BY THE BOOK

The hotel had made a mistake and our room was inadvertently double-booked. To compensate for their error we were given the Honeymoon Suite, complete with complimentary flowers, chocolates and champagne - and a book.

BY THE BOOK

The change in tone signified that he had turned over; snuffle, grunt, snuffle. The pig - with his sniffy piggy snores … how dare he sleep like this, relaxed peaceful, whilst she was curled in a little tight ball of spiky resentment. He knew – he must have known - from the moment she slipped her nightdress on. Shot silk it might be, but it was as impenetrable as a solid brass chastity belt with no key. He knew when she turned her back and balled into a little tense arc that she was angry and hurt. But he’d turned his back and was asleep, [piggy, piggy], within two minutes. Leaving her to seethe.

It was that damned book – “Hot Tips for Honeymooners” – which some fool had left just below the Bible in the hotel room drawer. Oh, they’d laughed at first, both of them, stretched out naked on the bed and marvelled at the gymnastic positions which surely only a talented or deranged contortionist could manage. Some of the suggestions were intriguing to say the least, maybe worth a try on a long wet afternoon … others, well, were a little messy for her taste. And then, damn him, he’d seen the bit about strawberries and cream. She hesitated before agreeing that it could be nice, maybe… but then he’d shot round the corner to the phone and ordered a dish of strawberries and cream from bloody room service. When he returned he only had to note the set of her lips … and the nightdress …  to realise that she was very unhappy. Without a word to her he telephoned and cancelled, got into bed with his back turned. No apology, nothing, just piggy snores.

She hadn’t said no to the idea, had she? In fact the thought of a strawberry perched precariously on the end of his penis with nought but cream as glue made her giggle, and it would be hilarious eating it. Even more fun, she mused, to have him spread the cream and then the strawberries here, and here, and here … and then lick them off slowly. And there were towels a-plenty in the bathroom. She felt both her anger and her sex melting, and snuggled backwards very gently until she was just touching. His warm breath against the top of her spine gave her little shivers, and the tip of him, still nearly soft, slid into the groove of her bottom. She moved very slightly and felt a distinct but definite twitch. Slowly she raised the back of her nightdress until she felt him skin on skin and so hot. Her bottom pinched him gently and rhythmically until she could feel him harden and moisten. Nice … very nice.

She lifted herself a little higher, and then lowered so he was hot and wet and hard between her legs. Groaning very softly she reached down, opened her outer lips and wrapped him round like a little blanket. Not inside her but close, so close to her most sensitive parts - a sort of tunnel of love. Hey, this could be a new chapter for that damned book! Rocking slowly back and fore she felt her climax building on and on and little involuntary squeezes seemed to make him so slick and the pulsating throbs thrummed and resonated deeper and deeper inside. She needed him inside now – her time was so close so she lifted upwards again, then down so the very end … less than an inch … slid inside her. Her jerked and he gasped and his hand was first on her hip, pulling her closer on to him, and then on her breast kneading gently. His movements became more urgent and he pressed in as deeply as he could.
She reached back to his buttocks and stilled him. “No” she said, and he understood. Her movements stayed so slow but each was longer and deeper, and the little muscles rippled and squeezed in an almost unbearable spiral of pleasure. She came, deeper and deeper - wrenching drags down pulsing on and on and she hardly felt his answering explosion. He slumped, drawing great gulps of air into his lungs, back against her and they lay still for long minutes - breathing gradually subsiding to a regular rhythm. He softened and slipped from her … and she murmured, “Mmmm,” …. He could never understand how much she loved that last moment of tiny sweet helplessness.

When he turned over onto his back, arms splayed like a star, she went out to the bathroom, and returned with a damp flannel to clean him. She slipped around the corner and he could vaguely hear her on the telephone. She sat beside him on the bed and kissed him.

“I’ve ordered a very late breakfast,” she smiled, “ten thirty to give us a little more time in bed”
 
He frowned slightly and looked a little worried “I’m sure you know that that was incredible for me.” “I don’t know,” he added “ how soon I’ll recover ….”

“Any problem on that score,” she laughed, “I’ll sort it out, and I’ll give him a stiff talking to…”

He grinned - familiar love slang  - and, a little concern in his voice, said “I hope it’s not a full English breakfast you’ve ordered, I’m not up to that!”

“Oh no,” she smiled, “we’re sharing …. It’s strawberries and cream”