the life and musings of a kinky slut

His Laugh

We both laid on the hotel room bed.  I was pleasantly tipsy.  He’d been getting high for the past few minutes, vaporizing his pot and laughing as we spoke.

For part of the conversation, I laid on my stomach and looked up at him, my chest resting on a pillow as he stood tapping the small box that held his weed, and stepping back and forth lightly on his toes.

I liked his laugh. It was an unassuming kind of laugh, not quite full-throated, but with an unexpected lilt to it that indeered him to me. When he was finished with his vaporizer, he sat down on the bed.

I’d rented the room for New Year’s Eve.  I’d wanted a spot for me to drink, and had invited some folks over that I hadn’t seen for awhile, work friends who I don’t normally see unless chance puts us on a gig together.  All the rest were gone now, though.  It was just me, and him.

He’d taken his outer shirt off.  Only a gray tank top covered the small wisps of chest hair that peeked through.  I remember thinking I had the same tank top at home.

I asked if he minded if I took off my pajama pants.  He didn’t.  I snuggled down into the bed, turned to my right, and smiled at him.

He’d stopped laughing.  His face was relaxed; his speech slow and smooth.  The weed had taken hold.  I was all grins and happiness.  The wine had me in good spirits.

And that’s when I realized it.  That was the moment I knew, if I made a move, if I leaned over and kissed him, my night would end quite differently than how it had started.  I could’ve fucked him that night, if I wanted to.

I wanted to.

He wasn’t the kind of guy I’m usually attracted to. He was only a few inches taller than me. He was smallish, not skinny, but fit enough. His hair line had retreated a bit, which when I think about it was odd considering we’re the same age. Yet I was, I am, attracted to him.

In that moment, I wanted to know what it was like to have him inside of me.  The feel of his kiss on my lips.  Would he be playful?  Fun?  Funny?  Would we laugh throughout our fucking?  Giggle as we came?  Or would he be different than his normal outward appearence?  Would he be fierce?  Authoritative?  In control?

I wondered about it all in a moment.  But a breath later, I made my decision.

“I’m heading out.  Thanks again for getting the room.”

I didn’t kiss him.  I didn’t say a word.  I walked him to the door of the room, hugged him bye, and wished him a Happy New Year.

As I think back on it now, I wonder if I made the right decision.  I do work with him occasionally, which could’ve made things awkward.  But I haven’t seen him since New Year’s.  I miss his face a little.  And I still smile when I remember his laugh.

Categorised as: Random

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