Don’t let the title fool you. There were some definite ups to my night (wink wink). But I also feel it’s prudent not to sugarcoat things. Fantasy is not reality and as hopefully seen, I’m here to write reality.
The day had already started out bad. It was one bad news and situation after another but I was determined to make the best of my night. Looking forward to my time with Armando.So let’s start with the hotel. My husband and I had gambled on a new place we had not yet scoped out because the holiday season had swallowed up our preferred sleeping sites. Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the best shape. No problem. I could adapt and if Armando wanted something else, he was free to arrange something else.
I think it’s important to note that I had built up a lot of expectation. This may not have been fair but I couldn’t really help it after our time in the truck and his hints at a birthday surprise. I texted him that I arrived early, hoping for a repeat of our prior hotel rendevouz. He couldn’t. He was getting ready for the holiday event.
Again, no problem. There were almost five hours until the event. We could maybe catch some time later. I asked him to text me when he was free. I did some work and then went out for some food and then sat around the hotel for a few hours. No more word from Armando. It felt like another blow.
I don’t generally feel I’m a needy person but I did wonder why I’d come so early and berated myself a bit for falling into the fanciful assumption trap. Of course things were going to be different then the last event. I readied myself for the night and set out to have a good night.
A few hours later, it was midnight and I sat texting my husband:
“I’ve barely had any requests to dance. He’s not here and there’s been no word. So I’m just sitting here. Today has been awful. I think I’m gonna head back to the hotel.”
“I’m sorry babe. Did you want to check out now and just come home, instead?”
A guy next to me started elbowing me. I looked up. And of course, like a fucking scene straight out of a movie, there was Armando. He had his hand out for me to dance with his stupid, sexy smirk.
I texted my husband one last time:
“He showed up and he’s fucking gorgeous. I hate him.”
We danced.
And then we talked.
He apologized for leaving me hanging. I told him I didn’t need or want to keep tabs on him. All I wanted was clear communication when it involved our plans, even if it was a quick, “Hey, can’t make it”. The thing about Armando: he was always such a gentleman about things. He listened. I felt heard and that’s all I really needed. Things resolved. We made up and a few hours later we were back at the hotel making out.
It was the escape I so desperately needed. Armando seemed to understand this. The sex was intense. There were no inhibitions as he laid me back, lifted my legs over his shoulders and then drove deeper than he’d ever gone. I cried out at the sudden force. My feet were stretched past my head. The depth and fast pace hurt in a good way. I loved it. I needed this. He slammed into me over and over and covered my mouth with his to keep me from screaming. So instead I clawed at his back, eliciting muffled grunts of pleasure from him.
Finally, the climax came. We separated. We caught our breaths.
And then we fucked again.
By the time all was said and done, it was somewhere around four in the morning. We were both exhausted. He had to leave and stood before me naked, his cock inches from my face. He was saying something when I nonchalantly took him in my mouth, watching as the words died on his lips. I’d blown him before but this morning was different. I worked him with my lips and tongue and relished the sight of Armando basking in the unexpected pleasure. He slipped his fingers through my hair to feel the movement of my head on his head. I sped up, I could taste him building. And then he came in my mouth. I swallowed it all and then licked his cock clean.
After a few minutes of him coming back down to earth, he resumed getting dressed and I walked him out, letting him go with one last kiss at the door.
It was 5am by that point. I fell into bed exhausted. Armando said he’d text when he got home.
I didn’t even hear the cell chime. It had been the best “terrible, not-so-good” birthday I had ever had.
