The astronaut

I am a lucky one. I get to visit a whole other universe several times a month. Sci fi novels and their teleporters couldn’t imagine these places.

See, most hotels rent their rooms for day time use, not just the run down drug addled ones. Roughly 4 hours at a time. Look at dayuse.com. You’ll find all the big chains doing it. I suppose some people may rent these rooms as the hotels advertise, for business people who want to do work quietly, away from their home or office. But I suspect most people use them for more impolite reasons. Like me and my lover. We are poly people looking for a place to play. We leave our secrets tangled up in those starchy white sheets and in the white towels, rinsing off with pumps from the free containers of body wash in the showers.

As is the the moon a whole separate world compared to Earth, so is the outside world versus inside these rooms. We lay a mass of arms and legs afterwards, me on his chest, and talk about our lives. I say, Do you think this will burn out quickly? And he says, I don’t think so. For the record, I hope not. Before I knew my lover I was a deep sea diver in many ways, especially intimately. I would move, but I was slow and encumbered and unsure. Weighed down by all the invisible weight of a respectable life. In these rooms I am learning to traverse freely without gravity. My lover always watches me but he is patient and he is kind. Even when he is spanking me or holding my throat.

In the days leading up to one of our encounters I am a ball of nervous energy. I will send him messages daring him to try and pin me again like last time. Sassing him to try and catch me. I am at my most witty and alive and I can feel an internal pulse everywhere in my body. It is hard to wait. To not think how much I like to hold his hard warm body on top of mine and pull hard on his ass to get him as deep as he possibly can be inside. To reimagine how he must go slow at the beginning of each encounter until my body readjusts to his hardness and size. How he uses his thumb to rub me breathless. How anything I want to try he agrees to.

I say, I want a threesome, a mmf. And he says, okay. A day later I say, nevermind, I’m scared and don’t want that. And he says, okay. I ask him what part of sex do you like most? And he says, what kind of questions you ask; I like all of it. He is simple and he is mine, for a few hours at a time. We both are holding cake in our hands and feeding it to each other.

When we leave the tornadoed rooms I see him slip the cloak of real life back on, as I negotiate mine over my sore breasts and arms. The world is big enough for us for another encounter. My heart is big enough to wait. To re-enjoy this verisimilitude. Like pushing off with my legs from the side of a swimming pool, we say goodbye in the parking lot. I go my way, and he gets smaller in the rear view mirror. Soon I may be too old to want this, and his desire will begin to overlap mine. He is a cub afterall. But I will always have these memories. The salt from his body. His velvet areas under my fingertips. His ability to fill me up 3 times in one encounter. I say, you should make a gigolo business card and hand it out. He chuckles and says no. Secretly, I’m glad. He still has the solar system to show me and can’t leave just yet.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rfpocz/the_astronaut