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The Promise

Upon the top of the cliff edge, the lighthouse in the far distance, the needles create the path to that tower, the tingle at the bottom of your spine, anxiety of an evening.

This is the last stop before we head to the restaurant for our booked table, 6.30pm on the final few evenings of our holiday. The skyline has provided plenty of distance from the stress of work, 300 miles away, only five hours a day working from home, most people not so lucky, but as the evening draws in, you feel a relief that just hasn't hit the same as many years before.

Fifty-Five Portdown Road, the Velvet Appetit restaurant, in between many other weird and wonderful businesses, a building much higher and a few floors taller than the row of restaurants, small department stores and sex shops that lined the road, the upper floors rented out for performance artists and various studios.

The waiter sees us to our table, the cloth already laid, the menus bound together by burgundy leather, the dishes curated with intent to be crafted with love, every last mouthful, the main, tangy on the tongue, the dessert, like a cloud of sweetness, melting instantly.

We are so openly amorous to everyone around us, never giving too much away but the other diners can feel uneasy at the sexual tension and platonic chemistry between us. Only upon many delicious bites taken does it seem to flow seamlessly before we are back at the hotel, after getting checked in, showing our ID's, you cheekily and playfully holding my hand and guiding me to the room. 

You slowly take your jacket off, as I work on unbuttoning my shirt, and jeans, all becomes clearer to my amazement, you’ve concealed the most amazing lingerie underneath your evening attire, I had been none the wiser this entire time. The revelation like a little promise, entrenched in however hot your passion may be.

Many moons ago, a hotel visit would make me long for an experience like this, the nostalgia of visiting friends and family, amplifying that butterfly in my stomach, only this time it’s beyond my archaic upper ceiling of emotion.

You have me laid on the bed, your movements holding me down like a prisoner in heaven, cheekily goading me into foreplay, I’ve never felt the magic of fingers like this before, new details of both me and you coming to the forefront.

The atmosphere becomes more knowing and comfortable, before long you are riding me, the length and moistness of my cock sending shivers up your spine. You begin bouncing on it as I do my best to go deep at the perfect pace, complimenting your figure as you come down to kiss my neck, which is surely returned.

We are both putting the work into the sex, now both hot and sweaty as the bed begins to creek under our weight, I give one last go of energy as my thrusts bring you to orgasm, the sweetest moans from the both of us make it more intense. 

You collapse on to the bed, us both exhaling in relief as the final fleeting blow of pleasure is ever so relaxing. 

This is our new yearly tradition.

 

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