We stumble into an elevator, leaving our messy, debaucherous hotel room behind, and descend. You stand, leaning your back against a wall facing across to me. Your body playful as I smirk lusciously back, still savoring in pleasure. Floors downward tick by and from the eye-fucking I’m serving you, I motion to your dress. Without breaking eye contact you pinch the hem of your short skirt and lift. We both smile wide as my eyes find their reunion with your pussy, still glistening, still mine. I start to lean towards but we break into a laugh and drop clothes back to place as the door open. We laugh together stepping from the elevator, arm in arm, feeling young, taking the time from our lost 20s and having it now. I share a memory from our adventures upstairs as we stride across the ornate, vintage hotel lobby to a speakeasy-style cocktail bar. In the center of the lobby, behind the chandelier, I lean in to whisper a dirty detail, my nose nuzzling into your hair, my wet lips by your ear, warm breath flowing down you neck as each flirty detail. You moan through a grin at my words. I stop us there, spin us face to face and kiss. Arms wrapping, lips wrestling as we cause such a scene of enjoyment and bliss, taking our time, until we finally pull lips back to smile again and finish our stumble into the bar.

There the drinks are delicious as we taste strong cocktails one another’s from lips. We share stories, building upon each level of intimacy within joyous company. The conservation is so good that we struggle to follow it as our physical contact increases. Stories shared with knees touching, shared accomplishments as your hand rests on my arm, reflections as my hand moves a slow trail up your welcoming thigh. The talk is deep and delicious though words stumble in eye contact. The rest of the bar has long faded away to simply a boozy, lustful bubble for two. We realize that we are no longer talking at all, just looking, just breathing, hearts racing, as my hand has completed its path. My fingertips press to find you dripping, our vision is full with one another’s faces as my fingers enter you, warm, wet and welcome. I look at you and softly say your name, then draw my fingers from you and up, and into my mouth. I suck upon them, draw them out and press them to your lips. “We taste fucking delicious.”