Sex before dinner

We were dropped off at a hotel in the middle of our city on Friday evening, and after hugs and kisses and goodbyes, abandoned until our checkout time on Sunday morning. After we checked in and got our stuff to the room, my husband said he wanted to snuggle before dinner, and so we took off our pants, climbed into the enormous bed together and he held me.

We talked and stroked each other, gloriously not having to tend to anyone else or prepare any food or clean anything.

And then we started kissing: long, slow, soft kisses; hard, demanding, possessive kisses. Kisses that made me wet and made him hard. His cock pressed against my arm where it was folded between us.

"Are there any rules about not fucking the girl before dinner?" he asked me, speaking heatedly against my lips.

"Not unless you've made them," I responded when he let me up for air.

"Take off your clothes for me," he said.

I sat up and removed my remaining clothes, but he grabbed me from behind before I even finished pushing them away, his hands cupping my breasts and pulling me tightly against him.

"Are you all naked for me now?" he asked, pinching my nipples firmly.

I nodded, my throat feeling full with passion. "Yes sir," I whispered past the block of emotion and desire.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he whispered into my ear.

His hand came crashing down onto my breast, the smack echoing in my ears as he pulled my legs apart, the fine burning sting warming my entire chest before he moved his hand to my inner thigh, spanking me there too. "Mine, mine, mine," he claimed me, "mine, all weekend, mine."

I melted into him as his cock plunged into me, taking me, claiming me as his while providing such exquisite pleasure for us both.

And that is why I had to bathe before we went to dinner.