“Shall we go to a love hotel?” I suggested.
I was with a friend and we had arranged to meet for a coffee on a Sunday afternoon under the pretence that there was only friendship between us. We had been lovers in the past and I was trying to resist his charms because he was already in a relationship. Although he said it was an open relationship, somehow it didn’t quite feel right to me. That’s because I didn’t like the idea of being with someone who wasn’t truly able to be spontaneous because there was someone else in his life.
Despite this, I did genuinely consider him to be a friend and I enjoyed our conversations. That’s why I agreed to meet up with him. I was convinced that I would be able to keep things platonic. However, as I feared, we couldn’t help but reminisce about the amazing sex we had shared the year before. I bit my lip and crossed my legs under the table, trying to control myself, but it was no good. Due to the nostalgia, I decided to give in to temptation and so I suggested going to a love hotel.
He didn’t need to be convinced, however. He nodded in agreement straight away.
There was a well-known love hotel close by and I’d always been curious about going there. They were popular among those having an affair or young people who still lived with their parents and had nowhere to be intimate. This wasn’t our situation though. We could have easily gone back to my place, but as usual, it was a mess and besides, having a new experience was incredibly intriguing.
Although I had planned to spend the rest of the day catching up on my overdue articles, I convinced myself that, instead of just writing about the topic of sex, actually experiencing it could inspire me for a few more articles. It would be an artistic, financial, and orgasmic investment. When I considered this, I no longer felt guilty.
We left the café and walked to our destination. I’d heard about discreet and formal protocols of love hotels but when I experienced it for myself, I was incredibly impressed. They make great efforts to maintain an ambience of discretion so that you don’t bump into anyone you know. In addition, the staff avoid making eye contact with you. Even though we were not having an affair, these protocols of silence, discretion and formality did make me feel as though we were doing something much more sordid than it actually was.
After paying, we were shown to the room. It had a round bed and it was immaculately clean. Despite this, I imagined that many dirty things had happened there. But the detail that caught my attention the most was the presence of mirrors on the walls and the ceiling.
We undressed and showered together in preparation for the sexual combat that was about to begin. We got down to it on the bed, but instead of kissing, I found myself staring at the image of our bodies in the mirror on the wall and the ceiling. It was so intriguing to see myself and my friend from so many different angles. In fact, I don’t think I actually looked at the real him at all that afternoon, but instead, I was absorbed and mesmerised by our moving images in the mirrors.
Seeing our reflection while we had sex awakened my narcissistic, exhibitionist, and voyeuristic sides all at the same time. I wanted to explore our union from as many positions as possible just so I could see what it looked like from above and from the sides. It was as if the images on the wall were part of an X-rated movie of which I was the actress and the director. Except that the scenes of this exclusive performance only exist in my mind and in his.
Three condoms later, we had yet another encounter to add to our growing repertoire of sexperiments. Despite my multiple orgasms, after saying goodbye and returning home, I couldn’t resist the temptation to masturbate straight away, recalling the hardcore images that I had just saved in the hard drive of my mind. There is no need for a password or a subscription; all I have to do is close my eyes and I can access some exclusive content that is much better than porn.