Guest blog: Go get a room

Image by the wonderful Stuart F Taylor

So many of you will know that delicious, aching joy of wanting to shag someone but having nowhere to do it. Surreptitious touches in pubs and parks which just wind you up even more when you realise there’s nowhere to hide while you vent your frustrations on each other. This week’s guest blog, by Fajolan (who has written before about similarly delicious handsy-horny frustration), is all about that kind of horniness, with the bonus of an innovative way to ‘go get a room’ when there are no rooms to go to.

Go get a room

The guy next to us looks at us with a grimace that is clearly saying “go get a room.” On lunch break from his maintenance job and he’s got to sit next to two people who definitely can’t keep their hands to themselves. Yeah, we are rude. Sorry, but you‘ll have to keep watching.

“Go get a room.”

I‘d love to, but this is the valley station of a skiing resort. There is no room for us to ‘get’. This little café is the only place to sit down without freezing to the bench. No posh hotels.

Uhhm. Need to slide my hand down that back and past the belt. Shane is clearly having troubles concentrating. Aaah well, a few minutes ago he was into an intense talk we both enjoyed. Yes, talk was good. And now we are both craving skin. Table is in a niche so intense kissing shouldn’t bother too many people. Except for maintenance guy. His grimace now says “stop eating her face and…

…go get a room.”

He doesn‘t say so. Austrian tourism: polite to the last notch.

Hhhhhmh. Shane got his hand in below my shirt and my breasts respond. Heavy ski jacket so nothing to see there. Except possibly my face. Stiff upper lip or else. None of my facial expressions would show that I am soaking into my underwear. Bad luck for Shane, he wears jeans and they show. Let me move my hand there, it‘s below the table. I just love the feeling of a hard cock in jeans below my hand. No way he could get up now to get another coffee.

It’s lunch time. Skiers and service personnel getting their lunch at the Italian style bar. Oh and two people having sex at a table. Nope, not yet. We’re decent. All decent. Except for Shane’s jeans. And me soaking into my underwear. Instead of getting another coffee we should

…go get a room.

Damn it. There are none. No hotel. No holiday apartment – it’s occupied with an injured skier. We are running out of time as well. No time to wait. There are people and obligations waiting for us in a few hours. Do I care right now? Nope, because I’m so horny. I crave skin, touch, sex. The intense pleasure of my hand sliding past the leather belt at Shane‘s back. Most guys have that wonderful little gap just big enough for my hand to go in and grab ass or play a bit. My hand sliding over skin while I make innocent conversation. Shane is keeping up fine, though he does seem a bit distracted. He grimaces as if he wants to

…go get a room.

“Hi!” Ouch. A friend walks in, her two kids trailing behind her. She’s spotted me through the window. Looks at us, grins widely, says “aaaah ok I get it,” and backs out again. Not so her kid, who returns a minute later interrupting some serious kissing because he wants to share with me that he got cake. We break down laughing. And catch up where we just stopped – intense kissing. Not deep but thorough. Biting lips, sliding with my tongue over his lower lip. Wriggling in my seat elicits a grin from him. At least one person in this room has a good idea how wet I am and that I’d love to

…go get a room.

Shane looks over at the sign to the toilets. I catch him, grin and just very quietly say “No way, it’s three square meters, maximum.” My mind is spinning. I am known to be analytical, pragmatic, a fast thinker, so damn it why do I have no idea? The accessible toilet at the cassa for the gondola? No, that won‘t do, not for someone as smell sensitive as me. I borrow my face in Shane’s neck, sniffing him out. Aaaah, so sexy. We need to

…go get a room.

I turn to Shane. “Come on, let‘s go, I have an idea.” He raises an eyebrow and is crazy enough to trust me. I do so like that. I step over him – we are sitting side by side on a bench – and profit from lowering my ass for a second, leaning against him for a full body feel. Wondering how Shane will manage to get up without embarrassing anybody. Oh well, he’s got a coat. I grin. Maintenance guy looks relieved. Over to the cassa of the gondola.

“A mountain valley ride, single please.” Me in my ski boots walking like a cowboy – looking like any other skier – my ski pass valid. Next to me an innocent looking guy who might want to go on a hike up on the mountain.

We enter the gondola. 6-seater, 2 benches, windows all around. Counting the seconds until we leave the station.

Lift-off.

We have a room. A room with a view.

On the trip up he comes. Hard. In my mouth. I so enjoy the taste, the feel, his sounds.

On the way down I come. Hard. Looking at the snow covered mountains and laughing and smiling and falling deep into my lust and his.

I come here every year. Every time I ride that gondola my mind and body wander to that feeling: of a cock in my mouth and a guy groaning, and the feeling of coming hard.

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