Hotel Sex

“Cheers,” she said as we clinked together our shitty hotel-room-glasses filled with good champagne. The jacuzzi steamed up all the mirrors and it made the candle light look hazy.

The tub was filled with soft water and rose petals, the jets were loud. We were both curled up, legs wrapped around each other in the water, wet and skin to skin.

“My sister had a jacuzzi at her first house,” she said absentmindedly as I pressed the button again to start another 10 minutes of bubbles.

“My grandma had one too,” I replied, “I used to masturbate with the jets when I was in middle school.” Her eyebrows shot up and she put her glass down. She looked at me like she was suddenly hungry.

“Show me,” she said. Just like that. My lips parted a little, ready to dismiss her or argue, a bit embarrassed by the demand. But then, before I could consider, my body was complying.

I smirked and lifted my legs up onto the side of the tub, like I used to when I was prepubescent and pretty sure no one would bother me. I wriggled down to get myself into the right position over the jets, the instant pulsating on my clit made my cheeks warm. I gasped and her eyes twinkled as she moved closer to put her arm around me and help hold me into place.

For the next 30 minutes she held me in the water, rapids of bubbles spilling over us as I squirmed and moaned and tried to cum under her watchful eye. It’s so much tougher when someone’s watching, especially inches from my face with their hand on my collar bone. I would get close and wriggle away, twice the 10-minute timer ended right in time to ruin the orgasm I was desperate to achieve. “My poor girl, you were so close,” she teased me as she pressed the button again and I bucked from the sensitivity.

Eventually she got her wish and I got so close I couldn’t hold back or wriggle away. She held my body as I came hard and thrashed in the water, sure I would have drowned from the effort if she wasn’t holding me tight. It was all deep eye gazes and heavy breathing, beads of sweat dripping down both of our faces as the water churned around us.

The next morning the back of my head and the back of my thighs were tender. Both from pressing back against the edges of the bathtub. She kissed them sweetly and thanked me for doing such a good job, and whispered in my ear “You’re my favourite bath toy.”