Hotel Robes Are Sexy

There is just something intrinsically sexy about hotel rooms, and more specifically about hotel robes. My last post on here described my meeting Rebecca at Axis Radius in Scottsdale. I could tell from the start that she really didn’t belong within that meat market environment, and it turns out she was attending some HR conference in Scottsdale with her company and was dragged there by coworkers after a company dinner. She is 26 and from Atlanta (a city now definitely on my list, she may end up being a double dipper), and is really a nice girl. You might begin to see that as a theme with me — having casual sex with sluts is almost boring and redundant to me — but sluts and hookers do occasionally have their place. However, the real conquest and excitement — for me at least — are random and brief sexual encounters with nice and classy girls who otherwise wouldn’t engage in such activities.

Rebecca definitely falls into this category which made her all the more alluring. I sense partly that she just wanted to get out of the club, but my ego will insist that she also really desired to be with me. So I got her back to my suite at the Phoenician, and after a few drinks I could tell she was mine. She was a bit shocked, but complied when I led her to the amazing jacuzzi tub in the master bath, and we undressed and languished in it for quite a while. After rinsing off in the shower, we put on the plush hotel robes — and that is the image of her that sticks in my mind. Her robe, slightly open showing her milky skin and brief glimpses of the soft tufts of bright red pubic hair. We then went out on the balcony and in the cool Phoenix air she bent over holding the railing as I pulled up her robe and did her from behind while admiring the desert landscape under a full moon. I must say, out of the almost 10 conquests since my “tour” began, she is in a strong first place. Maybe it was the robe, but I think it was much more. I better get ahold of myself lest my misogynistic pussy tour turn into some kind of sensitive love-fest. Nah, that’s not gonna happen.


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