Posie's Plan

Peter groaned with need, and I stroked him and licked him, lavishing attention on him. He had been so patient with me over the last day, and I wanted to reward him. I pushed my hair back, so he could watch me bob up and down on his cock. (He loves to watch his girl be dirty, of course.) I moaned, letting the head of him choke the back of my mouth, letting my soft wet throat close over him. I love going down on him.

I also needed him to get off; if Peter were this pent up tomorrow night, he'd be likely to come as soon as he entered me, which wasn't part of the plan.

So when he put his hands in my long hair, clutching my head, guiding me up and down in time, I let him do it. I danced my tongue across the fat head of his cock, and swirled it around the shaft as he fucked my face.

Peter was grunting, moaning at me, low and dirty. "Yes, Posie, unnnhh, God yes... suck my cock, baby, yessss... Suck it, you bad girl, fuckkk, yeahhh... oh yeahh..."

His words just made me suck harder, faster. When I felt his hips thrust hard and his hands clench into fists of my hair, I knew what was coming: Peter. His cock throbbed as he shot his hot load down my throat. I'm not great at swallowing but I just kept going, trying to breathe through my nose, trying not to cough.

My eyes were watering but I got it all down – for my baby, my sweet man who was going to take such good care of me the next night.

I crawled up next to him on the bed. He lay there, blissful and spent, pants around his ankles and shorts around his knees. Peter put his arms around me.

"Sweet girl. I'm so lucky." I put my head on his chest, the pink of the roses in the corner of my eye.

I'm the lucky one, I thought.

******

A few minutes later, still in my lace undies, I took Peter's shoes and pants off him, and turned SportsCenter on the flat screen on the wall opposite the bed. I bustled around the room as he relaxed – putting away our bags, turning on a lamp, plugging in our phone chargers.

"It's late, and you have a very early meeting. Why don't I call down and get us something sent up to eat?" He nodded.

"Good idea. I'll take whatever burger and fries they have. What about you, Pose?"

"Mmm. You know, real food doesn't sound that good yet to my tummy just yet. I'll just get a little soup, maybe some herbal tea."

I smiled to myself as I called in the order. I hadn't invested a full day of work in the greatest ass-fucking of my life, just to throw a cheeseburger into my system and mess everything up.

******

When I awoke the next morning, the room was pitch-black and the clock read 8:32. I was alone. Peter had laid one of the hotel robes on the chair next to the bed, with a pink rose stem from the arrangement and a note. So sweet.

I pulled on the robe and opened the heavy curtains. The Windy City spread out before me, gleaming in the sunlight. Peter's note read:

Posie,

Hated to leave you this morning. I left a surprise in the bathroom...

Can't wait for tonight. See you about 5 -

Love you

In the bathroom, tucked inside the frame of the gold rococo mirror, was a creamy linen envelope of hotel stationery. I opened it to find a gift certificate for the day spa downstairs. Peter's business card was inside, with a note scribbled on the back: "Indulge yourself today! xo"

I smiled at his note. Oh, baby. You don't even know.

******

In the bathroom, I hung up the robe, brushed my teeth and unpacked a few of my special supplies. A saline enema in a plastic bottle. A slim dildo. A bottle of silicon lube. A "mighty mini" vibrator. I soaked a washcloth in hot water and wrung it out.

I unwrapped the enema bottle and took off the lid. The long nozzle was the diameter of a drinking straw, and already coated in lubricant. I curled up on the bathmat in a fetal position, and reached behind me with the bottle.

This would be uncomfortable – but for my sweet Peter, it was a trifle. I pushed the tip of the bottle into my asshole, gently, until I could feel the plastic against my cheeks. Slowly I began to squeeze it, emptying all the liquid into me. It trickled inside, cool and foreign. I squeezed until the bottle crumpled in on itself, completely drained.

It wasn't a lot of liquid, but I could feel a little pressure as the saline did its thing. I waited.

The longer I waited, the better it would be. For Peter. He was going to fuck me in the ass, and I would be perfect for him. I laid there on the floor, on my side, squeezing tight until the urge to go overpowered me.

Gingerly, I climbed up on the toilet, and expelled the enema and everything that came with it. With the washcloth, I wiped myself completely clean.

Peter would never know about all these steps I take to make my tight pink asshole so perfect for him. But I needed him to love the results. I thought about his pleasure at finding me so clean and pink and ready. I hoped it would outweigh his shame.

