It would really stink if, upon driving away from a hotel a couple minutes after midnight, you reached for your cell phone to call your lover and tell him what a marvelous time you had…
…and…
…you realized that your phone was not in your purse.
You’d probably feel the first surge of adrenaline-laced panic as your hand fumbled across the seat in the vague hope that the phone had only fallen from your purse.
Might you fish around in your toy bag? You might. Your hand would encounter one vibe, still slightly warm; one bottle of lube, still slightly slippery; one very large glass toy; one squishy silicone dong; a pair of stray condoms; a crumpled washcloth; and a pair of panties which you were too tired to replace on your body.
But a phone? There would be no phone.
The panic would continue to rise in your chest as you pulled into the parking lot of a darkened fast food restaurant so as to make a more thorough search. Alas, the phone would not be found.
You might consider practicing the old trick of mentally retracing your steps. If you did so, you’d recall lying naked on the bed some half-hour ago and reaching out with your toes to grab the phone from its perch on the headboard. You’d recall flipping open the phone, groaning as you saw the time displayed in the lower left corner, then dropping the evil piece of gadgetry into the sheets as you raced for the shower.
Sitting in the parking lot, you’d consider your options. It would be ever so much worse to have to return to the hotel in the morning with your children in tow.
So you head back to the hotel. You wearily park the car. You trudge to the lobby and find it locked up tight at this hour. You peek into the lobby window and find the clerk reading a magazine. He sighs before coming over to the window.
From the look on his face as you relate the story of the missing phone, you can tell there will be trouble. He begins shaking his head before you even stop talking. “Sorry miss, I can’t let you back into the room. I can only give the person who originally rented the room a key.”
“But he’s not here!” you point out, with a bit of panic in your voice. “He’s already on his way home!”
“Have him come back. I’d have to see his ID in order to open the room.”
You ask the question, already dreading what’s coming next. “Can I use your phone to call him? Since, you know, my phone is in the room?”
With a withering look of scorn, the clerk pushes the phone receiver under the window. “What’s his number?” he asks, his blunt finger held above the numbers.
You sigh. This is what you were dreading. “I don’t know it. It’s programmed into my phone. I never dial it. Do you have it?”
The clerk looks at you like you’ve got a chicken roosting on your head. He clicks open a screen on his computer and slowly dials the number. You put the phone to your ear.
You pray to all the gods and goddesses above that the number your lover provided the hotel is his cell number and not his home number, because no matter how lovely his spouse has been to you in the past, you cannot imagine that she’d enjoy hearing from you at a quarter past midnight.
You promise God that if it is indeed his cell phone number, you will clean up your act—for real this time! No more naughtiness! No more cock-sucking! No more buttsex! No more screaming “Harder, Daddy!” Nope, you’ll only behave, if only you hear your lover’s voice and not…
Oh thank God. You say a silent prayer of thanks and then sheepishly explain the predicament to your friend. You thank God again that your friend takes it all in stride.
You wait anxiously under the baleful gaze of the clerk for your lover to return. ID is shown, a new key is given, you march down the ridiculously long hallway to your room—and there beneath the sheets is the errant phone.
“I’m sorry for making you come back baby,” you whisper to your friend while hugging him. “I’m an idiot.”
“It’s not a problem. Not at all. Now let’s go home.”
Suddenly you are feeling much better. “What, don’t you want to use the room one more time? Now that we’re here and all?”
He smacks you on the ass and marches you out the door.
Yep, that sure would stink, wouldn’t it? I’m so pleased that I’ve never been fuck-addled enough to have done something so very goofy.
Nope.
Not me.
Nuh-uh.
And even if I had, I certainly wouldn’t have promised to give up buttsex and cocksucking and screaming “Harder, Daddy!”
So consider this to be a warning to you. Don’t you ever do something so foolish, ’cause I’d hate for you to make promises in the heat of the moment that you’d be completely unable to keep.
Ok?
You have such a knack for story telling. It was both cute and a fun read. :)
The saddest part of that is not using the room again. I mean…you are there. He is there…the phone is there….three great reasons to pleasure your body again.
Diana
http://sexywhispers.wordpress.com
I’ve done some dumb stuff in a post fuck haze.
Never ever ever ever considered not being naughty tho.
We’d been at it for 7 hours!
It was 12:25!
AM!
We had to work the next day!
Geez. Cut us some slack!
:)
Wow . . . seven straight hours of sex. No wonder you’re tired!
