The Secrets of 501

         The dark red carpet muted our steps as we were walking to the door. The silver number plate said 501. The white plastic key card was the only light spot in the semi-darkness of the hotel corridor. There was a tiny click and flesh of red led light. The door opened and we slipped inside a narrow hallway. I reached out with my hand and found the switch. Suddenly the light uncovered our tense faces. It was like pulling a veil off new statues. Their expressions seem frozen in time like ours at that very moment.
         We studied each other and for a few seconds, I could read hesitation and wonder on his face, but then he was resolute and confident again. I liked that. He was young, but there was no trace of awkwardness about him.
                We were so close, but none of us wanted to make the first move. The air between us was close to ignition point and it was suddenly hard to breathe. I felt blood rushing up to colour my cheeks. My eyes fell on his delicate lips and I watched him part them slightly as he licked them unconsciously. And then I was kissing him.
         Now there were only hands and lips and clothes and buckles. His hand was inside my jeans in no time. It moved quickly inside my knickers and his fingers slipped right into me. No hesitation at all. My body reacted at once. I shook all over and pushed down on his hand, but he retrieved it. Instead I was turned around and pressed into the mirror that covered one of the hallway walls. I could see him watching my face with excited curiosity. My breath was condensing on the cool glass of the mirror. Then he pulled down my jeans and knickers and freed his cock. It felt hot on my behind.
         He took my hand and put it on his shaft.
         "You do it," he ordered with his eyes firmly on mine in the mirror. And I obeyed at once. It was exquisite self-inflicted torture. Every molecule of my body was tuned to receive it.
         We barely fit into the tiny space of the hallway. There was no escape and no repose as we struggled to find the ultimate pleasure. Whenever I opened my eyes and looked at his face in the mirror, he seemed in perfect control. As if he was focused on some difficult, yet familiar task. Then suddenly, he decided to bare my breasts. He watched his own hands playing with them. His controlled expression changed into lustful. He held me tight against him, almost lifting me off the floor. It felt like we were soon going to merge like two burning candles too close to one another. I arched backwards to try to kiss him and managed to graze his lower lip, but then he thrust harder into me. I moaned and my knees went weak. He continued and started to come inside me just at the right time. Electric shock shot through me and I began to tremble. I could hear his muffled grunts behind me.
         We collapsed in a heap of limbs on the floor. All thought was erased for a while. My mind was clear and filled with pulsing bliss. The only thing from the outside world that floated on the edge of this private heaven was his presence. His arm was holding me tightly to him and his whole body was wrapped around mine as if he was trying to calm me. I was willing all my memories and thoughts - the current me - to creep back as slowly as possible. It was a fruitless mental exercise. I often did it after an orgasm temporarily emptied my brain. However, nothing could keep the reality at bay except, of course, another orgasm.
         Then, at once, I realized that I was getting cold and that the buckle of my belt was digging painfully into my hip because I was lying on it. The fleeting moment of total clarity was gone. Instead, I felt the unpleasant sticky wetness between my thighs. I fidgeted.
         "What's wrong?" he whispered.
         "Nothing, I'll have to go to the bathroom."
         This is always so awkward. It seems like strangers can never be comfortable around each other post-coitum. Everything is suddenly so base and vulgar.
         He let go off me and helped me to get up.
         "Thank you." I chose to be brief and quickly disappeared in the bathroom.
         I grabbed some paper tissues and wiped myself clean and then used lotion tissues from my vanity bag. It wasn't a ritual of regret because I had none. It was a purely practical measure. I put my clothes back on and checked myself in the mirror.
         When I opened the bathroom door, he was sitting on the bed with his hand in his jeans. It was obscene, but also beautiful in a way. A beautiful young man, still a hint of innocence about him, playing with himself in complete self-absorption. But then he looked up and saw that I was watching. It didn't distract him. He only smiled at me shamelessly as he continued pleasuring himself.
         "Want some?" he asked.
         I didn't reply, but walked slowly towards him. His face was burning with expectation.
         "Take your clothes off," I ordered softly.
         He stripped his t-shirt first and then he stood up to pull down his jeans. I was amazed again at how tall and manly he was. His body was perfectly symmetrical in spite of his imposing height and his skin was pale in the dim light from the hallway, but radiant. My hands itched to touch it. However, I used the time to take in all the details as he had no problem showing off. He didn't have the typical pretty boy face, but his features were fine and the overal impression was very attractive. It was the combination of body, face and pose that had made him so irresistible to me in the bar. I had been quite surprised that he had been so willing.
         He was now standing stark naked in front of me, his hand casually working on his cock.
         "And now what?" he asked.
         Without a word, I dropped to my knees. I heard his breath hitch and I tilted my head backward to see his face. He watched with half-closed eyes as I got closer to him so that he could feel my breath on his balls. Then I licked them. He gasped with surprise, but didn't move away. His response to my efforts urged me on. His cock was pulsing as my tongue, lips and hands were touching and teasing him. The sounds he was involuntarily letting out turned me on again very fast. Soon he had hard time controlling himself. He was almost shaking with arousal, so I stopped. He opened his eyes and looked down at me. Then he took me by the shoulders and pulled me up.
         "I don't like it that you are still dressed. Let's help you with that."
         He began to undress me at once and used every opportunity to touch me and squeeze me. When he was finished, he took a while to inspect the result. Then he lifted me and pulled me on top of him on the bed. He looked into my face.
         "Kiss me." This time he asked me gently.
