cried again, this time very loud.

Wes put a finger to his lips and laughed nervously; he looked once in the direction of the cockpit, giving Sylvia the hint. But Sylvia ignored Wes, much to his disbelief. She smiled with her eyes, even as her mouth opened wide and lustful.

"Uh huh, uh huh, oh baby, oh yeah, fuck me baby, fuck me..." Sylvia deliberately lifted her voice for the pilots to hear, and this turned Wes on big time. He grabbed her by the hips and pounded her little cunt with demonic force. "OH yeah, OH YEAH baby," Sylvia yelled. "FUCK me like that, FUCK me hard, fuck me so HARD baby..."

"Fucking A," Wes yelled. He felt a little silly adding his voice to the proceedings, but there was nothing funny about the show Sylvia was putting on. She was simply the hottest girl on the entire planet at the moment, or at least, above it.

"OH YEAH, OH YEAH, OH FUCK me, FUCK me, oh BAY-bee, oh GODDAMN, my wet little pussy is so HOT, FUCK me, you LIKE it don't you, you LIKE fucking me, AHHH, OHHH, OOOOOOOH, oh GODdamn FUCK me..."

Sylvia broke down in giggles, but she did not stop riding Wes hard. Wes could sense her closing in on climax. He could sense so much about the girl at this point in their friendship, her moods, her desires, her needs on every level from the mental to the emotional. It seemed like such an easy thing now to time his orgasm to coincide with hers, and he suspected, it was only a matter of minor control for Sylvia as well. But they relaxed for a moment, prolonging the experience. After all, they had a little longer, didn't they? Why not make it last.

"You're fucking me so good," Sylvia said loudly. She put her forehead against Wes's and held onto his neck. Wes pressed his hands against the sweaty small of Sylvia's back.

"You're so fucking hot, girl, you're so good to fuck."

Sylvia started pounding again. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, oh baby, oh god, fuck me more, I want your cock so bad, you're fucking me so hard..."

Even with the engine roaring, the wet sounds of their bodies slapping together could be heard echoing inside the cabin chamber. Their sounds turned into inarticulate grunts and moans as they prepared for their shared orgasm. Sylvia came first, a very loud affair. "AHHHHH! AHHHHHH! AHHHHHH! AHHHHHH! OH GOD, GOD, GOD!!!! OH SHIT!! YES! YES! YES! AHHHHH!!"

Her orgasm in full swing, she milked Wes with her pussy muscles. He shot his thick load deep inside the girl, even as the aftershocks of her coming continued to sweep across her body. She pulled Wes close, wrapping her tired arms around his neck.

Barely moments after they both came, and with Wes still impaling the girl's loins, the voice of the pilot came over the loudspeaker. "Welcome to New England, passengers. We've already begun our final descent, so I'll need you to get buckled in as quickly as possible, but not so quickly that you... break anything." Nothing more was said, but Wes believed the pilot was saying he'd enjoyed the show.

Sylvia put her lips against Wes's ear. "You won't get bored with me?" she asked. She sounded genuinely scared. Somehow, Wes understood that this moment of post-coital ecstasy was a time of great vulnerability for Sylvia, and that she simply spoke from her heart in the safety she felt Wes afforded her. Because of that vulnerability, Wes loved her very much.

"Never," Wes said, and he hugged Sylvia warmly, in a sign of friendship that seemed almost out of place with the cock still stuck inside her but instead complimented perfectly. Everything was in place.