My forearms were pressed against the cold hotel window, cooling my sex-heated body. I bend at the waist and arch my back as he enters me from behind at the perfect angle at his shorter height. He pounds into me in a rhythm that matches the storm outside. The repeated tornado warnings issuing from our phones beeping in the background, drowned by moans and sighs. The perfect background music. We watch the rain and lightning through half closed eyes, my breasts swaying with the force of his thrusts. He pulls my hips back to lead me to the bed. Still inside me, he pulls me into his lap. I ride him, his hands cupping my breasts, facing the window still watching the storm. I’ve always loved storms. Some girls freak out when thunder and lightning starts, but it infuses me with some chaotic energy and I’m just… Wild. It’s like my nature connects with the storm and we just rage together.

The evidence of my destruction, albeit unknown, is in his consistently chiming phone. His girlfriend texting to make sure he’s okay. She thinks he’s in Kentucky, but he’s 5 miles from his house in this hotel. I’d been blowing him off for two weeks. Scheduling conflicts get tedious after a while with the whole other woman thing. I get bored with timing issues, so I wasn’t all that interested, but he came up with this scenario, and it worked, so here I am.

I don’t love him. I don’t feel much about him, actually. I’m here because I’m bored. Nobody else is capturing my attention, so why not? I don’t want to steal him from his girlfriend. I’ve already had him as a boyfriend, and I already know he can’t be faithful, so there are no illusions here. But there is good sex, there is great sex, and then there’s what we do. It is like Olympic level fucking.

Here comes the awkward moment… We finish and he wants to cuddle. I’ve always had this no cuddling with fuckbuddies rule… So I’m getting dressed and he’s like a petulant child.

“You’re leaving already? I thought we could…”

“Mmm yeah, but I promised my friend I’d meet her for drinks at 9… It’s 8, and I need to shower”

There is no friend… No drinks planned. I just really want to get home, shower where all my stuff is, and go to sleep without sharing a bed with anyone. I love the sex, it’s like an addiction, but I have no desire to spend any more time in his company. Conversation is really not necessary.

I don’t feel bad that he paid for this nice hotel room. He has money, and he threw enough of it at me when we were a couple to make up for the fact that he kept me a secret and was cheating. This poor girlfriend. I won’t be the one to tell her. She will learn. I’m sure she’s just enjoying the gifts and the grand gestures. I’ve just never been much for that bullshit. I see through it and it just doesn’t mean anything.


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