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Chicago Hotel Adventure

By: Lothario the Great



“Dude, can you sleep in Sylvia’s room?” 

At first Wes wasn’t sure he had heard Roger correctly. What was he asking for? Roger responded to the confused look on Wes’s face. 

“Come on, man, we talked about this last week. Sylvia is sharing her hotel room with Faith, so that means you need to sleep on Sylvia’s floor so Faith and I can share a room.” 

Wes remembered some vague conversation with Roger about the upcoming All-State Artistic Tournament, about how Roger was going to put it to Faith a thousand times when they all got to Chicago. He recalled wondering in an off-hand way how Roger expected to have all this sex if he was sharing a room with Wes. The plan seemed clear now, but Wes certainly hadn’t anticipated ending up in Sylvia’s room. Holy shit, Sylvia Anderson. Holy, holy shit. 

“Roger, what are you asking me to do?” Wes asked shakily. 

Big dumb Roger stared at Wes as though the suggestion were the most obvious thing in the world. “Dude, you’re going to sleep in Sylvia’s room this week while Faith stays with me.” 

So that was his idea. Holy shit. All Wes could focus on was Sylvia in her lingerie (Wes’s imagination could not be contained in moments like these), which made it hard for him to protest to the best of his abilities. But he had to try. 

“Roger, Jesus, we’re gonna get busted.” 

“Don’t be such a pussy. Don’t you want to get some action with Sylvia?” 

“Riiiiiight, Sylvia Anderson and I are going to get it on. Drop your crack pipe and think for a minute. All it takes is one time for Mrs. Schruder to catch us in the wrong room.” 

Roger put his arm around Wes. “Man, you have got to loosen up. Haven’t you ever risked getting caught so you could have sex with a cute girl?” 

The answer was no, but did that mean he wouldn’t if given the chance? He said, “But I’m not having sex. You are.” 

“Right, and I know what I’m talking about. Listen, dude, it all comes down to whether or not you’re going to keep me and Faith Simmons from having a beautiful sexual experience for the next four nights. You’re not going to do that, are you, Wes?” 

More protestations came to mind, but Wes wasn’t one to whine. Besides, he liked the idea of Roger and Faith having some fun. If he wasn’t having fun, someone should. Then another thought came to mind. 

“Has anyone talked to Sylvia about this?” 

“Faith is right now. Sylvia’s a pushover.” 

This was true. She may be the most beautiful girl in the entire college, but Sylvia was also quite soft-spoken, especially around her hard-living not-quite-bosom buddy Faith. Sylvia had made it into Faith’s gaggle of girlfriends because she was model-quality gorgeous and because they all sang in the Music department, but she was more of a reluctant tag-along. Wes liked to imagine her reading a nice book in her dorm room on weekend nights, much like he did, but he really had no idea. She was a magnificent, untouchable mystery. 

As the bus pulled up in front of the hotel, Wes was staring out the window pondering how very wrong everything could go. The students exploded out of their seats in a cacophony at the exact moment the bus stopped, reaching for their bags, crushing each other in the aisle, hurling insults. Roger shouted, “Thanks buddy! I owe you one!” as he barreled toward the front. 

Before Wes could stand, Sylvia Anderson sat in Roger’s vacated seat. She smelled fucking fantastic, like sweat and strawberries and the clean scent of perfumed soap. Her vinyl shorts showed an amazing amount of thigh, and her tight navy blue t-shirt pulled tight as she sat at an angle in the bus seat. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders in a multitude of cute natural curls with a healthy bounce. Wesley remembered one day the previous year when he spent an entire class period wanting to reach out and run his fingers through her hair. Now she sat beside him. Before he could recover from boyish nervousness, she spoke. 

“Do you have any idea what Faith and Roger are trying to get us into?” She said it very softly so no one could hear, although the bus was loud and rowdy. This was the third or fourth sentence Sylvia had spoken to Wes in the history of the universe. It wasn’t that she avoided him, but rather that they had no reason to interact. Different crowds, different instruments in the department – he piano, she the cello – different social rules. Nothing to lament, just fate keeping them apart until this moment, until this week. She looked as nervous as he felt. 

“I don’t think it has anything to do with us,” he replied. 

There wasn’t much more to say. Wes half-expected the girl to warn him not to “try anything,” but she did not. Maybe she knew him well enough after two years in the Music department to not see him as much of a threat, which he certainly wasn’t. Maybe she didn’t want to offend him before sharing a room with him for the next four nights. Maybe she was waiting until later to say it. 

“What time are you coming to the room?” she asked. 

“I dunno,” he answered. “Whenever Faith comes to see Roger, I suppose. It will be after midnight. Or whenever Roger gets horny.” 

Sylvia laughed at that, but not hard. Still nervous. 

She stood and left. Outside on the sidewalk, hundreds of students from three different college departments – Drama, English and Music (Vocal and Instrumental) – were yelling and throwing things. One of the English professors in charge stood on a suitcase and screamed for quiet. She said something about what to do and when and how, blah blah blah, then everyone went to their department heads for room keys. More blah blah blah from the department heads, and then up to the room to take a nap and sleep off the plane ride. 

Yeah right. Floors thirty thru thirty-three quickly degenerated into collegiate unruliness. Guys tossed footballs, girls sat on the floor and played cards, some bottles of beer were smuggled past the gestapo professors. The biggest disturbance was the running – boys running down the halls, girls squealing and they ran away from boys, boys tackling each other and crashing. THOOM THOOM THOOM. The poor 29th floor must have been distraught. Many of the students descended on the streets of Chicago, even though they only had about half-an-hour to roam before the curfew went into effect. They all knew that no reprimand would include being excluded from the competition the following morning. These ivy leaguers were superstars in their own nerdy right, the best performers in their fields, and they knew it. 

Wes stayed in his room and watched cable television. Two fellow pianists invited him to join them, but as much as he enjoyed their company, they were just so damn homosexual. They always talked about things that had nothing to do with him. 

“Dude!” Roger shouted as he crashed into the room. The time was 9:30. “Time to switch rooms.” 

Wes felt a pang of panic. “It’s too early, Rog.” 

“The professors are staying seven blocks away in a different hotel. No hall monitors tonight, my friend.” 

“No chaperones? With four hundred kids alone in a hotel? Do they have any idea what will happen?” 

“Apparently not, Wes, but you sure as hell do.” Roger picked up the phone and called his escort. “Hey babe, come on up.” He turned to Wes. “You hungry? We’re ordering a pizza.” 

Wes was still full from the McDonald’s in the lay-over airport. “Is Sylvia coming up?” 

“Probably not, dude. Faith says she doesn’t eat pizza. Leave your room key for Faith, huh?” 

That would explain the sculptured ass. “I guess I’ll leave you two to your fun.” He tried not to sound bitter, but it came out morose. What he was actually feeling was scared out of his fucking mind. What if he came off like a big nerd? Too late now. Leaving his suitcase in the room, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the elevator, still wearing the blue jeans and black t-shirt he’d worn on the plane. As the elevator opened, out popped Faith, a petite blonde with expensive-looking but not-very-attractive streaks in her short, straight hair. She looked like an MTV dancer, right down to the vacant stare. 

Faith threw her arms around Wes and said, “Thanks so much! We owe you.” She slipped a room key into his hand and ran off. 

Wes stepped into the elevator, dwelling too heavily on his resentment toward Faith. Why did she have to hug him? She’d never said a single word to him before, and addressing him affectionately just highlighted how far outside her radar he was. Popular kids always took liberties with the “little people,” like showering them with praise for one incident instead of treating them decently over a long period of time. But the alternative was worse – what did Faith “owe” him? How do you repay someone for helping you to hook up for sex with a roommate? He shuttered to think. 

The door opened, and he found himself two floors below where the hotel registry said his room should be. Wes walked to Sylvia’s door, stuck the key card in his pocket and knocked on the door. Moments later, the door opened. Wes had intended to stay as non-nerd-like as possible, but he had not expected Sylvia’s hair to be wet. Her makeup-free face glowed cleanly. She was naturally gorgeous, and he wanted to die. 

“Come in,” she said with a half-hearted smile. She wasn’t upset with Wes, apparently, but she wasn’t excited either. This was just damn weird. 

“You took a shower?” Wes asked, making small-talk. 

“Yeah,” was all Sylvia said in response. Dumb question, an obvious question. He put his backpack on the second bed. He remembered Roger explaining that he’d sleep on the floor, but this room had two beds just like Roger’s did. There would be no “You look uncomfortable, share the bed with me” scenarios this night. Thank goodness. 

She stood in front of the mirror, drying her hair with her towel, trying to stay busy rather than start an awkward discussion. She wore the same purple vinyl shorts from the bus that showed off her long, breathtaking legs, along with a white t-shirt that showed her bra strap, perhaps a subtle message to Wes that no one would be sleeping braless. Sylvia was barefoot, and Wes stared at her ankles. When he realized he was staring, he looked away, but away UP, at the girl’s ass. 

A new approach was needed. He turned to his backpack, keeping busy as Sylvia had demonstrated. It was working. After a few minutes, they were navigating around each other like a married couple, putting toothbrushes in the bathroom, setting items on the end table. Sylvia laid out her performance clothes in the closet. After half-an-hour, they sat in chairs, silent. The room was very large, with two queen-size beds, a writing desk, two loveseats (now occupied) with a coffee table, the armoire that contained the television, other small tables around the beds. 

“Do you mind if I open the drapes?” Wes asked. He did think of the room as Sylvia’s. 

Sylvia corrected this notion. “It’s your room, too,” she said. “Open what you want.” 

He stood and opened the heavy curtains hiding an entire wall of glass. Outside lay the city of Chicago, an architectural masterpiece that sprawled forward like an ocean of concrete, with no horizon in sight. The sky was clear, and all the lights of the city created a Christmas-like glow around every structure. 

“Oh wow,” Wes said. 

That caused Sylvia to turn in her chair, and the view made her gasp. She approached the other end of the window. “It’s beautiful!” she cried. 

“Now that’s a city,” Wes uttered. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Sylvia agreed. They surveyed the landscape in silence for a long minute or two. Wes had grown up in Montana where rolling plains were abundant and skyscrapers were few. He’d traveled to many places around the country and internationally, but every new city made a profound impression on him, especially the wonderful views from tall buildings. Many of the Chicago structures towered above them even from this high place. 

Wes asked Sylvia without turning away from the window, “Where did you grow up?” 

“New Mexico,” she said. “Lots of mountains.” 

“Me too – I’m from Montana. Worked on a farm a lot as a kid.” 

“It shows.” 

Wes looked at Sylvia, and she was looking at him. He realized his heart had been pounding as he watched the city, and now it was thumping very hard. 

She continued, “Farm work must be hard on a pianist’s hands.” 

“I made due.” 

“Yes you did,” Sylvia said. “I’ve heard you play. You’re the best in the department.” 

Praise from Sylvia Anderson. Wes felt a lump in his throat. His teachers agreed he was the finest concert pianist of the current class, but the other students were not as effusive with their praise. Nothing like a little friendly competition to make following your life’s passion into a lonely, coveted pursuit. 

“Thanks,” Wes said meekly. He felt a big grin creep across his face; he was powerless to stop it. 

“You want to order a pizza?” Sylvia asked. 

“Roger told me you didn’t like pizza.” 

“How the heck would Roger know that?” 

“Faith told him.” 

“Oh.” Sylvia walked to her bed and sat on the edge. “She keeps inviting me to go out with her airhead friends. She was very nice to me our freshman year, and I just seem to be stuck in her orbit. The only way I can get some time to myself is to tell her I don’t like some of the same foods she does.” 

“I guess that’s good for your figure,” Wes opined. 

Sylvia blushed. It was as unexpected as it was beautiful. She was so much more shy than Wes had imagined. Still, she smiled pleasantly, pleased with the compliment. Wes, trying to give Sylvia time to recover from her embarrassment, opened a drawer and found the phonebook. They discuss their options, made a call and placed an order. When Wes hung up the phone, they were sitting on the same bed, awkwardly silent yet again. 

“Wanna watch some TV?” Sylvia asked with a shrug. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Sylvia grabbed the remote from the bed and turned the boob tube on. She laid down on her stomach, and that wonderful bottom was the only thing Wes could see. He knew he hadn’t been invited to share the bed, nor would he ask to, so he pulled one of the chairs to the foot of the bed and sat down. 

“Here,” Sylvia said, handing Wes the remote. “Find us a good movie.” 

Wes flipped the channels until he found HBO, where “Pulp Fiction” was playing. 

“Ooooh, good movie,” Sylvia said. Wes was impressed with her taste. Then she said, “Too violent. Let’s watch something, I dunno, softer. Can you find a good romance?” 

Wes enjoyed the occasional chick flick, or any kind of genre as long as the film didn’t suck. A few more flicks of the remote and Wes found “Eyes Wide Shut,” the last offering from Stanley Kubrick. 

“Oh my god, I know what this is,” Sylvia said. 

“You’ve seen it?” 

“Yeah, with Faith and her friends. They’re all perverts. They just loved it.” 

“You didn’t?” 

Sylvia shook her head. “There’s some great acting, but the story doesn’t really make sense.” 

“Well, I actually thought it was a deep and moving story with a strong theme. But I had to watch it twice to get it… at the risk of sounding like a pervert.” 

Sylvia said quickly, “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you were a pervert.” 

“I know, I know,” Wes reassured her just as quickly. “I wasn’t really trying to convince you to watch it again. I’m sure there’s something else—”

“No, it’s good. I’ll take your word for it. Beside, when else will I have an excuse to watch this again? I’d never rent it, and I don’t have cable.” 

“You don’t have cable? What do you do with your free time at home?” Wes asked as Tom Cruise drove his car. The two students looked at the TV as they talked, not really watching the movie. 

“Oh man, I read all the time. I’m a real bookworm. I’m always in the middle of three or four books at a time.” 

“What are you reading now?” Wes asked. 

Sylvia mentioned one book Wes had never heard of, one that he’d read and enjoyed, and one that was his favorite of all time. They had an excited discussion for a few minutes about the decisions the characters made, slight ways in which they would have improved the ending, their favorite lines. This led to a long sampling of selections from their lists of favorites – books, movies, music artists, songs and albums, favorite foods, favorite places to vacation, favorite hangouts around New England. They found very few items that one or the other detested, and a multitude of favorites they had in common. After just a few minutes, they were making plans to swap books and videos and CDs when they returned to school. 

When the pizza guy knocked on the hotel room door, Wes had almost forgotten about the pizza they ordered. Even though they only talked for half-an-hour, it seemed like they’d packed a lot into the conversation. They spent another half-hour eating, alternating between watching the movie and talking excitedly with their mouths full. Both of them stopped talking when the scene on the TV showed the two lead actors naked in front of the mirror, swaying to a Chris Issak song and caressing each other. 

“Too bad they got divorced,” Sylvia said to break the silence. “Tom Cruise is an idiot. I think Nicole Kidman is one of the most beautiful women on earth.” 

“I agree,” Wes replied around a mouthful of pepperoni. “But Penelope Cruz is cute, too.” 

Sylvia turned to Wes with a mock look of surprise. “You’d trade Nicole Kidman for Penelope Cruz?” 

Wes shrugged. “I guess I’m just more into brunettes. Redheads are nice, but I’m really attracted to dark hair. Latinos, Italians, Greeks. Can I ask what nationality you are?” Wes didn’t even realize the connection he’d made. They were simply two friends talking about “stuff.” 

“Half-Mexican, half-Greek. But I’ve never met any of my family from either place. How about you?” 

“My mom’s white, but my dad’s full-blood Italian.” 

“You’re lucky your hair’s nice and thick. I think it’s really good-looking. I like dark hair, too.” 

“I like your hair, too,” Wes replied. Sylvia’s dark hair had a reddish sheen to it and that stunning natural curl. “It matches your brown eyes.” 

Sylvia rolled said eyes. “I hate my eyes. They’re the color of a shoe.” 

“Not at all,” Wes quickly replied. “They’re very pretty. I think dark eyes are pretty.” 

Sylvia flashed her pearly whites and looked away a bit. “I wanted to say that I like your eyes, too. I wish I had bright blue eyes like that.” 

Wes hadn’t had much experience with women, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what was going on between himself and this creature of unearthly beauty, but for some reason he didn’t feel nervous at all. Even if nothing physical ever happened between them, even if they never went on an actual date, at least he had a new friend that he could talk openly with about anything, even discussions about their physical appearance. He couldn’t deny that he was still strongly attracted to her, but the one area he didn’t know much about was how to tell if she was also attracted, and so he was content to keep the conversation simple. 

One line of questioning nagged at him, though. They’d been talking for two hours, watching the longest movie of all time and getting along famously. So he went for it. 

“Sylvia, can I ask you something a little personal?” 

“Oh oh,” she answered with mock apprehension. “Get it over with, I guess.” 

“It’s nothing like that. I was just wondering if you think of yourself as shy.” 

Sylvia was obviously embarrassed by the question, but Wes had anticipated that and asked anyway. She said, “I dunno. I’m not really afraid of anything, if that’s what you mean.” 

“No no, not at all. I just meant… Well, my first impression of you was that you were… soft-spoken. You don’t seem like a really flamboyant person. But you’re very good-looking, and you wear nice clothes, and I thought it was sort of odd that you would take so much care in your appearance but not really get aggressive moving up the social ladder. You seem to keep to yourself. But I don’t really know you that well, so all I’m basing it on it a first impression. I hope I’m not out of line.” 


Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 02



Chicago Hotel Adventure: Night 2

The alarm was too loud when it went off. Wes had already been awake, but he jumped at the sound anyway. Roger shouted the word “Fuck!” without lifting his head from the pillow. Wes knew this outburst was a request to hit the snooze button, and he did so. Soon Roger was snoring contently once more. 

Wes felt pretty damn content himself, and for the same reason Roger did. They both spent the evening making love to beautiful women in secluded hotel rooms. But Wes suspected he got the better end of the deal. 

Only two hours ago, he had been sleeping soundly with Sylvia Anderson in his arms, she nestled against his side, her wet hair wrapped in a towel, her head resting on Wes’s shoulder. Neither of them expected anything remotely romantic to happen between them, let alone the best sex either had ever imagined and/or seen on European bootlegged sex tapes. So of course, neither remembered to expect Faith’s inevitable return to the room. Wes could have held Sylvia in his arms for another hundred years, but they would have to wait until the next encounter. 

The NEXT encounter. It was all Wes thought about from the time he returned to his own room until the alarm went off at 7:00 a.m., the current time. Would they have the chance to sleep together again? Could it turn into something more? Would they have to wait until they got back to New England to take it to the next level? Questions assaulted Wes’s mind the way the early morning sunlight assaulted his eyes. 

He shuffled his feet toward the bathroom. As the shower water fell on his head, he continued to fantasize about Sylvia. Was she thinking about him at this moment? Did she want to keep their affair a secret from the other students on the trip? He knew they’d made a profound connection, but did the girl have regrets? Regret could be a powerful obstacle to happiness. 

Wes could not stop the blood from filling his penis as he remembered the highlights. She had been beautiful in the lamp light, her olive skin glowing, the curls of her hair floating like black cotton around her perfect shoulders. When she got close to her orgasm, her aroused nipples became obscured as the areolas turned puffy and light pink. Wes could not stop running his fingertips over those nipples, and she moaned her pleasure when he did. 

“Wes! Hurry up, you fucker. We’re gonna be late.” 

Fine Roger fine, Wes thought to himself. Be an irredeemable ass. I’m very grateful for last night, and I have your insensitivity to thank. 

Wes pumped his cock at a rapid pace, eager to finish. When he came, his knees almost buckled. He didn’t realize how tired he was from the night before; perhaps the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. He finished his shower, got out and dried off. Roger was in the bathroom almost before Wes was done unlocking the door. 

“‘Bout time, Wes. You jerking off in here or what?” 

“Don’t be a punk,” Wes said as he worked gel into his short hair. 

“I’ll kick your ass,” Roger said with a grin. “I’m gonna win today.” 

And he probably would. Roger was the most sensitive, accomplished actor on campus. Even his tough guy routine was a façade. How could he have seduced so many women with only that dumb jock exterior to get him by? Wes knew why he liked being friends with Roger, but sometimes he wished he could have a break from the rowdiness. 

Wes dressed in his Armani suit and walked briskly to the elevator. The car stopped on Sylvia’s floor, and he hoped desperately that she’d get on, but it was just some girls from the English department. They smiled at Wes but didn’t say anything. At first Wes wondered if they could sense something different about him. He was at least certain he looked damn good in the Armani. 

The college had instructed all students to go down to the banquet hall and grab breakfast from the buffet line. Wes filled a plate with fruit and eggs – he wasn’t a big breakfast eater – then sat down near the window where he could look out at the Chicago street and all the people on their way to work. 

Into the hall walked Sylvia, in a body-hugging floor-length black dress with spaghetti straps on the shoulders. Her magnificent hair sat perched on top with a dozen pink rollers holding everything in place. Most of the girls in the room had gotten dressed in the reverse order, perfecting their makeup and hair while still wearing t-shirts, sleeping shorts and house slippers. 

College students in all levels of readiness mulled around the room like cattle, trying to overcome the festivities of the night before. So many of them had gotten wasted on drugs and alcohol, even though their performances today could determine whether they spent the rest of their lives making art or making refrigerator cooling coils. How did any of them survive life in an ivy league college without someone to hold their hands? Of course, none of it would matter once they came home with trophies from the event. Rich, good-looking kids with artistic talent to propel them – why bother with social graces? But he was no better, really. A huge performance ahead of him, and he’s stayed up until two fucking Sylvia. He was worn out. 

Sylvia looked worn out, too. Random philosophical thoughts buzzing around in his head like electrons, and all he could truly concentrate on was the girl with pink rollers in her hair. He wanted to stand and shout, “Hey! Sylvia! I’m in love with you! Let’s tell everyone how crazy we are about each other!” 

But two obstacles stood firmly in that path: His shyness, and hers. Just the idea of calling out to the crowd made his toes hurt. (Why his toes? But yes, his toes.) It was different behind the piano, no speaking to do, no need to articulate any thought beyond what the music said. He suspected Sylvia felt the same way about her cello. He’d seen her play a recital, the way she closed her eyes and swayed to the music. Why hadn’t he fallen in love with her long ago, just watching her passion for the instrument? Her playing had been intense, precise, inventive, aggressive -- all the things he would like in a best friend, and all the things he wished he himself could be. 

He watched as she sat down with Faith and a few of the silly sopranos that made up their crowd. She must not have seen him, because she never looked at him. Or maybe she was embarrassed. That would suck. So much they had confessed, and now she was ashamed to see him. But wait. Sylvia looked up at Wes, then quickly back to her cereal bowl. She spooned some flakes into her mouth, then suddenly stole another glance. Again she turned away, this time to listen to whatever Faith had to say. Then slowly, much too slowly, she looked at Wes again. 

A miniscule smile crossed her lips. Then a wink. Wes felt lighter than air. Suddenly, she looked away again, turned somber. Had Wes smiled too large? Then he realized what Sylvia had seen over Wes’s shoulder. 

“Wes! Long time no see, pal.” Roger plunked himself down at Wes’s table. “Jesus, is that all you’re having for breakfast? You’re gonna pass out during your performance.” 

“Don’t worry about me, Rog. I’m not the one who banged Faith all night.” 

“No, you’re not! So who could that have been? Oh yeah! It was me! Fucking-A, I THOUGHT I remembered squeezing the cream out of someone last night, but I couldn’t for the life of me think whom.” Roger crammed an entire sausage patty into his mouth. “So, did you and Sylvia Anderson fool around?” 

Wes laughed a little too hard. “Shit, whatever.” 

“Come on. She’s hot, you’re desperate. Don’t tell me you didn’t at least talk about who you’d both fucked.” 

“Roger, you’re a pervert of the highest order.”

“That’s what my therapist says. I’m thinking of putting that on a t-shirt. Maybe I can wear it to clubs and shit. I’ll have two made up, one for Sylvia. She can wear it on your first date.” 

“Cut it out,” Wes hissed. 

“Whoa! Chill out, Tundra. I’m just messing with you. So what the hell happened last night? You two have a falling out or what?” 

Wes rolled his eyes. The conversation was making him immensely uncomfortable. “It was fine. We talked for a while then went to bed.” 

“Yeah baby!” Roger hollered. “Oh come on, I’m kidding you. Lighten up, fuck.” He shoveled more food into his mouth. “Aren’t you gonna ask me how it went with Faith?” 

Wes’s fork stopped short of his mouth. “You… want to discuss it?” 

“Hell yeah! There’s no one else here to tell.” Roger leaned in. “She brought some jelly, told me she wanted to try it up her poop-chute. Goddamn, she’s an anal fiend for life. I’ve never felt anything so tight, I thought I was going to cum up her throat from the other end.” 

“Holy crap, Roger, I’m trying to eat.” But what he was really thinking of was Sylvia sitting on his cock in the armchair, squirming with his finger up her ass, eyes open but seeing nothing through an ecstasy haze. Wes ate his hash browns, contemplating the previous night as Roger droned on about the same thing. Apparently Faith liked to have her ass smacked. She and Roger had fucked off and on for about two hours, then they fell asleep. Faith kicked Roger in the ribs while she slept, and Wes wondered how the story of anal sex exploits had veered so far off track. 

The buses arrived at 9:30 to pick everyone up for the event. Wes watched as Sylvia stepped onto a different bus. He caught her eye, but she had to keep moving and they communicated nothing. Once on the bus, Terrance and James sat near Wes to discuss pianist shit. Every time Terrance would mention “fingering,” his boyfriend James would snicker. The term made Wes think of the same thing, but he did not snicker. He missed Sylvia. 

Once the buses arrived at the college campus hosting the event, all the students filed like cows toward their respective competitions. Wes sat alone in a large dining room filled with instrumentalists, in a folding chair by the window. He looked for Sylvia, but the strings had been corralled in another building. When a page called his name, he took his turn in the practice room. Today’s selection would be straight Chopin, nothing fancy, just a beautiful, not-too-famous piece perfectly executed to ensure entry to the next round. The dining room would be several hundred students fewer tomorrow. 

He allowed his hands to hover over the keys but did not touch them. There was no point playing even a single key until he could drive Sylvia to the back of his mind. His blood pumped to all the wrong extremities when he thought of her. Three deep breaths later, he saw nothing but Chopin flowing through his frontal lobe. Moments later, he created the sound with his hands. When the knock came on the door, he was ready. 

Down the hall to a large classroom with a grand piano on a stage. The judges sat on the front row, and about fifty students lounged around the back rows, whispering until he sat down at the bench, when they turned still. 

“What piece will you play for us today?” asked the center judge, a younger man with a face like a bird. 

“Ballade number 1 in G Minor.” 

“Oh good, Opus 23 again. You can never hear a good selection too many times in one competition.” 

“Never mind him,” said another judge, an older woman in glasses. “No one’s played it today, so you’re the first. Tell us, Wesley, one interesting thing about yourself, if you please.” 

Wes hated speaking. It had been hard enough to name the piece. “I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain.” 

Bird-face was not amused. “Do you take your work seriously?” 

More seriously than half-hearted attempts to put me at ease, Wes thought. “Yessir,” he said. 

Bird-face sighed. “Begin.” 

Ten minutes later, Wes felt convinced he’d completed a flawless performance. Not a single misphrased note in any of the arpeggios. The students gave him a standing ovation, which he certainly had not expected. 

“Thank you,” said the woman in glasses. “We’ll see you in round two.” The students cheered again, and Wes exited the stage while waving his thanks to them. 

Back in his folding chair, he kept telling himself the easy part was over. Tomorrow he’d play the Schumann, and then the pressure would really be on. He closed his eyes and practiced his fingering on his thighs, fighting to perfect a tricky phrase toward the end. Sunlight warmed his face, and then suddenly it disappeared. He opened his eyes to find a blonde girl in a velvet purple dress blocking the sun. She had a porcelain complexion and a matching ribbon in her hair. 

“Hi, I’m Sarah,” she said. “Am I interrupting?” 

“No,” Wes said. Why the hell did he have to blush? He had no reason to be nervous talking to a stranger. Perhaps she just wanted to borrow a dollar or something. 

“I thought you aced the Chopin,” she said. “Really aced it. I was biting my lip when you got to the finale. It was just really good. I’m glad you’re going to the next round. You deserve it.” She bowed her head, smiling shyly. Wes was always amazed by the way non-shy people tried to make themselves seem shy. True embarrassment looked much more uncomfortable. But there was no denying how cute she was. 

“I’m Wes,” he said, holding out his hand. They shook. “Are you playing piano?” 

“Yeah, I’m doing Stenhammar. My teacher says I need to dazzle in the first round with something hard. I told her I should go for a slam dunk with something a little less risky. Like you did.” She smiled wide. Her full red lips captivated Wes’s attention. “Will you come hear me play? It should be just before lunch.” 

“Sure,” Wes said. “I think I’ll be around.” 

“Well, in case you aren’t…” Sarah held up a piece of paper. “I dunno. Whatever. Do you ever get out to California?” 

Wes opened the scrap. The girl had given him a phone number, along with her name and the words, “Great job!!!” A deep blush set in. He hoped it would not be too visible in the full sunlight. He struggled to find the words. 

Sarah smiled. “I get it. Strong silent type. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” She shrugged. “Unless you’re into that.” She gave a little wave, then left the hall to return to the performance room. 

Wes followed her to the room but did not sit near her. They exchanged glances, but mostly Wes watched the pianists. One girl played Grieg so poorly that the judges stopped her in the middle of her piece. She had mangled every chord. Wes hated to see it happen, but he was glad the murderous sound had stopped. 

For no reason he could explain, Wes began to grow anxious. Mostly he was restless to find a practice room and concentrate on his piece for the following day, but all of them were taken by current performers. That wasn’t all of it, though. Sylvia, sweet Sylvia, sexy Sylvia. 

Finally, the doors in the hall opened for business, and students began to file in for lunch. Many of them dashed off campus on foot to find fast food joints, but Wes stayed and regretted it -- the mashed potatoes had obviously been made from flakes. 

Then Sylvia entered the room. Gone was the giggling girl gang she usually hung around with. As soon as her eyes found Wes, she dashed toward him as quickly as her high heels would carry her. She glided across the hall like a light breeze, despite the huge cello case she dragged alongside her, capturing the sunlight like an aura around her. The curlers had removed the tiny ringlet curls from her hair and replaced them with sweeping, elegant waves. She wore a half-jacket over her shoulders, buttoned at the neck. 

Sylvia did not slow down as she passed Wes’s table. She simply smiled at him and jerked her head for him to follow. Wes wiped his mouth, stood, and followed her into the hall. They passed no other students from their own school, but they still never touched or spoke or gave any other indication that they were together. At the end of the hall, Sylvia opened a door to the stairwell, and they went down the stairs. Once on the basement floor, they were alone. Sylvia still did not speak. She took Wes’s hand and led him to another door, this one leading into a concrete-covered area with steam pipes hissing and air-conditioning motor whirring. They walked down a long corridor with no windows. A single yellow light bulb far down the tunnel-like hall was the only illumination. 

