Last year around Christmas I got fucked.

I recall it was Christmas only because I saw the big Christmas tree that’s always set up in Union Square for the holiday.  Only I didn’t see the tree until I was in his suite at the St. Francis.

He had placed an ad on Craig’s List, the content of which is not important.  He wanted to fuck, he had a suite.  At the time I lived alone and preferred to host my fucks, but the suite thing was quite a draw.  I’d never been a room – much less a suite – in the St. Francis and figured it’d be a fun place to fuck.

I wasn’t wrong.  I arrived at the hotel via cab.  He paid for my cab, as a proper gentleman should, and then I walked toward the hotel’s entrance.

Only he directed me around the corner.  I began to get suspicious.  Had he claimed to be staying at the St. Francis only to lure in the ladies?  Where the fuck did he think he was going to take me?  We were in Union Square, where there are always plenty of people, and in my city, where I know how to get around, so I wasn’t that worried, just annoyed.

He told me he wanted to walk.  Uh, ok, but I was wearing heels, something I don’t normally do, and I could only do so much walking.  Then I figured it out:  He wanted to suss me out.  He wanted to make sure I wasn’t a whore, literally, and thought he could figure out whether I was a thief. After we walked around the block we went to his room.

Er, suite.  It was one of the nicest and largest hotel suites in which I had ever been.  Ever.  There was a wet bar.  There was a dining area with a table that sat eight.  There was a living room area with the usual couch and television.  I didn’t see it – yet – but there was also a huge bedroom.  The suite had two bathrooms.  It was fucking nice.

But the suite was nothing compared to the suite’s view, which overlooked Union Square.  It wasn’t until that night that I even realized it was the holiday season.  I don’t like the holidays, and don’t really notice much except when I go to Walgreens or some such store and see all the bullshit Santa crap.  Basically, working retail when I was in my late teens made me realize what stupidity it is, and that everyone is phony when they’re being nice.

So the view was great, but I wasn’t there to look at the view.  He was standing next to one of the several windows that overlooked Union Square, smoking, trying unsuccessfully to blow the smoke out the tiny sliver he was able to open the window.  I asked if I could suck his cock.

I like asking if I can suck a man’s cock.  It makes me feel naughty just saying the words, and I certainly hope it lets him know that I really want to do it, that I want to do it so badly that I’ll ask, and, if necessary, beg.  When he was there by the window I got on my knees, took down his pants, pulled out his cock, and sucked it.

Then we moved to the couch where we fucked.  We also fucked on the Murphy bed, which was in the living room area.  Eventually we fucked on the suite’s actual bed, in the bedroom.

But my favorite place to fuck in the suite was on the dining table.  The table was big and solid and hard – just right for fucking.  The best thing about it being the holidays was looking at the Christmas tree – upside down – as my head hung off the dining table as I was getting my pussy pounded.  The lights were so pretty.

On my way out I stuffed my purse with hotel soap and lotion, so I was a thief (of sorts), which he hadn’t been able to determine from our little jaunt around the block.

I swear.  True story.

Tags: fantasy, hotel fuck, manners, SF love, slut

Categories: True Story.

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2 Responses

1. Vickie P.:

   That’s the nicest holiday story ever!

   23.12.2009 05:40

2. shazamsf:

   Glad you like it, my dear.

   23.12.2009 08:49