[F]ucking a hot Brit [M] in my Manhattan hotel room

We’ll call him Peter.

Peter responded to a cleverly titled post of mine on RAOMD. By his response, I gathered he was witty, fun, experienced, and safe (let’s be honest – this requirement is paramount for actually being able to have fun with someone).

We chatted for a week or so before I was due in New York. We delved into our respective sexual experiences, and I found myself on the receiving end of several sets of instructions to follow from him. He’s a natural dom, and I was surprised that I enjoyed completing the tasks he’d given me – the hottest of which was to capture on video trying to make myself squirt.

The night I was arriving, I was supposed to meet another friend for drinks and fun. However, Peter convinced me to meet him first. At minimum, it would give us a chance to establish a personal connection in person, and if things went well, he planned to send me on my date wearing his cum.

He beat me to my hotel. As I was checking in, he texted “nice heels”. I felt so exposed and turned on knowing his eyes were already on me, checking out my body. After what felt like an eternity, I finally made my way through the hotel bar with my room key in hand. I anxiously scanned the tables when my eyes landed on a handsome man sitting alone at a table smiling at me. He stood, we hugged, and sat down next to each other.

I had told myself before that we would just be getting a drink. I had other plans, and while I had had two guys in a night before, I didn’t think I was up for it. And then I looked at Peter and asked what we should do. He said, “Well I think you know what I would like to do.” His intense eyes coupled with the build up we had created (and let’s be honest, the accent) totally melted me. I shook my head, said ok, and we stood up and headed for the room.

We shared a tiny elevator with what seemed like every guest in the hotel. That ride to the top floors seemed to take forever. I’m sure my face was totally flushed in anticipation of what was coming. And Peter just kept looking at me and slyly smiling. He’s a thin guy, a bit above average height, but he way he carried himself demonstrated someone with “swagger” (which I would soon find out was totally justified).

As soon as we walked through the hotel room door, he grabbed me and kissed me, pressed up against the wall. It felt desperate – he needed to feel my body as much as I needed his. A minute later he stepped back from me and said, “Let’s see what’s under the dress.” I kept my eyes on his while I undid my wrap dress. When I revealed the red thong and black bra under my dress, he looked at me like he was going to devour me.

And then he did.

We stripped off the dress and underwear and left on my heels. He laid me back on the bed, kissed his way down my body, ending at my pussy. He dove in, and it was electric.

I couldn’t wait too long before I had to have his cock inside of me. I begged him to fuck me. Peter obliged. On my back, both of us standing with me bent over the bed, me on top. Slipping in and out of those positions is a blur of naked bodies and my orgasms.

About this time, I realized I didn’t want Peter to leave and canceled on my friend. Plane delayed I claimed. Sorry – catch you later in the week…

In our chats, I had told him one of the things I found incredibly sexy was a partner who was into ass play on him (see prior story). When I went down on him, I worked my mouth and hands all over his cock and balls. He was laid back on the bed and I was on my knees worshipping his cock. I started playing one finger near his ass, and knowing he was game, slipped that finger inside him. I worked his prostate with my finger while my mouth, tongue and other hand worked his cock and paid attention to his balls. Peter told me what he wanted – and god, that feedback from your partner is so good. And good for him too: hearing and feeling his orgasm with his cock in my mouth and my finger in his ass isn’t an image I’ll soon forget.

After that, we laid in bed for a few minutes chatting. And it wasn’t too long before we started fooling around again. At that point Peter somewhat sheepishly mentioned he’d only brought one condom. I didn’t want him to leave, and I definitely wanted him again. So we opted to break into the minibar stash to enable the next romp.

He was so good with his cock. Round two: More positions. My favorite? Peter on his knees with me on my back. His eyes on mine and my fingers on my clit. Did I cum like that? You betcha. And he got a second from fucking me.

He had claimed before we met that he’d have no problem making me squirt. Only one other guy I’ve been with has done this, and I was turned on at the thought of someone else doing the same. Over the course of the night, he used his fingers to make me squirt all over the bed. I mean, all over. He was relentless. Let’s just say, I left the maid $20 the following morning.

Oh, and this reminds me, I need to back out the minibar condom purchase from my hotel expenses.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/bh7qa3/fucking_a_hot_brit_m_in_my_manhattan_hotel_room