Wes pushed Sylvia against the concrete and kissed her mouth. They collided like automobiles, hands searching and pressing. Sylvia wrapped her arms around Wes’s waist and hugged him tightly. The kissing became more intense as it slowed. Their tongues touched lightly at the tips, moving in small circles, making promises, telling secrets. Finally they held each other against the wall, catching their breaths. 

Wes whispered, “How did you find this place?” 

“I didn’t,” Sylvia answered. “I just grabbed you and started walking.” 

Wes smiled. “You’re magnificent.” 

“I missed you.” 

“I didn’t know if you would.” 

“I didn’t know if YOU would.” 

“I did.” Wes kissed Sylvia’s forehead (which was level with his; she had been only an inch shorter even before the high heels). 

Sylvia licked her lips. “I guess it’s okay I did this.” She played with Wes’s necktie. 

“Better than okay,” Wes assured her. “I was getting really anxious without you.” 

“Me too!” Sylvia confessed, relieved. “God, I hope I don’t sound needy.” 

“It’s okay to need someone,” Wes said. He hadn’t meant to sound so maudlin. 

Sylvia smiled. Lust hovered dangerous and hungry behind her eyes, but she changed the subject. “How did your performance go?” 

“Good. They told me they’d see me in round two.” 

“Wonderful! Oh Wes, I knew you’d move forward.” Sylvia put her hands on Wes’s sides, and Wes did the same. Her satin dress was smooth and sensual. Wes felt it would crumble in his hands. Sylvia asked, “So, were there any hot pianists that you wanted to take home to mother?” 

“Hey, don’t mess around.”

“What, I bet there were some cuties. Besides, you look fantastic in this suit.” 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Sylvia. Did you get hit on? Is that why you’ve got a guilty conscience?” 

Sylvia looked away. For the first time since the previous night began, she looked truly shy. “I know we’re just playing around, but there was this guy who gave me his number. I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but I felt like I was cheating on you. I didn’t want to talk to him, I was just being nice and I took his number. That’s okay, isn’t it?” 

“I hope so,” Wes said. 

“Hope so? What’s that mean?” 

It was Wes’s turn to be shy. “Because a girl gave me her number.” 

“Shut up,” Sylvia said. She thought she was being teased. 

“Seriously. I’ve never had that happen before.” 

“Shut up!” This time Sylvia smiled in astonishment. “Never?” 

“No. She heard me play.” 

“Mmmmmmmm,” Sylvia said. “That explains it.” She leaned in and kissed him again. This time, her tongue went as far down Wes’s throat as she could shove it. Wes allowed his hands to wander up to Sylvia’s breasts. There was something about the way she filled the dress that made him want to fondle her all over, and this he did, from her ass to her thighs and up over her shoulders. 

“I’m going to ruin your dress against this concrete,” Wes said. 

“Can’t let that happen.” She pushed Wes away with one hand. Then she unbuttoned the jacket and slipped it off her shoulders, then draped it over a tree of valves and pipes against the wall. She slowly slipped one spaghetti strap off her shoulder, then the other. “That suit will have to go as well,” she said. 

Wes looked down the corridor in both directions. “Sylvia, damn… do you think we can do this here?” 

Sylvia pulled the dress down, exposing her chest. She wore no bra under her cup-lined dress, and her nipples became instantly hard. “We’re going to, if that’s what you mean.” 

No command could have been more clear. Wes tugged at the slipknot in his tie, unbuttoned his dress shirt and removed everything above the waist in one smooth tug over his head. Sylvia continued to snake out of her tight black dress, revealing a black string thong around her loins. Wes unbuckled his pants and removed them, kicking off his shoes and socks as well. At last the two young lovers stood in their underwear, with all their dress clothes hanging from valves and their shoes kicked to the side. Sylvia pressed her body back against the concrete as Wes pulled off his white boxers. Then he knelt down and kissed Sylvia’s tummy as he hooked his thumbs inside the strings and pulled down. He moved his kisses down to her pubic region, where he was shocked to see that she had shaved herself bald. 




Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 02



“Whoa, you shaved.” 

“Surprise,” Sylvia whispered, as she pulled him to his feet. They kissed softly on the lips. Sylvia opened her eyes, looked down the corridor nervously, then looked back at Wes and giggled. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” 

“We’re only playing doctor at the moment.” 

“You’ll need to treat me for hypothermia in a moment, Wes. It’s a lot colder down here without any clothes.” 

“I think I can prescribe something for that,” Wes said. He moved his hand between her legs, forcing her to lift one knee and make her pussy available to him. Wet cream rested thick and hot at the entrance. 

“Oh my god,” Sylvia whispered. 

“We have to be quiet,” Wes warned. 

“I’m good at being quiet,” Sylvia answered. “Just shut up and fuck me, will you?” She grabbed Wes’s erect penis in her hand and began to stroke him. Wes put his hand around hers and kept her stroking as he pulled her to her knees. Wes laid his naked back on the concrete. 

“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see,” Sylvia said very quietly.

“Shiver-y is more like it. Your nipples are hard as rocks.” 

“Talk filthy to me, Wes. You know I like it. No, wait. We have to hurry up. Just pound me fast.” Sylvia knelt over Wes’s body, aiming her pussy at his cock. She guided the shaft into her dripping hole, gingerly placing her weight down onto Wes. Then she started to bounce, rocking back and forth, doing her best to hit the spot inside her vagina that would make her come. Wes reached down and pinched her clitoris between two fingers, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning loudly. Soon the orgasm hit, and Sylvia trembled viciously, her tits jiggling rapidly as she shivered. She fell forward with her mouth against Wes’s ear. 

“I’ve been working…. myself up all morning… Got so horny…” 

Wes thumped his cock once up into the girl, enjoying the sensation of her delicious wetness. Sylvia squealed, then sat up and put her hand over her mouth. The two laughed silently, looking both directions yet again. Sylvia kissed Wes on the lips as she extracted his penis from inside her. Then she kissed her way down to his cock. Sitting on her knees on the concrete floor, Sylvia sucked the hell out of Wes’s cock. 

Wes kept wanting to grab her by the hair, but the curls were still pristine and would have to stay that way until after her afternoon recital. He found it strange how sexy was the idea that he was getting a blow job from a professional-level cellist, and this idea was in his mind when he shot his load into Sylvia’s throat. She fondled his balls and pumped the shaft as she sucked the last drops from his head. Then she crawled back up Wes’s body. Once she was facing him again, she opened her mouth and showed him all the semen she’d collected. 

“Whatever floats your boat, babe,” Wes said, and with that, Sylvia placed her open mouth over Wes’s. Wes tasted his own seed as he licked inside Sylvia’s mouth, and the act seemed to turn her on viciously. She rubbed the outside of her slit against Wes’s still hard penis, pounding her clit against the stiff member. Wes grabbed her ass and helped her rub. Quickly she came again, still swapping spit and fluids with Wes. 

Sylvia grabbed Wes hard by the arms as her vibrations subsided. Then she took a deep breath and sat up, another deep breath and stood. She helped Wes up and they both dressed, trying their best to dry off the dampness from their genitals before stepping back into their formal wear. At last they stood holding hands, staring at each other’s bodies. Sylvia had a nervous, girlish look about her. 

“I liked it last night when we fell asleep and didn’t have to keep talking. Now I don’t know what to say.” 

Wes said, “How about if just agree to look forward to tonight.” 

Sylvia’s smile made way for mock exhaustion. “Oh god, Wes, you’re going to break me in two.” 

“If that’s what you’re into.” Wes pecked her on the lips, then led her back the way they came, Wes carrying Sylvia’s cello. As they left the stairwell and rejoined the students on the first floor, no one seemed to give them a second glance. Wes returned to find his tray missing, but he wasn’t very hungry now. Sylvia set down her cello and walked toward the food line, leaving Wes behind. He wanted to join her, to continue talking and preparing for the evening, but they still weren’t really talking in public. 

Damn, Wes thought, we should have discussed it in the tunnel. Would they continue to keep it a secret? Of course they would, as long as they were in Chicago and Roger knew they were sharing a room. First, people would find out they were a couple. Then, they’d learn the two had shared a room. Lastly, they’d make the assumption (correctly) that they’d fucked. Wes knew he wasn’t up for scrutiny, and Sylvia wasn’t either. So the secret tryst would remain a secret. Wes still wanted to cry Sylvia’s name at the top of his lungs, but for now he’d sit in the piano contest room for the rest of the afternoon and not think about where he’d just had his dick. He left Sylvia behind to join the pianist crowd, waiting in the room to hear someone play next. 

The guy on stage made a mess of Rachmoninoff, and it wasn’t even one of the harder compositions. Thoughts quickly drifted back to the steam tunnel incident. Was this the kind of thing that happened with a REAL girlfriend? Feelings of love, feelings of friendship, feelings of lust, all rolled up into one delicious package. 

Before he knew it, the last competitor of the day had finished, and Wes stood outside the room waiting for results to be posted. He saw his name, and that was enough. Time to get back to his brunette beauty. 

“Congratulations,” said the blonde named Sarah from over his shoulder. Wes turned to see her crying. “I guess I’ll just be watching the rest of the event from the back rows.” 

She wants me to make her feel better, Wes thought. She wants me to tell her how great she did and hold her hand and reconfirm that I’ll be calling on her the next time I visit the West Coast. But she made some bad fingering mistakes, and I’m not going to California, and I don’t want to hold her hand. 

He didn’t even feel nervous around the girl who had hit on him earlier. Something Sylvia had done to him was changing him inside, making him stronger. He even had the confidence to be gentle with Sarah. 

“I’m sorry,” Wes said. “It’s pretty vicious.” 

“Not for you.” 

“Tell you the truth, my stomach was in knots. Listen, I hope you can enjoy the rest of the trip. You deserve a fun time.” 

“Did you think I did a good job?” Sarah asked. 

Lie to her, lie to her, lie to her. “Yeah, I was impressed. Those judges are just hard.” 

Sarah smiled, then rolled her eyes. She knew she was being patronized, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Maybe I’ll see you around? We could do lunch or something.” 

The conversation was not headed in the right direction. Could he soften the blow at all? Better to rip the band-aid off quickly. “Sarah, I’m sorry, but I think a girl from home is trying to start something up with me,” (understatement in the extreme), “and I don’t want to mess it up. I’d like to hang out with you, but it might not be a good idea.” It sounded lame, and Wes was embarrassed again. 

Sarah deflated visibly inside. Without another word, she turned and left briskly. Wes knew exactly what kind of courage it had taken for Sarah to approach him as she did, and he knew he would never have that kind of courage. But perhaps Sarah was more confident about herself, and this was just a minor setback. Popular kids had thick skin, right? Besides, the smell of Sylvia’s perfume still lingered in his nostrils. The matter was closed. 

He watched Sarah leave, wondering what he could have done differently. As he turned to go hear Sylvia play, he saw Sylvia at the end of the hallway. She had an odd look on her face. 

She saw me talking to Sarah, Wes thought. She saw how upset Sarah was. She just wants to make sure. 

Nevertheless, Wes felt a little ill. At first he figured Sylvia would walk ahead of him, to throw any lookers-on off the scent, but she stood still and waited for Wes to get close. Then she fell in beside him, and they walked out into the sunshine. 

“Who was that?” Sylvia asked. 

“The girl who gave me her number.” Best not to lie. 

“What’s her name?” 

“Sarah.” Wes hated the way his stomach felt. 

“She’s pretty.” 

Wes stopped walking. Fuck people looking, fuck people whispering. Sylvia had to be convinced that she was the one he wanted to be with. Sylvia stopped and, as predicted, looked around to see who was watching. Wes wanted to look too, but his words demanded careful attention. 

“Sylvia. I know you don’t want to do this right now, but I want you to play well in your competition, so I’m telling you right now that there’s nothing between Sarah and me. At first I wanted to tell you it’s silly for you to be jealous when we barely knew each other yesterday, but it’s not silly that you’re jealous. You’re right to be jealous, because I belong to you now.” Wes took a deep breath. “That’s how it feels. It’s weird, but I’m just being honest. Maybe you don’t want that, but I’ve never felt this way before, and I won’t be any good to you if I have to hide what I’m feeling, because last night, I didn’t have to, and that’s never happened before with a woman. So, nothing between me and Sarah, and nothing between me and any girl I ever knew before, not like what’s between me and you.” 

Wes realized he hadn’t been able to look into Sylvia’s eyes during the speech, that he had in fact been searching the perimeter to see who might be watching them. When he looked back at her, he saw the faintest smile on her lips, a perfect beautiful countenance on her perfect face. Not only that, but she was somehow more calm and also more anxious than she had been before. Wes saw her lovely chest rising and falling with her rapid breathing, but her eyes seemed soft and sympathetic. He was convinced that Sylvia’s heart must be beating at least as fast as his was. He smiled. 

“Come hear me play,” Sylvia said. 

Wes found a seat with some kids he knew. One girl named Shirley asked, “How did you do?” 

“I’m in round two,” he said. Several of them slapped Wes on the back good-naturedly. 

“You just missed Sherry,” Shirley said. “A Bach prelude, nothing too fancy. She did a great job, but I don’t know if it will be showy enough to push her past. Have you heard the piece Sylvia’s going to do?” 

Wes shook his head no. 

“Prokofiev, the one he died and left Blok to finish. Very very dark, especially in the finale. She’s going to ace this.” Another student agreed and said so. 

Sylvia walked onstage, smiled shyly. None of the judges bothered her as she got into position. From the first note Sylvia was without error. Soon she had closed her eyes and was deep inside the music. Wes fell in love with the melancholy tone, so brooding and sad, but beautiful in the way an untouchable palace throne room is beautiful. And Sylvia looked like the queen of the realm conducting her court through the bow and string. Wes knew this was the music talking through him, but what was music for, if not to illuminate the emotions? 

The crowd rose and applauded even before Sylvia’s last note had died away. Wes wanted to throw roses at her feet. He knew Sylvia had made it through, so he didn’t wait around to see the results. 

Instead, he went back to the buses and sat on the curb, waiting for everyone to return. Brian Simonson had obviously won in his acting divisions, and Kate McGuire for poetry. Wes could tell by the look on Joan Clayborne’s face that she wanted to kill whoever had judged her string quartet, but she shouldn’t have been surprised with Lindsay Marchamp on second violin. She was terrible. 

Up walked Sylvia, with her little jacket dangling over her shoulder by one finger and that huge cello in the other hand. Several students had been at her performance, and word spread fast how magnificently she had played. They rushed up and hugged her and clapped. After they started to dissipate, Sylvia looked around and saw Wes. She gave him a quick thumbs up and a beautiful toothy grin, then grabbed her instrument and made it back onto the bus. 

James kept trying to talk to Wes on the bus, but Wes could not be bothered. He stared out the window as they moved through the city of Chicago. In the late afternoon the sun had moved behind clouds, turning the city streets a muted shade of gray. But the people on the sidewalks moved with such light-hearted determination into the stores, out of the coffee shops, over the bridges. Finally the buses entered the catacombs between the skyscrapers, where light did not easily overcome the gray shadows, and Wes enjoyed this part of the city most of all. He liked the idea that someone could hide in the city, the way he and his lover had been able to hide. 

As he moved from the bus to the bedroom, he was only half-conscious. Off the bus, through the lobby, students and professors congratulating him, then he was waiting for the elevators. Once behind the closed door of Roger’s bedroom, he stared out the window and waited for night to fall. Faith would come to see Roger, and his time would begin. 

He and Roger changed out of their suits and went down to the banquet hall where dinner was served. Sylvia sat at a table on the other side of the room, wearing a tank top and sweatpants. Wes was scared to death of the feelings he had at the sight of her. Hunger, deep animal hunger. There were no words in his mind for what he felt, just a dull red ache in his mind and the beating of his heart high in his chest. 

“I wish they’d let us loose on the city tonight,” Roger said. “I wanna waste some money.” 

“You just worry about round two,” Wes said. “Let the losers go sight-seeing tomorrow.” 

“Wes, I like the way you think. Spoken like a champion. Congratulations, by the way.” 

Faith approached the table where Roger and Wes sat. “Come on, stud,” she said as she punched Roger hard in the arm. 

“Oww!” Roger yelled. He leapt from his chair and chased Faith out of the room, headed for the elevators. The time was only six-thirty. 

Wes looked in Sylvia’s direction. Yes, she had seen Faith leave with Roger. Yes, she had that naked hunger in her eyes. She left her empty plates and walked toward the door. Wes stood and followed. They waited in front of the elevator, not daring to look at each other. No other students entered the car with them. As soon as the doors closed, Wes pressed Sylvia against the wall and attached his open mouth to her neck. Sylvia pulled Wes’s t-shirt up to the armpits and moved her hot hands over the landscape of his body. Wes pushed up Sylvia’s tank top and yanked down the cup of her bra. He sucked her nipple aggressively. The girl moaned and tugged at Wes’s hair. Then she pushed him away as the car approached their floor. 

In the corridor, the evening’s festivities had begun. Girls sat in packs playing cards and drinking cola (with illicit additives, Wes had no doubt). Four guys were engaged in an unruly version of arena soccer, pounding the ball against the walls and doors. One student stuck his head out the door and shouted, “You assholes! Shut the fuck up!” To which the soccer players responded, “Fuck you, Steve! It’s not like you’re going to round two tomorrow.” Everyone ooooooh’ed at this evil slam. Sylvia opened her door and slipped in. Wes stole a glance and made sure no one was looking either. No one seemed to care. 

Wes shut the door behind him. There stood Faith.

“What’s this?” she asked. “You’re hanging out here? You’re gonna get us busted!” 

“Chill out, Faith,” Sylvia said. “We’re just talking about how the day went.” 

“So you two are friends now?” Faith asked, incredulous. 

“So you and Roger are?” Sylvia retorted. “Please. You’re fuck friends.” 

“Maybe you and little Wesley are fuck friends. Is there something I should know?” 

Wes stepped further into the room. “Your date’s waiting, Faith. Don’t give him blue balls.” 

“You shut your hole, putz. I could whoop your ass.” 

“Faith, jesus,” Sylvia interrupted. “We’re just talking. Wes and I have to get along, don’t we? You forced us to do that much, at least.” Wes hoped she wouldn’t say something like, What business of yours is it anyway? That would really have set Faith snooping down the wrong path. 

“Whatever,” Faith said. “I don’t care what you two do.” 

“Why no Faith,” Wes said, “I don’t mind if you kick my out of my room again tonight. You’re very welcome. And sleeping in the same room as Sylvia isn’t awkward at all.” 

“Shut up,” Faith said with a half-hearted sneer. She put her room key in Wes’s hand, took his, then she was gone. 

The door had barely shut before Sylvia ripped her tank top off her body. Wes kicked off his shoes as he watched Sylvia disrobe at a frantic pace. Off came the sweat pants, off came the bra, off came the black string panties he’d seen in the tunnel. Wes barely had time to remove his own underpants before Sylvia took him by the hand and threw him like a tetherball onto the bed. 

Onto his body she slammed. No kissing, no fondling, just his cock impaling her already wet pussy. Sylvia closed her eyes and crashed against Wes’s body again and again, maximizing the power of the impact so that she made them both bounce on the bed. She grabbed Wes by the hips and ground down onto him, pushing her pussy so hard against Wes’s crotch that she might have been trying to hit her clit with the pelvis bone. Sylvia looked at Wes and licked her lips, then raked his chest with her fingernails. In a single moment she looked both like a raging beast and a pleading child. What could she want so desperately? It couldn’t be half as much as she was giving. Wes clinched the muscles in his abdomen each time he felt Sylvia’s tight pussy milk him. Between the time in the tunnel and now, she had somehow found a way to grip his shaft with her vagina walls, and the pressure was relentless. 

A girl screamed playfully out in the hall. Sylvia looked up in surprise, suddenly reminded that people were just outside. Wes smiled at her anxiety, then grabbed her by the hips and pumped her with a rapid vibration. She came hard, holding her tits and pinching the nipples. As she allowed the wave to wash over her, she ran her hands through her hair, shaking out the waves and allowing those cute curls to dominate. Instead of slowing down after the orgasm, Sylvia began to ride Wes faster. 

Wes sat up and grabbed Sylvia by the shoulders, holding her in place on his throbbing penis. He lifted her off the bed as he stood, then slammed her back down on the mattress. Now he could slam his cock deep inside her. Their genitals made sloppy wet sounds as his thick penis squeezed the juice out of her hole, spraying both their thighs. Then Sylvia reached up and pulled Wes down by the neck. Wes lost his balance and fell hard, but he tried to roll so he didn’t land full on the girl. This yanked them both off the bed, and they on the floor with a hard thud. 

Sylvia landed on top of Wes, and his cock jammed up into her like a lance. She almost screamed but held it together, breathing open mouthed as the anguish passed. But she didn’t look anguished; in fact, she grabbed Wes by the shoulders and started fucking him very fast, slipping her pussy up and down the shaft at a furious pace. Faster, faster, still faster, and then she froze as another orgasm hit and her nails dug into Wes’s shoulders. “Fuck me fuck me fuck me,” she chanted. 

Wes expected her to pull away, but the determination he saw in her eyes compelled her to keep going. Wes grabbed her by the neck to hold her still as he emptied his first load into her. She continued to milk him as the hot jizz filled her, and because she kept fucking him, the semen spurted out of her pussy onto the floor and on his crotch, glistening in his already wet pubic hair. Sylvia must have enjoyed the hands on her neck, because she reached down and choked Wes. Even as the cum continued to spurt out of his sensitive cock, he yanked Sylvia down on her side on the floor. Without removing his cock from her, he twisted his body so that he straddled one of her legs, with the other ankle dangling over his shoulder. 




Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 02



His body moved like a piston of its own accord, slipping and sliding inside her tight pussy with engine-like speed. Without slowing down, he working his index finger into Sylvia’s ass. She grabbed his wrist and tried to slow the descent of the digit into her body, but she didn’t stop him entirely. As soon as the finger was buried to the last digit, she came. Then Wes wiggled the finger, and she came again. He fucked hard twice, and she orgasmed a third time in a row. 

“No, no please, I’m gonna pass out,” she whimpered, but Wes kept assaulting her holes. Now her asshole was hot and slick, and he worked a second finger inside her. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, and once both fingers were fully inserted, she came. This orgasm was an amazing thing to watch, twisting the girl like a whip across the carpet, her tits flopping all around. Sylvia made incomprehensible sounds as she shivered and shook. When she collapsed on the floor at the end of the orgasm, Wes was still inside her from both sides. He moved a finger, and Sylvia jumped like a puppet on a string. He wiggled again, and she jumped again. Then he fucked her hard and deep as fast as he could, and she came immediately, then again, and finally one last time. As Wes shot his orgasm juice deep into Sylvia, he saw her eyes roll back and her head hit the floor. 

Wes turned the sleepy-looking girl onto her back, and softly licked between her legs. That woke her up. She grabbed Wes by the ears and tried desperately to pull him away from her cunt, but he would not have it. He licked her until she came, then fingered her and licked her until she came, then shoved his tongue up her asshole and fingered her until she came. At the point when he realized he’d actually lapped the juice from Sylvia’s ass, he decided he must really fucking be in love. 

Sylvia kicked at Wes, worming herself away from him on the floor. “Bastard,” she muttered, then she groggily turned around and moved herself down to his cock. It was very sensitive after two orgasms, but she goggled it up into her mouth without permission. 

“Sylvia, wait,” Wes requested. 

“Fuck you,” Sylvia said, and she started to suck him off hard, sucking him with true power and relentless intent. Wes couldn’t help but get hard, but his cock was very tired. He decided to hold on for dear life while the girl had her way with him. He grabbed Sylvia by the ears and ground his teeth together as he fucked her face. He could actually sense his head going down her throat, and he was fucking impressed. Ten minutes later, when the orgasm came, his body was a ragged mess of fatigued muscles. Sylvia gagged on the flood of jizz that exploded in her throat, and she spit much of it back onto Wes’s body. After the orgasm, Sylvia crawled up onto his body. Wes was terrified. 

“Can I borrow this for a minute?” Sylvia asked. Instead of gliding the cock into her pussy, she took the painful, throbbing shaft and rubbed her clit with it. She moved her pussy in a circle against the cock, and it was only half-a-minute later when she came. Wes thought she looked like a girl in the movies who is playing out a death scene, allowing her spirit to shake off this mortal coil, as her face went blank and her body fell lifeless against Wes except for the rapid beating of her heart, which Wes could feel through her breasts. 

A loud knock came on the door. Sylvia instantly became alert. “Shit,” she said wearily. 

As quickly as their tired bodies could move, they put back on all the clothes they had been wearing. Sylvia pulled back her disheveled hair with a scrunchy. Wes went into the bathroom as Sylvia opened the door. 

He heard Faith. “God, he is such a jerk! I’m crashing here tonight. Where’s your boyfriend, anyway?” 

Wes flushed the toilet that he hadn’t used and opened the door. “I’m here.” 

“What are you guys doing, anyway? The TV isn’t on.” 

“Excuse us for living, Faith,” Sylvia answered. “We were thinking about getting some guys together and going to see a movie.” 

“Excellent,” Faith said. “What’s playing?” 

Sylvia gave Wes a worried look that lingered a little too long. “We thought we’d see ‘Paycheck.’” 

“That lameass sci-fi crap with Ben Affleck? Although I wouldn’t mind seeing Ben Affleck. When are we going?” 

“Well, we were thinking of going to a late show.” 

“After the curfew? Bitchin’. I didn’t know you had it in you, Sylvia. Who else is going?” 

“I thought we’d ask around.” 

“Were you gonna call me?”

“No, we weren’t gonna call you. You’re upstairs with Roger having fun.” 

“Well it’s not fun anymore. He slapped me hard on the ass. He thinks I like it.” She looked at Wes. “What are you looking at, pervert?” 

Wes rolled his eyes and said nothing. The phone rang, and Faith answered. “What? No, fuck you… Roger, you need to learn to respect me… No. No. I don’t think you are sorry… GRRR. Fine! I’m coming back up.” She slammed down the phone. “GodDAMN he is such an asshole. Call me if you go to a movie.” And with that, she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived. 

Sylvia sat on her bed, then leaned back against the pillows and shut her eyes. Wes fell into an armchair. 

“I hate her,” Sylvia said. 

“She’s okay,” Wes said. “She never learned as a kid, that’s all.” 

Sylvia looked at Wes. “You’re a nice guy.”

Wes smiled, looked away. “Not trying to be. Life too short to pick fights.” 

Sylvia hugged herself. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” 

“I know. I didn’t think I could do that.” 

“Do what?” Sylvia asked. 

“You know. Cum that many times.” 

Sylvia grinned. “You’re embarrassed to say it.” 

Wes looked out the window. “Old habits die hard.” 

“Yeah,” Sylvia agreed. “I’ve got my clothes back on, but I still feel naked around you.” 

Wes remained silent. Sylvia had something to say, and he’d let her. 

“These past two days… I’ve never felt so safe. Even telling you that sounds dangerous in my mind, but I do feel safe so I don’t mind saying it. It’s not just about the sex. I want to know more about you, I wanna know everything. And after what you said in the tunnel, it was just so sweet.” 

“But we jumped each other in the tunnel. And it’s all about the sex right now.” 

“You’re complaining?” 

Wes slowly moved his head no. He wasn’t complaining at all. 

Sylvia let her head fall to the side in a girlish way, her curls falling carelessly across her face. “The sex, god, it’s so good. It was always work before, with other boys, you know? Something tricky, like I was auditioning for a job. But with you, last night, it was sweet and raunchy and so safe, and it keeps getting better, and I just want to be as close to you as possible in every way. I feel so… I feel like I could do anything. Anything for you, Wes.” She stared at him with intense eyes. “I want to turn you on, to light something inside you like you lit something in me. Listen to me, I’m even talking differently. I don’t know anything about lighting something inside, anymore than I know when to say the word ‘fuck.’ But there’s something burning in me, and it makes me want to say ‘fuck’ over and over, and to let you fuck me.” 

Suddenly she lifted her shirt off again, then slipped out of her sweat pants. She now laid stretched out on the bed in her black bra and panties. “I want you, Wes,” she said almost to herself as she turned and moaned. She crawled on her hands and knees so that her ass pointed toward Wes, the thong barely covering her. Wes suspected she didn’t feel covered to begin with, nor care. 

She said, “You made me cum so hard. I never came like that before. It’s like you see big red buttons on my body and you just keep pushing them. That thing with my asshole, I had no idea I’d like that, but I adore it, and it’s because you’re the one doing it.”

Wes felt desire churn inside him like the pool under a waterfall, threatening to drown him. Almost without willing to do so, he stood and walked to the bed. Sylvia sprawled her sexy body across the covers, looking up at the boy hovering over her. 

“I still smell like you,” she whispered through pouting red lips. 

Wes leaned down and kissed her gently on the mouth. She tangled her fingers up in Wes’s short black hair. They could not go back to the empty passion they had shared the night before; perhaps there never had been anything empty about it to begin with. Their new kiss communicated a million small messages, full of hopes and dreams of a life they might share together, on whatever level would work. At least they had Chicago. 

The two young lovers turned off the lamps and slipped under the covers. They undressed each other but not quickly. First Wes lavished his goddess with kisses across the neck and shoulders, down to her soft cleavage nestled between her bra-covered breasts. Sylvia enjoyed rubbing her legs up and down Wes’s thighs. She unbuttoned his shorts and pushed them down. When they were both in their underwear, they continued to take their time making out. Even the simple act of holding one another was filled with deeper meaning, because their bodies were still warm from the hour-and-a-half they spent making love. Sylvia’s belly was sticky where Wes had first sprayed his seed across her. 

Wes lingered at Sylvia’s bosom, nibbling her hard nipples, lapping at the soft flesh of her mounds as though they nourished him. Once her bra was off, Sylvia twisted in the bed, her intentions unclear until she was in a position where she could kiss Wes’s chest at the same time he was kissing hers. They laughed as they licked each others nipples, both responding lustfully to the subtle seduction. Soon they were kissing downward, until Sylvia’s panty-covered loins rested on top of Wes’s face. He gently pulled her panties off as he felt her do the same to his boxers. 

They worked tenderly on each other. Instead of assaulting Sylvia’s bald pussy to make her cum, he simply tasted her, gliding his tongue in and out of her, experiencing all her textures with his tongue, smelling her deeply. Sylvia meanwhile explored Wes’s hard penis, licking every place she could reach, pumping him softly, creating suction on the swollen head. Wes held Sylvia’s ass as he probed her with his mouth, and she wrapped her hands around his thighs. 

After a very long time of sixty-nining, they moved back together under the covers. Wes moved inside Sylvia as though it were the most natural act he had ever committed. Sylvia barely sighed as the cock moved deep inside her. They rocked against each other under the covers, kissing and tasting one another, exploring their bodies with their hands. 

Perhaps an hour later, Sylvia began to murmur softly. “Hold me,” she pleaded, as she held her body tightly against Wes. Her legs trembled as she tightened her grip around his waist. “Uh… UH… UH… UH…” she moaned as her climax poured over her gently. She moved her body methodically around the penis inside her, allowing the orgasm to continue without diminishing. Sylvia was still coming when she begged, “Come inside me now.” 

