Alcove

I am at the swanky hotel in Central London having a couple of drinks with friends. One-liners are traded, Dirty Martinis are flowing.

I decide to pay a visit to the ladies.

As I walk down the long corridor, I spot a cheeky little alcove. A nook with a coffee table and an opulent armchair.

And on cue, I remember being pulled into that alcove once, pushed against that very armchair and trying to bolt.

Then a firm grip on the back of my neck persuaded me to stay in place, and a hard cock was was placed between my wet thighs. As I arched and gave in, begging for more, he simply walked away, and left me there, crouching on the edge of that chair, my arse in the air and the card to the hotel room placed on that glossy coffee table.

I smile and walk on.