         It was slow and leisurely kissing and it seemed to last forever, but we were both too impatient to simply make out. His fingers found their way between my thighs and massaged my pussy urgently. It was like a signal to me that the sweet teasing was over for now. I reached down and took his cock in my hand. He froze and waited for me to act. I put the head of his cock at my opening and started to slide down carefully. His cheeks flushed at once and he gasped for breath. I saw the excitement in his eyes and felt my body react to it. Eventually, he decided to lift his hips and come forward to meet my advance. He smiled. He liked to be in control again. He held me motionless for a moment and gave several hard thrusts. I heard myself groan behind my clenched teeth. And then at once, he relaxed his hold and let me take my pace.
         He seemed to enjoy this power play because he stopped me and immobilized me whenever I was getting too vehement. It was like a sensuous wrestling  match where the opponents were even, but each used a different tactic. I couldn't get enough. I was watching his face display all the different shades of arousal and playfulness. Gradually, his thrusts were becoming more and more urgent. But then he ceased moving altogether and held me tight to him.
         "Let's do some serious fucking now, what do you say?" he whispered breathily and proceeded to place me on my back. He grinned victoriously over me. I could feel his cock rubbing against my pussy.
         "What do you say?"
         I wrapped my legs around him.
         "Let's do it."
         He pushed right into me with such a force that it was painful at first. But soon I forgot all about it. There was only the sound of his agitated breath, his shoulders and neck above me and his cock inside me, trying to pin me to the mattress. I was drowning in the rhythm. It was only a matter of seconds until I came and when it happened, it was long and beautiful. Not so fierce like the first time, but I was lost in it for a good while.
         When it was over, I could still feel him move inside me. He wasn't done yet. I forced myself to open my eyes and look at him. I wanted to see his face when he came. It was very intimate for me. He was holding my hips tightly down and getting there fast. I waited and tried to position myself to see him better. My hands were digging into his shoulders and I felt I was getting wet and impatient. Fortunately, it wasn't long before all his muscles tensed and he began to moan. He arched over me and gave several slow thrusts. My pussy spasmed as if some of that energy was passed to me. I had another, milder orgasm that feasted on his. We were connected.
         He seemed to be unable to stop and relax. Eventually, he sank down on me, his weight pushing out my breath. I was close to suffocating for a while, but then he moved slowly to lie beside me, his arm casually thrown over my stomach. It took him at least five minutes to calm down and catch his breath during which I almost fell asleep. Then he turned to me:
         "I should probably say something to make this last a little longer before you kick me out of here."
         I was startled from my slumber and didn't know what to answer at once.
         "So… say it."
         "You didn't protest. That means you do want to kick me out."
         I laughed softly. Good point.
         "Well, don't you have your own bed at home?"
         "Yes, but I prefer this one for tonight."
         He said this in a playful tone, but there was a slight note of pleading. Then he suddenly became serious:
         "I just realized that I don't even know your name."
         This was the moment when things start being personal and I didn't want to go that way.
         "Name's just a name. It doesn't tell you anything about anyone."
         If  I  smoked, I would light a cigarette for this kind of conversation.
         "Still, I want to know it."
         I was silent. Whatever I said wouldn't finish the discussion. I knew that all too well. I sighed and tried to be honest.
         "It's too personal."
         "What? We've just had sex, what can be more personal than this?"
         He was right, of course. I still couldn't exactly come to terms with the fact that men were less of insensitive, egotistical and sex-crazed bastards than they were generally believed to be. At least my men. I looked him in the eyes and my hand automatically reached out to stroke his silky hair as if to sooth him.
         "I know, but you don't understand. If this is a one night stand, what's the point in knowing each other's name?"
         "But what if it isn't a one night stand."
         He averted his eyes from me to stare at the ceiling. So he was not so confident to suggest this directly in the end.
         "So you want to date me, move in with me, marry me and so on. What? Do you want all that?"
         The sarcasm in my voice was almost cruel. He seemed to ignore it.
         "Why not try?"
         I sighed. Why do I bother explaining at all?
         "I don't believe in it. It never lasts."
         "Yes, it does. It works for some people."
         I shook my head in disagreement.
         "Ah, really? Look around you. How many truly happy couples do you know?"
         "Many."
         He was adamant.
         "How can you be so sure? Are they not bored with each other? Are they faithful? Are they close? Do they share their deepest feelings and fears?"
         It took him a while to answer.
         "Why are you so bitter?"
         "I'm not bitter, I'm realistic."
         He took my hand that was still playing with his hair and kissed it.
         "Do you want me to leave?"
         There was sudden sadness in his voice.
         "No," I whispered.
         His presence was too pleasant for me to end this so soon. It was like being in love, only ten times magnified by the short time we had together. That was what made it so unique and splendid.
         He kissed the palm of my hand and then he pulled me into a long and gentle kiss. It was slow, but intense at the same time. When he stopped, he held me tight to his chest.
         "I think we would be great together."
         He obviously didn't intend to give up.
         "We are great together now."
         "What do you mean?"
         I closed my eyes and traced the features of his face lightly with the tips of my fingers.
         "You are perfect for me right now, tonight. Tomorrow is a totally different matter."
         "Will you hate me tomorrow?"
         "No, but the perfection will be gone."
         "How do you know that?"
         "I just know. The magic only lasts one night."
         "And then the next day the sexy beast you made love to becomes an ugly frog?"
         I laughed.
         "Yes, something like that except frogs don't watch football and don't delight in patronizing."
         "I'm not like that."
         "Everybody has faults, but the attraction that you feel in the beginning covers up all of them."
         He seemed to be really listening and thinking about all this. It made him all the more endearing to me. It would be difficult to say goodbye in the morning.
         "You are afraid of real life," he replied eventually.
         "Maybe. I know that this is only an illusion, but I love that illusion."
         "How much time do we have until the morning after?"
         "Enough."