Wes gently placed Sylvia on her back and got into position so he could massage himself with her hot envelope. After only a few minutes of deliberate stroking, he cried, “Sylvia,” and shot his sperm into her. Wes heard her make a sound that could have been either laughter or sobbing. She held Wes tightly as he collapsed onto her. Wes knew exactly what Sylvia had meant about the feeling of safety; the warm wetness surrounding his penis was the safest place he’d ever been. 

Wes fell on his side but did not remove his penis from Sylvia’s genitals. They fell asleep still copulating. An hour later, Sylvia began to hump against Wes. She was still half-asleep. Wes responded automatically by embracing Sylvia in his arms. The friction against his naked penis caused it to grow hard, and soon he had slipped back inside her. He enjoyed the pleasant sensation of sleepiness and the memory of his dream, and this carried him through their love-making. After only five minutes of sleep-fucking, they both came at the very same time. Wes pulled out involuntarily and spurted his semen across Sylvia’s legs and pussy. 

Sylvia also ejaculated onto Wes, although neither of them was fully aware of it. She simply felt Wes’s cock pulling out, then a sensation of her own juices spitting out as though she had to pee. This intensified her orgasm, and she cried out. Wes covered her mouth with his own, and they kissed passionately as both their bodies slowly recovered from climax. Soon they were sleeping once again in each other’s embrace. 

Around 3:00, there came a pounding on the door. Both kids woke up. 

“Faith,” they said at the same time. 

Wes put his shorts and t-shirt back on and slipped into the bed. Sylvia groggily pulled on her sweatpants and tank top, then kicked their underwear beneath the bed. Wes listened as Sylvia opened the door and spoke. 

“Faith, are you TRYING to get us busted?” 

“Us? I’m the only one who’ll get busted here. Why didn’t you call me to go see a movie?” 

“Because it’s late, and we both went to sleep early.” 

“Well, fuck!” Faith said. “I’m bored. Let’s do something. Naw, forget it, you look like a zombie. Just kick Wes out and let me go to sleep, too.” 

“Don’t wake up Wes,” Sylvia demanded. “He’s tired.” 

“You’re being so damn weird about Wes!” Faith said. “He’s in my bed.” 

“Look, you’re right, no one cares what’s going on with all of us. Just go back to bed with Roger, and we’ll all be fine.” 

Faith was about to say something, but Wes saw (through squinting eyes) that Faith wasn’t going to go through with waking him up. She threw her hands in the air and left, slamming the door behind her. 

Sylvia slipped under the covers and cozied up to Wes in the bed with clean sheets. “I hate her,” she said. Minutes later, they were both fast asleep. 



Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 03



Wes smiled. What the fuck else could he do? “Look, she didn’t rub herself, she didn’t snore, she didn’t sneeze, and she sure as hell didn’t show me her tits.” 

Could they see how his breathing had sped up?

“But you tried to sneak a peak, right?” Wally asked. 

“Of course,” Wes said. He sipped his water. 

The rest of the lunch consisted of deconstructing Faith’s sexual prowess and the developing of a psychological profile that would help Roger get away with even more the next night. The four-man caucus determined that Faith was probably looking forward to a little bondage, and wouldn’t it be a good idea to buy some silk scarves or something while they were walking around this afternoon? Roger agreed he was running low on contraceptive supplies, so they made plans for after lunch. 

“I’m gonna go see a movie,” Wes said.

“Awesome,” Roger said as handed his credit card to the waiter after the meal. “What are we gonna see?” 

“I thought I’d see ‘The Barbarian Invasions.’”

Tom asked, “What the fuzzy fuck is a ‘barbarian invasions?’”

“It’s Canadian,” Wes said. “It’s in French with subtitles.” 

Roger held his hands up, as though asking for a sign. “You’re telling me you want to spend your afternoon in Chicago watching a film you’ll have to read? That’s fucked up, Wes.” 

Wes shrugged. 

“Whatever, dude. We’re gonna find the world’s largest Lego store, then get some cigars and beer for tonight. Sure you won’t come with us?” 

“Thanks, though. And thanks for lunch, man.” 

“Hey, you earned it. East coast represent.” 

Tom and Wally congratulated Wes again, and the other three guys left. Wes threw a ten-dollar bill on the table to make up for the lame tip from the others. Once outside, he took a stroll in the direction of the big river that ran through the city. 

At 5:30, Wes returned to the hotel. Music was coming from the banquet hall where students would be getting their dinner. Once in the hall, Wes saw a captivated crowd standing around Sylvia, playing her cello. It was the Kodály she’d performed that afternoon, and she was doing a bang-up job of it. How strange to see a girl in a bright yellow t-shirt and red shorts producing one of the saddest sonatas in the whole of the last century. When she finished, the crowd erupted into cheers. Even the cooks behind the buffet line called out their hurrahs. Some professors from the Music department patted Sylvia’s back. Wes made his way through the crowd. 

After several students had filed past to congratulate her, Wes shook her hand. She couldn’t help but smile when she realized it was him. 

He leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t eat dinner. Trust me.” 

She look at him, nodded a confirmation. Wes left. He went to Sylvia’s floor and found a group of writers sitting in a circle in the hallway, talking about the Democratic presidential candidates. Wes listened but didn’t offer any comments. After about ten minutes, Sylvia exited the elevator, cello in hand. She saw that Wes saw her, then she went to her room. A moment later, she poked her head out and beckoned him. Wes thanked the students for letting him sit in, then got up and knocked on Sylvia’s door. She let him in. 

After the door closed, Wes pressed Sylvia against the wall and kissed her. First came the tongue gymnastics, then the slow, open-mouthed gobbling, finished off by lingering pecks on the mouth and cheeks. 

“Congratulations,” Wes said. 

“Congratulations,” Sylvia said. 

“Let’s celebrate.”

Sylvia put on her best “Yes please” face and cupped her tits in her hands. “I bet I know what you have in mind.” She put a playful hand on Wes’s chest. “But Faith’s on her way back. She said she’s not going to Roger’s until after 11:00.” 

Wes said, “I bet you don’t know what I have in mind.” 

Sylvia crossed her arms. How could it be that even her impatient look conveyed her longing? 

“Get dressed for a formal night out. At 8:00, go down the stairs to the twenty-eighth floor. Take the elevator to 2, and I’ll be waiting for you.” 

“What is this about?” 

“You said you wanted to go on a date in Chicago.” 

Sylvia’s face lit up like a little girl’s. “Oh wow! Wes, what are you thinking?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

The question struck a deeper, non-player chord in the girl, but she kept smiling. “I do.” 

“Leave your purse here. I’m taking care of everything.” 

“What about the curfew?” 

“The professors haven’t been on these floors past 6:00 either of the past two nights. It’s a non-issue.” 

“And Faith?” 

Wes shrugged. “You’ll just have to find a way around her. Talk her into going to Roger’s early, escort her to a friend’s room and leave her there… sneak out when she’s not looking… it doesn’t matter. When she sees you’re not here, she won’t care.” 

“But you won’t be here, either. We’ll be gone, together.” 

“We could be in any of a hundred rooms with any of a thousand students. There’s more than one school staying at this hotel, you know. We could say we met new people, or, I dunno, we’ll just make something up in the morning.” 

Sylvia raised her eyebrow. “When are we getting back?” 

Wes kissed her. “Remember the plan. I’ll see you on 2 in two hours.” With that, he left. 

At 8:07, the elevator doors opened onto the second floor. Wes was waiting as Sylvia stepped forward. She wore the same stunning red dress from her performance, now with a wrap around her shoulders of some material Wes couldn’t name, fuzzy like velvet. Wes wore his Armani. Sylvia curtsied. 

“You take my breath away,” Wes said. 

“You’re handsome, stud. So tell me what’s next in our adventure.”

Wes took Sylvia by the hand and led her to the stairwell. They walked down one flight and then another. When Wes opened the final door, they were in the basement. A couple of maids looked disinterestedly as the two passed by. They pushed through a door into the alley, then back to the street. Wes called for a cab, and one stopped. He saw some students they knew on the opposite street corner, but no one recognized the two in their formal dress. 

“L’Espalier,” Wes said to the cabbie, and he gave the address. Sylvia wrapped her arm around Wes’s. She was about to speak when something out the window caught her eye. Wes saw the city illuminated by streetlamps and billboards at street level and bright shop windows. People walked in singles and in packs. The two lovers watched in silence as the city of Chicago passed before their eyes like a glorious movie scene. The cabbie turned on the radio, and a love song came on. The kids looked at each other and smiled. Sylvia giggled. Her perfect dark curls fell across Wes’s neck, and he touched them lovingly. 

The cab took them to a neighborhood filled with specialty shops, mostly at the feet of brownstones. They were dropped off at a tiny door with the sign “L’Espalier” above it. Behind the door was the smallest bar Wes had ever seen. People packed the place so tightly that those standing up were literally pressed against each other. 

“Wesley for 8:30,” said Wes to the maître d’. Sylvia held his hand, and they enjoyed the noise of the bar for about five minutes before they were called forward to a narrow staircase leading upward. At the top of the stairs was a formal, modern dining room with significantly more elbow room than the bar. 

“Who’s in that round booth?” Wes asked. 

“It’s reserved,” said the maître d'. He was a tall kid in a black turtleneck, only a little older than Wes himself. 

“I bet we’ll be done before it’s needed,” Wes said, and he produced a twenty. He put it in the guy’s hand and, without asking, proceeded to assist Sylvia into the booth. He looked back and gave the maître d' a thumb’s up. The dude shrugged and returned the thumb, then went back downstairs. 

The waiter introduced himself and asked if they’d like anything to drink. Wes pulled his driver’s license out and handed it to the waiter without waiting to be asked. “A ’95 Bordeaux if you have it, nothing later than ’97.” 

“Very good, sir. We do have the ’95. By the bottle or glass?” 

“Bring the bottle. I hate to rush things, but we have a big night planned and I’d like to order now, if I could.” 

“Would you care for a menu?” the waiter asked, although he made no effort to grab one.

Wes turned to Sylvia. She obviously could not believe her eyes. “Go ahead,” she said. 

Wes said. “First course, the foie gras and the grouse with duck. For the main, I’ll have the pot-roasted poussin. Sylvia, are you in the mood for fish, beef or something else?” 

“I’d love a nice veal,” she said. 

“Tell us about the veal,” Wes requested.

“It’s roasted,” said the waiter, “with a crab strudel and pistachio brioche stuffing, covered in a light cranberry red currant sauce.” 

“Do you like a touch of fruit on your veal?” Wes asked. 

Sylvia said in a clear, direct voice, “I’m going to give you the best sex you’ve ever had.” 

“The veal sounds good,” Wes muttered dryly. The waiter couldn’t keep a grin off his face as he left. 

The wine arrived quickly, as did the bread and the first course. Wes and Sylvia sat very close to one another, thick as thieves. They discussed the escapades of the two previous nights, but also talked about past lovers and secret fantasies they’d never shared with anyone else before, some embarrassing and dark, some embarrassing and involving the stars of 80’s sitcoms. Sylvia spoke of her father’s death when she was only eight years old. Wes told of his sister’s death in a car wreck the year previous. They shared all their courses and nursed the wine slowly. Neither had more than half of their second glass. 

“How can you afford this?” Sylvia asked. 

“Don’t ask silly questions,” Wes said. “It’s enough for you to know I don’t waste money every Friday night on alcohol and strip joints. I started college with a savings account, and this is as good a way to spend it as any.” 

“You know this wasn’t necessary,” Sylvia said. She dangled her wine glass between her fingers, swirling the red liquid around. 

“If that’s the discussion we’re having,” Wes replied, “it wasn’t necessary for you to want me.” 

Sylvia licked her lips. “I do want you,” she said. 

The waiter brought dessert, chocolate satin mousse with fresh spring berries for Sylvia, a fig tart with port granite and black pepper crème fraiche for Wes. After they finished their desserts, an older man in a suit asked them if they’d enjoyed their meal, and Sylvia said it had been perfect. “You two look great together,” said the manager. 

This embarrassed the hell out of both of them, and they laughed at each other’s shyness. “Thank you,” Wes finally said. 

“You don’t know this,” Sylvia said, “but you’re looking at two finalists for the All-State Artistic Tournament. We’re going to be famous musicians some day.” 

“Excellent!” said the manager. “You go to school in Illinois?” 

“No, we’re from the East Coast. This is the national level of the all-state tournament, but the whole thing is still labeled all-state. It’s fucked up. Pardon me.” She giggled. Wes knew she wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but she didn’t seem too bad off. 

“What instruments do you play?” 

“She’s a cellist,” Wes said, “and I play the piano.” 

“Jazz or classical?” 

“Classical. Tomorrow I’ll play Brahms’ sonata in F minor.” 

“I do love Brahms,” the manager said. “Can you play it without the sheet music?” 

Wes nodded. “I’m competent.” 

“Would you favor the room with a performance?” With this, the manager waved his arm toward a baby grand in the corner. 

No words came. He looked at Sylvia, who was as surprised as he. She said, “This night couldn’t be any more perfect if you turned my dress to gold. It’s your call.” 

That did it. Wes stood, shook the manager’s hand and walked to the piano. As he did, the manager twisted a knob on the wall, turning down the volume of the pleasant music from loudspeakers. Wes sat quickly at the bench, not giving himself time to change his mind. He opened the drawer, positioned his fingers on the keys, and began. Without bothering to see if the room had stopped to listen, Wes proceeded into the happy, passionate moments of the sonata’s opening lines. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said that the wine was making his play bolder; certainly his entrance into the recapitulation was stupendous, and when its harmonic fifth measure arrived, he could almost taste it on his tongue. 

Too soon the piece was done, and the room behind him exploded into applause. He turned a deep shade of red but did not fail to turn and wave gratefully. Sylvia ran to his side and kissed him on the cheek. The manager lifted him to his feet and presented him again, and the room cheered once more. One man who did not cheer sat directly in front of Wes. He called the manager over and whispered in his ear. After this, the manager returned to Wes’s side. 

“Mr. Craftsman is a regular here, and he requests the honor of purchasing your meal this evening. I do not intend to charge him for the wine, which is on the house, but he would be insulted if I did not send him your bill.” 

Wes placed his hand over his heart and bowed slightly toward Mr. Craftsman. The gentleman tapped his temple in acknowledgement, then returned his attention to his companions. Wes handed the manager a twenty to give to their waiter. Knowing it was time for a perfect exit, Sylvia took Wes by the hand. The sound of scattered applause surrounded them as they headed down the stairs. No one in the bar seemed to know what had just happened. Moments later they were in their second cab of the evening. 

“Drive,” Sylvia said to the cabbie. 

“Where to?” the cabbie inquired briskly.

“In a minute, just go.” Sylvia commanded. The vehicle lurched forward. Sylvia draped herself over Wes and made love to his mouth and neck and cheeks. Wes held Sylvia in his arms and caressed her. No word other than “fiery” could describe her, from her disposition to the temperature of her flesh. Then she dramatically collapsed with her head on Wes’s chest, looking up at the streetlamps flashing by. 

Wes gave the cab driver an address, then rested his hand on Sylvia’s propped-up knee. Sylvia laughed loud -- “Ha!” She sat up and laced her fingers into Wes’s. They glided through the city like a graceful pair of predators, tracking something tasty. 

“I hear music when I’m with you,” Sylvia said, perhaps to herself. 

“What kind of music?” Wes asked, just as softly. 

“Continuous. Umm… sonatas, suites. A lot of Bach.” 

“Major keys or minor?” 

“Minor, mostly.” 

“That doesn’t sound good.” 

Sylvia embraced Wes around the arm. “It is,” she said as she smiled. 

The car made a thump-thump sound as they crossed a tall bridge. Wes remembered a time as a young child when he and a fellow grade-schooler had kissed with puckered lips in her backyard, and he had convinced himself no girl would ever be able to make him feel that way again. This was precisely how Sylvia made him feel, precisely. 

The cab stopped. 

“Hey, this isn’t our hotel,” Sylvia said. 

Wes flashed a big, toothy smile. “Surprise,” he said. After paying the cabbie, he helped Sylvia out. They went through the relatively small lobby and got on an elevator. 

“We can’t stay here, can we?” She hadn’t lost faith in Wes’s plan, but she at least had to ask. 

“No, we can’t, but that’s not why we’re here.” Wes punch the button for the top floor, where a restaurant and health club were. They got to the floor and Sylvia saw that the “health club” was no more than a workout room and a door to the pool. Wes turned off the lights in the workout room and turned the sign to the “Closed” position. A turn of the deadbolt locked the door. 

“I searched all afternoon for this place,” Wes said. 

“What is this?” Sylvia asked. The excitement in her voice was apparent. 

Wes grinned. “I got the impression that you liked spending time with me in the shower. I thought maybe you’d like a romantic midnight swim.” 

Sylvia’s breathing could be heard. She was clearly visible in the light from outside the glass door. “Does it matter that it’s only 9:00 and someone could catch us?” 

“Not to me.” Wes took her through the door into the swimming pool room, and he turned off the lights in here also. A wall of windows filled the place with moonlight and the brightness from the city below, filtered through the condensation on the windows from the heated chlorine water.

Sylvia left Wes behind and walked to the other side of the pool, where she stood clearly visible in the moonlight. She dropped her shoulder wrap onto a deck chair, then unzipped the side of her red dress. She slipped the straps off her shoulders and stepped out of her clothes. There she stood in an intimidating black lingerie ensemble, with a strapless , garter belt, black stockings and the high heels. 

Wes blinked. “Holy shit,” he said. “Sylvia…” 

“I did some shopping this afternoon. You like?” Sylvia put her hands on her hips. She turned in a small circle. Wes saw the straps of the garter belt biting a bit into Sylvia’s ass cheek. 

He nodded like an idiot, already undoing the knot in his tie. He watched as Sylvia unfastened the and set it aside, freeing her silky, olive-white torso from the garment. Shadows obscured the sight of her breasts but not the bouncing silhouette. She unsnapped the garter belt and put it away, then stepped out of her panties. Finally she kicked her heels to the side and unrolled her stockings. 

Wes barely realized he had undressed himself to the boxers as he watched her. He had to stretch the elastic far from his body to pull his boxers over his erect penis. Sylvia dove into the water fearlessly, and Wes cannonballed in as well, protecting his member from the impact. They swam to each other and stood on tiptoes. The smell of pungent pool water filled Wes’s sinuses. 

Sylvia kissed Wes hard on the mouth. She pressed her naked body against him under the water. Their limbs tangled, sliding smoothly together in the warm liquid world they shared. Wes moved his hand between Sylvia’s legs and slipped the tips of two fingers inside her pussy lips. There he felt thick cream, warmer even than the pool water. 

The girl leaned her head back into the water. “I want you so much,” she whimpered. 

Wes moved the tip of his hard cock against her pussy. She pulled herself down, not giving him time to be gentle, and an instant later she was filled with eight inches of thick, burning, blood-filled flesh. Sylvia kissed Wes on the lips again as her pelvis started to move. The two bodies created waves in the surface of the water, and it sprayed and splashed between them. Each time a wave crashed over Sylvia’s face, she tossed her curly hair and flung the water away, gasping for air. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Wes said. 

“Fuck me,” Sylvia pleaded. “Fuck me so hard. Fuck me in the water, fuck me hard, boy.” 

The lights in the pool room came on. A girl in gym clothes stood with her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god!” she shouted. Her cry echoed painfully loud in the room. Embarrassed both by what she saw and by how loud she had been, she turned away and said awkwardly, “The pool is closed, you guys.”

“Settle down,” Wes ordered. Sylvia thought about how bold he was becoming, the more time she spent with him. “You work here?” Wes asked. 

“Of course!” said the girl. She looked like a girl, but perhaps she was in her thirties. 

Wes said, “I’ll give you fifty dollars if you turn and lock the door behind you right now, and I’ll leave another fifty for you to find in the morning.”

That shut the bitch up, although she managed to eek out, “I won’t be here in the morning.” 

Sylvia dug her claws into Wes’s neck. She still had Wes’s cock inside her, and he had no way of knowing what she was thinking while being on display like this. 




Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 03



“Okay, well, I’ll hide it under the weight-lifting bench in the other room,” Wes explained. 

“Why not give me the other fifty now?” 

“Why not take both fifties and rat us out?” 

The woman threw her hands in the air melodramatically. “I didn’t see nothing,” she said. She didn’t move or speak. 

Wes pulled out of Sylvia and swam to the pool’s edge. “Turn around,” he told the woman. She did. Wes hopped out, rummaged dripping wet through his dress jacket, pulled out his wallet and left a green bill on the chair. Then he dove back in the pool. Once back above water, he said, “Take that and go.” 

“Not my problem,” she said again. Then she grabbed the bill, turned off the light and left. Wes dove headlong into the water. 

“Wesley, you Greek fucking god.” Sylvia grabbed him and kissed him and slipped her vagina down on top of his hard penis once again. She moved furiously, splashing harder than before. “I love the wetness, I love it,” she said loudly. 

They fucked that way for half-an-hour, both rocking hard, neither orgasming. Wes sat back in the water and floated as Sylvia rested weightless on top of him, with Wes holding her asscheeks. Their bodies slipped and slid together, from their chests to their shoulders and down to their legs and crotches. Wes played with Sylvia’s tits and nipples over and over. Sylvia liked to stick her fingers in Wes’s mouth as Wes sucked them. Sometimes she would run her palms across his slick chest and down his arms. He liked the way she bit into his shoulders with her fingernails. And always the kissing, the delicious kissing. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Sylvia said suddenly. 

“Hold on,” Wes said. “I want to cum with you.” 

“Fill me up, Wes, fill me.” 

He came hard, and Sylvia knew it immediately. Her own orgasm was swift and merciless. She grabbed Wes too hard, and he slipped. They both dipped beneath the water and fell to the bottom. There they rode out the strongest parts of their orgasms, floating in a world of warmth and embracing each other. They stayed there for several long seconds before bursting above the waves, gasping for air. 

“Fantastic!” Sylvia squealed. “I’m so horny!” 

“I want you, sexy girl,” Wes said. He was still emptying the last drops in between her quivering pussy walls. 

Sylvia’s head dropped to Wes’s chest. “Oh my god,” she said quietly, then, “Oh my GOD.” She threw her head back and shouted “OH MY GOD!!” The words crashed around the tiny pool chamber. Wes and Sylvia laughed and laughed. As she giggled, Sylvia pulled herself off Wes’s cock. “My god my god my god. I’m having so much fun, Wes, I’m having FUN! God, this is a blast.” 

The two floated away from each other but not too far away, as they circled one another languidly in the shallow end. Wes liked the way Sylvia’s hair looked when plastered against her skull, like a special effect from a movie. He couldn’t see her body below the water. 

Wes asked, “Have you ever been skinny dipping?” 

“No,” she answered. “I’ve always wanted to though, you were right. Let’s recap: I’ve never come so hard in my entire life, I’ve never had such a big cock inside me, I’ve never been naked for such long periods of time…” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “I’ve never had anything up my ass, I’ve never shaved a boy’s penis, I’ve never tasted myself on his lips, I’ve never had sex in a tunnel, and I’ve never been so happy to know someone in my entire life.” 

After a brief silence, Wes said, “The biggest cock? Really?” 

“You’re stupid!” Sylvia said as she splashed Wes in the face. Wes darted through the water to give her a playful dunk. Once underwater, Sylvia tickled Wes, and they played for about fifteen minutes. Finally they ended up in each other’s arms, with Sylvia pressing Wes against the pool wall. They made out, feeling each other’s bodies with their hands. Wes held Sylvia’s perfect ass in his hands and Sylvia reached under his arms to caress his back. 

“I like cursing with you,” Sylvia said absent-mindedly. 

“Yeah?” 

“I never curse.” 

“You’re good at it.”

Sylvia shrugged. “I’m not a vulgar person.” 

“I know that. I just meant, you’re intelligent and you know how to use words. It’s nice to let loose with language, to connect with someone on a deeper level than the intellectual.” 

“The way you talk…” Sylvia kissed Wes hard, and as she peppered his lips with wet open-mouthed kisses, she whispered, “I like fucking you… Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“What else do you like to say?” Wes asked seductively.

“Oh great, now I have to be creative.” 

Wes stuck his tongue down Sylvia’s ear. She squealed and grabbed Wes’s arms. Wes said, “I though you were my whore. Prove it.” 

“Mmmmmmmmmm. My cunt, my wet pussy…” Sylvia rubbed her crotch against Wes’s. They glided along each other hairless under the water. “Your cock feels so fucking good against my swollen pussy lips… that thing you did last night where you made me cum so many times in a row… it was the single best fucking thing I’ve ever felt in my entire damn life…” 

Without permission, Wes spun Sylvia around so that her back was to his chest. He caressed her beautiful tits, sliding his hands over the mounds, searching the shallow crevasses underneath, lingering around her nipples. Sylvia put her hands over Wes’s. “Yes… fondle my tits… touch me, Wes… make me want you…” 

Wes breathed hot on the girl’s glistening neck. She started moving her body around with abandon, letting her legs float and drop, grinding her chest against Wes’s hands. He took one hand and placed it beneath Sylvia’s asscheeks, and he gingerly moved his palm against her hole. As much to his surprise as to Sylvia’s, the girl came. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! Fuh… fuh…” After the orgasm passed, Sylvia floated in Wes’s arms, breathing fast and hard. “What the fuck was that…” 

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Wes commanded. He slipped his index finger into Sylvia’s ass and moved his other hand down between her legs. The clitoris was very swollen. 

“Ohhhh,” Sylvia groaned. “Oh my…” Wes only needed to manipulate her for a short time before she came again. This time she leaned back and let her body float on the surface of the water. Wes sucked at her neck as he fingered her deep, inspecting her pussy walls with two digits. He loved the ribbed texture of her hot flesh inside and how creamy his fingers felt. Just inside her pussy, past a small ridge on the top of the tunnel, Wes found a spot to rub that made Sylvia twist and tremble like a fish in the water. 

Sylvia came again, dipping her head back into the water, lifting her face and angrily shaking the water away. Wes watched Sylvia descend into an aboriginal state of desire, no words or thoughts, just the libido controlling all actions. Wes licked Sylvia’s nipple. She came hard, shouting nonsense words. “I… ugh… we’re… eh… hmm…” He placed his tongue on the bone between her breasts and lapped at her skin. She came again. 

In a moment of inspiration, he remembered a technique Roger had described. Wes held Sylvia on the surface with one arm and pulled her leg toward his face with the other. He sucked on her big toe, and the orgasm slammed into Sylvia so hard that she almost kicked him in the chin. “I… oh I… Wes… I…” All attempts at conversation were beyond Sylvia’s abilities. Wes kissed down her legs, keeping Sylvia floating on her back, until his mouth reached her pussy. She came as soon as Wes touched her slit with his tongue, then she came again when he found the clitoris. Now the gruntings coming out of Sylvia’s mouth sounded like sleepy dream-noises, distant and purely emotional. As Wes tasted Sylvia’s cream deep inside the vagina, Sylvia came with an ear-piercing scream. Wes almost stopped to shush her, but the sight of Sylvia screaming so loud and angry pushed him to lick her even harder and deeper. She yelled and ranted and twisted. 

“Hot damn!” Wes yelled as he removed his mouth and pulled Sylvia fiercely to his body. Sylvia tightened up like a taut cord, almost forgetting to breathe. “Mmm… m... mmm…” She curled into a ball in Wes’s arms, allowing him to hold her in the water as she shuddered and shook. 

Suddenly Sylvia broke away and swam to the steps in the shallow end. She crawled up the stairs and onto the concrete, then fell onto her back, sprawled spread-eagle. Wes watched in the pale light as Sylvia’s glistening wet breasts rose and fell. 

“How did you… how did you…” Sylvia began, but her question trailed off. 

Wes climbed out of the pool and grabbed two towels. He sat in a chair and dried himself off. Sylvia didn’t move for about ten minutes, and Wes sat quietly, listening to the lapping of the waves, peering through steamy windows at the stunning landscape. When he saw Sylvia lift her knees and hug herself, he knelt beside her and asked, “Wanna take a break?” 

“Yeah,” she whispered very softly. 

Wes wiped Sylvia’s body with the towel but did not lift her from the concrete until she said, “Help me up.” Wes took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She immediately hugged him, placing her head on his shoulder. Soon she started to sway. 

“That was so much fun.” Then she lifted her head. “Hey, look at that.” 

Wes turned and saw what Sylvia had found – a sauna. 

“I’ve never been naked in a sauna before,” Sylvia said. 

“I say we get rid of one more ‘never,’” Wes said. 

They turned the dial outside the door, and a single light bulb came on. Wes spread towels across the wood benches so their asses would burn once the heat got going. The room assaulted them with the pungent aroma of cedar. Sylvia sat and leaned back, eyes closed. She unintentionally spread her legs as she sat, and Wes had to restrain himself from kneeling before her. He filled a bucket with pool water and splashed some onto the rapidly hot heating coils. Sylvia nearly purred. 

“Nice,” she said. 

“You like?” 

“No.” Sylvia opened her eyes. “I love. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” 

Wes took a seat. He propped one leg onto the bench, trying to act casual even though he felt he was trying too hard to act casual. His penis dangled onto the towel. 

“Be careful about your opinion of me,” Wes said. 

“Stop that shit right now,” Sylvia said. “Don’t tell me I’m going to learn what a neurotic mess you are and suddenly decide I’ve made the wrong choice. You’re perfect. I’m falling hard for you.” She closed her eyes again. “Besides, it’s too late now.” 

“Yeah,” Wes said. 

“Especially once you did to me what you just did.” 

Wes smiled. “That was perfect.” 

“Where’d you learn it?” 

“Last night.”

“Bullshit,” Sylvia said tiredly, not looking. “You acquired that skill over a number of years, my ivory-tickling friend.” 

“A woman is like a piano,” Wes said as he stared at Sylvia’s body. “I’ve just never played an instrument so in tune before.” 

“Hmmm. Maybe we’re playing each other.” 

“Perhaps,” Wes said. 

“Watch this.” She pulled her wet hair behind her neck; a few strands stuck to her shoulders and neck. Then she bent her head down as she lifted a breast and licked the top of the mound. “Salty,” she said. 

Wes’s cock twitched. “Point taken,” he said. “You know how to play me as well. Just give me a few minutes to recover before we start up again.” 

“Give HIM a few minutes, he says. Damn, I’m worn out. Let’s just enjoy the sauna for a while.” 

No problem, Wes thought. The steam had been building for a while, and now Sylvia was sweating in earnest. Her smooth skin glowed an inviting peach color in the sauna’s bulb. Dots of perspiration covered her flesh like jewels. Wes knew they had all night to collide with one another again, and he intended to mess up those jewels. Every miniscule movement was noticeable, and Wes sat still and watched.

She waited a long time before speaking again. “I can’t believe how horny I am.” 

“I love when you say ‘horny.’”

“You do know, of course, I’m not really this aggressive.” 

