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[hollywoodsmusings]

I appreciate your care and taste in selecting these for me. They are lovely. But you won’t be needing them any longer.

[hollywoodsmusings]

The Detour

The flight was long, made longer because we had not seen each other in weeks. I assumed you were as desperately craving as me, but apparently not. Mid-flight, your text directed me to a restaurant near our hotel. Said you’d meet me there at 8 pm.

Damn. Am I really going to have to sit through a meal before unwrapping your perfect body and taking the relief I need so badly? Deep sigh. I suppose so.

The place looked nice. Walking in, it was way upscale. Even in my tailored sport coat and trim-fit dress shirt, I felt on the edge of being underdressed. But the restaurant was mostly empty, so no foul.

The maitre d smiled warmly. Without asking my name, he beckoned me to follow.

You were alone, at a dark corner table, sipping a Chardonnay. I saw your hair first, and my heart skipped a beat. Cascading over your shapely shoulders and firm arms, the restaurant that felt cool moments ago suddenly felt stuffy.

A bourbon arrived at the table as I did, clearly on your instruction. As the waiter departed, your stunning smile froze me — and your opening words sent me reeling. “Hello baby. I am not wearing panties.” And then that smile — part playful, part mischief, and part come-fuck-me. If I appeared composed, bring me my Oscar.

I have no idea what I ate that night. But I can tell you every word — every look — and I can describe the electricity of every under-the-table stroke of your unshod foot against my bulging crotch.

On the way out, I gazed at your breathtaking silhouette. We were the last to leave the restaurant on that sleepy Thursday night, so I had no concern about others seeing me leer at you.

Our hotel was several blocks away. Sensing that once in our room, there would be no interest in a convenience stop, I tapped your shoulder and asked for a pause, then slid into the mens room. It was as you’d expect in such a place — oak, stately mirrors, and pristine. Washing my hands, I noticed the bulge still in my pants. The hotel, seemed an eternity away. Your looks, and your statements, culminated quickly in my mind. I smiled at myself, forming an impromptu plan, then exited.

Our eyes met, and a quick look around confirmed nobody was watching. Our server was probably rolling silverware. Who knows. Who cares. You turned toward the door, but my grip on your arm arrested your movement. In a purposeful single motion, I pulled you into the mens room with me. You attempted some verbal reservation, but it was half-hearted. You knew it would be futile.

Directing you to the vanity, I stood behind and just to the side of you. Both of your arms were now behind your back, firmly in the grip of my left hand. My right hand swiftly confirmed your “no panties” announcement. You were warm and dripping wet.

Licking my finger, you then saw me deftly unbuckle and unzip, and heard the metal from my belt hit the tile floor. Within seconds, my fury was unleashed — you saw it in my face, and felt it as my engorged hard found your slick slit. The first stroke was to the hilt. You gasped. I pushed you further forward with my gripping hand, then filled my free hand with as much of your gorgeous hair as I could hold. Pulling your head back, I gutturally barked an instruction that seared itself into your brain. “Keep your eyes open. You will watch me fuck you.”

My thrusts were violent. Deep. And they didn’t stop. There would be no holding back. And there wasn’t.

As we exited the rest room, our server walked by — just late enough to not be *completely* sure we were in there together. A polite “goodnight” from him, and a slightly winded reply from me. You offered only a stunned smile, and wondered if he noticed your tousled hair and dress askew.

We left the restaurant hand-in-hand. Silent — as my warm, sticky cum leaked down along the inside of your thigh.

You provoked me. In response, you had been marked. And the night is still young.

[hollywoodsmusings]

Introduction

If this blog piqued your interest, you have a Secret Garden - a place in the recesses of your mind where erotic thoughts take root, grow, and provide you pleasure or temptation…or both…outside the view of others.

It took many years for me to embrace my own Secret Garden. The accepted norms of our puritanical society prevent many of us from erotic exploration. What a shame.

I eventually broke those bonds and came to relish the places my mind took me. I am fortunate to have been able to bring certain blooms from my garden into the light. Others remain in the realm of fantasy.

In this blog, I share both — purposely without distinguishing between fantasies fulfilled and unfulfilled. I hope these vignettes excite you. I hope they challenge you and perhaps even motivate you to further explore your own garden…fertilize it…cultivate it. In time, maybe you will harvest a bloom or two of your own.

Finally, I welcome your comments, suggestions, and inspiration for future creative erotic exploration. And if you re-post, I would be grateful for proper attribution. Enjoy, my friends.

Hollywood