I opened the bottle of lube and dribbled it onto my hand, letting it warm up. My rosebud was nice and clean, but it was too tight for my sweet man and his big cock. I rubbed the slippery lube between my cheeks, pushing my finger into the puffy kiss of my asshole. I smeared my finger inside me, coating me in and out.

It was all I could do to not stop and rub my clit. Preparing my ass for Peter excited me wildly. My nipples were hard, and I was breathing loudly. But I had to stay focused on my plan.

I took the slim tapered dildo and rubbed the tip of it against my ass. It was about the width of a pencil eraser at the top, growing to a thickness of two fingers at the flanged base. It wasn't anywhere near as big as Peter, but it would help.

(I needed this, to get me ready for his big cock, but if I was honest, I also loved the way it felt inside me. Everything I was doing – so fucking dirty! I am such a nasty girl.)

Sprawled on the bathroom floor, I gasped as I pushed the dildo into my asshole. Just the tip, Posie... don't rush it. I let my muscles adjust, then I pushed further, letting it grow slowly wider and fatter inside me. Push, and stop for a minute. Push, and stop for a minute.

When I had six inches of the slick hard dildo in my ass, it was time to reward myself. I was a very good girl, taking all this care for my man so he could fuck me. I deserved something nice. I turned on the mini-vibrator, and placed it over my clit on the low setting. My pussy was so wet that I knew I must be very careful here.

What a nasty sight I must have made. Naked, nipples hard, breasts heaving, knees in the air with a dildo buried deep in my ass. Meanwhile, between my legs, my fingers rubbing and massaging my neatly-trimmed pussy, a vibrator buzzing against me. I was thinking about Peter, and what he would say if he walked in on me right now... but I had to be careful, because I wasn't allowing myself to come. Going right to the very edge of orgasm and stepping back in enough time was a delicate dance.

Reluctantly, I flicked the switch off on the vibrator. I removed all my toys from my body, and cleaned them carefully, before tucking them back into my luggage.

They would be waiting for me when I got back from the spa.

******

I changed into yoga pants, a t-shirt and flip-flops. I left a note on the bed for the housekeepers ("More pillows and towels please"), with a couple dollars, and I went downstairs.

An hour later, I was face-down, on my stomach, naked under a sheet, on the table of a mannish masseuse named Cindy while a recording of ocean waves and seagulls played.

"I'm so glad we were able to fit you in today, Josephine. The hotel is really full this weekend because of the legal conference. Lots of wives are coming in for treatments while their hubbies work. Now, you were telling me your trouble spots..."

I smiled to myself. "Yes. I ride horses and we had a big show last weekend. I am just really sore in my glutes, hamstrings, thighs." (This was an utter fib, of course. But I knew where I wanted her to focus her attention and I couldn't come right out and say why.)

"Well, I'll take care of you, and when I'm done, you'll feel good as new. Fresh as a daisy."

I lay there silently as Cindy slathered me with oil and kneaded my flesh. Just as promised, she smoothed and rubbed all those muscles. As her hands worked my legs, ass, and hips, I let my mind wander.

I thought about that morning in the hotel room, how dirty my masturbation session was. I envisioned what I was going to let Peter do to me tonight, how I was going to get some "extra attention" from him. And how I was going to relax for him and let him work me over just like I was letting this masseuse do.

I was going to feel good as new, alright. Fresh as a Posie.

Cindy finished the massage and sent me off to the locker room. I felt amazing – relaxed and sexy. My body was lush, loosened up. I stood under the Swiss spa shower with six heads, directing the jets at my nipples.

But I didn't tarry too long. I still needed another shower upstairs, in private.

******

After stopping at the spa café for a smoothie and a bottled water, I let myself back into the room. The bed was made, and stacked high with several new pillows. We had fluffy new towels in the bath. My roses had been moved onto the desk, closer to the windows for the sunlight. There were wrapped chocolates on the nightstand in a porcelain dish. I could get used to this.

I sent a text to Peter: "Meet me in the hotel bar after your last meeting".

He replied with "ok. probably be about 5" and then "???"

I sent back a wink and left him to wonder.

On my bed, I laid out my clothes for the evening: a blue silk top. A black balconette bra. Black lace panties. A black skirt, short and full with a petticoat layer of crumpled tulle. Thigh-high black stockings. None of last night's virginal white.

I would do my hair and makeup, wild with a cat-eye line and dark lashes. But before that, I would clean up one more time.