“I know,” Wes said. 

“Everyone thinks I’m such a boring good girl. Maybe not boring, just good. I mean, I don’t want to screw up my life, you know?” 

“Sure I know.” 

“It’s just, sometimes, I wish I had someone I could let loose with.” 

“Well, what do you want to do right now?” Wes asked. 

“I want to masturbate.” 

“Who’s stopping you?”

Sylvia lifted her legs onto the bench, so that she displayed herself. The simple act of touching her own breasts immediately aroused her. “Hmmm,” she sighed, eyes closed. Wes thought the dank smell of the wet air made them both hornier somehow. He put his hand around his cock and rolled the flesh back and forth, coaxing it to fill and throb. Soon the penis was ready to pump, and he began. 

Sylvia moved three fingers in a circle over the top of her pussy, applying sweet pressure to the clit. Watching her and seeing her watch him, Wes felt he’d known her for a decade. Hadn’t he memorized every inch of her? The mole on her left ribs, the exact texture of her areolas, the shape of her pussy lips and the way her clit protruded erect from the hood, even what her asshole looked like. He lost himself in her eyes as she returned his gaze. They masturbated without speaking, simply opening their mouths and allowing whispering sounds of pleasure to escape. Sylvia licked her lips; god, how Wes loved when she did that. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Wes said. That was all it took to set Sylvia off. In the light of the sauna no movement was hidden, no twitch or tic. Wes watched with fascination as she came; her toes curled, her eyes went to whites, her mouth opened wide but no sound came out. He was particularly intrigued by the jiggling of her wet breasts, shiny with sweat that flew off in beads. He allowed his own orgasm to arrive. The jizz was not as white and full as it had been the first night, but he still shot off several rounds each time, spurting all over himself. The semen mingled with his sweat and tricked down around the smooth flesh where his pubic hair had been the night before. He continued to stroke himself gently, even as Sylvia diddled her fingers around her hole. 

Wes said, “It feels weird to feel my hairless wiener.” 

“You know, I remember what happened last night,” Sylvia said. “This morning, actually.” 

“What’s that?” Wes asked. 

“You made me squirt,” she replied. How charming to see her blush. 

A stupid grin filled Wes’s face. “Yeah.” 

Sylvia smiled, too. “It was wonderful.” 

“Have you ever seen a girl squirt? Like in porn? Not that you watch a lot of porn.” 

“I watch a LOT of porn,” Sylvia said matter-of-factly. “But that’s not where I’ve seen a girl squirt before.” 

Wes stood and sat beside Sylvia. He put his hot hand on her hot belly, and their legs touched. “Do tell,” he encouraged her. 

“I saw Faith,” Sylvia said. 

“Oh-ho-ho! This is good.” 

“She had to have lesbian sex with five other girls to join her sorority, and they made each girl a copy of the tape to keep them all honest. I was over at her apartment one night crashing on her couch, and after she left to spend the night with some boy, I snooped all around the house. I found her toys and her lingerie and her videos and just everything.” 

“Wow,” Wes said. 

“Was I wrong to do that?” Sylvia asked. She sounded sincere. 

“I’d do it if you left me in your room,” Wes said. 

“Mmmmm. We may do that.” 

“What did you think of the tape?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Wes said dramatically, “how did you like watching girls fuck?” 

He slipped his hand between Sylvia’s thighs, and she moaned. Both their bodies were now drenched with sweat and very damp. Water poured from their brows and necks. Wes knew they wouldn’t be able to stand the heat much longer, but they had time at least for one more good fuck. 

“I liked it,” Sylvia answered. “I wanted to be in the group. I was a little jealous.” 

“Go on,” Wes answered. His hot breath was now exponentially hot. Sylvia was melting before his eyes. 

Sylvia whimpered like a child as she spoke, and she grabbed Wes by the wrist, both encouraging him and restraining him as he began to manipulate her genitals. “The older girls told Faith she had to squirt her cum or she couldn’t join the sorority. They fucked her with a huge dildo, all the time telling her she was going to feel like she had to piss at the time of orgasm, and that she should let it flow when the time came. At first she couldn’t ejaculate, so they fucked her to a third orgasm… mmmmmmmmmm…” She moaned as Wes fingered her deeply. “Then a fourth… her pussy was swollen and bright red, and she kept begging them to stop. She peed on herself twice trying to make the cum shoot out. All the other girls had done it… ah, ah, ah… so good… yeah… like that, Wes… it was an hour… after they start… started… she was dehydrated… but she squirted…” 

Wes kissed Sylvia on the cheek as he played with her. Neither had much strength left, so Wes economized his energy, concentrating on the gentle finger movements he needed to around Sylvia. 

“Squirt again for me,” Wes said. 

“You have to fuck me… a special way…” Sylvia lied down on the toweled bench and spread her legs. “Use your cock to hit my G-spot,” Sylvia said. 

Wes easily guided his throbbing cock into the girl’s pussy. “I don’t think I can come again,” Wes said. 

“You won’t have to… uh… just keep hitting…” She turned her pelvis left and right. “Right there… yeah, oh baby, yeah… rub the head up against that spot right there… I’ll keep trying… keep trying to pee… I’ll push you away when…” 

“I want to drink you like you drank me,” Wes said. 

They fucked steadily. Sylvia seemed peaceful and relaxed except for her tight legs, keeping her crotch raised at a certain angle. “Faster,” she said once, then, “Faster, damn it,” when Wes didn’t speed up enough. Now he pounded her rapidly. Without changing his position, Wes stroked his head against the inside top of Sylvia’s pussy. He used his hands to hold her lower body in the air. 

Just as his arms were about to give out, Sylvia shouted, “Oh I’m coming, pull out, pull out…” Wes yanked his dick out and got down on his knees in front of Sylvia’s pussy. She immediately shoved two fingers deep inside herself and rubbed furiously. 

“OHH, OHH, OHH, OHH, OHH,” she moaned. Suddenly, a gush of clear fluid exploded from between her lips, and it covered Wes. The first spurt was small like a lime getting squeezed, but the next had the force of a shower spray, and Wes felt liquid dripping off of his nose in thick globs, down his face and over his lips. Sylvia collapsed on the bench, shivering hard. A line of white cream poured down her slit and onto her asshole. 

Wes wanted to lick the cream from Sylvia’s ass, and so he did. As his tongue massaged the puckered hole, Sylvia began to shiver very hard, muttering. “Fuh… oh…ah AH ah ah…” With labored movements she slipped off the bench and took Wes’s dick in her hand, coaxing him to stay hard. Then, without any explanation, she leaned over face-down on the bench and pressed the head of Wes’s cock against her asshole. She grunted softly as she bounced in small movements backward against the penis. 

“Are you sure?” Wes asked. 

In response, Sylvia gripped the wood slots of the bench and tightened all her muscles, bracing herself. She nodded without turning around. This was all the encouragement Wes needed. He slipped the head of his painfully hard penis inside the tight hole, stretching it. Sylvia squeezed her ass muscles, gripping Wes hard. He ground his teeth to withstand the sensitive pain, then slowly started working his member inside the girl, like a foot into a shoe that’s too small. Sylvia pounded the bench with her fist but remained silent. Her back shined wet and tight in the sauna light. 

At last Wes’s penis was inside her. He pushed forward once to confirm that he had nothing left to insert, and Sylvia screamed, “Fuck! Ahhhhh!” Then she bounced back hard once, twice, three times, then she screamed again. “I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m coming!” Wes held her tightly by the hips as she shook like an earthquake. 




Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 03



“Fuck me, Wes!” Sylvia yelled. 

Wes pumped hard and fast, and Sylvia made loud noises the entire time, most of them not words of any kind. It felt so unbelievably fucking good inside Sylvia’s ass, warm and slippery but so tight. Her sloppy wet skin slapped loud against his hairless crotch and balls each time he slammed into her. After about ten minutes, he came hard. 

“Holy shit!” he shouted. The chamber was small, and both kids were having a hard time understanding anything that was shouted. Sylvia continued to scream her approval. She squeezed and squeezed until Wes thought his cock was about to pop right off. He distinctly felt his semen spilling out of the girl’s asshole and filling the space between his cock and the rectum walls. For a moment the lubrication was the most pleasurable sensation Wes had ever experienced. 

Sylvia collapsed, trying to hard to breathe. Wes pulled his cock out of her with some effort – she was so fucking tight, even the lubrication couldn’t stop her from gripping him – then lifted the beautiful girl in his arms and took her out of the sauna. She kept threatening to slip between his wet palms, but he made it to the pool’s shallow end and put her in the cold water. Both were refreshed very quickly. Wes sat on the steps, and Sylvia sat on his lap, and they kissed for a long time. 

“This was a good date,” Sylvia said, licking her lips. 

They dried each other off with towels, enjoying the sensation of cotton and being in the care of the other. Wes back down in a chair. 

“Aren’t you getting dressed?” Wes said. 

“I didn’t get a good look at that lingerie. Take your time.” 

Sylvia rolled her stockings up, snapping the rubber grips into place around her athletic thighs. Next came the tiny panties, followed by the garter belt. At last she slipped back into the , using a finger to tuck the breasts in at one place and loosen them at another. Finally she stood on display, hands on hips, a delicious smile on her face. 

“It’s all for you, lover.” 

Each twitch in Wes’s cock felt like a four-alarm fire. He was terrified at the painful idea of another orgasm at this point. 

“You must work out,” Wes said as he walked around the pool toward his clothes. 

“I do,” Sylvia said. “Body, mind and spirit – keep all three healthy, that’s what I say.” 

“I’m not paying that bitch another fifty, by the way. She’s delinquent in her hotel security duties, she doesn’t deserve a reward.” 

They went down the elevator and out the hotel’s front doors without incident. The time was close to 2:00 a.m. A waiting cab took them back to the hotel. Wes regretted not thinking through how they’d get back to their rooms when he saw three professors sitting on sofas in the lobby. Sylvia was the one to suggest that they simply turn their heads and walk past without making a sound. And it worked. None of the professors had been expecting to see two students in formal dress, so all they did see was an unknown couple. Even after the kids got on the elevator, Wes didn’t show his face to the door until after it had closed. 

Sylvia took Wes’s hand. “I’m still horny,” she said. 

“What do you wanna do?” Wes asked apprehensively. 

“Pass out.” 

Wes smiled and nodded. “So what’s our story?” 

“We’ll think of one in the morning,” Sylvia said reassuringly, or at least as reassuringly as she could muster at this late hour. 

“When’s your final competition?” Wes asked as the doors opened. The hallway was empty, of course. 

Sylvia said, “Just after lunch. You?” 

“Just before lunch. You wanna sleep in, then take a cab to the college?” 

Sylvia opened the room door and left the lights off. Faith was nowhere to be seen, so she slipped out of her red dress. “We’ll have to set the alarm for early. I don’t trust Faith to wake up in time to keep us all from getting caught.” 

“That means I’ll have to walk in on them naked in bed.” 

“Mmmm, sounds kinda sexy,” Sylvia said. She kissed Wes, standing in her underwear and high heels. Wes helped her remove his jacket and tie. 

“One more,” Wes whispered in her ear. 

They made out on the bed, watching each other in the lamp light. When Wes was nude, he helped Sylvia out of her tiny pair of panties. He sat on his knees and slipped his hard cock inside her. 

“Oh y-yeah,” Sylvia stuttered. 

“I like fucking you in your lingerie,” Wes said. 

He unhooked part of Sylvia’s bustier so her ample boobs could pour out of the garment, and she rolled her nipples between her fingers. “Oh I’m coming,” she whispered, and her orgasm washed over her like a gentle wave. She continued fucking Wes as she pulled off the bustier and unhooked the garter belt. Soon all she still had on were the stockings. 

A sound froze them both. Someone had moaned, and it wasn’t either of them. 

“What was that?” Sylvia hissed. 

Wes pulled himself out of Sylvia and leapt onto the other bed, which was where the noise had come from. On the floor beside the bed lay Faith, her skirt hiked up and her panties at her knees. 

“Ahhhhh!” Faith screamed. 

“EEEEEEE!” Sylvia screamed. 

Things happened quickly. Wes backed away so fast that he fell off the bed. Faith stood and yelled, which made Sylvia yell again. Sylvia grabbed a few pillows and covered herself, and Wes pulled the bedspread down to cover himself, and Faith pulled up her panties. 

“You two!” Faith said. “You’re fucking!” 

“Have you been down there spying on us?” Sylvia demanded. 

“Not spying. I was going to hide until you showed up, then ask you what the fuck is going on. I fell asleep… and… you two woke me up!” 

“Oh my god.” Sylvia was humiliated. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing it,” Faith said. She sat down in an armchair by the window. 

Sylvia pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around herself. “I wouldn’t put it that way,” she said. 

Wes said, “Okay, I’ll be the first to ask. Faith, can you explain what your panties were doing off?” 

“Don’t be an idiot. You two sounded hot! What was I supposed to do? Besides, I wouldn’t call you a model of restraint.” 

Wes shrugged. 

Faith started to ask, “How long has this…” 

“Since we arrived in Chicago.” Sylvia was frozen in place. “Since you left us alone. We were here, and we just started talking, and one thing led to another…” 

Faith looked at them. “So what’s all this? Where were you tonight?” 

Sylvia said, “Wes took me out tonight.” 

“Like on a date?” 

“Where did you go?” Faith sounded less upset. Wes wondered why she was so angry in the first place, but he suspected something else had gone wrong with Roger, not to mention that Sylvia had been lying to her about the arrangement. Lying was certainly something all of them could be convicted of, but Faith didn’t like having her trust shaken. 

Sylvia answered, “Dinner, then we went skinny dipping.” 

Faith grinned. “That’s nice.” 

“Are you upset?” Sylvia asked. 

“Upset? What do I have to be upset about?” 

Wes said, “You can’t tell Roger.” 

“That’s stupid. Why can’t I tell Roger?” 

“Because Roger already told two guys about you and him, and I don’t want anyone to know about me and Sylvia yet.” 

Faith stood. “And just what is it people shouldn’t know about you and Sylvia?” 

“That he’s fucking me,” Sylvia said, stating the obvious. 

Faith sat down again, then stood, then sat. “So where am I supposed to sleep?” 

“Sleep here. Wes will go upstairs. Have you been on the floor all night?” 

“Yeah,” Faith admitted. “I showed up around 1:00 to kick Wes out.” 

“Does Roger know we weren’t here tonight?” Wes asked. 

“No.” Faith sighed. “We had a fight. I never saw him again. He went off to see some guys… I guess they know about me, like you said… This sucks. But I’m happy for you guys. I guess. Fuck.” 

Sylvia sat in the chair next to Faith and held her hand. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Faith said. “It’s really late.” 

“We don’t have to talk,” Sylvia said. 

“Maybe I wanna talk a little.” 

“Do you mind if I see Wes out?” Sylvia asked. 

Faith said to Wes, “I’ll see you in the morning.” She sounded almost apologetic. 

Wes nodded, then picked up his clothes and the room key. As he stepped toward the door, Faith asked, “Was it a nice date?” Then she started crying. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” 

Sylvia and Wes stepped out into the empty corridor. Wes dropped the bedspread and got dressed, while Sylvia stood in her sheet and watched the hallway for peeping eyes. Once Wes was dressed, he took Sylvia in his arms and kissed her deeply, communicating a hundred things at once with his lips and tongue. 

“Yes,” Sylvia said. 

“Yes what?” 

“Yes, it was a nice date.” She pecked his cheek and went back inside. Before the door closed, Wes heard Faith crying. 

He tried to work up some angst about what Faith was going through, but it wasn’t happening. He felt friggin' great, and he knew Sylvia felt great, and he hoped Faith wouldn’t bring the whole night down on its ear. At least this time Faith hadn’t called him an “asshole” when she booted him. 

He entered his own room. No one was there. It was a mystery that could wait. Wes set the alarm for nine, giving himself almost six hours of sleep unless Roger came in and ruined everything. Wes stripped to boxers and got in bed. He called Sylvia’s room and told her not to set her alarm, that he would wake her in time to get ready. Sylvia thanked him, blew him a kiss and hung up. Wes was half-asleep before his head hit the pillow. 



Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 04



Roger woke Wes at 4:42 a.m. The sun was not yet up. 

"Wes, you bastard! You nailed Sylvia Anderson!" 

Wes woke up in one goddamn hurry. He sat up in his bed and found Roger sitting across from him, grinning like a wolf. His first reaction was to bark questions, but he was embarrassed to silence. 

He had no reason to be humiliated, he told himself. He was lucky to have Sylvia and she felt the same way and they'd eventually tell everyone and what was the big fucking deal and why did he have this sour feeling in his stomach at the thought of being found out? Why did Roger keep smiling? Asshole.

And so several seconds passed, and Wes said nothing, and Roger just kept smiling. Asshole. Wes rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He knew he had to say something. 

"What?" 

"Admit it, bastard! You've been putting it to that gorgeous brunette for three nights and no one knew." 

"Who knows now?" Wes asked timidly. He felt like a pussy. 

"No one's gonna tell." The look on Roger's face crippled Wes, a half-shrug that guaranteed Roger was trying to hide something. 

"OH MY GOD. Roger, you son of a bitch, who did you tell, mother fucker?" 

Roger leaned back. "Whoa! Holy shit! Call a camera crew, I think we just saw Wesley show emotion." 

"Tell me!" Wes said. 

"Some guys, okay? Goddamn." 

How in the world did Roger find the temerity to come off offended? Asshole! 

Wes demanded, "How did you find out?" 

Roger shrugged again. (Wes was about to chop the idiot's shoulders off.) "I went to Faith's room." 

"Faith told you? Not with Sylvia in the room." 

"Whatever, dude. You're sleeping with Sylvia. That's awesome." 

Wes got up, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, left the room, hit the elevator button. He tapped his foot as he waited. Several long seconds later, Wes took the elevator to Sylvia's floor. He went to her door, knocked. 

Sylvia opened the door, wearing a sweatshirt and shorts. She started to speak, then simply fell against the doorjamb and placed her hand to her forehead, as if to say, Oh cruel world.

"I just saw Roger," Wes said. He looked over Sylvia's shoulder, searching for Faith in the room. Sylvia held one finger to her lips, stepped out of the room, closed the door. Wes realized Faith was asleep. 

When they were both in the hallway, Sylvia said, "Oh my god, Wes, oh god. It's all messed up." 

"Are you okay?" Wes asked. He touched Sylvia on the arms in a reassuring way. Why did he do that? He wasn't a true friend; how could he be, having only known her for three days? Sure, he'd had his dick inside her for about 24 of the last 72 hours, but this game had complicated rules. Damn it, Roger! Hadn't everything been going perfectly? 

Sylvia slumped to the floor like a load of clean towels. Wes sighed, sat across from her in the hall. His watch read 5:00 a.m. 

"I'm tired," Sylvia said. "Roger came down to apologize, but he acted offended at the same time, and Faith said something like, 'Why can't you treat me the way Wes treats Sylvia?' And Roger says, 'Because they aren't sleeping together,' and Faith says, 'Wanna bet?' And Roger kept looking at me and saying rude things, and I couldn't keep a straight face, so he left laughing."

Wes sat silent. He felt guilty about the way he looked at her, stealing glances at her legs when she wasn't looking. What a massive horny buster he was. But no, he never looked at girls like this, with such sustained intrigue. He realized he wasn't looking at her body. He was just looking at her. 

She lifted her big eyes. "I can't face anyone this morning." 

"Oh shit," Wes muttered. Of course. The secret was out. They'd have to walk the gauntlet to the breakfast buffet, then again to the buses, and even during their performances. Staring eyes, snickers, pointing fingers. Wes felt truly ill. "What should we do?" he asked. 

"Run!" 

"Run? What the hell?" 

Sylvia sprung forward on her knees and grabbed Wes by the hands. She was on the verge of tears. "Take me away. Right now. Please, please, before they all wake up." 

"We can't just run, Sylvia. We've got the competition." 

Sylvia put a hand to her throat. "I can't! I can't fucking do it, Wes! I can't, I can't!" Her eyes watered. 

Wes touched her cheek. "Okay, baby. Okay. Just tell me the plan." 

"Let's just hide, okay? Let's just hide." 

"Like, in another hotel?" 

"Yeah. You have money, right?" 

Wes realized he stood on the edge of a life-changing moment. His vision wobbled, the hallway spun on an invisible axis. Miss the competition? He knew that was the only solution. No way to go on, not like this. The worst part was that he couldn't explain the reason, because there wasn't one. Shyness? To throw away one's future career path because of shyness? No, of course not. Better to say he was supporting Sylvia in her moment of crisis, to acknowledge she was his true love. Still not a good reason, but a justification of sorts. 

But his reason flew on automatic. He had to at least try to talk her – and himself – out of this crazy plan. 

"Sylvia," he said, "you're not being rational. We can't skip our performances, we just can't." 

Sylvia would not look into his eyes. "They'll laugh at us," she said very softly.

Something solid stuck in Wes's throat. Yes, they would laugh. Even if they didn't judge him harshly – the other students with their finger-pointing, the professors with their reprimands – even if they simply wanted to slap him on the back and congratulate him, the attention would be unbearable. Sylvia was right. They had to leave. Nothing more needed to be discussed. 

"Get your stuff," he said. "Meet me here in ten minutes." 

Petulant, ashamed, Sylvia stood. She went back into her room. 

Wes went to his own room. Roger, lively not ten minutes earlier, was now passed out on his bed. Without a sound, Wes pulled his hanging clothes over one shoulder and the backpack on the other, then returned to the elevator. He hit the button for Sylvia's floor. The doors opened, and she stepped on without a word, luggage and cello at her feet. She also had his suitcase, which he'd unpacked in Sylvia's room. They arrived at the lobby, empty of people, without even an employee at the front desk. 

No cabs were parked out front. They waited several minutes before one passed. Wes hailed him, and they got in, putting their stuff in the trunk. 

Wes asked, "Is their a Motel 6 nearby?" 

"Sure," the cabbie answered.

An early morning haze lit the city. Milky blue skylight swam between the skyscrapers above as the car weaved its way toward the outskirts of the city. Wes held Sylvia tightly around the shoulder. The girl's tension slowly ebbed until she was asleep against his neck. With no traffic, they made it to the motel in fifteen minutes. 

At the front desk, Wes signed some forms, whipped out a credit card, signed a slip. They carried their belongings to a room on the most distant corner of the property, with Wes lugging the cello. Sylvia opened the door with the key, and they dumped everything at the door. Wes closed the door, and Sylvia was already taking off her sweatshirt. 

Wes pulled the drapes closed, and the only light in the room was a harsh line of white peaking out from the end of the window, which the drape did not cover. 

He turned back to see her. The sweatshirt hung limply from her left wrist. Wes stepped over to her side, moved his palm down her arm, eased the sleeve away and let the garment drop. He unfastened her bra, pushed the straps off her shoulders, heard the soft rustle as it fell. Sylvia never moved, barely breathed. She seemed shell-shocked, numb. Wes pulled her shorts and panties down. They descended to her ankles, but she did not stop out of them. 

Wes tried not to disturb her as he pulled off his own t-shirt, took off his shoes and jeans and underwear. At last they both stood in their socks, Sylvia facing the bed, Wes pressed against her backside. With a single finger, he turned her chin in his direction. They kissed, pressing their lips together, without playfulness. Sylvia opened her eyes, and in the dim sunlight Wes could see her eyes were wet. 

The boy carried the girl down to the bed, as gravity and the bending of her knees negated the labor. He placed his body softly on top of hers. They laid like statues in that manner for a long while, listening to each other breathe, occasionally tracing their fingers lightly up and down the other's rib cage, over the hips, along the spine. 

"I'm in love with you," Wes whispered directly into Sylvia's ear. 

Sylvia looked at him. Her lips trembled. She nodded. 

Wes felt Sylvia's legs open slightly beneath him. The warmth from her vagina radiated against his own loins, and he felt his penis begin to fill with hot blood. Sylvia turned her head, a gesture of longing, signaling that her passion had begun to ascend and replace reason. As she exposed her slender neck to Wes, he opened his mouth against her neck and licked her, kissed her, painted her flesh in a coat of saliva and warm breath from deep inside his own chest. Sylvia's palms pressed hard against his back, and her fingernails dug lightly into his skin. 

Now the penis was very hard. It slipped in-between the lips of Sylvia's labia of its own accord. Wes swallowed, somehow breaking the magical spell both students had been under. Sylvia's body tensed beneath him. Her hips shifted, repositioning her pelvis so that it fit better against his, and Wes decided he was right, that two people whose bodies fit so perfectly should be in love. He curled his strong fingers around Sylvia's forearms as his cock inched itself inside her. The soft flesh of her thighs slid up and down his hips. 

"Always," she muttered. "Always." 

Wes elevated his body above Sylvia's as he inserted the remainder of his thick penis inside her. Sylvia leaned her head forward, watching the hairless penis fill her, fascinated. Wes looked down also, and he watched as his throbbing, engorged cock pulled out of her, glistening in the dark glow of the room, dripping wet with the girl's cream. 

"Oh god," Sylvia said. She did not whisper, and her voice was deep and starving. She pulled Wes down and kissed his mouth, digging her fingers into the flesh of his ass. Wes impaled Sylvia, then he did it again, then again, and then he pressed hard against her and began fucking her, with his open mouth drooling against her cheek and ear. He moved his hand up to her tits, already starting to warm with sweat from the un-air-conditioned room. The feel of her hard nipple against his palm sent a jolt through him, and he jolted Sylvia's pussy with his cock as a result. She moaned, spread her legs wider. 

The two lovers ground into each other, sometimes slowly, sometimes deliberately, always with desperate intensity. Sylvia began to whimper. Four hands moved and explored, touching, pressing, greedy in their search for more flesh. Sylvia moved her socked feet up and down Wes's legs. Wes felt his own feet growing hot and sweaty inside his socks, and the rest of his body was beginning to drip sweat as well. 

Time slowed to a fraction of its true speed. Wes expected one of them to come sooner or later, but neither of them did. They simply looked into each other's eyes, saying things they could not say with words. Often they kissed, or licked each other wetly. Sylvia's breasts became very slick with sweat, and Wes moved up and down her body as though against a sheet of damp silk. His penis twitched and thumped inside Sylvia's pussy, fully aware of the texture of her vagina walls, aware of his swollen head stroking her deep inside. He moved his prick like a precise tool, probing every inch of space, up to her uterus and then to the sides and back to the spot near her pelvis that made her moan and claw at him like a sleepy kitten. 

Sylvia began to shiver. Her legs closed around Wes's body, but not like a clamp, more like a hug. She closed her eyes and mouth, pressed her face back against the pillow, breathed noisily through her nostrils. "Mmm, mmm, mmm," she moaned. Her strong hands pulled at the hair on Wes's head, the way a cowgirl steers a horse through his mane. She milked Wes's cock with her contracting pussy, gripping him, gripping him, coaxing the semen from deep down in his balls. Wes slipped his damp fingers deep inside Sylvia's bouncy curls of hair as his sperm flowed from his body into hers. His body shook as though chilled, which could not be explained because not a hint of cold could have existed in that place. 

In that same slow time, they laid there, glued together with their own fluids. 

With her eyes closed and her face buried in Wes's neck, Sylvia said, "I'll love you until the end of the world. I'll never leave you. I'll always love you." Then she licked Wes's face like a puppy, kissing his eyes and his nose, drinking the sweat from his forehead. 

A profound affection welled up inside Wes, filling his mind and spirit like a flood. For no reason at all he began to cry, but he did not want to cry, so instead he rolled onto his back and pulled Sylvia on top of him. She followed him into this position, the hard cock still inside her. They french kissed as Sylvia lifted her feet up alongside Wes's torso, so that she sat squatting above him. Wes pulled Sylvia's wet socks off her feet and flung them against the wall. He reached up and grabbed her tits, fondling her with a gentle massage, flicking her nipples. Sylvia growled. She started to fuck him. 

Wes knew this position reminded him of something, but at first he couldn't think of it. Then he knew – she was working herself like an engine cylinder, up and down, up and down, lifting her hips above Wes's body, then bringing them down to slide against his wet body, all the while pumping her body around Wes's cock over and over again. Wes reached under her and grabbed her ass, helping to lift her each time she moved. 

The movement sped up. For the second time Sylvia looked down, fascinated by the sight of their two bodies slamming together at the genitals. Her mouth opened and a loud moan came out, perhaps without her knowing it. She slammed, slammed, slammed down onto his body, filling herself with the hard penis each time. Their hairless loins slapped together wetly, and the bed began to squeak. 

"God yes, god yes," Sylvia said clearly. 

"Sylvia, Sylvia," Wes chanted. 

Sylvia laced her fingers around Wes's neck. She stared into his face, as though trying to convince him of something. "My heart is beating," she said. "My heart is beating." All the while she continued to fuck Wes as hard as she could, grinding her pussy down onto his cock. "So good, so good, sssssssssooo..." She trailed off, breathing quickly through pursed lips. Then her head began to vibrate, and her entire body reeled back like a whip, twisting one way then the other. "AHHH! AHHHH!" she screamed, unafraid to vocalize her orgasm. She pulled at her own hair as she turned this way and that, her breasts flinging sweat into Wes's face. Once more she milked Wes with her tight cunt, squeezing his body hard between her legs. 

Finally she collapsed onto Wes's body, breathing very hard. "Did you come?" she asked too loudly. 

"Not yet," Wes admitted. 

"Are you close?"

"Yeah." 

Sylvia pulled the penis out of her sopping cunt and wormed herself down toward Wes's cock. Without hesitation she wrapped her entire mouth around the member. Wes felt a surge of pleasure/pain shoot into his cock, and he involuntarily grabbed Sylvia's head between his hands. Sylvia sucked and sucked and sucked, her tongue and mouth cavity vacuumed tightly around the shaft. She literally summoned the jizz out of Wes's penis hole with her vicious suck. At the first taste, she pulled the penis out of her mouth and aimed it at her own face. 

Two messy ropes splashed against her mouth and cheeks and onto her left eyelid. She used her fist to continue pumping Wes, urging the last clear drops out onto her hand. After this, she snaked her body up onto Wes's exhausted form, straddling him, rubbing her still soaked pussy flesh around his deflating penis. She shoved her fingers into Wes's mouth, forcing him to taste himself, then she offered her face for him to lick clean, which he did hungrily. When the sperm was cleaned from her face, they found themselves kissing tenderly, giving their kisses to one another. 

Wes placed Sylvia on her back. She looked up at him, with that kind of questioning look lovers have given after sex for ages without number, a look that said, what in life could ever follow such sweet perfection? Wes gazed deeply into Sylvia's eyes as he moved his hand between her legs and placed two fingers inside her. He stroked her g-spot as he suckled her nipple with his mouth, nibbling her softly. 

Sylvia came, her back arching, her legs closing. Wes slowed his stroking but did not remove his fingers. Once Sylvia had caught her breath, he moved his fingers again, moving his hot kisses up to her neck. 

This time she came quickly but not so intensely, her legs rubbing together in a sexy way as the orgasm washed over her. And still Wes did not stop stroking her. She came again, and this one was hard, not gentle at all. "OH GOD," she cried, "Wes please, please..." 

