His Pants Stayed On and I Liked It

Keeping Clothed in Bed is Erotic

I was nervous.

I wasn’t even sure I was attracted to this guy. And I signed up for a hotel meet? What was I thinking?

I wasn’t thinking, that’s positive.

My pussy was doing the heavy lifting. My brain had exited my body.

I was horny, so horny. And ready.

“Do you think you’ll need wine?” my prospective lover asked.

“Heck, no!” I texted.

I didn’t need liquor to feel aroused — it’s my natural default state. I don’t need much coaxing, either. The morning of our meet, I masturbated furiously in bed alone. At least I can cum, now, I thought, even if he doesn’t get me to the finish line.

I needn’t have worried.

This man had tricks up his button-down sleeves.

“Would you care for anything?” he texted the week before our meet.

“Maybe massage oil?” I answered. I love massage porn, and I love oil. Slippery body parts were instantaneously hot.

“Yes, that can be arranged,” he said.

He’s perfect.

The bed part was an unknown entity, yet his anticipation and level of concern were excellent precursors.

This bodes well…

I was prepared for fun, but I wasn’t anticipating the level of hedonism that ensued.

“Room 501,” he texted.

I looked at my cell with my lingerie already getting damp from my excitement.

Can I do this? Oh, yes, I AM doing this on a midday when I should be working or being responsible.

“Room is open,” he wrote. “Do you want me to come down to the lobby to meet you?”

“I can come up on my own. Winky face emoji.”

I was in control of my sexual desires. Finally.

Letting myself into his hotel room with the door left ajar, I felt suddenly nervous.

He’s wearing all his clothes. Surprisingly, I don’t have to fend off a naked man with octopus limbs. Oh my, he looked so handsome in his powder blue dress shirt and jeans. Lean and muscular. Mmmm.

He seemed to sense my trepidation. He went slowly.

“Do you like the music?” he said. “I have snacks and water. Do you want anything?” “I’m good.” “We can go slow,” he said.

Little did I know how slow he could go.

He sat on the bed so I could direct the pace. I kissed him delicately.

It grew more passionate.

“Why don’t we get more comfortable?” he said motioning to the bed.

“Let’s,” I said. I shimmied out of my denim skirt and kicked off my sandals. “I wore this for you,” as I peeled off my blouse. It was an orange lace teddy hugging my curves with my ample breasts spilling out.

“Aren’t you undressing?” I asked. “No. Can I admire you?” he said, kneeling to get a closer look at my semi-naked body.

Simultaneously flattered and amused, I wouldn’t have stopped him. He palmed my body delicately.

“So curvy,” he said appreciatively.

He took his time.

Every erogenous zone. Lingering. For not just minutes, hours. Most men rushed through foreplay. How fast could they get to the main event? He was in no hurry.

I didn’t know if I could take the build-up. I needed to reciprocate.

“Take off your clothes,” I begged. “Not yet.”

He was fully clothed, exploring my body — the torment. I was vainly trying to reach through his denim to feel his hard-on. What I discovered was the eroticism of the clothing barrier.

I was almost naked, and he was wasn’t.

It was divinely sensual to brush my ass against his belted Levi’s. Who would have thought more garments were useful in bed?

Except mine.

“Let’s take this off of you,” he said. He slowly peeled off my lingerie, pushing the delicate straps off my shoulders, freeing my body.

“You aren’t undressing?” I asked, bewildered. “No. Just you.”

His hands slipped inside me, and I was lost. Once I drifted back, “I need to touch you,” I implored.

“You will,” he answered.

I gripped his strong shoulders through his starched shirt as he made me tremble again and again.

Woah, this man has skills.

Where did he learn all this stuff? Wait, who cares? I’m enjoying every single minute. My brain finally shut off, and my pussy took over. I lost all ability to form a coherent thought.

“Please, get naked,” I begged again.

Most guys would have dropped their clothing in a second. Not him.

“Eventually…be patient. This is about you.”

Massage oil came next. I sighed happily. My ass and back were slick. My lover kneaded me slowly. Every crevice felt his sure touch.

“Let me oil you,” I asked. “Soon.”

He relented a bit, an hour later. His shirt came off. Not his pants.

“Oh my god, thank you!” I said, finally feeling his skin and seeing his broad chest.

I was utterly in his thrall with his fingers and mouth playing with me.

“I can’t take this. I need to taste you and feel you,” I pleaded. “I won’t deny you, I promise.” “Oh, you are denying me,” I pouted.

Was this man going to fuck me? Or just toy with me?

“Please fuck me,” I demanded. “Please.”

He must have sensed the urgency of my need.

His jeans finally came off, and the pleasure continued. By that point, I was hooked. His clothing was discarded and mine, too, puddled next to the white hotel bed.

Body against body, skin against skin. At last.

“You have me in an erotic trance,” he said.

I felt like I was the one snared.

Either way, the eroticism of this meet was undeniable. Clothes were no barrier to our desire.

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