High Desert Hijinks: Day Three

As he awoke on the third morning, a glance out the French doors of the balcony revealed wisps of gray clouds swirling around the top of the mountains in the distance, much like her tongue was swirling around the tip of his tool, bringing him to a full, throbbing erection.  Vacations meant no alarms and no distractions from the carnal enjoyment of each other they craved.  All sex was good.  Vacation sex was a cut above.

Of course, her tongue felt incredible surrounding the smooth sensitive mushroom head atop his shaft.  Almost as enjoyable to him was merely laying back and watching her mouth as she pleasured him, a sight he never tired of, one that never lost its eroticism.  He intended to enjoy it until she inevitably would roll off of him, spread her legs, and ask him to fuck her.  Any other day, he would gladly accommodate her request.  Today he would not.  But he didn’t let that be known just yet.

“When I woke up this morning, my pussy was already wet for you,” she whispered.

“It was wet before you ever fell asleep last night,” he replied.  “I know because I filled it up with a sizable load of cum before your head hit the pillow.”

“I’m ready for you to do that very same thing again,” she giggled.

He rolled her over and spread her legs wide, revealing a treasure he knew would take all his willpower not to consume to the fullest extent.  Her outer lips were thick and swollen.  The inner lips were a color they only turned when she was extremely excited, a deep purplish pink, as though tinted by nature’s lipstick.  A sweet layer of juices, both new and left over from the night before, covered most of the area.  He was intently focused on licking it clean.

In the course of rubbing his tongue over her entire opening, he was careful to spend ample time on the erect nub peeking out from under the hood at the top of her vagina.  As his lips teased her clit, her hips rocked back and forth slowly at first, but before long, she was bucking his face with involuntary thrusts.  Normally, he would suck her clit until she came and then immediately mount her and thrust into her until his balls were emptied as deep inside her as he could thrust.

As she gathered up fistfuls of the sheet on either side of her and prepared to ride his tongue into heaven, he pulled back, his beard wet and thick with her cream.

“What happened?  What are you doing?” she said in a low panicked voice.

“You need to get showered.  Quickly.  I’ll get in after you,” he told her.  “We have an appointment and can’t be late.”

“I was just about to cum!” she said.  “Let’s finish.  It won’t take five minutes.  I need you to fuck me!”

He could have, so easily.  Truth be told, he was near climax himself as a result of the blow job she’d administered and of his face being buried in her pussy, seconds from orgasm.  But when he’d planned the morning weeks earlier, he’d been determined to tease both of them, creating a sexual tension that would carry over to the next event.  “Later,” he said.  “Get in the shower.  It will be worth the wait.”

To say she was mad would have been an overstatement.  To say she was disappointed would have been an understatement.  An argument, however, would have been counterproductive.  She headed to the bathroom. 

As she walked by the bed, he grabbed her arm and stopped her.  “Don’t touch yourself in the shower.  The relief you want will come soon enough.  You’re not to try to provide it yourself,” he told her. 

She thought about how well he knew her and was as impressed as she was annoyed.  As he let go of her arm, his hand slid down her naked body and found its way to her still-wet and swollen pussy.  He stroked it until he felt her hips start to sway again and then spanked her on the ass.  “Go.  Now.”

In the shower, she wondered what he had planned.  As she soaped herself, she was tempted to wash her pussy vigorously enough to relieve her frustration but knew he’d be able to tell if she’d cum.  She washed off the glaze but remained swollen and creamy inside, no less in need of an orgasm than when she’d left the bed.

He could tell she was pouting just a bit as she came out of the bathroom and he went in.  “All the better,” he thought to himself.  While showering, he stroked his dick just enough to keep it swollen and thick and ensure his own desire was held at full strength.  It wouldn’t have taken much to cause an ejaculation, so he was sure to keep it short and sweet.

Back in the room, she was slow to get dressed, speculating she might change his mind and convince him to be late for whatever the appointment was he’d scheduled.  Grabbing his member, still partially thick and full, she stroked it and tempted him as though they were in the Garden of Eden. 

He was having none of it, though he wanted all of it.  “Get dressed.  We’ve got to go,” he said.

They finished dressing and headed down to the car.  While her interest was piqued as to what arrangements had been made, she was still frustrated she’d not been given the orgasm she’d wanted, especially after having been treated to so many the first couple days of their trip.  Luckily, the drive to the day spa was a short one.  Pulling into the parking lot solved the mystery and changed her attitude. 