Wes moved both his arms around Sylvia's midsection in a warm embrace, nothing more than a hug. He licked her neck, firmly, and Sylvia came again. She moaned loudly but could not form words. Then Wes pinched her nipple, and yet another orgasm hit Sylvia. "Plea... please..." Sylvia groped for the words. Wes kissed his way down to Sylvia's belly button, digging in with his tongue, as his hands fondled her breasts, and Sylvia came again. At the precise moment Wes placed his tongue against Sylvia's clitoris, the girl spasmed against his face and the bed, ripping the mattress cover away from the mattress. She kicked and kicked at the air. She seemed to recover as Wes licked deep inside her vagina, his lips moving with pressure against her smooth meaty walls, but the respite was brief as another shattering orgasm hit the girl. She bounced like an object struck. Then Wes shoved his fingers back into her pussy as he moved down to lick her asshole, relishing the sour wetness between her cheeks. 

For the next five minutes, Sylvia came repeatedly, calling hoarsely for Wes to stop, trying without strength to push the boy away from her body. She orgasmed, she orgasmed again, then she suffered through another one and another. Wes rubbed her legs and stomach with his hands, he grabbed her tits and arms and ribs, he licked her thighs and kneepits and sucked her toes. Sylvia writhed helplessly across the surface of the bed, sweating profusely, twisting her head back and forth. 

Wes slipped a single finger deep inside Sylvia's pussy, and she screamed very loud and shot off the bed as though she'd been burned. She huddled herself into a ball in the corner of the room. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa..." she wailed quietly. 

The single ray of sunlight illuminated the sweat in her hair. Wes flopped onto the bed, exhausted. He absent-mindedly masturbated, rubbing his dick with his own fist, still surprised by how good it felt to have all the hair shaved off. He didn't think he could come again after the first two, but it felt good just to play with himself. 

Eventually, Sylvia spoke. "Oh jesus, Wes. Holy shit." 

"You okay?" Wes asked. 

"Well," Sylvia said, "if by 'okay' you mean 'the happiest girl in the world,' then yeah, I'm okay." 

Wes felt his cock get harder. "That was fun," he said. 

"I need water," Sylvia said. Her voice was still hoarse. 

Wes filled a glass with tap water and brought it to Sylvia, still sitting naked and wet on the floor. She gulped down the water, coughing a little at the end. "More," she said. Wes returned to the sink, but he heard Sylvia walk up behind him. She turned Wes and embraced him. "Hold me," she demanded gently. He did. They stood in that spot for minutes. 




Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 04



It was Wes who broke the silence. "I didn't brush my teeth." 

"Who gives a shit." Sylvia parted Wes's lips with her tongue and entwined it around his. The small motel room smelled of sweat and genitals and hot breath. Sylvia took Wes by the hand back to the bed. The bare mattress was soaked through, but the two lovers laid down without regard for the dampness. Wes held Sylvia close, and they fell asleep. The time on the digital clock read 7:15. 

At 9:48, the sound of Sylvia's voice woke Wes up. "Wes?" 

"Yeah." 

"When is your competition?" 

What an interesting question, Wes thought. Four small words that conveyed so much. So the tournament remained in Sylvia's thoughts, just as they remained in Wes's. He did not regret the decision they had made, nor any that had led to it, but he'd have been lying if he said he didn't care. 

"11:00 is when the first contestant goes on stage. The order isn't decided yet."

Sylvia twisted her body so she could see Wes's face. In that moment, Wes believed he had never seen anyone so beautiful. There was no denying she possessed one of the prettiest faces he'd ever viewed, either in person or on the silver screen, no denying at all, not from anyone who spoke objectively on the matter. How soft her features, how inviting, how easy to project his deepest feelings of want and need and trust onto that face. But her looks did not make Wes adore her. He found beauty in the way she looked at him. 

"We could still make it," she said without a smile. She was pleading. 

Wes said, "They'll laugh at us." 

"Maybe. I guess." She looked away again. "Wesley, this love I feel... I want to play it for you." 

Wes looked at the clock again. 9:50. 

"Okay," Wes said. "Let's go." 

Sylvia kissed Wes. She sprung from the bed. "I can't get my hair done in time." 

"Leave it curly," Wes said as he sat up and reached for the phone. "It's cute like it is." Wes heard the shower water start up as he dialed the front desk. "Would you call a cab for us? Tell it to hurry. Thanks." He hung up, then went to the bathroom and got in the shower with the girl. 

"This is our first shower with the lights on," Sylvia said as she soaped up Wes's penis. 

Wes pulled away. "Easy kitty," he said. "He's pretty sensitive after the working over you gave him." 

"HE got a working over? You've got to be kidding." Sylvia used the tiny Motel 6 shampoo to lather up her hair. "I still can't believe what you did to me. I mean, god, Wes, I mean, GODDAMN, I came so much." 

"We'll do it again, if you want." 

Sylvia gave Wes a lingering kiss. "We better." 

At this point they stopped talking and started bathing, handing off the soap and sharing the water spray. They toweled off and stepped into dress clothes as quickly as possible. Sylvia put on her tight black dress with a small jacket from the first day, and Wes put on his Armani charcoal suit. They did the best they could to use the small counter together, brushing their teeth, blow-drying their hair. Sylvia did indeed leave her springy curls in place, letting them fall naturally around her face. 

Wes was just stepping into his shoes as the phone rang. He said thanks to the person on the other end, then hung up and told Sylvia, "The cab's here." The two young contestants loaded their arms with luggage and exited the room, leaving a torrential path of sexual devastation in their wake where a motel bed had once been. 

They filled the cab's truck with luggage but could not fit the cello, so they put it in the passenger's seat. Once the students got in back, the cabbie pulled into traffic. Wes gave the name of the school and begged the cabbie to step on it, saying it was an emergency. 

"I'm not gonna speed," the cabbie said. 

"You know," Wes said as he leaned forward, "I see sometimes in movies where a cabbie gets offered an extra sum if he makes it somewhere on time. Does that kind of thing really go on?" 

The cabbie laughed. "Why don't you name a figure and find out?" 

"Fifty." 

The cabbie sighed, debated. "What time do you need to be there by?" 

"Eleven." 

"Sheesh. Fine. Hold on." And with that, Wes actually heard the engine rev and felt the machine lurch forward. Sylvia's eyes widened, then she giggled. Soon they were zipping down the right lane past traffic and pushing through yellow lights. Wes estimated they had 25 minutes to make a 30 minute drive, but the situation was out of his hands. He slumped in the big backseat, holding Sylvia's hand. They'd racked up about four hours of sleep each, but the coital workout had probably undone all the restfulness.  

"You changed your mind," Wes said, finally broaching the subject. 

"Yeah." Sylvia was silent then, but Wes allowed her to find the words. Finally she continued. "I guess I was sad that we weren't going to be playing, because music is something that connects us so deeply. It's something we have in common... No, that's not it. There's nothing common about what you and I have in common. I feel..." She stared out the window at the bright mid-day sun, tracing a finger along the glass, as her other hand opened and closed around Wes's. "I feel like we ARE music. I don't know what that means." 

Another long stretch of silence as Wes pondered. At last he said, "When we touch each other, I don't hear any music at all." 

Sylvia looked at him, worried. "Why not?" 

Wes caressed Sylvia's cheek. "I think it's because music has always filled an empty space inside me. It keeps me from getting bored with the normal world, but it's more than that. Anyway, when I'm with you, I look in that empty place, and it's you that's filling it." 

A wide, beautiful grin spread across Sylvia's face. She kissed Wes long and hard. 

Wes noticed the driver watching them in the mirror. "Hey, step on it!" he demanded. 

Sylvia whipped out her compact mirror and reapplied her lipstick. "How much time do we have?" 

"None." Wes's watch read 11:07. "I'm hoping they'll allow me to check in even though the first performer is competing. It's not unprecedented; lots of kids compete in more than one event, so they give them a little latitude." 

"But you're only in one event." 

Wes shrugged. 

Sylvia said, "I was terrified we'd have to work in some insurance agency after we got married." 

Wes laughed. Nothing could have been more natural for Sylvia to say. "Never fear. Let's both win our competitions, then we can write our own tickets. I like Miami." 

"I like Seattle." 

Wes itched his chin. "Phoenix is nice." 

"Phoenix is hot! Wait, I've got it. Chicago." 

Wes grinned. "I like Chicago." 

Sylvia pouted. "Do you think we can both win?" she asked. "Will we?"

"Absolutely. Why the hell not? You play just for me, and I'll play just for you. What the hell can any of these other clowns throw at us that can compete?" 

"It just doesn't seem likely," Sylvia lamented, as she played with her curls. 

"If you want to discuss odds, Sylvia, it's not very likely we'd fall in love like this, this fast. We're living a story, baby. Ours, no one else's. We'll write our own ending." 

Neither was even paying attention when the cabbie said, "Get that fifty bucks out, kid. We're here." 

"That building! There!" Wes pointed to the left. "Go go go!"

The car pulled up to the curb. "Run!" Sylvia shouted. Wes hopped out, slipping the fifty into Sylvia's hand, leaving her to grab the luggage. As the trunk opened, he grabbed sheet music from his backpack, looked twice to make sure it was the right piece, then ran like hell to the school's main performance hall. His watch read 11:20. 

Sure enough, his coach, the head of the instrumental music department, stood in the lobby. The 50-year-old man stopped dead in his pacing, hands on his head, handfuls of gray hair in both fists. 

"What the fuck!" he shouted. 

"I'm sorry," Wes said. 

"Fuck that! Follow those signs. Hurry!" The coach pointed, and Wes trotted in that direction. The path led to the building's green room, where actors traditionally wasted time between scenes. Through the open door on the other side of the room, the sounds of Bartok wafted from the auditorium's main stage. Wes could see the first competitor in his memory, a mousy blonde with an unflattering black dress; she was doing a really fantastic job with a piece Wes had once considered himself for the finals, Andante with variations in F minor, the one about Orpheus and Eurydice, the doomed lovers from Greek myth. After Eurydice died tragically on her wedding day, Orpheus braved the underworld to save her, only to forget the rules and lose her all over again. Wes hoped the music would not prove ominous. 

The second of the three competitors sat in one of the green room couches, a boy in a tux with uncombed hair. His eyes were closed as he listened to his competition. 

Sitting by the entrance door was a young man behind a desk. "Can I help you?" the kid said, adjusting his glasses. His voice dripped Chicagoese.

"I'm competing." 

"You're the Brahms? They've started! This guy's already played." He jerked a thumb at the kid in the tux.

"Come on, let me in there!" 

The kid lifted a walkie talkie and clicked a button. "Hey, it's Colin. Yeah, the guy playing the Brahms is here." 

The walkie talkie barked, "You're kidding." 

"What do I tell him?" 

The tux kid cried out, "He's late! He forfeits!"

"Hold on," said the walkie talkie voice. Wes shifted on both feet. Moments later the voice returned. "The director says to put him on stage. A lot of people're anxious to hear him." 

"The kid who played Haydn is upset." 

The tux kid reached for the walkie talkie. "Lemme talk to them," he said. But the guy in glasses pushed him back. 

"The Brahms kid is here, it's legal," said the walkie talkie. "Go tell the MC." 

Applause erupted from the stage door. "Wait here," the guy in glasses said, dropping the walkie talkie to sprint out into the offstage area. He poked his head back in and said, "You don't have time to warm up." He beckoned Wes to follow. 

Wes passed the angry kid in the tux. Once in the wings, he passed the cute mousey girl in the ugly dress, glowing after her performance. She registered shock upon seeing Wes pass by. A man onstage said, "Ladies and gentlemen, our third and final performer in the solo piano competition hails from an Ivy League school..." 

The words vanished as Wes shook his fingers, loosening his digits. How unfair would it be to the other students if he waltzed in without even a warm-up, sat down at the instrument and walked away with first place? But that's exactly what was about to happen, and fairness didn't matter one damn. 

Applause. Wes stepped onto the stage, shook the hand of whoever-this-guy-was, sat at the bench, placed the sheet music for Brahms' Sonata in F minor on the instrument. The piece had originally been written for two pianos, then modified by the composer into a quintet, but then some wunderkind or another decided he could play it with only one keyboard, and everyone in music circles had been talking about it for a year. Wes debated for months whether he had the confidence, let alone skill, to put the piece into play during competition, but the time for debate was past. Now, he knew, the confidence was his to call forth. 

His fingers shivered, not with fear but anticipation. They were eager to get started; victory sat on the other side of this performance. 

Now where did I leave that confidence, he asked himself. Oh yes, it's sitting deep inside a young girl somewhere out in the dark theater, probably the back row. She knows who I am, better than I thought anyone else could. She tastes rich and sweet when I lick her between her legs. She warms me with her breathing. She loves me. 

To Wes's surprise, his fingers pressed down and struck the first notes. Wes grinned and mentally raced to catch up with his fingers. His discipline was deep, and he never practiced without watching the sheet music, but he and his coach both agreed that once he was onstage, well-rehearsed and ready to go, it was best for Wes to play by ear, from memory. The music poured out of his hands, passionate, vigorous, just as Brahms intended, too much music for one piano, now forced through a single set of keys. 

There was a moment of anxiety when the idea of the music sounded different from what he was actually playing, but then he remembered he was at the part that sounded like a Beastie Boys song he knew, and he also remembered that he had trained his subconscious to ignore the mental hiccup whenever he came to it and barrel through. He knew he would not have had the lapse if he'd been concentrating on the music instead of the girl waiting for him after the performance. Oh well, he'd find out later if anyone noticed or not. Besides, there wasn't anyone in the audience except Sylvia, not in his mind. She would forgive him any mistake. 

Then, just like that, he was finished with the movement, and he grinned at the roar of applause. Offstage, the other two contestants gave Wes perfunctory handshakes. 

"Good job," said the blonde girl. She seemed very nervous. Perhaps it was a pianist thing, to be so jittery. 

"Nice," said the boy in the tux, not in a complimentary way, but more as a stated fact. 

"Thanks," Wes replied. He realized he hadn't heard the guy play. Perhaps this guy'd devastated the judges with his brilliance, but then, why the long face? Wes squeezed between the guy and the curtain to get back into the green room. 

The only person in the green room was Sylvia. She smiled like a child, teeth white and shiny, clasping her hands together. She ran to give Wes a hug. They pressed their foreheads together. 

"You were so good," Sylvia said. 

"Did I mess up?" Wes asked. 

"Mess up? What do you mean?" 

"There's a part that reminds me of the Beastie Boys... Never mind." 

"Beastie Boys? Huh?" 

"Hey dick," said the guy in the tux, sticking his head in the door. "You won. They called your name." 

Sylvia put her hands to her mouth, suppressing a scream. She hugged Wes again, then pushed him toward the door. Wes stuck a hand out to the guy in the tux. 

"Asshole," he said. 

Wes shrugged. He shook the blonde girl's hand, then went onto the stage, greeted by thunderous applause. A huge contingent of students in the left section of the audience chanted, "Wes! Wes! Wes!" This made Wes's cheeks burn red. He took the trophy from the whoever-this-is dude, shook his hand, waved to the audience, then scurried offstage. 

"Well, that's it for chamber keyboards," said the guy to the audience. "Remember, be back here at 1:00 for the strings finals, first solos, then ensembles starting with duets, and we'll finish with mixed ensembles. We should be done around 5:30 or 6:00, so if you're trying to catch planes back tonight, make plans accordingly with the scheduling judges to my right, and we can make accommodations..." 

As the fellow rambled on, Sylvia took Wes down a corridor, away from the lobby. 

"Where are we going?" Wes asked. 

"It's a surprise." Sylvia continued to drag him along until they came to a set of exterior doors. Waiting outside stood Roger and Faith. 

Roger gave Wes a huge bear hug. "Awesome, Wes! You are the shizznit." 

"They found me in the green room," Sylvia said. "We're all going across the street for lunch so we won't have to run into anyone." 

More could have been said, but it didn't need to be. There was a general understanding among the four students of what was transpiring – Sylvia and Wes were the two shyest kids in school, and now they were lovers due to an illicit affair in the hotel room; students would swarm them in minutes if they didn't run away, to congratulate Wes both for winning his competition and for nailing Sylvia; Roger and Faith were responsible for letting the cat out of the bag, so it was their duty to protect the two shy kids from the monster they had unleashed. Also, Sylvia and Wes had run off without telling anyone, and they might be in trouble with the professors. Getting away for lunch was the best course, all around. 

They walked a block to a sit-down restaurant called Tomy's Italian Bistro. About ten minutes after sitting in their round booth, students began to fill the joint; thankfully, none were from their school. Sylvia sat next to Wes, much closer than Faith sat next to Roger. Wes could tell she felt uncomfortable under Roger's judging eyes. 

"Awwwww," Roger said. "You two make a good couple." 

"Yeah, thanks for outing us," Sylvia snapped from behind her menu. 

"Oh come on, you aren't still mad about that, are you?" 

"You tell me, Rog," Wes said. "Did we run away from the hotel in shame?" 

Roger waved a dismissive hand. "What a couple of pussies." 

"You don't understand," Faith said. "They're both so shy. Sylvia is, anyway." 

Wes decided to go out on an emotional limb. It was his last resort with this turd. "She's right, Roger. Sylvia and I don't like a lot of attention; it's something we have in common. I thought you knew that about me, at least, but maybe you just like to humiliate me for your own amusement." 

"Fuck," Roger spat. "It's not my fault if you're so goddamn hypersensitive." 

"Not your fault, then it's no one's, I guess," Wes said. "Not even Faith's. She tried all through the trip to get along with you, but you kept treating her like a whore." 

"Hey!" Faith piped up. 

"Wes, jeez," Sylvia said, touching his arm. 

"Ease up, people. I didn't call Faith a whore. I said Roger treats her like one." 

Faith crossed her arms and looked away. "He's right, Roger. You don't treat me right." 

"Well la-dee-fuck-dee-dee. Tell me, Wesley, what's the proper way to treat a girl? Buy her roses? Suck her toes?" 

Sylvia put her menu down. "It couldn't hurt, Roger." She sat next to Faith, and she took her hand; Faith had started to cry a little, obviously a rather thin-skinned kid. "Wes and I have only known each other for a few days, and already he's asking me what I want and what I think, not just pushing me around. And yes, for your information, he does suck toes." 

Wes blushed. 

"Where's the fucking waiter?" Roger said. 

"Roger," Faith said softly. "Don't get mad. You're not like that. I know you. You're a nice guy." 

"Of COURSE I'm a nice guy. I've very nice! I'm just fucking hungry." 

The waiter came, and everyone ordered. After he left, everyone sat quiet and upset. Eventually, Roger spoke without looking at anyone. "Faith, I'm sorry. You told me you didn't want me to spank your ass, and I shouldn't have spanked you." 

"Roger, I LIKE getting spanked." 

"Then... What? Why'd you get so pissed?" 

"Because you didn't ASK if I liked it or not." 

"That's fucked up." 

Wes said, "No, it's not, Roger. You can't just have sex all night. You have to communicate." 

Roger looked at Wes. For the first time, he seemed to think about what he was hearing. Wes knew he was in love, and he suspected it showed. Roger let out a pouty sigh and leaned on his hand. "So what's the story with you two?" he asked. "How'd you two hook up, anyway?" 

Sylvia blushed a little. "I'd rather not talk about it," she said. 

"Oh come on," Faith said. "It's a sweet story." She then proceeded to tell as much of the tale as she could remember. Wes was horrified by the detail Sylvia had gone into with Faith, although there were many, many details left out. Sylvia was horrified by Faith's indiscretion in keeping secrets. As the story went on, however, everyone became less shy and started to listen. Wes hadn't realized how fantastical the entire story sounded until he heard it out loud. Sylvia held his hand and remembered with him. Roger, fascinated and horny as hell, asked all the pertinent detailing questions, and Wes, a long-time buddy, used his own tiptoeing way of filling in the blanks. As they finished their lunches, the story was still being told, not in a vulgar way but with enough innuendo to make things interesting. 




Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 04



"So you two are really going at it," Roger said, stating the magnificently obvious. 

Wes chuckled. "I think that's pretty clear by now." 

"I mean, you can't get enough." 

"Ro-ger..." Faith scolded. 

"I mean, come on, it's true. You're probably wanting to do it right now." 

"Roger!" Faith hissed. 

Wes felt his heart beating fast. Sylvia hugged his arm, feeling exposed and embarrassed but also immensely turned on. All this talk of sex, Wes knew, was doing something to the girl. 

"I mean," Roger continued, "if you thought you could get away with it, you'd do it in the bathroom at this restaurant." 

Wes sensed the heat building in his girlfriend. Her heart pounded against Wes's arm, and her breathing was becoming labored. After a moment, Wes realized he was reacting the same way. But he still had to say, "Roger, cut it out, asshole." 

"No, I'm serious. I mean, you fucked in the hotel room, you fucked in a pool and a sauna, you bought an entirely new motel room and fucked in there, and you even fucked in an underground maintenance tunnel or whatever the fuck. You'll do it anywhere you can get away with it." Roger was not accusing them; he was full of admiration.

"But we can't get away with it anymore," Wes said almost angrily, implying that Roger was responsible. 

Roger leaned forward. He had a serious face, the one he kept in reserve for his dramatic roles on stage. "I'm telling you, dude. You have my word of honor. If you've got to go bust a nut, Faith and I will never tell a soul. You have my word." 

"What are you trying to do?" Wes said. Sylvia, he knew, could not speak. An image flashed across his mind, of the button on the dashboard of those professional race cars, which is all the driver has to push to start the engine. Something had hit Sylvia's button. 

"Come on," Roger said. "Come on. Come on." He just kept saying that, over and over, as though it were the lynchpin in his airtight argument. "Come on, guys. Come on. I won't tell. Come on." 

Suddenly, Sylvia said, "Move." She pushed Wes out of the booth, and they both stood. "Roger, I swear to god, if you ever tell anyone, I'll fucking kill you." Her face was very close to Roger's. 

Roger swallowed hard. "Fuck," he said. The guy was downright flabbergasted that his plan had worked. 

Sylvia took Wes's hand and dragged him toward the hall with the "Restrooms" sign over the passageway. The bathrooms in the mom-and-pop joint were single stall, with a little latch bar to lock the door. Sylvia pulled Wes into the men's room, turned on the light, locked the door, and assaulted Wes with a lip-lock that made his teeth ache. 

"Make love to me," she growled between slobbery caresses with her lips. 

The two young lovers needed only seconds to prepare. Wes pulled his pants down, leaving his jacket and tie in place, as Sylvia hiked her dress up around her torso and pulled her panties down. They struggled in the small space but didn't make any sounds that would betray their activities. Wes's hand immediately planted itself between Sylvia's legs. As his finger penetrated the seal of her pussy lips, a thick stream of moisture broke loose and ran down Wes's finger. Sylvia wrapped her hand around Wes's cock, sliding her palm and fingertips up and down his shaved pubic region. Wes was so hard it hurt. 

They moved carefully but quickly. Wes reverently laid his hands on Sylvia's body, lifting her leg so that her shoe heel clicked against the wall behind him. Her ass was only a few inches from the sink basin. The girl reached underneath and grabbed his cock. As soon as the tip found her pussy, she slammed down very hard onto it. Hardly a whimper escaped her lips. Wes was so accomplished by now at reading her body language that he knew the level of her pleasure from the tension in her eyebrows. 

Speed was of the essence, and the two students fucked hard and fast. Sylvia crashed like a rocket again and again against Wes's crotch, and Wes realized he was grabbing Sylvia painfully tight around the hips to keep her from careening away from him. Fatigue quickly hit Wes's knees, but he didn't dare stop fucking Sylvia as viciously as possible. Within only two minutes, Wes was ready to come. He emptied his semen into Sylvia's pussy, knowing it was the best way to keep from making a mess. 

A knock on the door. Both lovers froze, still shivering in ecstasy, looking into each other's terrified eyes. 

Wes coughed. "Uh, gimme a sec," he grunted. 

Seconds passed; no sounds came from outside. Sylvia almost started giggling before Wes quickly pulled out of her, reached one arm underneath her ass, and pushed her against the sink. She landed a little too hard against the flat of the porcelain, then she reached forward and gripped Wes's short head of hair as she masturbated with the other hand. Wes pushed her hand aside and started rubbing her very quickly, vibrating the tips of his fingers against her moist clitoris as quickly as he could. Wes felt sticky fluid all over his fingers and realized he was feeling his own semen leaking out of the girl. 

Sylvia tensed all over. Suddenly she exhaled deeply but still without sound, then shivered hard and deep against Wes. The entire incident was over so quickly that neither one even had a chance to sweat, a first for them both as far as Wes could remember.  

Sylvia used a paper towel to wipe off her pussy, then tossed the towel to Wes who cleaned off his cock, still hard but turning limp. Wes stuck his head out the door, looked both ways, then pulled Sylvia down the hall into the women's room. He kissed her then closed the door, leaving her there, then returned to the booth. 

Roger and Faith sat much closer now, with stunned looks on their faces. As Wes chomped on a piece of garlic bread, his new girlfriend came back from the bathroom, bouncing her curls with the palm of her hand. She sat next to Wes, cuddled up against him, took his bread and chomped a bite off. 

"Oh. SHIT." Roger's eyes did not blink. 

Sylvia tapped the check. "Lunch is on you, Roger." She got up, coaxing Wes to follow her. 

"You owe us," Wes said with a helpless look. 

"Yeah yeah," Roger said, but he was smiling. So was Faith. 

Back at the auditorium building, Wes and Sylvia entered through the back doors they'd used as an exit. They could already see students gathering at the doorway to the green room. Certainly most of them were string contestants, and most were girls. One girl yelped a "Hello" and started running toward them. It was Gerri Tappin, who was a finalist in the string quartet. 

Sylvia leaned inconspicuously toward Wes and said, "Gerri snubbed me for her quartet. I'm surprised they got this far." 

"Be nice," Wes said. 

"There you are!" Gerri said, as though she'd found lost kittens under her front porch. "We thought you weren't going to show up for your own competitions." 

"Well, we did," Wes said. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Wes! I almost forgot! Congratulations!" 

"Thanks." 

"So," Gerri said, leaning in. "I heard you two were... you know." 

"Gerri, please," Sylvia said sternly. "We don't want to talk about it." Wes could sense the embarrassment welling up inside Sylvia, which she hid well behind her impatience with the gossipy Gerri. 

"Touchy," Gerri said. "You gonna sign in or what?" 

"I'm coming." 

"Don't be long." Gerri had a devilish look as she went back to the door, as though she thought she'd have a better time getting the lowdown once Wes was gone. Fat chance. 

Sylvia said to Wes, "I guess I'll see you after." 

"You'll win," Wes said without flattery or hyperbole. "You'll win." 

"I love you to pieces," Sylvia said. 

"I'm so glad you found me."

"Don't sit with anyone from school. Just find me after I win... or don't win. That came out wrong." 

"You said it right the first time." 

"Just find me right after." 

"And then what?" As soon as the question escaped Wes's mouth, he regretted it. No need to stress the girl out before her big performance. 

"Then... well... just stay close." 

"Everyone will know." 

"Everyone already knows. Just don't leave me. Stay close, okay? Stay close. If we keep to ourselves on the plane ride back, maybe everyone will get the hint and just leave us the fuck alone." 

"Maybe." Wes kissed her cheek. "Break a leg." 

Sylvia gave Wes a long hug. As she went to stand in line, Wes grabbed her ass. She shrieked, giggled, ran along. 

"She's very beautiful," said a voice behind Wes. He turned and saw, much to his surprise, the fellow from the restaurant, the one who had paid for dinner. "Is she talented?" the man asked. 

"Very," Wes answered, still stunned. 

"Mr. Craftsman, Adrian Craftsman," said the man as he shook Wes's hand. 

"How do you do. I'm–"

"I know who you are. You played for me at L'Espalier last night. Then you won the solo piano competition with the same piece. I'm not easily impressed, sir, but you have, as they say, blown my hair back." He absent-mindedly ran his hand over his distinguished bald head. 

Wes felt trapped for reasons he couldn't explain; he chalked it up to nerves. "Thank you Mr. Craftsman," he said, embarrassed as hell. 

"What will you do after college?" 

"Study. Perform. Study first." 

"Where?" 

"The Florida Institute, sir. I've been accepted." 

"That was your first choice?" 

"Yessir." 

"Ever considered Germany?" 

Wes, realizing he hadn't been able to look directly into the stranger's eyes, lifted his gaze. Who the fuck was this guy? Nothing phony about him, but did that mean he was safe? And Germany, what the hell? Who in their right mind would promise Germany based on hearing one performance, and only two movements of the complete piece at that? 

The man continued. "I have friends at the Klavier-Institut von Hamburg, part of the Royal School. They think of me as a talent scout." 

"Germany." Wes sounded incredulous, but in actuality he believed the man one-hundred percent. 

"You are twice the musician of either of your competitors. Surely you know this." 

"I didn't hear their performances." 

Mr. Craftsman smiled. "Such brashness. I did not sense any in you. I'm glad you have the spark." He handed a card to Wes. "The deal is done. Let's get together and discuss it. Are you free for breakfast tomorrow?" 

"I'm flying back tonight," Wes said. 

"You have classes?" 

"Yessir. Economics" 

"Nonsense. Musicians study music. You have my permission to miss tomorrow's next grueling episode of Algebra or Economics or Lesbian History or whatever you said. You'll stay in Chicago tonight, and I'll buy you a plane ticket tomorrow. Or two, if your lady friend would like to spend the evening with you." 

Wes felt genuinely dizzy. "That's... I mean... I mean, wow. That would be great. But I already have a room of my own for tonight. Motel 6, on the north side." 

"The north side? Young man, those fingers of yours aren't safe in the north end of Chicago. You'll stay in the penthouse of the Penbrook tonight. It's only the fortieth floor, but it will do." 

"The penthouse?" Wes wanted to voice his doubt, but he was still too shy to speak. Besides, he didn't want the fantasy to evaporate right before him. But he did manage to ask, "How do you know it isn't already booked?" 

"Because it's my hotel, and I'm not staying there tonight. Simply call my office – the number's on the card – and tell them who you are. It will already be set up. Now, if you'll excuse me, I cannot miss the afternoon performances." 

"Wait," Wes requested as the man started off. "I don't understand. How did you know I would be playing in the finals today?" 

"I didn't even know you were competing. I was going to be here anyway. But I will tell you this." He walked back toward Wes. "When I heard you last night, I believed you COULD have been a finalist. I am gratified to learn my ear did not deceive me. Call me in the morning." And with that, he disappeared through the crowd of girls and on toward the lobby. 

Wes, still shocked, followed him. When he passed the green room door, a hand reached out and grabbed him. "Wes!" Sylvia shouted. 

"Hey babe," Wes said languidly. 

"What's wrong?" Sylvia asked. How perceptive she was, already able to read him so well. 

"I'll tell you later." 

"Guess what!" Sylvia said, excited. "I just got a job offer!" 

"What?" Wes asked, his attention fully turned toward Sylvia's words. 

