Stuck in a BnB Room with Two Kids (L)

(L) – This story contains strong language. 

After Ann devoured the first two dirty tales I shared with her, I knew I had to crank out more. Her surprise waxing handed me the perfect fuel, and I banged out a fresh one, ready to fire off.

Spring break vacation—stuck together with the kids, barely a second alone—was lighting me up and leaving me pent-up as hell.

I’d set up this slick new app for us—spicy texts, pics, vids—but we hadn’t cracked it open yet. While Ann napped, I shot her the story and texted her it was live. Meanwhile, I started tapping out a different kind of dirtiness, one that sneaks into the end of this story.

Later, as we piled into the car for the family fun center, Ann hit me with, “I haven’t opened that app yet, Babe.” Shoot. A hot story’s useless if she’s not reading it. Still, we tore it up—racing the kids, trading flirty jabs—and I stole scraps of time to flesh out that other piece.

Back in the room, the kids crashed out while we zoned to TV in bed. Ann slipped off to brush her teeth, while I secretly fired up the app. Next time she’d grab her phone, expecting her game, she’d land on my smut instead.

When Ann slid back into bed, I went for it—pushing past her usual line, my hand diving down the front of her soft, loose pajama pants. “Tomorrow night,” she whispered, half-laughing at my desperation, “we’ll be alone in a hotel room.” But I was horny as I’d hissed desperately in her ear earlier, groping her in Mammoth Cave’s pitch-black corners.

“Tonight,” I shot back, palm grazing her silky-smooth mound, middle finger splitting her lips and finding her slick. “Tonight’s now. Push those pants down and let me at you.” I tugged the waistband, growling, “Lift that fine ass so I can peel these off.” Seconds later, my fingertips were roaming, and Ann muttered something about lube.

I bolted to my bag, snagged some, and dove back in—fingers slick and primed. Lifting the covers, I locked onto her clit again, then glanced up. Ann was nose-deep in my story. Fucking jackpot.

Between me stroking her, Ann reading, and me knowing every filthy word hitting her eyes, we were both choking down gasps, trying to stay silent. Good thing no one could hear my heart—it was slamming, probably skipping beats.

By the time Ann finished the story, I was racing to finish her, but my hand was cramping from a bad angle. I swapped fingers, fumbled, and lost my spot. Ann, all patience despite being wound tight, guided me back.

“Use your finger. Inside me. Another one,” she breathed.

I slipped in—her wetness hit like a flood—and settled with two fingers curling deep, thumb circling her clit. “Deeper,” she urged, and I sank two knuckles in, pressing her g-spot.

My cock was screaming, throbbing so hard I rasped, “I could blow all over this bed untouched.”

Seconds later, Ann hit the peak—pussy gripping my fingers, her moans stifled to a whimper.  As I licked my fingers, she rolled over, grabbed my cock, and yanked me to a fast, quiet explosion.

After we cleaned up, I spooned Ann, kissed her neck, and whispered, “I love you.”

“That’s not what you’re really thinking,” she teased.

“Uh, thanks. For. THAT,” I stammered.

“Gotta keep you stocked with material,” Ann fired back.

I blinked, thrown for a sec. Then I lunged for my phone, gave that other story a final scan, and sent it. “New one in the app whenever you’re ready,” I whispered. I watched Ann switch screens, my hand resting on her hip, as her breathing hitched and her pulse kicked up again. I drifted off to that soundtrack.