There’s something about bathrobes that turns me on. It’s the promise of what’s underneath of course, no surprise there.
Implicit in the wearing of a bathrobe can be many things.
The wearer is relaxing, either simply because they can’t be bothered to change into more conventional clothing or they have just stepped out of the bath or shower.
If it’s a bathrobe in a hotel room then of course they’re away from the normal and everyday. Even if it’s a business trip you’re outside the confines of your everyday life and as such normal rules are suspended. It’s like a Holiday Inn Never-Never Land in your room.
The thought of just dropping your robe and your partner dropping theirs and indulging in relaxed, languorous sex is ever-present. Making love in a strange bed, or bathroom or on the carpet just one of the possibilities.
And above all perhaps is the sensuous pleasure of soft, recently washed skin. Moist and fragrant with the scent of a woman.
All of which reminded me of this post I wrote a while a go:
I’m writing this in my hotel room. I’ve got satellite TV, a mini-bar, room service and a pool to swim in if I want to. But what do I want? What all guys alone in hotel rooms want? Sex.
I’ll correct that last question, what do all guys in hotel rooms want? They don’t have to be alone, they just get horny. Or is it just me?
I’ve done a lot of thinking about this, not just today but during previous stays away from home. I look at it like this, men have a predisposition to masturbatory fantasies. Take the man away from his partner and put him into a private room with double bed, en-suite, alcohol and access to a “porn” channel … do I have to draw a picture.
The possibilities for a man to indulge in self-gratification are legion. And that’s what I’m talking about. Not engaging in some elicit, drunken liaison with a stranger, just honest wanking.
You could think about your partner whilst fiddling. This is my personal favourite, though tonight I had a bit of a hybrid fantasy, read on … Partner fantasies are cosy, familiar and comforting after a hard day away from the person you know so well that screwing them is like screwing another aspect of yourself. Extra nice if you’re talking to that person on the phone whilst doing it. Unfortunately tonight that was not to be, it was too late to ring Suze.
You could pick from your catalogue of fantasies. The one which each man accumulates from early puberty. It’s like having an album of images and scenarios, some full blown role playing from initial contact with a female (or females) to orgasmic conclusion. Others are simply vignettes of your experiences, a glance from your lover, or a stranger, a still image from a film or magazine. Anyway all guys have them, and they are handy to carry around in your head for just this situation.
You can resort to pornography, photographic, literary or both. Thoughtful partner that she is Suze slipped a copy of Penthouse into my suitcase before I left. I discovered it when unpacking (luckily whilst alone!). I’ll peruse it later, not for a goodnight wank, just general titillation. I’ve had my fun (see below).
You can adapt a fantasy. For me, fantasies have to be vaguely credible. It’s unusual for a total stranger, sober and in possession of their inhibitions to jump out of their clothes and onto me. It does happen, very occasionally and it’s great, but life’s not a Jazz mag”.
When I checked in yesterday the desk clerk was very hot. Mid thirties, straight auburn/brown hair and curvy. She was wearing the standard hotel chain uniform skirt suite, and managing to make it look sexy. I chatted with her casually while I checked in, resisting the urge to flirt. How many businessmen, reps and assorted salesmen must she have to put up with clumsily flirting with her every day?
So I had the basis for a fantasy. In my head I called down to reception for someone to have a look at a dripping tap in the bathroom. “Curvy” was on duty and said she’ d be straight up. I open the door in my bathrobe. Yes I know funny place to have a door! Hang on a minute, rewind. Hotel bathrobes, aren’t they better than your own? They don’t have to be as soft or as comfortable but, they feel good. They always feel to me like you’re wearing someone else’s clothes. Epiphany moment -I think I just discovered I have a new fetish there.
Back to the door. I open the door and there is “Curvy” only it isn’t, it’s Suze in Curvy’s uniform. I invite her in and lead her to the bathroom. I explained that the bath tap dripping would keep me up all night. She bends over the tub to investigate, presenting her beautiful heart shaped ass to me, perfectly outlined in her tight knee-length skirt. I admire her shapely legs covered in black nylon. A familiar stirring beneath my bathrobe accompanies a quickening of my breathing and pulse.
The next bit is corny but so what, this is my fantasy. She slips on the tiled floor and nearly tumbles into the bath. I grab her waist and help her up. As she turns and thanks me she inadvertently pushed my robe open, catching a glimpse of my swelling cock. She gulps, dry throated and looks up into my eyes as I gaze down, first at her seductive stare, then lower to the hint of cleavage displayed by her top-two-buttons-undone white blouse.
I raise my hand to caress the back of her neck along the hairline. She sighs her assent, so I kiss her. Slowly at first, just lips, hers full and moist, mine harder, demanding. Then I push my tongue into her mouth, a little resistance at first then our tongues slither and wrestle. My free hand presses the small of her back to me forcing my now erect cock against her stomach. Her arms wrap around my back, fingertips pressing through my robe.
I slide her skirt up and lift her onto the marble surface between the double sinks. Our groins grind together as we continue to kiss passionately. Her blouse is undone and my hands mercilessly massaged her breasts.
Then, with her crotch wet with anticipation and my cock aching I turn her around, pull aside her panties and enter her. We both watch ourselves reflected in the mirrored wall as I drive into her giving her orgasm after orgasm, each more powerful than the last, until finally I cum. We collapse breathless onto the floor.