"They didn't even wait for the final, they just came and found me in the green room. They thought I was good during the semi-finals yesterday." She squealed with delight and hugged Wes, then pushed him to arms' length and gasped. "Oh my god! Wes, what if they asked you to come play piano? I mean, well, you know, we could be in the same orchestra. You've got to talk to this guy." 

"Where?" Wes said, stopping the girl before she could disappear back into the room. 

"Oh duh! I didn't even say? Florida, the Miami Philharmonic. Didn't you say you liked Miami? It's so amazing! They've been searching for a second chair cello for months. Oh wow, I've got to call my mom. Oh my god! Oh my god!" Sylvia whispered loudly. "Wes, we almost missed this! We almost didn't show up! Oh my god, oh my GOD!" 

"Sylvia!" Wes yelled, grabbing her by the arms. 

Sylvia was startled. "What?"

"Focus, baby. Focus. Think about the performance ahead. We have a long time to decide what we want to do with our lives..." Wes pulled Sylvia away from the crowd of girls, some of whom he knew would be dying to hear the rest of Wes's conversation. "But you can win today. Don't forget. Focus on the moment, make it happen. Go in there and win. Okay?" 

"I love you," Sylvia said, her lip shaking. She kissed Wes, not caring who saw. "Where can I find you after the event?" 

"Tell you what," Wes said. "After they announce the winners for your category, don't hang around. Go meet me at that exit door we took at lunch. I might have a little surprise for you." 

Sylvia smiled her big, beautiful smile. Wes felt his heart breaking a little. He wanted her so badly, but for the first time in four days, he realized she wasn't his, and he wasn't hers. They belonged to themselves, and until they abandoned whatever they thought their lives would be and combined to make a new life, that was the way it would be. Who gets married on a whim, anyway? Britney Spears, that's who. 

Sylvia went back to the doorway just in time to sign in. She waved at Wes and disappeared into the green room. 

Inside the auditorium, every seat on the floor level was filled. Schools from around the country had come to compete, junior colleges and universities alike, some specializing in music, others represented by as few as one student. Each prize meant big money for the students as well as the school; a win would draw donors and sponsors from an international arena. The judges for the All-State Artistic Tournament were notoriously immune to bribes, so the suspense in the room was real. 

Wes sat in the relatively empty balcony. He saw clusters of kids in the corners farting around, obviously bored with the competition now that they had lost in the earlier rounds, but he also saw ladies and gentlemen in singles and pairs, looking studious and intense. These were the Mr. Craftsmans of the world, come to scout the talent. 

The event started with solo violin, none of whom were from Wes's school; the winner was some girl from Montana, Wes's home. Then came the three cello finalist. The first young man had the sheer tenacity to play Bach's cello suite in G major, a piece known by non-music lovers in trailer parks everywhere. He gave a stirring if long-winded rendition of the allemande, but nothing short of perfection could make up for an unforgivable fingering mistake in the prelude, and the allemande was short of perfect. Next came a gorgeous redhead in a beige-colored party dress who gave a serious, intimidating rendition of Messagesquisse by Pierre Boulez, a piece Wes had never heard before. The program notes explained that this piece was usually accompanied by six additional cellos, which may have explained the girl's gusto in playing the lonely forefront. Wes sensed she was rushing the simplistic opening – Wes would have played it much quieter and with a few notes held longer – but the effect was a striking and consistent read. Wes was momentarily worried. 

Then came Sylvia, resplendent in her tight, black floor-length dress with the side slit to her thigh and the tiny jacket around her shoulders. The announcer informed the audience that Sylvia would be playing a Tchaikovsky. The program informed him the piece was titled Nocturne for cello & small orchestra (or piano) in D minor. This made Wes smile. 

She began, and Wes thought the piece was similar in its somber tone to her selection from the day before. Hidden depth to this girl, Wes knew, and now everyone else would know. No break-neck trills or fingering acrobatics for Sylvia, no, just a masterful execution of a doleful, demanding 8-minute movement full of sustains, sharp stops, deep lows and shrill highs. Each pause was perfectly timed, each entrance was perfectly approached. Wes imagined what the piano accompaniment might provide – some sort of countermelody, perhaps, something to offset the dirge and lighten the mood. 

The audience hung on every note; they'd be humming this tune afterward, if they had the ability. Wes watched her play, falling in love with her more and more by the minute. Also, he was hungry to be inside her again. Wes realized, for the first time, that these two desires were not mutually exclusive. The further into the piece she descended, the more he lusted after her. When could he touch her again, feeling her strong muscles move silkily below her tight skin? When could he run his tongue across her breastbone, and feel the sweat drip from her elbow onto his stomach? When would they be together again? Tonight, it would be tonight, and it would be in Chicago. 

She finished, and the crowd declared her the winner with their cheers. "You kicked ass, Sylvia," some rude idiot on the floor level shouted. Sylvia trotted offstage quickly, too shy even to wave back. 

Wes did not hang around to see if she won; he simply waited for her at the green room door. A payphone hung on the wall outside the room. He called for a cab and told them to wait in front of the auditorium for him. Ten or twelve minutes later, Sylvia appeared holding the trophy. She almost ran right past Wes. 

"Wes! I can't believe it." She kissed him on the mouth, then the cheek, then the mouth again and again. Wes held her tightly in his arms. 

"We're leaving," he said.

"Leaving? Again? But my coach will want to see me. I want to tell her the good news." 

"We can call her cell phone from the hotel room." 

"We're going back to the hotel room?" 

"No. Do you trust me?" 

"Wes, what's wrong? Is something wrong?" 

"Don't worry, Sylvia. I just need to be with you tonight. Let's stay in Chicago. Do you trust me?" 

"Yes." 

"Show me where you put the stuff." 

Sylvia led Wes to a classroom, where a great number of luggage bags and instrument cases were being guarded by a mustached guy in a security uniform. They carried their stuff through the empty lobby and out to the waiting cab. Parked beside the cab was a limousine, and leaning against the limo was Mr. Craftsman. 

"Ms. Anderson, I presume." He held out his hand. 

Sylvia shook it. She was silent, shy. 

"Congratulations. Do you like Germany?" 

"Germany?" Sylvia asked. "Is that where this limo is going?" 

Wes's heart leaped at the idea of Sylvia living with him in Europe. Could Craftsman really send them both? Would he? 

"No, my dear. I saw Wesley leave the auditorium, and I played a hunch that this waiting cab was yours. Allow me to provide your transportation instead." 




Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 05



Wes allowed Sylvia's bottom muscles to push his penis out of the hole; it slurped toward the exit down a tight tube filled with smoky juice and a healthy dose of jizz. After the extraction, both kids instantly relaxed against each other. The smell in the room was pungent, strong, very sexy. 

"Shattered..." Sylvia whispered after a long time silent. Wes almost didn't make out the word. 

"You're beautiful." 

Languidly, Sylvia sat up, letting her feet dangle off the huge bed. She stood slowly, walked to the TV, turned it off. At that moment, a low rumble erupted in the sky. The only light in the room came from the sliding patio doors, covered in a heavy sheet of rain, obscuring the world. Sylvia trudged tiredly to the doors and looked out, her hands on the glass. She cast a shapely silhouette for the boy she left behind. 

Wes got off the bed and stood behind her. He put his fingertips against the hot, wet skin of her back and traced five lines down her spine. Sylvia moved her head in a circle, showing her appreciation for the tender gesture. 

Suddenly, she opened the door. A light wind blew huge drops of water into the room and onto Sylvia's feet. 

"Look at the city," she said, awestruck. 

Wes's first thought was that the city could see them, but he knew the room was too dark. Even if the lights had been on, he suspected, no one could view anything through hundreds of feet of rain-filled atmosphere and whatever closed window protected that observer. Even with open doors, the lovers stood alone in the world. 

But Sylvia stepped onto the patio. The night was certainly dark and hazed from weather, but Chicago at night burned brightly, and the sky reflected a low, dark blue glow. 

Instantly Sylvia was soaked. Her curly hair felt flat against her head except at the tips, where the springy curls bobbed as huge drops of water dripped from them. A river flowed down her back, over her bottom, along her legs. It drained the same direction as the rest of the rain, headed for gutters that would carry it forty floors to the street level. 

She stepped further out onto the porch, hidden by a row of shrubs and small trees. He sensed a liberation taking place inside the girl; something inside her had been set free. The freedom touched Wes, and the urge to join his soaked girl was strong. He was now convinced no one would see them. 

Wes stepped out from under a jutting porch cover. He saw the sky overhead. The shock of cold water nearly crippled him. His knees buckled, and the shiver continued up his entire body and did not stop. He had to admit that, after overheating in the bedroom just now, the cold felt refreshing, but it might not seem so nice in a few minutes. 

He walked up behind Sylvia. She was freezing to the touch, and as soon as Wes's hand fell upon her shoulder, she spun and grabbed him. In the light roar of the rainfall, Wes realized Sylvia was crying. Sobbing, in fact, crying so hard her breaths came out choking her. Wes held her tighter, closer. They fell to their knees on the tiles, pressed together as the rain continued to drench them. Time moved slowly, but the pain of cold escalated. 

"Don't leave me," Sylvia cried. "Don't leave me, Wes." 

Four days. That's how long ago Sylvia said her first words to Wes. Four days since they sat next to each other on a chartered bus and lamented the inappropriate circumstances that thrust them together. Four days since the first time they realized they were kindred spirits, sharing tastes in books and styles of humor and so many other subtle things that turn strangers into friends. Four days since the first inkling they might be soulmates, but regardless of that metaphysical bullshit, they'd comprise a competent couple beneath the sheets, or on top of them as the case may be. 

Four days since he met her, and no premonition he'd be asked to commit like this. Wes had committed to very few things in his life, because very few things in life had committed to him. Friends left, hard, convinced he wasn't what they were looking for. A lifetime of regrettable relationships, minor in impact, and what did he have to show for it? Well, a career he could be proud of, an education he had dictated himself, and a personality that amused himself if no one else. 

And now, Sylvia. She shared his loneliness. She sensed she might not have to be alone, as he did. She likely was startled at realizing she didn't HAVE to be alone, contradicting a long-standing belief. 

"I won't," Wes said, only a second or two after she stated her imperative. "I promise." 

"How can you promise?" Sylvia said, still crying hard. She clung to him for desperately needed warmth. 

"I don't know. What choice do we have? I can't lose you." Wes's teeth chattered as he spoke. 

"What if... what if they don't want me in Germany? What if we aren't together next year? I... I hate this, I hate being like this. I wish we never met..." 

She meant to continue, but her body shook with cold, and she found herself forced to hold on tightly to Wes as the cold water beat her fragile form. She simply buried her head in Wes's neck and went silent. 

"Come inside," Wes said as softly as the pouring rain would allow. 

But Sylvia, frozen, could not move. Wes stood, struggling to find the will himself, and helped Sylvia to her feet. She swayed as if to fall over, but Wes lifted her into his arms. Carefully traversing the wet tile, he went inside and closed the door with his foot. The door didn't shut completely, but no water seemed to get through the crack. 

He carried her to the bathroom and sat her on the edge of the wonderful deep tub. The sound of her chattering teeth echoed loudly against the tiles. Wes turned on the space heater, which pumped hot air through four vents, quickly changing the temperature of the enclosed space. Next, he draped a big terry-cloth robe around Sylvia's shoulders. Still shivering, she pulled the garment close, leaving her legs uncovered. 

Wes turned on the water, and the bottom of the tub filled quickly. The warm liquid loosened his frozen finger joints. When the tub was half full, he helped his naked girlfriend in. Once submerged to her hips, she stopped shivering, then collapsed against the tub bowl and closed her eyes. Wes joined her, lying against the opposite wall of the tub. When the water reached their chests, Wes turned it off. 

The drip, drip, drip of the faucet, a gentle washing of the water's surface, and the light rain were the only sounds in the room. Beneath the water, Sylvia's long legs fit around Wes's own, still at first, then moving gently across his thighs. Sometimes her feet fell on his stomach or nestled in the nook between his penis and leg, not playfully but as a matter of course. His own feet fell flat against the tub floor, snuggled up around Sylvia's hips. The only light came from the windows. 

"I don't know," Wes said at last, vanquishing the silence like a sword through straw. "I think we're both caught up in what other people think, and we think about what they'd say if we said we loved each other. Which is funny... because everyone thinks we're happy being social outcasts, when it actually makes us miserable." 

"It's just easier this way," Sylvia said. "Too hard to please them all. They take and never give." 

"You don't know I'm any different," Wes reminded her. 

"No, I don't. And you don't know about me." 

She stopped talking. The muscles in Wes's chest grew tight as the silence continued. There was obviously a "But" at the end of Sylvia's sentence, and he could wait for it. Meanwhile, they touched each other. The touching was no part of the emotional connection they felt. Wes knew this from the sex and kissing he'd done with other girls; in small doses, it had been just as good as anything he'd had with Sylvia this week, but none of it had led to anything he was feeling now, and he realized, none of it had been the result of these feelings, either. 

Sylvia's next words echoed his own thoughts. "It's worth the risk... to not be alone anymore. I don't know if I can trust you. I don't trust myself. But I'm willing to find out." 

"You want to be together." 

"Yes." 

"In Germany?" 

Sylvia shifted her body, splashing mildly. Wes could see her beautiful bosom rise above the water line, shining artistically in the night light. Her breasts moved up and down as she breathed, her nipples plump and taunting, like confections asking to be daintily plucked from a silver tray. She looked at Wes with her deep, questioning eyes, her hair curly once more and framing her face in minor shadows. 

"He was just saying that. He doesn't want me in Germany." 

Wes moved over to Sylvia's side of the tub and wrapped his arms around her. No two lovers could hold each other naked in water and not instantly feel aroused – Wes reacted, for instance, by holding her more tightly – but he had more to say first. 

"He might have. And he might be bullshitting me about Germany, too. But that's okay, because I've already been accepted to the Florida Institute as a piano student. I'll go for my Fine Arts degree after I graduate." 

"Oh my god!" Sylvia yelled. She twisted to look at Wes's face, as though she'd be able to tell if he were lying. 

"I swear," Wes said, grinning. "It was my first choice." 

"Where in Florida?" 

"Jacksonville. It's about two-and-a-half hours from Miami." 

"OH MY GOD!" Sylvia squealed with delight. She kissed Wes and did not stop kissing him. When she pulled away to smile at him, she could not stop from kissing him again. They made out, caressing each other, rubbing their hands across each other's bodies under the water. Sylvia moved her legs up Wes's body so her knees were high against his back, maneuvering easily in the deep water. Wes relished the feeling of Sylvia's hair in his hands, the smooth skin of her arms. They laced their fingers together and french kissed deep and soft. 

At last she looked in his eyes, her nose against his, their foreheads almost touching. "It's meant to be," she said. 

"I feel it," Wes said. 

"You saved me," Sylvia said. She kissed him hard again, then hugged him tightly. 

Wes rocked her back and forth in his lap. "I'm relieved we both like porn," Wes said deadpan. 

"Bastard!" Sylvia said, sitting up in a hurry. She tickled Wes, but Wes seemed immune. When he returned the attack, Sylvia yelped and screamed as she fought the hands and fingers crawling over her. She jumped out of the tub to escape. 

"Don't run on the tile!" Wes yelled, getting out himself. 

"And don't swim after eating," Sylvia added. 

Wes grabbed Sylvia and kissed her cheek, her neck. "I bet that's an urban legend." 

"We should know," Sylvia said, seductively grabbing at Wes's body. She opened her mouth and invited Wes's tongue to explore her. They fell to their knees on the tile. She said. "We're really going to be together." 

"We're really in love," Wes said, helping Sylvia onto her back. 

"We're really in love," Sylvia agreed. 

The tile felt warm below Wes's legs. He sat on his knees and lifted Sylvia's pelvis up. She hiked herself up with her feet, offering her loins to Wes. The boy allowed the girl to take his hard penis in her hands and slip it past her puffy labia lips. The head pushed inside. 

"Oh my god, I love this part," Sylvia said. She pulled Wes down onto her body and kissed him. 

Wes pushed the rest of his cock inside the girl. "So you like girl-on-girl action, huh?" 

Sylvia laughed, then moaned. "Not that much. You wanna know why it turned me on? Really?" 

"Yeah," Wes said, straining to push further inside the furnace of muscle and blood between Sylvia's legs. 

"I imagined you watching the screen," Sylvia answered, turning her head involuntarily as the penis filled her. Rainy light fell across her long neck. "I imagined you on that bed, earlier in the evening, masturbating, watching those girls. It turned me on so bad." 

"Oh fuck, Sylvia," Wes groaned as he began his fucking movement. "That's so fucking hot." 

"I fucking LOVE cursing with you, Wes. I fucking fucking fucking FUCKING love it. Talk dirty to me, lover, fuck me and turn me on with your words." 

"Your pussy is so hot, Sylvia, it's so deep and hot, it feels so good." 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh." Now that Wes was at full-size, stretching Sylvia significantly, she began to contract her pussy muscles and milk him. 

"GODDAMN, Sylvia, GODDAMN. Yes, just like that. Squeeze me just like that." 

Wes fucked hard in return, and Sylvia gasped. She spread her body out across the tiles and allowed Wes to have his way with her. He lifted the girl up so she sat on his lap, with his legs stretched forward. Sylvia, now sitting in a squat above Wes's lap, bounced hard. 

"I'm so FUCKING horny, Wes, I'm so fucking horny for your big cock inside me, Wes, I'm so fucking HORNY." 

"You taste so good, you're the fucking best lover I've ever had. I love to fuck you, girl, I love to fill you with my cum." 

"Yes, fill me, yes yes." 

"I love to fill you with cum, Sylvia." 

"Fucking fill me, you fucking beautiful boy. Fuck me so hard." 

Changing the subject, Wes asked, "Are you sore from sex yet?" 

"Fuck no. I'm just getting started. I can't get enough, Wes, uh, uh, uh, uh, OH GOD, fuck, fucking A, god, it feels so good, my pussy feels so happy, I'm so wet for you, all the fucking time. All you have to do is touch my hand in the cab, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, ERR, AHH, ah, ah, all you do is touch my hand and I get so fucking wet, uh, uh, uh, uh, so wet I cream up right there, uh, uh, you've fucking ruined every pair of panties I own, Wes..." 

Wes held Sylvia's ass, and his hand reached underneath to work a single digit inside her asshole. Sylvia moaned louder and dug her fingernails into Wes's shoulders, dug them very hard. 

"I'm hurting you, I'm sorry," she said, unable to unclench her nails. 

"I love it," Wes said, continuing to finger Sylvia's ass. "I love it, I fucking love feeling your nails. I know you're getting it hard when you do that." 

After that, they lost their words. Sylvia fucked herself against the thick pole inside her, gyrating and bouncing at a dangerous pace. Thick smelly cream spilled out of her all over Wes even before her orgasm. Wanting to taste it, Wes reached down and covered his fingers in the juice, then licked them, then shoved them inside Sylvia's mouth. The girl closed her dark lips around the fingers and sucked. Wes reached down again and found Sylvia's swollen clit protruding from under its fleshy hood. Wes rubbed the roughly textured button between his finger and thumb. 

Sylvia screamed, "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Oh FUCK ME!" 

Wes fucked her, with his cock inside her leaking pussy hole, one finger up her squeezing asshole, and the other hand on her clit. Sylvia held onto Wes's shoulders for dear life as they both sensed an orgasm of epic proportions barreling toward them. Although they fucked hard and angry for several long minutes, the orgasm did not come; four days of relentless fucking had given their bodies simply too much time to acclimate to each other, too much stamina to explode in orgasm during every chance contact. No, they'd have to work for this one. Wes knew he had to fuck Sylvia harder and deeper than ever before to bring on this mighty beast of an orgasm. They'd continue fucking for at least another twenty minutes before they both blasted each other with ejaculations, wet and sticky, painful, wonderful. 

The determined boy fell on his back, still fingering the girl's ass, still rubbing her clit. He moaned and moaned, thrilled to be turning the girl on so fiercely with the sounds he made. Sylvia yelled and yelled, as though they were in the most secluded house in the most desolate prairie, instead of one floor above whoever the high rollers in this hotel might be. She bounced and bounced and bounced, her pussy open wide as the big fat pole inside her slipped up and down against her vagina walls. She contracted her pussy often to put pressure on the boy's dickhead, and although he yelled each time, he did not come. 

Bath water fell off the girl and covered the floor in heavy drops. Her tall, thin body wiggled and worked above Wes's body, as her lovely breasts jiggled in every direction. Her body moved like a watercolor painting. The water-filled window light highlighted the definition of her arm muscles, the flatness of her stomach, the elegant lines of her cheeks. Sylvia's nipples betrayed her arousal, with the thick, hard stones obscured by a dark pink swelling in the areolas, the size of dimes but still bursting away from her tight, shiny wet flesh. She moved like a ravenous beast thrashing to reach her prey, safe just out of reach. 

Wes sat up, lifted the girl into the air with his hands and his cock. He stood to his feet, taking her with him. With every muscle in his legs and lower back straining, he held the girl aloft, tossing her into the air just enough for his cock to pull out up to the head, then allowing gravity to pull her back down against his body. He did this repeatedly, forcefully, mercilessly. The naked girl flew away and back into him over and over, each time smacking her body against his, each time stretching her cunt open. 

"Rrr, Rrr, Rrrrr," Wes grunted as he fucked Sylvia harder than she'd ever been fucked. The girl felt like a feather in his hands, and he wondered if he might actually break her bones. But Sylvia was strong, and she stared into Wes's eyes with a mixture of pleasure and terror, still sensing the onslaught of orgasm heading toward them both. As though in response, a blast of lightning and thunder exploded just outside the penthouse suite. Neither lover noticed. They stared deeply into each other's unblinking eyes, fucking painfully hard. They were athletes, they were soldiers, they were gods. 

Sylvia threw her head back and yelled at the ceiling, "Put me down, hurry!" Wes fell to his knees, expecting Sylvia to pull off him as soon as her feet hit the floor. But she kept fucking him, pounding her tense body harder and harder, faster and faster. Did she sense something about to happen? She opened her mouth and yelled, "AHHH, AHHH, AHHH, AHHH, AHHHH." 

Wes lifted Sylvia and unpinned his legs from below her, stretching them forward again. Instead of holding still as Sylvia bounced above him, he pushed his own pelvis up, thrusting his penis into Sylvia as she pushed down to meet him. The head of his cock thumped again and again against Sylvia's uterus, sending a pleasurable shock through Wes's body each time. He grabbed her titties, and Sylvia covered his hands with her own. They rode stronger and stronger, trying to kill each other or at least come close. 

"Come with me!" Sylvia begged. "Come inside me! AHHH, AHHH, AHHH!" 

She took Wes's hands, lacing her finger through his, stretching their arms upward. Wes allowed Sylvia to brace herself against his arms as she rocked, rocked, rocked her slippery pussy against Wes's cock and pelvis. The flesh where her ass met his crotch was now covered in a thick layer of cream, squishing and sploshing each time their bodies smacked together. 

They communicated through their hands and fingers. As Sylvia's grip became tighter and tighter, Wes could sense the orgasm building almost to its breaking point in her body. He allowed his own muscles and internal devices to relax and prepare for an orgasm of their own, timed to meet hers head on. He was truly amazed at how precisely he could feel her pleasure through her hands, and how well he communicated his own. 

At last the two young lovers climaxed. Anyone watching would simply see them gyrating in a new way as they came at around the same time, but inside, their bodies told a different story. Pleasure on a new level flowed as a single orgasm passed between and through both bodies. Wes's penis turned impossibly rigid as a torrent burst inside the girl with blast after blast of boiling hot jizz. Sylvia arched her back wide and screamed loudly, as a space opened up between her clitoral area and the shaft buried inside her, allowing a strong eruption of clear liquid to spurt in one long spray, a continuous stream for five seconds, never decreasing in intensity. 




Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 05



Throughout the blast of ejaculation from Sylvia, Wes continued to pump his own semen inside the girl, one thick pleasurable rope after another. When the spray stopped, a big splash of liquid flowed out of Sylvia's pussy through the same opening, as though a glass of fluid had been unturned. 

When it was over, they collapsed together in a heap on the tiles, side by side, with Wes's cock still buried inside Sylvia. They breathed hard through open mouths, coughing a little. They embraced, not caressing but simply holding, careful not to crush or be crushed. Sylvia could not keep her pussy from contracting and releasing, sending shivers through Wes, each time spilling a small amount of semen into the space between his penis and her pussy walls.

The girl's head fell against the boy's head. He lifted her face to look at her and realized she was close to passing out. She opened her eyes dizzily. Wes slowly pulled his penis, beginning to soften, from between her tight pussy walls. "Oooooooooh!" she moaned, startled. She was obviously very sensitive. After the penis was out, Sylvia fell onto her back and closed her eyes. Wes also fell backward, exhausted. For only a few minutes, they both fell asleep there. Then, Wes crawled to his feet, went to the counter and drank from the faucet, then filled a glass with water. Helping the tired girl sit up, he handed her the cool liquid, which she gulped down slowly but eagerly. 

"Help me up," Sylvia pleaded. 

Wes put her on her feet. She groggily walked to the shower, opened the glass door and turned on the water. She stepped inside and stood under the stream. Wes followed her inside and realized she'd left the water a bit cooler than the usual comfort level, which was perfect. Sylvia's skin still burned. Wes rubbed her body with soap. She stood still and allowed it. 

Wes said, "I'm starving." 

Sylvia laughed tiredly. "Fuck. I completely forgot." 

"Fuck!" Wes grabbed Sylvia by the face and kissed her hard and familiar. 

They washed each other in silence. Wes ran to their luggage to grab shaving razors, dripping water everywhere. Sylvia cleared stubble from her legs and crotch, and Wes did the same to his own genitals and face. They slipped and slid against each other, kissing. 

Stepping out feeling refreshed and clean but no less exhausted, they put on the thick white bathrobes and made their way to the living room. Sylvia collapsed in front of the fireplace as Wes picked up the phone. "Room service," he said. "Tell me your specials. Hmm, no. Do you have any beef? Steak. Protein would do us good." 

"Wes, you're bad," Sylvia said without opening her eyes. 

"Right. Yes, steak. How to cook? As the chef recommends. Let's see, send a bowl of steamed vegetables and a fruit plate. No potatoes or pasta. Do you guys have any beer? Yeah, that's perfect. Just sent up six longnecks. Can you give me a total? Oh, sure. Of course it is. Alright, thanks." He hung up the phone. "It's paid for," he told Sylvia.

"Of course it is," she said. 

Wes wasted a few moments deciding what to say next, then decided to stay silent. The fake fire was eerily silent. If Wes had been camping with friends back in Montana, the burning logs would have crackled and snapped as they fueled the flames, but if these gas logs even hissed, Wes couldn't hear it. But fire warmth felt the same, and he basked in it with the girl in his arms. She snuggled tiredly up against his chest and watched the fire. Her toned calves were exposed, and Wes moved his hand from her forearm to her leg. He allowed his sense of touch to listen to the girl, first caressing her the length of the limb, then simply resting on her outside thigh. Wes touched the tip of his nose to Sylvia's hair and smelled her; even through the recent dose of shampoo, her scent came through clearly, a mixture of feminine molecules without names. 

Sylvia rubbed Wes's skull. Wes knew she liked the way her fingers felt in his close-cropped hair, and she knew he liked having his scalp itched with her short nails. She languidly ran her nails across his skull. Wes leaned further forward and kissed Sylvia's neck. She responded with a purr of approval. Wes didn't move his hand on Sylvia's leg, but he squeezed her muscle. Softly, romantically, Wes continued to lap at Sylvia's strong neck with his tongue. 

Without any announcement, Sylvia pulled the belt on her robe and opened it, exposing herself to the room, but she did not change her position; the oral neck massage felt too good to halt. Wes kept licking her neck, then included her inner ear in the excursion. Sylvia moaned and lifted her fingers to her nipples. She pinched herself gingerly, breathed deeply. Wes moved his free hand up her leg to her loins, upward to her tummy. He relished the movement of muscles inside her stomach. 

Sylvia turned her head up to kiss Wes. They smooched with a profound tenderness. She kept turning, pulling her arm free from the robe as she flipped onto her stomach. Once in position, she opened Wes's robe to reveal his hardening cock. She pressed her slightly open lips to the head, wetting it, sucking on it. 

Wes took his arms out of his own robe and dropped his body on its side, so that he lay beside the girl on the sofa but with his head beside her lower body. He shifted and shuffled until Sylvia was lying on top of Wes's body, disrobed, blowing his cock as she opened her legs to receive his face. Wes dipped his tongue inside Sylvia's warm pussy, pushing a shallow distance to find the delicious splash of secretion inside. 

They sucked and licked in that way for nearly half-an-hour, exploring each other with their hands. Wes liked the way his palms cupped Sylvia's ass cheeks, and he rubbed her back frequently. Sylvia created friction between her nipples and Wes's stomach, mashing her boobs against him time and again. She held onto Wes's lifted legs like handles and used only her mouth to coax his penis toward an orgasm. Her own feet pointed into the air starting at the knees, as though she were on the phone. She ground her warm pussy down into Wes's face, poking her hole with his nose, hitting her clitoris with his lower lip and the jawbone in his chin. 

Wes enjoyed thrusting his cock gently up against Sylvia's throat, where her muscles constricted against the head. Sometimes she would suck so hard her teeth bit into his cock, and Wes would pull at her curly hair to remind her to be gentle, followed by a particularly vicious tongue lashing against her pussy, for which she showed approved with a vicious suck of her own. 

When Wes increased the speed of his thrusting, Sylvia took it as a sign to take things to the next level. She propped herself up on one elbow and gripped Wes's terribly hard cock with the other hand, then started pumping him. Wes groaned and started eating Sylvia with vigor. Sylvia slid her creamy slit up and down Wes's open mouth as she fist-fucked Wes's cock hard. The intensity continued to build. 

A doorbell rang, startling them both. They quit pounding each other but stayed frozen in place. Then Sylvia said "Hurry," as she got up from the couch. 

She plopped down in the shorter sofa and started masturbating hard and fast, her legs spread wide, her hand rubbing the sweaty places on her abdomen and torso where she had pressed her body to Wes's. Wes grabbed his own cock and started jerking off. Twenty seconds later, he ejaculated all over himself, sighing softly as he collapsed back against the sofa. Sylvia whimpered and rubbed her pussy faster. She had three fingers inside her hole, and the other hand pounded the hood over her clitoris like a machine. The visitor rang again. Sylvia trembled, shook, sank into the cushions. She continued to rub the swollen lips of her pussy but did not press as hard. Her rubbing slowed, and she finally stopped, her eye closed. She breathed steadily through pursed lips.  

Wes put his bathrobe on and approached the elevator door that was the suite entrance. A button flashed, and Wes pushed it, opening the door. Inside stood a bellman with a cart, containing two covered plates and a bucket of beers. He might have been in his late twenties. 

"Your order, sir," the man said. He noticed the clothes strewn all around the foyer, including the panties beside his foot, but although his eyes went a little wide, he said nothing. He handed Wes a pad. "Sign here, please."