I got my supplies back out, this time including the gallon enema bag.

I unwound the hose and hooked the red vinyl bag up to the shower head, and filled it with warm water. I knew I couldn't take a whole gallon in me, even after the saline enema from earlier. But tonight, I hoped to come clean to Peter about how much I loved his cock in my ass, and I wanted him to "come clean" too, without stressing about the messy part of anal. So I would do my best.

I started again with the lube and the vibrator on my clit. I was already worked up, after no sex for four days and all the teasing I'd given Peter – plus then the masseuse rubbing her hands all over me. My pussy slicked up fast.

I rubbed lube all over the enema nozzle, as I moved the vibrator to my asshole for a second. The buzzing and stimulation was driving me mad. It was time.

I set the vibrator and lube bottle on the sink, and entered the shower. I let the warm water sluice down over my body, and I shampooed my hair. I kneeled down on all fours, and reached back with the lubed nozzle. I teased my ass with the tip of the nozzle, and slid it slowly into me. Here we go.

When the nozzle was all the way in, I unclamped the hose for a couple seconds, feeling the warm water rushing into me from above. Not too much, Posie. Don't rush it. Patience. I close the clamp, breathing slowly.

I can take more. With a deep breath, I let another half-cup of the warm water pour into me. I imagine how it will feel when Peter's hot semen rushes up my ass.

I clip the hose. A little cramp starts; my bowels are feeling full. I lay down on my side, carefully so as not to disturb the nozzle. No rush. I squeeze my asshole tight.

My nipples are hard, as my wet body chills in the bathroom air. I rub them, gently. I'm waiting, waiting for the cramp to subside.

I can take more now, for my sweet Peter. I stay on my side, unclipping the nozzle. The water flows into me. I am such a good girl. I clench and wait, forcing my breathing to stay steady. I try to focus on anything but how much I need to go to the bathroom.

Two more times, I let the water run into me. I am feeling so full, and the pressure in my gut is uncomfortable. I want to put the vibrator on my cunt again but I dare not, or I might accidentally lose it. I'm doing this all for my man, who is going to fuck me up the ass while I scream.

Strong, Posie, be strong.

It's time. I climb out of the shower, onto the toilet. I let go, finally, giving my asshole permission to unclench – and I swear to God I could come that very second, as everything rushes out of me, mostly water at first.

And then only water.

I'm clean, empty, pink and tight for my lover. I feel almost like a doll, a perfect clean doll that he's going to disgrace very soon.

Finally, it is time to dress to go meet Peter.

******

At 4:30, I step off the elevator, my black stiletto heels clicking on the marble floor. As an average-looking all-American girl, I feel totally justified in admitting that right now, I look fuckinghot. My firm round tits are jiggling, barely contained in the black lace bra, and the thin blue silk blouse leaves nothing to the imagination. My brown hair is shiny, wavy, flowing. My blue eyes look icy, dramatic, and my glossy lips are ready to smile and pout.

Under my short pouf of a sheer skirt, tiny black panties are already damp. My pussy is warm and slick, and of course my ass is perfect. I squeeze my little pink rosebud tight. It's aching for Peter.

I enter the hotel's elegant lounge, all cherry wood and warm leather. At the bar, I perch on a stool and cross my legs primly. My skirt immediately rides up a little, but I leave it that way.

A friendly older man in crisp white shirt and bow tie places a cocktail napkin in front of me. "Good evening, miss. What can I bring you?" I ask him for a glass of champagne. He nods and turns to fetch it.

"Wait. You know what?" The bartender looks askance over his shoulder. I review the bottles on the lighted shelves, and amend my order. "May I please also have a chilled shot of Don Julio Blanco?"

He raises his eyebrows and I smile. "Wine is divine, but liquor is quicker," is the only explanation I offer.

The bartender chuckles, and I take my phone from my handbag to catch up on Twitter while I wait for my beloved.

******

I hear Peter's voice among some other men; they must be talking out in the lobby. He is in business mode, all hail-fellow-well-met and jovial. I push a stray hair from my face in the mirror opposite the bar; my stomach flutters. I have a perfect buzz, and my muscles are relaxed. I feel languid, decadent.

He enters the bar, already loosening his tie underneath one of those awful plastic conference badges. I smile as he sees me.