“You booked a couple’s massage!” she cried out in surprise.

“I did indeed,” he smiled.  “And I didn’t want the whole room to have the scent of a recent fuck when we get undressed for it.” He chuckled as she grabbed his thigh and smiled.  “Nor did I want my load of cum seeping out of your pussy while you were being treated to a massage.” 

If she had harbored any lingering regrets from the morning, they evaporated as they headed to the reception desk to check in.  After completing the payment details, the two of them were escorted to a dark room, but not before he returned to the desk to whisper one final instruction.

Once in the room, they were shown where to put their clothes.  They were to lie on adjoining tables, face down.  Warmed blankets were provided for them to place over their midsections.  The two masseuses who would be serving them would be in soon.  With that, the attendant left, pulling the door shut behind her.

The room was lit only by scented candles.  Faint instrumental music played on muffled speakers.  He couldn’t tell if it was Native American, Asian, or some combination, but it added to the overall relaxing atmosphere.  She had already removed her sweater and bra when he glanced her way.  He couldn’t fight the urge to suck each of her nipples before beginning to remove his own garments.  As he did, each nipple quickly swelled, as did his dick.  Not a full erection, but enough that he was glad he’d be lying on his stomach to start the massage.

They each quickly lay down on their respective tables and covered their torsos with the warmed blankets.  When asked what gender he preferred for their masseuses, he’d been torn.  The thought of another man’s hands all over his wife, particularly when she was in the state of heightened desire he knew she’d be in, caused consternation, though he knew there would be nothing sexual involved.  Likewise, he was hesitant to request a male for his own service because it seemed an odd thing to have happen, yet the thought of someone strong enough to work the deep tissue of his muscles held an appeal.  In the end, he left it to chance rather than make a decision.  

When two women walked in and began preparing things, he was both disappointed and relieved.  What took place when they started was exquisite: the perfect combination of heightened sexual tension they’d left the hotel with and a level of relaxation only attained by skilled professionals working every knotted muscle in just such a way to make it feel sublime.  He and his wife were each walking a thin line between eroticism and relaxation, the eroticism a result of the days and hours leading up to the moment, the relaxation a mix of oils, aromas, hot rocks, and artistry of the masseuses.  The combination produced an intoxicating result.

At the end of the session, they each lay on the table, teased and relaxed, ready for the completion they’d sought earlier, the sensual touch rather than the relaxing one.  At check-in, he had returned to the reception desk to make it clear he was paying for a full 90-minute massage but only wanted 75 minutes of actual services.  “We’ll need 15 minutes to dress after the massage,” he told them.  He didn’t care if they knew what that 15 minutes was really for or not.

Music still playing, candles still flickering, when the shutting door indicated the masseuses’ departure, he slid off the table and let the blanket covering him fall to the floor.  Standing beside the table she lay on, he pulled the cover off his wife and spread her legs wide open.  With his face between her thighs, he spread the lips of her pussy with his tongue and slid it up and down like a smooth canoe gliding down a stream whose surface was as smooth as glass.  The taste of her brought him back to full erection.

Her eyes never opened.  Her back arched.  The sweet, warm nectar leaked from her pussy, covered his mouth, and spread over her outer lips.  He flicked her swollen clit with his tongue and brought her to what he thought may have been the quickest orgasm she’d ever enjoyed.  “Not when you figure in all morning at the hotel,” she said when he later commented on it in the car.

When she’d come down from her prolonged climax, he instructed her to get on her knees on the blanket on the floor in front of him.  As soon as she’d complied, he fed her the full length of his cock.  Like his wife, it did not take long for his orgasm to reach fruition.  He felt his balls draw up and his knees begin to wobble and knew the load he’d wanted to shoot all morning was about to rage forth.  He fought the desire to pull his cock from her mouth and shoot the ropes of his cum all over her breasts, though such a sight was a treat he loved.  Knowing they had nothing to clean up with, he released the full measure of his climax in her mouth and down her throat.  At the conclusion of his convulsions, he withdrew from her mouth, and she licked the head of his satisfied member clean.

She arose, and they kissed without saying a word and tended to getting dressed with only a minute left of the time he’d paid for.

Walking by the reception desk, he nodded, thanked them for the experience, and left a hundred-dollar bill on the table, a tip for the two masseuses.  It was the best money they had spent on the trip so far.