"Thanks," Wes said. He signed the slip, and the guy went back into the elevator. 

"Steak and beer!" Sylvia exclaimed with delight. Then she leapt from her sofa and twirled around the room, singing, "Steak and beer, steak and beer, my boy-friend has steak and beer, steak and beer, steak and beer..." Her spinning form floated gracefully through the dark room. She waved her hands in the air and kicked her legs all around. There was a pattern to the dance, and Wes realized she'd had training of some kind. She sang and danced like a child, her naked body zipping to and fro. "Steak and beer!" she declared with a shout, and she threw open the glass patio doors and stepped into the freezing rain. She leaned against the stone wall that bordered the patio, her torso exposed above the wall, and yelled into the rain-drenched air of the night, "MY BOYFRIEND HAS STEAK AND BEER!" Then she ran back inside, closed the glass doors, squealed loudly, hurdled the sofa, grabbed her bathrobe and put it on. She sat close to the fire and rubbed warmth back into her arms. 

"Boy-servant, bring me steak and beer," she said with a commanding air. 

Wes marveled at how much he loved her in that moment. He brought the food plates and beer bucket to the floor where his girlfriend sat. They ate the meat with their fingers, licking hot grease from their digits. Each plate contained a steamed vegetable bowl filled with baby carrots and snow peas, and each had an apple. The act of eating was not in itself libidinous, but it strengthened the bond between the lovers, a shared physical act full of sensual opportunities – the tactile slickness of the grease, the crunch of the apples followed by a spray of water from the bite. They talked as they gobbled down the food. 

"So how many orgasms do you think we've had this trip?" Wes asked. 

"Oh jesus," Sylvia said. "There's no way to count." But she leaned back on her arms as braces, palms down on the carpet, and stared at the ceiling, pondering the question. "I was close that first night just from you kissing me, before the clothes even came off. Real close." 

"We went at it hard that first night. I'm a little embarrassed thinking about it." 

"Embarrassed?" 

"I mean, come on, Sylvia, it's just not right to meet a girl for the first time and... do... to her... what I did to... you." 

"Felt right to me," Sylvia said, but she looked away as she sucked her beer. All things considered, it would have been a sad comment on the force of destiny in the world if they HADN'T ended up fucking each other almost to death during the trip, but from a purely social standpoint, Wes was right. Two shy kids were never supposed to violate each other so quickly and comprehensively, were not supposed to fall in love so recklessly. 

Wes started adding up the orgasms. "Okay, so one each from the oral sex, then we had sex on the bed..." 

"Then the chair... No wait, first the bed again, then the chair..." 

"Did we fuck in the shower?" 

"Not until the morning, right? Shit, I can't remember." Sylvia absent-mindedly stroked the cleavage exposed by her open robe. "But we screwed in the dark the next morning, in the tub." 

"Then we did it in the steam tunnel... then we came back that night and I fingered you on the bed..." 

"Goddamn, that was magnificent. Just like this morning. Can you do that to me again tonight? It helps me sleep like a baby." 

"Hey, are you counting?" 

"I thought you were." Sylvia bit into her apple, then spoke around the food. "So, about five for me the first night, then two the next day, then something like ten right when we got back, then we made love for a few hours, and I must have come about three times." 

"Oh shit! I just remembered." 

"What? What's wrong?" 

"Nothing, I just remembered, we woke up in the middle of the night that first night and sort of molested each other in our sleep." 

"That's right! And I squirted out my pussy for the first time." 

"Ohhhh," Wes moaned. Something about the way Sylvia said that phrase made his cock hard. He wanted to open his robe and expose his cock to the heat of the fireplace, and since he and his girl were now in the habit of doing whatever they wanted whenever the thought came to them, he let his robe fall open. His cock had filled with blood and was pointing at his face. 

Sylvia crawled over to Wes with all the ceremony of a bowler taking her turn at the lane. As she chomped another bite of her apple, she took Wes's cock in her other hand and played with him. "Then we ended up at the pool," she said as she started stroking the boy's cock. 

Wes lied back on the floor and let the girl have her way with him. "Then the sauna," he said, and although his voice did not sound strained, he did keep his eyes closed. 

"Oh god, the sauna," Sylvia said. She threw the apple remnants toward the fireplace bricks, leaving the core on the carpet. Her hand, following some unheard call, pushed her robe open and played with her exposed nipples. Wes reached up and gently pinched Sylvia's nipple, so that both tits enjoyed attention. "That sauna was so fucking hot, Wes. I've never been that wet before, and in so many ways." 

Wes moved his hips up and down, fucking Sylvia's fist as it gripped him lightly. He pulled his arms out of the bathrobe as he sat up. Sylvia leaned forward and kissed him, and she allowed Wes to pull her own robe away. His hand made its way down her firm tummy to her loins, and Sylvia opened her legs to allow him entrance. Wes fondled her labia, now beginning to warm and swell, and he dipped his finger tenderly inside the hidden space where her hard clitoris protruded. Sylvia showed her gratitude by licking Wes's mouth hard. They manually masturbated each other for a few minutes, both remembering their favorite moments of the trip, including the current one. 

Wes asked, "Do you really want me to fuck you in all those places in the suite?" 

"No," Sylvia moaned. "Just make love to me now. We'll fall asleep together." 

Wes disengaged from the girl and lifted her into the air, her arms around his neck, his arm under her back and knees. He felt strong now that he'd eaten and rehydrated. He carried her into the bedroom, where the lights were still out. Sylvia reached out as they passed the wall and turned off the fireplace, so that the only light came from outside, where the rain continued to pour relentlessly upon the guilty borough of Chicago. 

The boy laid his girl in the bed, crawled on top of her and pulled the covers up around them both. He kissed Sylvia as he had never kissed a girl before, promising her everything, demanding nothing. She responded with caresses so tender they made Wes want to cry from shame, for he did not feel he deserved the love he was being shown. He dropped his body onto hers, and the flesh of their bodies continued to communicate in the same way, giving and taking, saying important secrets. Wes relished the feeling of Sylvia's wet pussy slit against his hard shaft, her flat tummy against his, the feeling of her nipples flicking against his. They kissed and kissed and kissed. 

Sylvia lifted her pelvis and slipped her cream-covered hole over the tip of Wes's head. Once he was aimed correctly, Wes pushed inside her. Sylvia inhaled but made no sound. They made love, and Wes felt his mind both dull and sharpen at the same time, as though he were looking through a veil in the world to some truth beyond. Lovers were supposed to feel like this, he now knew, this was the goal of existence. He had stumbled upon a profound fact of life: Holding a naked girl in your arms isn't just the best part of living; it's the point. 

Wes felt the orgasm building in his cock, and he didn't stop the cum from flowing as soon as it started. There had been times throughout the trip when they both tried to come together, but now he was past decision-making. His body wanted to fill this girl's uterus with sperm, and so he did. Sylvia slipped her hands down to Wes's ass and pushed his cock deeper inside her, squishing cream out between their two bodies, driving the head of his cock up against her cervix. His sperm exploded against her pussy muscles and mixed with her own feminine liquids. Their bodies slipped and slapped in a sweaty rhythm beneath the hot sheets. 

As Wes pulled his throbbing cock out of the girl, he pulled her on top of himself and kissed her mouth. His hands moved up and down her body, in a deliberate attempt to make her hot internally. He moved his kisses to her neck and his hands to her thighs, lightly stroking her in both places. Sylvia's clitoris pushed against Wes's still hard cock, and she came. Before the orgasm could end, Wes slipped two fingers inside her juicy vagina and stroked her deep. She exploded in another orgasm, more a continuation of the first, and her face moaned into the pillow. 

For the next forty minutes, Wes played with the girl, nibbling on her nipples, licking between her legs, sucking her fingers and toes. Sometimes Sylvia would come with a soft whimper, but more often, she climaxed loudly, like a grenade bursting then leaving silence in its wake. 

"When you played the cello this afternoon," Wes whispered very softly in the girl's ear, not breaking the rhythm of his hands, "I remembered a moment from my childhood. I was there, in the past; even the smells returned. I love you for doing that to me."  

Sylvia did not respond with words, but with sighs and coos. "Ahh... ahh... ahh..." She voiced her pleasure, thanking him, encouraging him, but also mindless in her desire so she could not control her sounds. Orgasm after orgasm washed over her like an ocean wave, burning hot unlike the cool sea. 

Eventually, Wes drifted toward sleep, his tongue lapping at Sylvia's earlobe. Sylvia was close to passing out, and her body spooned back against Wes of its own accord. 

At 9:00 the next morning, the phone rang. Neither student had moved from the cuddling position where they first fell asleep, and it was a true pleasure for Wes to find the nude girl curled up in his arms. He tried not to bump Sylvia as he reached across to the phone. 

"Hello?" he said, groggily. 

"It's Mr. Craftsman," said the voice on the phone. 

Wes instinctively sat up in the bed, as though the benefactor had physically entered the room and could see the state Wes was in. This helped him to wake up a little. "Yes sir," Wes said at his most formal, ridding himself of the Montana drawl that was never very noticeable to begin with. 

"I'm sorry to call so late, but I need you two to get dressed as quickly as possible. I have a private jet waiting to take you back to school, and I'm afraid we need to put it on the runway before 10:00. Can you meet the limo in fifteen minutes?" 

There was only one right answer, and Wes gave it. "Yeah, we're getting up." 

"Go go go!" Mr. Craftsman said, then hung up. The matter was settled. 

Panic set in. Wes touched Sylvia gently on the shoulder. "Sylvia, wake up." But the girl did not awaken, so Wes pushed her harder. This time she turned over, pushing her lips into a pouty, sleepy smile. 

"Hey you," she purred. 

"We have to meet the limo in fifteen minutes," Wes said as he stood from the bed. He and Sylvia had sweated heavily between the sheets all night, and that could only mean they both smelled like exertion and the fluids they shared. He was reluctant to leave without a shower, but from the lobby to the limo to the private jet, they would encounter only the bare minimum of strangers. Nothing for it but to throw on clothes and run for the elevator. 




Chicago Hotel Adventure Ch. 05



Sylvia was still having trouble getting up. "Are we trying to get to the security check-in in time for a long wait?" she asked with an admirable amount of cognizance. 

"I don't think we have to check in," Wes said as he pulled on a fresh pair of underwear. "We're getting on a private jet." 

"NO SHIT!" Sylvia shouted. She threw the covers off and exposed her body to the room. Her perfect form glowed in the morning light. "Wes, hurry, fuck me under the mirror again. I've wanted this ever since last night. Hurry!" She rubbed her pussy vigorously. 

Synapses fired like Black Cats in Wes's frontal lobe. How much time? Enough to fuck, or just get started and end up frustrated? Could his cock get hard fast enough? No question – it was already growing. After a cumulative half-second of thought, Wes peeled off his briefs and made a running jump back into bed. Sylvia squealed as Wes almost landed on her, then fell upon her hard and slipped his tongue into her mouth, musky with morning scents that did not bother Wes in the least. 

Their hands moved hard and fast, grabbing, caressing without gentility. Wes fingered Sylvia deep, sometimes pulling at the lips of her pussy with his dry knuckles. Sylvia yanked Wes's dick with aggressive strokes. After only half a minute of foreplay, Sylvia spread her legs wide and grabbed herself by the knees, pulling the lips of her pussy back. Her swollen clit peaked out from its hood, and the passageway into her vagina gaped slightly, a bullet-sized black hole that threatened to crush but would actually stretch to accommodate. Wes braced himself above Sylvia and shoved his hard penis inside her. 

"Oh god," Sylvia moaned. "Yes, yes, just like that." 

Wes quickly leaned back, just like Sylvia wanted, and they looked up at themselves in the mirror. They saw Wes's thick member disappearing inside Sylvia, saw the looks on each other's faces and the tension in their muscles as the fucking was about to begin. The relentless sex from throughout the trip was beginning to have its toll on Wes's penis, causing tender patches near the base where the rubbing had worn at his skin, but strangely, nothing soothed his tenderness like the cream from Sylvia's pussy, which she seemed to produce in mass quantities just for him. There early hours of the morning sunlight, Sylvia moved without shame or motive against the cock inside her, horny in that way both genders are horny when first waking up. 

With no time to waste, Wes went after it. He fucked Sylvia like a hammer, going as deep as he could then pumping in a shallow motion with rapidity. This had a vibrating effect on Sylvia's G-spot, and she squeezed Wes's cock in response. They watched themselves in the mirror, looking like two crazed lunatics trying to win a contest with a prize only they understood, pounding their loins together with horrific vigor and unkind grinding. The sounds of their bodies crushing together repeatedly were downright vicious. After only about two minutes of very very fast and hard fucking, both kids came. Sylvia climaxed first, with her upper body rippling like a wave as the orgasm seized every involuntary muscle. Wes pulled out in time to watch his seed shoot across Sylvia's tummy and between her breasts. 

"Oh fuck!" Sylvia said. She had more to say, but there was no time. She wiped herself off with the bedsheets, then bounded from the bed, looking very much awake. 

Wes stood on shaky legs. He pulled his underwear back on, then dug jeans and a black t-shirt out of his bag. Sylvia pulled on an orange t-shirt and denim shorts, then stepped into sandals. As Wes yanked his shoes over his feet and started to tie the laces, Sylvia dragged luggage to the elevator bay, as well as their two trophies and her cello. By the time Wes was finally ready, Sylvia had already pushed the button for the elevator. She pulled her hair up in a clip. Wes grabbed her hand as he ran past, pulling her into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, then handed the toothbrush to Sylvia. She didn't object in the slightest to using his brush. The elevator dinged as Sylvia was rinsing, and Wes almost had all the luggage on the elevator when Sylvia finally got there. 

They rode down in dizzy silence. A bellman on the lobby floor helped them carry everything to the limo. Inside the automobile they found a pot of coffee. As Wes and Sylvia took their first sips, they realized how dehydrated they were from the workouts they'd put themselves through. 

There was so much to discuss, oh so much, but they didn't talk much in the limo. It was a time for recuperating, for savoring the last opportunity to rest before the long plane ride. It was a time of reflection, as they held hands and looked out the tinted windows at the familiar skyscrapers and storefronts of Chicago. It was also – and for this reason they stayed silent – a time of dread, as they both imagined the worst that could happen once they finally met with Mr. Craftsman and he determined their future together... or apart. Surely they were in control of their destinies, no one else, but all offers would be considered seriously, even those that dictated seperatation. They had to at least listen, right? After all, Wes and Sylvia: The Couple was just an idea at this point. A great idea, but embryonic. 

The limo pulled right up to the jet. Wes and Sylvia were escorted to stairs leading into the tiny silver bullet of a machine. The skycap-or-whatever who pointed them to the stairs handed Sylvia a note as she passed by. (Wes caught the guy checking Sylvia out and simultaneously wanted to punch him and tell him he knew what he meant.) 

The inside of the plane was much larger than it appeared outside. One side had what looked like a restaurant booth against the window, and the other wall was lined with a sofa and two armchairs. The whole interior was tastefully decorated in wood and polished brass, with tiny sconces lighting the "room." 

"Oh hell yes," Wes said. 

"Oh my god," Sylvia sighed happily. "I've never been in a jet plane before." 

"Who has? Look at this thing!" 

"Why get rich and famous? Answer: THIS." 

"I could live this life, I really could." 

Wes sat on one side of the booth, and Sylvia sat across from him. They sipped their coffees and looked out the windows, which is the mandatory first thing to do upon sitting next to an airplane window. 

Sylvia opened the note. It said: 

KIDS: CAN'T MAKE IT TO THE PLANE. I'LL PHONE YOU ONCE YOU'RE IN THE AIR. SORRY I COULDN'T SEE YOU IN PERSON, BUT I BELIEVE WE CAN STILL GET THINGS SORTED OUT. ENJOY THE PRIVACY. MR. C.

Wes smiled. His gut told him Craftsman was a bit of a voyeur. The guy liked thinking about Sylvia and Wes fucking each other's brains out, and Wes was happy to oblige. The line "Enjoy the privacy" was obviously meant to encourage the two students to join the Mile High Club inside the secluded, luxurious cabin. If only he knew how open-mindedly Sylvia would consider the request. Wes could see in Sylvia's eyes that she also understood what the line meant, and her smile told Wes she had every intention of making good on the opportunity. 

Take-off was a stomach-flipping experience, much more harrowing than the take-offs on big airliners – not that Wes thought jumbo jet take-offs were fun. Once in the air, the co-pilot entered through the cockpit door and brought two trays wrapped in cellophane, containing an array of breakfast foods including breads, fruits and cereal bars. Wes ate a bagel with cream cheese while Sylvia picked her way through a fruit bowl. 

"It's just too cool," Sylvia said as she popped a slice of kiwi in her mouth. 

"I almost can't believe this is happening," Wes said. 

"I know, I know. Just being up here, you know? In this awesome plane. It's like a catalyst for the whole week, for all the emotions I've been feeling." 

"And what emotions are those?" Wes asked. 

Sylvia smiled shyly. "Contentment," she said, then wrapped her full lips around a strawberry and bit through it. "Safety." 

"You know..." Wes began. He very much did not want to say what he was about to say, but it had to come up sooner or later. There were some things you could leave to chance, to "play out" as they say of movie plots, and then there were those occurrences that change the course of your life and could not be left to fly out of control. Meeting Sylvia was that occurrence in Wes's life, and he meant to keep her in his life as long as possible, but only if this next conversation went well. 

"You know," he began again, "I feel like I have to say something." 

Sylvia remained silent. She was so like him in that she could remain silent and not try to fill the space. Wes was trying to find the words, she could see that, and so she let him. 

"If you're saying you 'love' me just because I said it, or because you think I want you to, it's okay, you don't have to do that. I mean, I understand why you're doing it, this week has been so intense. But I just want you to know, I won't be mad if you don't feel the same way –"

Sylvia reached out and put a single finger to Wes's lips. Wes immediately went silent. Sylvia got up from her side of the booth and sat next to Wes. She looked at him for a moment, examining his face from only a few inches away, then she kissed him on the lips. She kept kissing him until Wes understood this would be the only response he was getting on the matter. The kiss was perfect in the same way so many of their moments had been perfect, communicating perfectly, executed perfectly, full of perfect sensations of taste and touch. Wes wrapped his arms around the girl and made out with her for a long, uninterrupted span of time. With the roar of the jet engines drowning out even the sounds of their own mouths, Wes and Sylvia had the sense of being in a totally silent place, out of time for an eternity or a moment or both. 

When they finished kissing, Sylvia leaned her head against Wes's chest. Wes ran his fingers across Sylvia's curly hair, looking out the window and not really thinking about anything at all. 

A television screen on the wall behind Sylvia's side of the booth flickered on. At first it glowed blue, then a face came up, that of Mr. Craftsman. Neither Wes or Sylvia realized what they were looking at until the face spoke to them. 

"Ah, there you are, my musical prodigies. Did you enjoy your breakfast?" 

Neither kid would ever be the kind upon whom the label "slow" would hang easily, but the talking TV screen was a novel experience, and for about ten seconds of non-comprehension they stared at the screen and each other, trying to decide if they were actually expected to talk back to the image. Finally, tentatively, Wes piped up. 

"Yes sir, Mr. Craftsman. Uh, thank you. Can you hear me okay?" He asked this partly because the engine roar was so loud, but also because he believed it was possible there was no one out there to hear. 

"Certainly, Wes. How do you like my picture phone? It's costing me about a quarter of your tuition to talk on this thing right now, so I'll make it brief. Sylvia the cellist. I heard you play at the final. Would you like to go to school in Germany and possibly find a position in a European orchestra?" 

Sylvia nodded. Then, fearing she could only be heard and not seen, she said, "Yes sir. Very much." 

"And you'd like to be near your friend Wes, correct?" 

Sylvia blushed, then held on more tightly to Wes's hand. "Yes," she stated simply. 

"Well then, you're both coming to Germany when you graduate. Is it a deal, Wes?" 

Wes realized how deeply he'd been dreading this moment, but in the midst of its arrival, he knew it could not have turned out any other way. His instincts about Craftsman had been correct, and the man did right by him and his girl. "Yes sir," he answered with a big grin.

"I'll contact you at school later this month, after the arrangements are made. You should both get passports made as quickly as possible, so we can set up visits to the Institute. Do you have any questions for me?" 

Wes didn't intend to keep the man on the expensive call any longer than he had to. Surprisingly, Sylvia did have a question, and it was a very surprising question. "How much longer is the flight?" she asked. Her tone was matter-of-fact, but the intent behind the question was rather bold. 

Mr. Craftsman smiled knowingly. "Long enough," he said. Then the screen went blank. 

Sylvia stood, her head almost touching the cabin ceiling. "You heard the man," she said. Wes watched as the girl gripped the bottom of her t-shirt and lifted it above her white brassier, over her chin, off her head and down to the floor. She reached behind and unclasped the bra, then dropped it down the length of her arms as well. She stepped out of her sandals at the same time her fingers fumbled with the fly of her shorts. 

Wes didn't waste a second. He stood and started undressing. For a moment he wondered if there was a camera in the cabin that might be recording them – and what if that co-pilot came out again? – but quickly he decide that devoting even a second of energy to this line of thought could stop him from proceeding, and he had no intention of stopping. 

Sylvia, naked and glorious, pushed Wes into the sofa, then got on her knees. 

"We're going to do this every night in Germany," she said as she coaxed Wes's trouser package from its limp state into a muscular pole. "We're going to do this for years." 

Wes leaned his head back and groaned. "You got that right," he said. He watched Sylvia pump his penis with her fist, then lick the shaft with her long tongue. The light from the windows moved briskly across the cabin as the plane changed directions, until bright sunlight fell across Sylvia's back, creating a halo around her beautiful dark hair. She sucked Wes off, slobbering on his penis as her hands caressed the inside of his thighs. Wes reached under her chest and fondled her tits. 

"Sylvia," Wes moaned in a silky voice. This turned the girl on, and she sucked him harder. She moved one hand between her own legs, getting her pussy lubricated in preparation for the oncoming collision. 

"I'm so in love with you," Sylvia said as she leaned up to kiss Wes on the mouth. Wes tasted the musky scent of his own penis inside her mouth. 

"We're just getting started," Wes said. He ran his fingers between Sylvia's pussy lips, and when he lifted his fingers to her mouth, they were covered in her thick cream. Together they licked the fluid from Wes's fingers, entwining their tongues again and again as they shared the nectar. 

Wes pulled Sylvia onto his lap, so that her knees cozied up beside his asscheeks on the sofa. Wes held Sylvia's ass firmly as she grabbed his penis and aimed it at her pussy. Before putting the tool inside her, she looked Wes in the eyes. Wes was surprised to have forgotten how beautiful her eyes were, wide and honest. Didn't they haunt his dreams, after all? 

"This is our last sex of the Chicago trip," she said without smiling. Sexual hunger possessed her. 

"I won't forget," Wes said. "I'll never forget." 

"I'll never forget," Sylvia said. She slipped the thick head of Wes's penis between her pussy lips, pushing the folds apart and releasing a trickle of fluid down the shaft. Sylvia's eyes closed involuntarily as she dropped her weight on the hard cock inside her. Wes relished the delicious warmth of the girl's tight pussy walls, as his world was instantly transformed by the sensation of her smooth, wet vagina. 

"Oh baby," Sylvia cried. She dug her hands in her hair and, with her elbows lifted in the air, writhed seductively in absent-minded bliss. Wes reached up and played with her boobs, pinching her ever-hardening nipples, encouraging the areolas to engorge and swallow the stones in their puffiness. Then Sylvia started bouncing her bald pussy against Wes's hairless loins, and they were smooth fucking at last. "OH BABY," Sylvia cried again, this time very loud. 

Wes put a finger to his lips and laughed nervously; he looked once in the direction of the cockpit, giving Sylvia the hint. But Sylvia ignored Wes, much to his disbelief. She smiled with her eyes, even as her mouth opened wide and lustful. 

"Uh huh, uh huh, oh baby, oh yeah, fuck me baby, fuck me..." Sylvia deliberately lifted her voice for the pilots to hear, and this turned Wes on big time. He grabbed her by the hips and pounded her little cunt with demonic force. "OH yeah, OH YEAH baby," Sylvia yelled. "FUCK me like that, FUCK me hard, fuck me so HARD baby..." 

"Fucking A," Wes yelled. He felt a little silly adding his voice to the proceedings, but there was nothing funny about the show Sylvia was putting on. She was simply the hottest girl on the entire planet at the moment, or at least, above it. 

"OH YEAH, OH YEAH, OH FUCK me, FUCK me, oh BAY-bee, oh GODDAMN, my wet little pussy is so HOT, FUCK me, you LIKE it don't you, you LIKE fucking me, AHHH, OHHH, OOOOOOOH, oh GODdamn FUCK me..." 

Sylvia broke down in giggles, but she did not stop riding Wes hard. Wes could sense her closing in on climax. He could sense so much about the girl at this point in their friendship, her moods, her desires, her needs on every level from the mental to the emotional. It seemed like such an easy thing now to time his orgasm to coincide with hers, and he suspected, it was only a matter of minor control for Sylvia as well. But they relaxed for a moment, prolonging the experience. After all, they had a little longer, didn't they? Why not make it last. 

"You're fucking me so good," Sylvia said loudly. She put her forehead against Wes's and held onto his neck. Wes pressed his hands against the sweaty small of Sylvia's back. 

"You're so fucking hot, girl, you're so good to fuck." 

Sylvia started pounding again. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, oh baby, oh god, fuck me more, I want your cock so bad, you're fucking me so hard..." 

Even with the engine roaring, the wet sounds of their bodies slapping together could be heard echoing inside the cabin chamber. Their sounds turned into inarticulate grunts and moans as they prepared for their shared orgasm. Sylvia came first, a very loud affair. "AHHHHH! AHHHHHH! AHHHHHH! AHHHHHH! OH GOD, GOD, GOD!!!! OH SHIT!! YES! YES! YES! AHHHHH!!" 

Her orgasm in full swing, she milked Wes with her pussy muscles. He shot his thick load deep inside the girl, even as the aftershocks of her coming continued to sweep across her body. She pulled Wes close, wrapping her tired arms around his neck. 

Barely moments after they both came, and with Wes still impaling the girl's loins, the voice of the pilot came over the loudspeaker. "Welcome to New England, passengers. We've already begun our final descent, so I'll need you to get buckled in as quickly as possible, but not so quickly that you... break anything." Nothing more was said, but Wes believed the pilot was saying he'd enjoyed the show. 

Sylvia put her lips against Wes's ear. "You won't get bored with me?" she asked. She sounded genuinely scared. Somehow, Wes understood that this moment of post-coital ecstasy was a time of great vulnerability for Sylvia, and that she simply spoke from her heart in the safety she felt Wes afforded her. Because of that vulnerability, Wes loved her very much. 

"Never," Wes said, and he hugged Sylvia warmly, in a sign of friendship that seemed almost out of place with the cock still stuck inside her but instead complimented perfectly. Everything was in place.



Chicago Hotel Adventure



“You’re right,” Sylvia said nodding. “The truth is, I was really shy growing up. I used to wear glasses all the time, and I was a bit taller than the other girls, plus I read all the time.” She smiled. “I like to look nice, but that’s about all that’s changed about me. I’m not that out-going, but I know what I have to do to achieve what I want. Like playing the cello. It would be nice if someone would just give me first chair in the Boston Philharmonic, but I’ll have to work for it, and I want it.” She grabbed a cooled slice of pizza, her third. “Besides, you’re pretty quiet yourself. Quieter than me.” 

Wes laughed. “Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just not as pretty as you are. But otherwise, I’m in the same boat. I went to school with a lot of non-farm kids, and they just weren’t very pleasant people. I was always physically fit, but I didn’t do much to show it. I had to kick a kid’s ass once, and that made my senior year of high school a lot easier, but it didn’t do me any favors when I got to college.” 

“I’m surprised a pianist would punch a guy.” 

Now it was Wes’s turn to be embarrassed. “Aw, I didn’t really punch him, just hit him in the gut a few times. I’m no tough guy.” 

“Did you date much?” Sylvia asked. 

And so the time had come to discuss past lovers. Wes had breeched this topic with only a handful of girls, but he knew that it changed the tone of any conversation. Talk of dating led to talk of physical experiences, of what the person was looking forward to or willing to do. Again, Wes reminded himself they were just talking and that it might never lead anywhere. This helped him to settle down inside. Above all, he wanted to come across as a gentleman and not a horn dog. 

“Some,” Wes answered. “You?”

“Some.” They both laughed. 

“Man, I dunno, I guess I didn’t date a LOT. I had one good girlfriend my junior year of high school. She had a beautiful dark complexion. We were really naïve.” Wes looked at Sylvia to see if she were about to speak, but her attention was rapt. Wes grinned shyly. “Geez, we were just kids. I hadn’t even done much kissing when I met her.” 

“Was she a good kisser?” 

“Yeah, eventually. We sort of taught each other to kiss. Hell,” Wes said with a shake of his head, “we taught each other to do a lot of stuff. Too much stuff.” 

Sylvia smiled. “That’s sweet, I think.” 

“Yeah, it was.” 

“That’s how it was with me and my first boyfriend. We were sophomores. He didn’t know how to do anything at first. But eventually he knew how to do everything.” 

“What kind of stuff?” Wes asked in a voice he hoped sounded even. 

“I dunno,” Sylvia answered, pretending to be put out. “What kind of stuff did YOU do?” 

“Well, everything.” 

Sylvia sat on the bed with her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth just a little. “Yeah, me too.” 

The movie on television had gotten to the point where Tom Cruise went into the bizarre castle place and walked around staring at people having sex as a church organ played somewhere. Wes and Sylvia watched quietly at scenes of couples having sex, two girls on one guy, a man licking a woman between her legs. Wes felt his heart pound so hard he feared it might explode. 

“Are you a good kisser?” Sylvia asked without segue. 

That caught Wes offguard in a big way. With no defenses of any kind, all he could say was, “Yes.” 

“Wanna make out for a while?” 

Wes licked his lips before he could stop himself. “Seriously?” 

“I dunno,” Sylvia said with a half-grin. Her cheeks were flush even for her dark skin. 

Wes did not wait for the girl to change his mind. He stood from his chair, which was only about half-a-foot from where Sylvia sat on the bed. Moving quickly to keep himself from shaking with nervousness, he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, holding her smooth chin in one hand. She smelled even cleaner and more delightful than she had on the bus, and her breath smelled good too, although a little like pizza. Sylvia moved one hand up into Wes’s hair, which sent chill bumps across his arms. Her lips parted, and Wes sensed his tongue reaching for hers without his will to direct it. They kissed softly, moderately, breathing a little harder than they had before, although Wes still felt his heart thumping monstrously. 

