That One Night Out, Then In

Wandering along, laughing, people-watching, the occasional grope around a corner, you pinning me up against the wall for a kiss… we’ve been wandering for a good bit of time. We’ve found food trucks here and there and grabbed a glass of wine, a bite to eat, and kept on.

Now, as we jump in the elevator back to the room, it seems we’re on a tour of the hotel, and it has enough floors to make it interesting. As we wait for the outbound group to get off, we hear them giggling and see them stumbling out. They’re looking at us like we’ve missed the big joke of the day. We really, really don’t care.

When we get on, we know exactly what they’re laughing at. Every single button is pushed. I’m in no good place to be doing this random “stop at every floor thing,” I’ll be honest. I want to get off this elevator and on to the room.

I lean back against the wall and exhale loudly as the doors shut and you’re on me in a flash, hand on my crotch, nibbling at my neck, other hand on my chest… Just as we slow down seconds later for the very next @#^@#% floor, you pull back, straighten your shirt, but not mine. Thankfully, no one gets on.

As the doors swing shut you spin and face me, kissing me, pressing into me, using every last second, then turning as we hit the next floor. Behind your back, your hands are on me, squeezing, teasing me.

Luckily, again, no one gets on.

As the doors start to close, you have my zipper down, your hand inside my jeans and are in full “get that thing rock hard” mode. You’re kissing me. unbuttoning a button on my shirt to get your hands on one more piece of flesh… seconds later, DING.

The doors open, still no one. This time you don’t wait. You push the close button. I start to say “you know, those aren’t actually working buttons…” and you cut me off by kissing me, then sucking my tongue into your mouth. Another button on my shirt. I’m hard as a rock, completely willing to pull the alarm and stop this elevator, but I suspect it’s not like in the movies and we’d have “assistance” here in seconds.


My shirt half undone, your back to me, my hair mussed. Your hand in my pants behind your back. Me panting a bit, breath catching a bit.

A couple gets on. I can’t believe it. We’re going up. Not from the lobby or whatever, and this couple actually gets on. They notice all the buttons pushed, then look again at me. Us. Clearly they believe WE pushed all those buttons.

I stammer. I try to speak. It’s not easy. I tell them, somewhat feebly, that a bunch of drunk fools got off in the lobby and apparently had hit all the buttons before they left. I get one of those bro nods like “yeah. Sure.” They look me over again, you standing there, innocent, me disheveled to say the least. It may be me, but I think I can smell us in the air, just a whiff, but … oh my.

Thankfully, the couple gets off on the next floor. I’m not sure that was their legit destination, but I’m happy to see it. We continue our tour of the seemingly 3,124,567 floors. We remain alone for a couple of floors. Somehow, you actually manage to get my cock out, behind you, squeezing it, stroking it. As soon as the doors close at the next floor, you kneel down, one hand on my chest in the universal “don’t you fucking move” gesture and one hand wrapped around me as you swallow me.

It’s a slow couple of strokes, I feel my knees want to buckle. DING.

You quickly stand up just in time to see the doors open, your hand on me, again behind your back. No one.

The doors close and instantly you pick up right where you left off. Somehow, you manage to do this until just a few floors before ours.


The doors open. A couple is standing there. “Going down?”

I stutter, full-on stutter, try to answer. Can’t even really make it out. You manage to wipe your mouth, then say “Nope, going up.” I think we’ve got it made.

“Oh my god, we’ve been waiting so long for an elevator. We’ll just ride it up and back down – I think it’ll be faster. ” They get on, laughing that fake laugh like “well, this is awkward.”

Yes, yes it is.

You have a firm grip on my cock, I’m terrified that they will see exactly what’s going on. We awkwardly ride with them up the last few floors to our floor. I’ve never been so thankful for getting to the correct floor.

Then I realize. I never really anticipated that we’d not have time to, well, stow the goods. We’re still standing there, my cock, your hand, doors opening. Now or never.

You turn to them, “hey, just so you know, I think they’re watching the elevator, there’s a little camera right up there with a red-light on…” You point to the back corner ceiling. They turn to look, we dash out, me being led by your grip around me.

As soon as the doors close, we burst out laughing, we actually pulled it off… we think. I start to put myself back together. You walk out into the hall – we’re pretty close to our room – no one. You stop me re-arranging. Grab me, and lead me to our room, opening the door with one hand, your other driving me…

“Going down….” indeed.

Masturbation Monday

8 Replies to “That One Night Out, Then In”

  1. I love her determination and your helplessness. The tension in your tale is palpable and the mix of sexy and humour is fabulous – lovely writing.

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