Hint for next time: most hotel rooms have alarm clocks which are accurate enough to tell you when it’s time to stop playing and get a little sleep so you can function minimally at work. Or at least daydream about this fantastic fuckover.
I’m pretty sure “promises” made under such duress are unenforcable by the Karma Police…
…. at least i hope so ;-)
Not that I’ve ever…….
I wondered about this line:
“no matter how lovely his spouse has been to you in the past”
Is she aware of your relationship with her husband?
YES!
That’s why us with-it technology folks always leave our bluetooth headsets in at all times – even during
buttsex and cocksucking and screaming “Harder, Daddy!â€
That way you could have sauntered up to the door of the room, pressed the button on your headset, and voice dialed your friend.
Geez.
And this is exactly why I’m not a with-it technology folk.
‘Cause I’d press the button on my headset, auto-dial my MOTHER, and then do buttsex and cocksucking and screaming “Harder, Daddy!
:)
I HATE it when that happens!
You’d recall flipping open the phone, groaning as you saw the time displayed in the lower left corner, then dropping the evil piece of gadgetry into the sheets as you raced for the shower.
Target sells very nice ladies wristwatches for $12.99.
Just sayin’.
Don’t you ever do something so foolish, ’cause I’d hate for you to make promises in the heat of the moment that you’d be completely unable to keep.
Noted.
Good call, I don’t like making promises I can’t keep!
My heart would have been in my stomach… I could feel you going through that..
Good Tuesday morning AAG !
Oh, you poor thing ! What an inconvenience ! Glad that he took it in stride, and you won’t be needing to keep those promises after all, heh-heh :)
Loving Annie
Hello. I am a new reader. I love how you told it, i could see it in a sitcom, you doing the narration as the action is unfolding.
Auto-dialing your mother, huh?
See the fun you’re missing, the experiences you could have. Just sit there and imagine the look on face as she listened to your:
buttsex and cocksucking and screaming “Harder, Daddy!â€
Tell me it doesn’t make you laugh. :)
BTW, judging the amount of times your phrase above has been repeated in the comments, I think you found your mew masthead.
In the least, send the phrase to Celine Dion so she can use it in a song. ;)
I am laughing so hard.
Glad you got your cell back in the end!
Well, Whewwww at the end there….I was getting sad by this story ;)
LOL – AAG you’re very subtle, totally hilarious, but yet very subtle. I noticed your little change. I liked your sense of humor before, but I just now fell in love with it.
Haaaaaaa
ROFL OH MY GOD what a great …um…story? :-)
I’m afraid I can’t help it, but every time I read “Harder Daddy” or similar references, I involunarily make the same noise Sideshow Bob makes when he steps on a rake.
(I have no idea how the scriptwriters would jot it down, so I have to hope you’re a Simpsons fan. Something like “Wrrrrrrrghh ” perhaps?)
Anyway, the phone talk was funny and salutary (it could have ended far, far worse), but “….Daddy”?
Wrrrrrrghh
JB
Oooh I’m feeling the panic now!! I hope it never happens…. I’ve never done hotel sex though so I doubt I’ll start now! ;)
Well never called my mum while we were doing it….but HER mother has called in the middle.
What did I do you ask? I answered the cordless handed it to my wife who was on all fours, and resumed plundering her anus.
I was laughing histerically when she had to repeatedly cover the mouthpiece and scream into a pillow.
Dont worry she got me back.
Why NOT Daddy?
What’s wrong with Daddy?
Push some buttons for you, does it?
:)
I don’t have time to find it now, but I wrote before about using that word in an erotic context. Go see.
Keep your phone on vibrate…it’s much harder to lose that way! ;-)
Thanks for stringing us along sweetie … for a minute there … well maybe for more than a minute … I thought it had really happened … who could ever be that fuck-addled?
Really happened? Huh. I’d never be *that* fuck-addled. Never.
:)
Laughing so hard, you tell stories with such flair! Love it- and also that you adopted Haaaaa’s suggestion- it’s wonderful!
Essen Em said:
Glad you got your cell back in the end!
Kinky…
AAG,
Yep, I think I saw those other “Daddy” comments as well.
Wrrrrrgh
Hi Jim,
That was my reaction too until a few months ago.
:)
I left my entire laptop computer in the hotel room once. Argh! With all my … um… pictures… videos… everything. God. All his fault that I was fuck-addled.
i am happy to hear it all ended well…and i will definitely remember never to promise to give that stuff up!!! xoxo