The Road Journey - Sex Stories

The Road Journey

... tenth floor. As the doors opened, an older woman, perhaps in her seventies, gracefully entered. She was a study in elegance: short, silver hair with subtle waves, a classically gorgeous face, a perfectly fitting cocktail dress and sharp black heels. The sequenced dots from her pearl necklace was a perfect compliment to her attire. “Good evening,” I said, trying to muster the charm of The World’s Most Interesting Man , and not sound like some schmuck from small-town America. “Good evening,” she returned kindly, with a slight downward nod and a warm smile. I realized there was a five-star restaurant on the twenty-second floor, and made the assumption she was headed there for dinner or a drink. “Headed to the restaurant?” I politely inquired. “Indeed, I am,” she said, while glancing up at the floor indicator with what I sensed was anticipation. Feeling a certain level of openness in the thirty seconds we shared the elevator, I bravely inquired further. “Are you meeting someone special?” Fully anticipating a mature smackdown, I was elated when she smiled and said, “Yes, I am.” Not wanting to press any further, I couldn’t resist a flirty, but genuine compliment. Stepping back slightly so I could casually frame what I was seeing, I said “Well, you look fantastic tonight. Someone special is going to see someone hot!” She let out a schoolgirl’s laugh and thanked me, trying to maintain a sense of modesty. “You just made my night,” she added. The futuristic tone from overhead indicted ...

... the elevator had reached my floor, and I wished her a pleasant evening as the doors smoothly slid open. “You too,” she called after me. Oh, we will, I thought. Since I reserved a suite, the room was quite a walk from the elevators. As I passed the rooms, I wondered if anyone was doing anything as hot as we had on tap for tonight. Nah, probably traveling salesman watching Spankervision on the hotel cinema channel. Finally, I arrived at room 1844. Pulling the keycard out of my breast pocket, my hands were trembling a bit. I paused, and leaned in slightly. I guess I was trying to hear the sounds of sex, or perhaps I was extending the foreplay as long as possible. In any case, it was go time, so I waved the keycard over the lock and felt another jolt of excitement as the light flashed green and the door unlocked. Surely, the sound of my entry could be heard in the bedroom, so I imagined what it must have been like for Amanda, knowing I had arrived, and that her husband would walk in on her fucking another man. Hanging the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the outside handle, I locked the deadbolt and headed to the bedroom. As I walked down the hallway, I could see the room was dimly lit, and heard faint sounds of activity. I was hoping I might see some flashes of shadows, faint teasers of what I would soon witness. As I approached the doorway, I gradually let the scene unfold in front of me. As requested, they were fucking missionary. Slate was on top, and while not pounding Amanda, had ...