Peter puts his laptop bag down in on the stool next to me. "God, Posie, you are a sight for sore eyes." He puts his arms around me and I lean into his chest. I can feel his face in my hair. "You smell incredible," he whispers.

He steps back and chuckles at the empty flute glass on the bar. "Started without me, I see."

If two glasses of wine and a shot of tequila count, then yes?, I think to myself. My cheeks are pink from the alcohol.

The bartender approaches. "Nice to have you with us, sir. What can I bring you?" Peter orders a whiskey, and points to my empty glass.

There are a couple other people in the bar, so I will behave... mostly. But I swivel to face Peter, and I cross my legs again. I know that if he looks down, he can see the tops of my stockings and a pale strip of bare skin. I take his hand in mine.

"How was your meeting, baby?" I listen intently as he quickly recaps the day. I try to follow along, but I know my eyes and body are betraying me; I am a little tipsy, extremely horny, and I don't care about the latest legal compliance trends for social media.

Peter knows me all too well, and he gets the hint. "Anyway. How wasyour day?" His eyes twinkle. I gush about the spa, how sweet he was to send me for a massage.

He smiles and sips his whiskey. "Was your masseuse hot? I admit that when I was sitting in my conference, I might have been picturing you getting naked with a hot blonde Swedish girl."

I swat his knee. "Youmight have been, huh? No, she was just your average massage therapist."

My look turns deadly serious, as I take a sip and stare at him from over the rim of my glass. "Doesn't mean I wasn't naked and thinking dirty things myself."

"Oh,really." He sets down his highball glass and puts one hand on my leg. "Tell me about it."

Careful now, Posie. Lead him there. You're a good girl, and he wants to make you a bad girl.

"Well... you know when you're getting a massage, just lying there, and someone's hands are just all over you, rubbing oil into you... And I was on my stomach... I just couldn't help but think about..." I trailed off and looked at the floor.

Peter pulled my stool closer to his. His hand inched up my thigh. "You can tell me, Posie."

I pretended to blush a little, and looked around the bar. I lowered my voice.

"Well, I was thinking about your hands on me. And when you're... you know...behind me." I paused, as though I wanted him to step in and save me from the conversation – knowing he wouldn't. He was enjoying every second.

I leaned forward, lowering my voice to almost a whisper. "Baby, I was thinking about when you fuck me doggie-style."

His hand creeped up again. He was past the tops of my stockings. "And do you like that?"

I bit my lip. "I do. I love how it feels so... dirty. Like you don't care about me, like I'm just some –" I stopped suddenly and looked away.

Peter squeezed my thigh. His thumb was almost touching my panties, and his voice was low and urgent. "Some what, Posie? How do you feel when I'm behind you?"

I blinked slowly, and met his gaze. Peter's eyes were dilated – maybe from the whiskey, maybe from the game I was playing with him.

"I feel like I'm just some slut that you're using for sex, like you don't even care about me, because all you want to do is put your cock in me." I gave Peter a tiny little butterfly kiss, my lips open on his. I put my hand on his cheek. "And I love feeling dirty. I love it when you treat me like that."

Under my skirt, Peter's hand moved forward again, his fingers slipping under the lace. He kissed me back, just in time to cover the tiny gasp I made when he touched my wetness.

He turned to the bartender and ordered another round. "And the tab, please. We're going to take these upstairs."

******

I opened the hotel room door with my card key, and held it open for Peter, who was carrying our drinks. I hung the "do not disturb" sign on the knob before I closed and locked it.

He set the drinks down, put his bag on the floor, and began to take off his jacket. I had followed him in, when Peter ordered, "Stop right there, Posie." I froze in the entryway of the room. "Don't move."

He finished taking off his tie, jacket, meeting badge. He whispered "Don't move" again, as he stepped past me into the bathroom. He shut the door, and I could hear him urinating, flushing, washing his hands.

I waited expectantly as Peter came back out of the bathroom. He moved behind the writing desk, and pulled out a leather chair, pushing it into the center of the room. It sat now near the foot of the king bed.

He reclined in the chair, legs wide open, feet planted firmly on the floor. "Bring me our drinks."

There was a tone in his voice... something new. Something firm, dominant. I followed his orders. Ice cubes clinked as he took the glasses from me. I stood before him, waiting. He gestured to the foot of the bed.

"Stand right there. While you take off your dress, I want you to tell me what you did today."

Unbidden, my mind flashed to being on my knees in the bathtub... laying on the floor with a dildo in my ass like a wanton slut.