He didn’t know if he should sit down beside Sylvia or try something more forward. Then she pulled him down onto the bed so that they lay side-by-side. As they descended, Sylvia’s arms encircled Wes, and Wes also took her into his arms. Things were moving much faster than Wes expected. Sylvia moved her hands up and down Wes’s body in an intense meaningful way, giving him permission to caress her as well. Earlier in the semester, Wes had made out with a girl who didn’t really have anything better to do, and that hadn’t been intense at all. They’d ended up in this same position, but that girl seemed to be putting up with Wes’s advances rather than making her own. Sylvia, in comparison, was moving her legs up and down Wes’s denim jeans, kissing his neck, encouraging him to kiss hers. Wes forced himself to keep his hands above the waist and pressed against Sylvia’s back and ribs, waiting to explore further until she gave him some sign of permission. 

When Wes kissed Sylvia’s ears, she began breathing hard through her nose, in and out and in and out. She dug her hands deeper into the muscles of Wes’s arms. Suddenly she threw her body on top of Wes’s, rolling him onto his back. She attacked his mouth with hers, methodically making love to his face. She was easily the finest kisser Wes had ever experienced. 

Sylvia somehow kept her lower body from straddling Wes, which he knew would be the next step toward serious action. Instead, she slowed her kissing, transitioning from deep open mouth lashings to more tender lickings, and finally to gentle pecks on the closed mouth. Wes indulged in his fantasy of touching her beautiful curly hair, which fell around his face in long bouncy locks that smelled great. After a while Sylvia pulled away (Wes told himself she did so with effort), until she sat upright next to him, moving her palms flat against Wes’s chest in an absent-minded way. She looked dazed, her eyes open wide. 

“Wow,” she said. 

Wes could almost feel his teeth chattering. He clinched his jaw and said, “Yeah.” 

Sylvia looked at Wes. “I’m glad we did that.” She was still breathing hard, and even though Wes returned Sylvia’s stare, his peripheral vision couldn’t block the image of her amazing breasts lifting and falling with her deep inhalations. 

“So… I guess you want to finish the movie.” 

Sylvia moved her head slowly from side to side. She turned the TV off and tossed the remote on the floor. The lamp beside them was the room’s only light now. 

“Sooooo… wanna make out some more?” 

“Yeah. I guess.” She sounded very nervous, and she did not move. When she smiled this time, she seemed like a different girl from the one Wes had passed in the halls of the Music department for two years. There was something intense and mature about that look in her eyes, but with an element of innocence that didn’t seem to fit with the rest. Not innocent, Wes realized, not innocent but basic, something fundamental. She looked hungry, nakedly hungry. Hungry for Wes, he understood with a start. 

“Do you maybe want to…” Wes didn’t finish the thought. 

Sylvia’s words were almost a whisper. “No one knows we’re here.” 

“Yeah.” Wes was also whispering. 

“And we’ll be here all night,” she said more confidently. 

Wes sat up on the bed. He felt his mouth going dry. He asked, “How far do you want to go?”

Sylvia leaned forward just a fraction. “How far do YOU want to go?” 

“I’d like to… make love to you,” Wes said. 

“Have sex,” Sylvia confirmed. She was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear.

“Yeah,” Wes said. He had to keep himself from cheering. 

“I don’t think we should limit it,” Sylvia said. She ran a finger along Wes’s chin. 

Limit it? What could be further than fucking? Wes said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

“I don’t know,” she said, stalling. “It’s just… You’ve been so sweet, and I didn’t expect to be so attracted to you. Or to anyone. Not like this. I mean, Wes, you’re just really great. I guess I was thinking…” She was close enough to kiss. “I guess I’ve always wanted to really cut loose with a boy, and I’d like you to be the boy. The hotel room, the way I’m feeling – it’s all come together like this for a reason. I want to… you know, cut loose. I really want to.” 

Wes took a long moment trying to find the right words. “Sylvia… girl, I agree. This feels right. I mean, if you want to just go for it and not have any limits, I’d love that.” 

“What do you want to do to me?” Sylvia asked. She was almost panting.

Wes reached up and felt Sylvia’s breast through the t-shirt. Sylvia planted a hard kiss on Wes’s mouth and reached between his legs. Wes felt his penis grow even harder than it had been. Wes moved his kisses down to Sylvia’s neck – where she responded with violent passion each time – as he lifted her shirt up over her chest. His hands caressed her strong back as they made their way to her bra clasp. He fiddled with the hooks until they came undone and Wes could push her bra above her chest as well. Her tits were slightly bigger than medium size, fitting into each of Wes’s hands. He was surprised when Sylvia ripped off her own t-shirt and bra, leaving herself exposed in the lamplight. 

“Want the light off?” Wes asked. 

“Leave it on,” Sylvia muttered between kisses. She yanked Wes’s shirt out of his jeans and pulled it up hard and away from his body. They stood on their knees on the bed, naked chests pressed together, making out hard. Wes pushed Sylvia onto her back and moved down to kiss her breasts. Her nipple turned hard in his mouth, and she twisted beneath him. Still moving things along quickly, Wes kicked off his shoes and pulled at Sylvia’s shorts simultaneously, still lavishing her boobs with kisses and licks. He discovered that she didn’t have any underwear on, although with his attention on her torso, he couldn’t see anything down there. After just a few moments, she lay naked beneath him. 

She pulled him up to kiss her mouth once again. Now he lay between her spread legs, nothing separating their bodies except his jeans. Wes held his body with his arms to keep his full weight from hurting her. He knew his muscular frame would seem heavy to her. They kissed slowly, lovingly. Wes opened his eyes for a brief instant and saw Sylvia’s open as well. He quickly closed his eyes, then opened them again to see if she was still looking. She was. They kissed, lips pressing, tongues teasing, looking into each other’s eyes. Wes pulled away, eyes still locked. 

Sylvia said softly, “I’m almost sad we had to end our conversation. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone like that for a long time.” She moved her palms up to Wes’s shoulders. “I’m sort of afraid we won’t be able to talk after this.” 

“So let’s keep talking,” Wes suggested. “Tell me what you’re feeling. Describe the experience.” With this, he leaned down and kissed her neck, licking her hard and hot. 

“Oh god,” the girl moaned. “I like that, Wes, I really do. I… um… I love the way you kiss me. I like…” She moaned. “I like feeling your chest against mine. I like feeling all your flesh against me.”

“Tell me what I’m doing to you right now,” Wes said. 

“You’re… oh… you’re kissing my neck… I like it… I can feel your tongue licking me. It turns me on so much. Now you’re… you’re kissing down along my collarbone to my chest. You’re moving your mouth all over my boobs. Yes, nibble my nipple, Wes. I want to feel your teeth.” 

Wes sucked her nipple hard and pinched it lightly between his teeth. Sylvia hummed and moved her feet up and down Wes’s legs. 

“Oh Wes… oh god… That feels so fucking good –”

Wes looked up. The word “fuck” had surprised him, and he saw in Sylvia’s eyes that she surprised herself when she said it. 

“Was that okay?” she asked. 

“Fuck yeah,” Wes responded. “I love to hear you talk dirty. Keep talking, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, Wes, oh fuck… You’re kissing my tummy, you’re kissing my tummy all over, all over… Now you… yuh… ah… you’re licking my inner thigh… It’s turning me on so much… ohhhhhhhh…” 

The commentary came to an abrupt halt as Wes shoved his mouth into Sylvia’s pussy. He hadn’t gone this far with a girl in over a year, not since his freshman year. Sylvia’s genitals smelled strong and delicious, and he licked a visibly wet dollop into his mouth and down his throat. The lips outlined the hole to her vagina, and they were beginning to swell. She had shaved neatly around her lips and left only a small patch above the slit. Sylvia moaned deeply and lifted her crotch up, searching for Wes’s mouth again. 

“Keep talking,” Wes said, then he glided his tongue up to her clitoris. 

“I, I… oh… ah… oh, I… my pussy is so wet for you, Wes… I want you… AH… I want you to keep licking me so hard… right there, oh yes… just a little to the right… OH GOD, oh yeah, that’s so good… keep moving your tongue up and down like that… Oh yes, yes…” 

Sylvia bucked her pussy against Wes as he rocked his tongue rapidly against the clit. He reached up and grabbed her tits as she grabbed his hair. Feeling his hair pulled made Wes lick harder. 

“Ooooh, ohhhh, oh god, you’re making me cum… You’re making me… oh god… AHHHH, AHHHH…” 

As the first orgasm washed over Sylvia, she clinched her jaw and grunted repeatedly like a woman in pain, shivering and rocking against Wes’s mouth. Finally she took a breath and spit out the words, “OH I’m cumming, OH I’m cumming, I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming, OH my god…” 

She pulled his face away from her pussy, apparently too sensitive to take any more for the moment. Instead, she pulled him up by the hair on top of her again. Sylvia looked hesitantly at Wes. 

“I don’t want to turn you off if I get nasty,” she said. 

Wes said, “I want you to be nasty. Whatever turns you on turns me on.” 

“I want to taste myself on your mouth,” she said, pulling herself up to lick the juices and cream from Wes’s mouth, moaning softly as she licked. “If you cum on my face,” she said between licks, “would you lick your cum off my face?” 

“I would,” Wes said. 

Suddenly Sylvia pushed Wes off and stood up beside the bed. In the light of the lamp she looked like a goddess sent to punish Wes, a thing too beautiful to behold. Wes saw every curve, every rare freckle. The flesh around her pussy was still wet. 

Sylvia reached out a hand, inviting Wes to join her. Wes stood, and they kissed standing up. He fondled her firm ass as she unbuttoned Wes’s pants. 

“Now you tell me what I’m doing to you,” Sylvia said. She licked his neck hard like Wes knew she liked, and he knew why it turned her on so much. 

Wes took a deep breath and searched for the words. “You’re unbuttoning my pants, Sylvia, and you’re pulling them down. I’m stepping out of them and you’re, well, you’re tossing them across the room like they offended you. Now you’re, uh, you’re kissing my stomach, tracing lines along my muscles, licking inside my belly button. You’re kissing the fabric of my underwear… Now you’re pulling my briefs down and… and my penis… my penis is sticking out. You’re licking your tongue up the shaft… and down the shaft… and back up again, and now you’re pulling off my shorts…” 

Sylvia pushed Wes back against the bed, and he sat down. She started licking his cock again, and he couldn’t keep his hands out of that fabulous curly hair. 

“I love to hear your sexy voice,” Sylvia said. “It’s the biggest turn-on I’ve ever had.” 

“Oh Sylvia… you’re licking my penis again… you’re moving your hand up and down around it… I’m so hard, Sylvia, I’m so hard… I want to buck against your hand like I’m having sex with you… uh, uh, uh, oh man, ah, ah, ah… Now you’re… you’re moving… you’re, uh… you’re opening your mouth to take my cock inside your mouth… I can feel the roof of your mouth against the head of my… my cock… your hot tongue is wrapped all around my penis… and now you’re… GOD… you’re sucking me off…” 

Sylvia reached under and grabbed Wes’s ass as she sucked. Wes pumped his member into her mouth like he was fucking her. Sylvia stopped sucking long enough to lick him, pump him with her fist, and say, “Don’t stop talking, Wes.” 

Wes had to find the words to replace his moans and sighs. “Okay, okay… okay… my penis is so deep in your mouth… I feel my cock throbbing… I feel your lips glide down almost to my balls, slobbering all around the shaft, and love how wet your mouth is getting me, I like the feel of your hot saliva dripping from my balls… I like when the head hits the back of your throat… OH MAN…” 

As Sylvia took Wes’s cock right back to her throat, Wes lost his vocabulary and simply thumped against her throat, feeling the even tighter caress of her tonsils around his head. 

“Sylvia… Sylvia… It feels so good… It feels so good… I want to cum in your mouth and feel you swallow it all... is that okay, Sylvia? I don’t know if… ah, ah, ah… I don’t know if you want to swallow my…” 

Sylvia looked up, cock still in mouth, and nodded. Her intent was clear. 

“Oh Sylvia… I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum so hard… I’m gonna cum… OH MAN I’m cumming… Uh, uh, uh, uh…” 

Wes grunted as the semen shot from his shaft, tightening his muscles all along his legs and stomach and even up to his shoulders. He leaned back and sent his seed into Sylvia’s mouth. She collected the cum in her mouth with the cock still inside. Wes felt burning fluid full and heavy all around. Then suddenly, as Sylvia swallowed, he felt an incredible pressure around his sensitive cock. He instinctively grabbed Sylvia by the ears to hold her steady, trying to reduce the shock to his system, as she sucked down what was left of the semen in his shaft. He felt so good he could hardly think. Finally he sank to his knees on the floor and held the girl in his arms, kissing her passionately. 

When he recovered, he whispered in her ear, “I thought you wanted me to cum on your face.” 

Sylvia whispered back, “We’ve got all night.” She moved her hand across Wes’s back and said, “I’m moving my hand across your back. I’m holding you as we stand up together.” They stood. Barefoot, Sylvia was only an inch shorter than Wes, who stood 5’11. “I’m looking at your face, thinking how much I appreciate you tonight and want to please you. I’m thinking about how turned on I am and how bad I want your cock in my pussy.” 

Wes said, “I’m thinking about how beautiful you are and how regretful I am that I never said hello to you before. I’m scared this will be our last night together.” 

“I’m thinking about how strong my feelings for you are and how desperately I want you to start dating me when we get back to school.” 

Wes kissed Sylvia’s face. “I’m kissing your cheek,” he said. “I’m pulling you down to the bed… I’m rolling you onto your back. I’m looking at you, breathing hard, wanting you.” 

“I’m touching your chest,” Sylvia said. “I’m opening my legs for you to enter me. I want you to fuck me so bad.” She closed her eyes. “I want you to fuck me, Wes, I want it so bad.” 

Wes put his body into position above her. “I’m holding my cock, Sylvia. I’m aiming it at your pussy… I’m placing the head against your hole… I’m gliding the head into your… aaaaah… your wet… vagina…” 

“Wes… oh my god… oh fuck… fuck fuck fuck… oh my god… you’re filling me up, boy… you’re filling me with your big cock… you’re fucking me so good, boy, you’re fucking my pussy so good…” 

“Oh fuck Sylvia, I’m fucking you… oh my god this feels so good… your pussy feel like… oh, oh man…” 

Wes buried his eight-inch cock as deep into Sylvia as it would go, pressing against her cervix. He didn’t move at all, but simply supported his body above hers. Sylvia twisted her head, moaning, then she opened her eyes and did not look away. The lamplight cast tiny shadows on her forehead where her curls fell. 




Chicago Hotel Adventure



“Tell me Wes… ah, oh god… tell me what it feels like…” 

“It’s… oh fuck… it’s smooth and wet… Your pussy is so hot and wet… I feel wetness all around my cock, my whole world feels wet… It’s like a tunnel, a slick tunnel covered in a juicy cream… I can feel it squishing all over my cock… Sylvia, you’re tighter further in, I can feel you squeezing the head… that feels really wonderful…” 

“Wes… oh Wes… that turns me on…”

“You turn me on Sylvia.” 

“You’re filling me up, Wes, you’re filling me so much… I can feel the hair on your balls brushing against my asshole… it just feels so fucking fantastic, Wes, the way your hard hard hard hard penis is plunging into me… I can feel cream squeezing out around your cock through my pussy opening, it’s running down my ass crack… you feel… you feel so good… my body is filled with your body, Wes… Kiss me, lover.” 

Wes leaned down and kiss Sylvia, and his cock moved inside her. He pulled the member outward, then in deep, and suddenly they were really fucking. Sylvia moaned into Wes’s mouth as his cock began to pump inside her. She pulled away and started talking again.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, oh, my, god, ohmygod ohmygod, I wanna keep talking as we fuck, it’s turning me on so much, ohmyGOD ohmygod ohmygod…” 

“Girl, you’re so fucking hot, I want to fuck you all night, your pussy feels so tight and wet, I can feel your boobs bouncing against me, I love watching the looks of pleasure on your face, I want to bury my face in your hair…” And he did so, grunting into Sylvia’s ear. 

“My pussy’s on fire, I’m so happy we’re fucking, Wes, I’m so happy, I’m so happy, my wet pussy is filled with your hard cock, I feel it thumping against my uterus, it sends waves of energy all up into my stomach each time you hit… YES… yes, like that… oh FUCK ME… oh my GOD… I can… oh god… I feel you slapping against my pussy… I can hear the slapping… oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” 

“Tell me where you want me to cum, Sylvia, tell me where you want it…” 

“On my face, on my fucking face, cum all over my fucking face like I’m your fucking whore, spray my face with your jizz, your sticky semen, I want you to cover me in your jizz, oh Wes, keep fucking me…” 

“Your my whore, Sylvia…” 

“I’m your whore, Wes, fuck me I’m your fucking whore…” 

“This is so goddamn sexy… you’re so sexy…” 

“I want it Wes I want it so bad oh fuck ME!” 

“I want you to cum around my cock, Sylvia, I want to feel your orgasm in your pussy around my cock…” 

“Hold on baby, cum with me, cum at the same time… Inside me, I’m on the pill, keep pumping me with your cock…” 

“I’m so close, Sylvia, I’m so fucking close, I’m fucking you so hard…” 

“Fuck me hard, baby, fuck me hard, fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me grab me hold me screw me make love to me baby make love to my naked body fucking FUCK me…”

“It’s coming, lover, I’m about to blow…” 

“YES, sweetie, yes, I’m gonna cum with you…” 

“It’s… oh, uh, UHG, god, GOD, ah ah ah, I’m shooting…” 

“FUCK ME, Wes, fuck ME, I’m cumming! Oh I’m cumming! I’m … I’m cumming so-oh-oh hard…” 

Wes came harder than he ever remembered cumming in his life. A huge gush of semen blasted its way out of his shaft and splashed the inside of the girl. Another big gush exploded, and then another, and finally the smaller spurts he was more familiar with. Wet tight pussy flesh quivered all around his swollen cock, and Sylvia slapped her smooth body up against his own, digging her fingernails into his upper arms. Her head rolled back so far that she was facing the headboard, grunting noisily through gritted teeth. At first Wes thought he was imagining the pussy gripping his cock, but after it happened several times in a row, he knew for certain he was getting milked. His own mouth hung open as he gasped for breath, trying to suffer the jolting squeezes. 

Sylvia grabbed Wes and pulled him down onto her body. Sweat had broken out in small patches on her chest and forehead, but their bodies were mostly dry as they pressed against each other, except for the very sloppy mess they’d made around their genitals. Sylvia was wetter than any girl Wes had seen, but then, he hadn’t seen many. Wes lay still with his face in Sylvia’s hair. His cock was still hard, still buried inside Sylvia. 

He kept expecting her to say something, but she did not. He felt her breathing, holding onto his body very tightly as though clinging to a cliffside for fear of falling. After long minutes, Sylvia took a long breath and kissed Wes on the cheek. 

“Why haven’t you gone soft?” she asked in a direct manner.

“I have no idea,” he replied. “Am I hurting you?” 

“No,” Sylvia said. “Can you make love to me again?” 

“Yes,” Wes answered, not knowing if he could or not. Worth a try. He moved into the girl slowly, taking more time to enjoy the sensations of her. Sylvia hummed deliciously and moved her hands up to Wes’s shoulders. Wes wrapped an arm under her and rolled so that she was on top. They continued to make love slowly, with Sylvia lying on top, her body stretched out from head to toe against Wes. Her legs sat on top of his so that their toes touched, and this made her pussy tighter around Wes’s cock. They french kissed tenderly as Sylvia moved softly, keeping Wes deep inside. 

This languid pace lasted for close to half-an-hour. Sylvia slowly sat up, careful not to detach herself from the rod impaling her. Silently she moved, rocking slowly back and forth on the big hard penis inside her. The lovers stared into each other’s eyes, lacing their fingers together, patting each other’s chests, pinching nipples. Wes watched his cock slipping inside her, out of her, back in. Sylvia pouted her full lips and breathed through her nose. Wes slid his hands up and down her bare thighs, probing her mysterious places with his fingers and palms, brushing his fingers against her clit, making her squeal. It was another hour of relaxed fucking before Sylvia tightened her stomach muscles, formed her lips in the shape of an O, looked at the ceiling, pressed her palms down hard on Wes’s tummy. She trembled like a piece of paper fluttering before a breeze as her pelvis muscles clinched. When the orgasm ended, she draped her torso across Wes’s. She felt warm and slightly damp. 

“Not talking is good, too,” Wes said. They chuckled tiredly. 

“I’m going to lose my competition tomorrow.” 

“You’re the most talented cellist I’ve ever seen,” Wes said. He sounded worn out. 

Sylvia sat up to look at Wes, her face filled with gratitude at the compliment. She gave him a long, simple kiss. 

“Are you ready to sleep?” Wes asked. A surge of adrenaline shot through his body. He realized he did not want to go to sleep yet. 

Sylvia smiled. “Soon,” she said. “First, let’s look at the city.” She lifted herself off of Wes’s penis, which was finally starting to soften. The member slipped out of her messy wet hole with a sloppy sound. She stood, turned off the lamp, and took Wes by the hand. She led him through the dark room to the wall of windows. She opened all the curtains. The window was as big as a movie screen. Chicago glowed even more sweetly than earlier. Sylvia turned an armchair so that an arm butted against the window, then she pushed Wes into it, got on her knees and gobbled his penis into her mouth. She sucked him hard and fast, and the blood quickly filled every inch of the appendage. 

“I taste good,” she announced, then gave Wes one last hard lick. “Let’s keep talking,” she said as she pulled Wes by the knees, so that he sat lower in the seat. She stood over him, spreading her legs. “That was the best sex of my entire life. I loved hearing you talk to me.” 

“I loved it, too,” Wes said. “I know this sounds trite, but I’m having a lot of fun.” 

Sylvia giggled. “We’re certainly less shy than we were.” 

“Damn right!” Wes exclaimed. 

The girl’s bright smile flashed white in the light of the city. “Oh Wes,” she half-laughed, “I’m going to fuck your goddamn brains out of your silly boy skull.” She reached down and touched between her legs. “Oh god, I’m so wet. I want to see you jerk off your dick.” 

He never imagined he’d ever admit to anyone that he masturbated, let alone do it in front of a girl, but when she commanded him he didn’t hesitate. His hand grabbed his wiener before his conscious brain knew it was happening. 

“I’m masturbating,” he said to Sylvia. “I’m pumping my own cock hard. I’m watching you finger yourself.” 

“My index finger is slipping in and out of my own pussy,” Sylvia said as she continued to stand over Wes, her knees slightly bent. Her dark skin shined, and her nipples stuck out hard, casting tiny shadows on her breasts. “There’s a place inside my vagina that I like to rub.” 

“I want to touch it,” Wes said. 

Sylvia said, “I’m taking your hand and moving it between my legs. I’m maneuvering two of your fingers up… ah… up inside… god… I’m so horny… I’m so fucking fucking fucking horny fucking.” Sylvia leaned down and grabbed Wes’s swollen dick with much more force than he’d been expecting. She tugged hard, pumping up and down, and Wes fingered her deep in response. “We’re masturbating each other,” Sylvia said. 

“We’re masturbating each other,” Wes repeated. 

“I’m ready to make love to you again,” Sylvia said. “Put your hands on my hips and help me into the chair. That’s it… you’re moving me into position… I’m lowering myself down onto your lap… OOH! God, I’m horny. Your cock is hitting my clit… now it’s sliding down… there it is! You’re inside me… It’s…” 

“Breathe deep, Sylvia, breathe deep,” Wes instructed, placing his hand on her breastbone. She slowed her breathing, looking out the window. 

“I’m filling my lungs with air,” Sylvia said. Her voice was low and seductive. “I feel oxygen moving through my body, cooling my blood, making my heart pump fast.” She began to bounce on Wes’s lap, squeezing his penis tightly with her muscular vagina. “I… Wes, I wanted… to go slow… but I can’t… I can’t go slow… I have to fuck you… I have to feel you fucking me… I’m yours… do what you want to me, Wes… Whatever you… whatever you want…” 

“I’m…” Wes said as he slipped his hand underneath to Sylvia’s ass. “I’m moving my hand underneath you… I’m…” 

“Oh my god! Oh god, Wes! Ohmygod that’s so fucking sexy…” 

“I’m wiggling my middle finger… fuck… into your asshole… it’s really hot and wet…” 

“I’ve never… Wes… I’ve never… I’m… GODDAMN… it’s so…” Then a change came over Sylvia’s face as the digit made its way inside, up to Wes’s last knuckle. “It’s… It’ssssssssss…” 

“I’m fucking you with my finger… I’m ass-fucking you, Sylvia…” 

Sylvia turned quiet. Wes didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect from Sylvia, but he wanted to finger her ass, so he just did it. 

“Keep it up,” Sylvia said once in a clipped voice, then she placed both hands on Wes’s shoulders and rode him hard, slamming her body down onto his. They were both starting to sweat. Wes assumed the drops of sweat he felt pelting him every so often were falling from Sylvia’s hair, because he couldn’t really tell in the dark. She turned wild, grunting, fucking, until she came hard. “FUCK!!” she screamed, much louder than she should have in the hotel room. The gigantic orgasm rocked her back and forth for several short seconds, until she was breathing hard again. She continued rocking, not bothering to explain what had happened to her. After only two more minutes of the same vicious fucking, she came again, this time at a loss for words, simply opening her mouth wide and trying hard not to let any sound escape her throat. 

“Wes…” she said before the orgasm even ended. “Wes, hold on, hold on, hold on… I’m gonna pass out… You’ve got to stop…” 

But Wes did not stop, and Sylvia continued to ride him, despite her protestations. This time only about half-a-minute went by before Sylvia dug her nails painfully into Wes’s upper arms. She locked up like a car that could not be steered, tightening every muscles, groaning an animal sound from deep in her throat. Wes thought she looked like she might be in pain. As her body relaxed, she fell forward onto Wes, nearly unconscious. Wes slowly pulled his finger from Sylvia’s burning asshole and lifted the girl off of his cock. She sat on his lap like a child, cradled in his arms, moaning. 

“Oh god, oh god,” she moaned softly. “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh…” She cooed for another few moments, trailing off. When she tried to lift an arm and place it around Wes’s neck, it fell limply back to her side. The two sat in the chair that way for ten minutes, staring at the city lights, not saying anything. Wes smelled his lover, held her tightly. He watched a car far below until it turned a corner. 

Finally, Sylvia kissed Wes on the cheek. “Take me to the shower, love,” she said. 

Wes lifted the nude girl easily and carried her to the bathroom, leaving the lights off, closing the door. He’d tossed hay bales around his entire life, and Sylvia seemed light as a breeze, even as muscular as she was. Wes placed her on the toilet seat while he adjusted the water temperature. As he turned the shower on, he felt Sylvia approach him in the dark. They made out where they stood for a few minutes, standing in the steam of the room. Wes took this last opportunity to smell and taste his lover before she was clean. He licked her neck and upper chest, he buried his face in her hair. Sylvia hiked one of her legs up around his calf muscle, and he felt his pubic hair shuffling against her nearly bald crotch. At last they stepped into the water, feeling in the dark for each other so they could keep kissing. They touched each other in the flow of the water. Wes felt privileged to touch her smooth skin in the shower, to have such a beautiful girl in his arms, kissing him. 

Sylvia giggled girlishly, then laughed out loud, then shouted, “Fucking A!” Wes laughed, too. Sylvia said, “I want to soap you up,” and with that she grabbed the soap and lathered his body. Wes found a bottle that might be shampoo, and he squirted a glob into his palm. He worked Sylvia’s hair as her hands ran all over his body. 

“You’re a fantastic lover,” Sylvia said just loud enough to be heard over the shower stream. 

“You’re amazing,” Wes said. 

“How many girls have you been with?” Sylvia asked. 

“Oh fuck,” Wes said. “Are you sure you want to get into it?” 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” Sylvia said. “I just don’t see how you and I are going to end up with any secrets from each other. I only meant that you’re good at sex. I thought you must have had a lot.” 

“My high school girlfriend and I had a lot of sex, toward the end, for about a month. She moved away.”

“Who else?” 

“Well,” Wes said sheepishly, “I’ve kissed three girls, and I only went all the way with one of them. That was about a year ago.” 

“Shut up!” Sylvia said in genuine disbelief. They may as well have been gossiping in the girls’ locker room for the way she asked it. Wes worried that she might think he was a slut, but she was as open and forgiving as she had been in the bed. 

Wes laughed. “What about you?” 

“God, no way. You’ll think I’m a total whore.” 

Wes grabbed her without warning, and she yelped. He tugged at her hair, now straightened from the water flowing through it. He placed his mouth very close to her ear and said in a whisper, “You are my whore now, Sylvia. Don’t forget it.” 

Sylvia grabbed Wes, digging her short nails into his ass cheeks. “I’ve been fucked by five boys,” she said. “And none of them were as good as you.” She exhaled deeply, then pulled away enough to fumble in the dark for the shampoo bottle. “Also, I masturbate every night, sometimes two and three times. I know my body really well, and I know what I like. I’m sure you masturbate every night, too. You’ve got too much stamina not to.” 

Wes felt a pang of embarrassment, residual from his regular fear of getting caught, but there was nothing to fear at this point. “Yeah, I’m a jerk-off artist,” he said. 

They continued to wash each other, talking candidly about sex and masturbation, about past lovers good and bad, even who they had been pursuing on campus before they met each other. Talk of other students led to discussions of the artists on the trip, then to the competition. They were still talking shop about instruments and performances as Sylvia shut off the water, leaving the sound of their dripping echoing throughout the tiled room. 

“What time is it?” Sylvia asked. 

“Close to 2:00,” Wes said. “I hope I’m not too tired in the morning.” 

“I hope we’re not too wiped out to stand,” Sylvia said, and those were the last words either of them said. 

She rubbed Wes down with a big fluffy towel, and he dried her off as well, kissing her and caressing her as he went. Sylvia opened the bathroom door, and in the bright light of the city night, Wes saw that she’d wrapped her hair in a towel. She led him by the hand to her bed, where she yanked the soiled bedspread off and tossed it at the floor. Sylvia slipped underneath the sheet and one thin blanket, still naked, and Wes slipped in beside her. She kissed him, then laid her head on his shoulder. They fell asleep with their legs entwined, with one of Wes’s hands on Sylvia’s breast. 

At 5:00 a.m., a loud knock woke both the lovers with a start. Wes could tell that Sylvia was scared out of her mind. 

“It’s probably Faith,” he said. 

“Oh god!” Sylvia whispered loudly. She jumped out of bed, threw her hair towel across the room and turned on the lamp. She scrambled for her shorts and shirt, not bothering to look for the bra. “Get in the other bed!” she hissed. Another loud pound on the door. 

Wes stepped into a pair of jeans shorts he’d yanked from his backpack, also not bothering with underwear. He just had enough time to slip on a t-shirt before he heard Sylvia opening the door. Another quick moment and he was under the covers. A few long moments later, a pair of hands shoved him roughly. 

“Wake up, asshole,” Faith said. “Go to your own room.” 

Wes turned, pretending to be groggy, when actually his heart was pounding. Faith did not give him a chance to say goodbye to Sylvia or even share a private look with her. He went up the elevator to his room, unlocked the door and passed Roger’s ugly, passed-out, naked ass on the way to the unmade second bed. He tried to go back to sleep, but the memory of Sylvia’s smell would not release him. He stayed awake until the alarm clock went off two hours later.