Hotter Than Fiction [M+F] | 2016

I bought a corset. It's black lace with satiny blue underneath and so hot! Only problem was, it has a million hooks in the back, that I cannot fasten myself.

Upon sharing my dilemma with my online buddies, someone suggested having my husband help me don said corset.

Um, okay, but how is that hot? Also, will Mr. McKay be able to fasten all these little hooks without just throwing the damn thing across the room?

These are questions that needed to be answered.

We both took a few vacation days from work and went away a few nights. I brought all the kink with us, because really, 'hotel room sex' gets way hotter and dirtier than 'at home sex'.

I figure I should let him know what the hell is going on before I spring this on him. I mean, what if he can't do up the corset? What if he gets performance anxiety over the little clasps? I am way over thinking this, but I keep asking him to read my story and he won't. (He won't read anything I write- occasionally my blog- but only if there is nothing 'weird' going on). I told him I sort of wrote out a fantasy a la Ruby Sparks or Stranger Than Fiction.

So I just tell him. “I bought this corset.” His eyebrows raise and I am momentarily more interesting than ESPN, “Oh yeah?” I nod my head, “Yup, but you have to help, I can't get all the little hooks in the back.” He thinks about this a minute, “Okay, then what?” “We get a drink maybe? I brought a cute dress I want to wear.”

We successfully get me into the corset, and wow, it's pretty hot. It lifts my boobs up and cinches my waist in and there is a little black lace ruffle thing all along the bottom that sort of frames my ass (I know, I checked it out in the mirror).

I forgo the black lacy top thigh highs I brought with me and just let the garters hang, attached to nothing. (He still thinks they're hot even unattached.)

I go to get the dress out of the closet but he stops me. He pulls me into the living room area of the hotel room and tells me to bend over the chair. Well now my knees are weak with anticipation and I am more than a little turned on. I hear him rustling around in our bags and he comes back in the room with the new glass butt plug he bought and some lube.

He comes up behind me, running his hands up and down my legs, I am practically trembling with excitement and I have never felt hotter in my life. He pushes me forward and I bring my knees up on the seat of the chair, so I am kneeling and facing the back. He pulls my itty bitty matching thong aside and starts working his fingers on my clit. I am so built up with anticipation that I am already on the edge of an orgasm. So when he starts spanking me I am jerked back into the present and momentarily thrown off. (I think I should mention that I may have told him in the past that he wasn't spanking hard enough... seems I should have kept my mouth shut. We went from 'not hard enough' to 'why are you trying to kill me?'- I'm joking obviously, but there was a big jump in intensity.)

Now my ass is burning and I kindly ask him to stop for a moment so I can catch my breath. Well he stops spanking, but his hand is still working my clit and now his other hand has wandered towards the back and I am bucking and coming with such intensity that I don't even know what hit me. As I am coming down from my orgasm I am vaguely aware of him prodding me with the butt plug. He pops it in and I gasp at the sudden intrusion. I am draped over the back of the chair panting. He puts my thong back in place, pats my thigh and announces “Okay, I'll be ready in a few minutes. Let's get some drinks,” and walks out of the room.

It took me a few minutes to pull myself back together, but I was still ready before him. We head down to the hotel bar split a few appetizers and have a couple of drinks. We make small talk with the bartender and I don't think my husband ever took his hand off my thigh as I shifted around on the unforgiving wooden bar stool. I am completely turned on and even though the bar gets crowded I feel like we are the only two in the room.

We pay our bill and head back towards the elevator. His hands never lose contact with my body. He is either lightly touching my waist, holding my hand, or rubbing my shoulders. I'm seriously ready to jump him in the elevator.

We can't get our electric key card in the door fast enough. We stumble into the room and my husband pushes the ottoman up to the end of the bed. Turns out I am at the perfect height for anal sex if I kneel on the ottoman (this is a big deal, we have height issues because I am 5'4” and he is 6', we are never lined up correctly if you get my drift).

I'm kneeling on the ottoman, bracing myself with my hands on the end of the bed. He removes the butt plug and takes me from behind. It was amazing. I would add more detail but I don't know if it was the two margaritas or just the attack of orgasms but I have vague blurry details of what was actually happening.

Eventually I am laying face down in the middle of the bed. Still in my corset but the thong is long gone. My husband leans over and whispers to me “You're boobs look fucking hot in that, by the way.”

I just laughed. Laughing until I couldn't catch my breath and tears were rolling down my face. Because really? He just made me orgasm so hard I didn't know what day it was, I can't really complain that he doesn't know how to speak to me like a romance novel hero. If this were a romance novel he would have said “You're the most gorgeous creature ever. I can't imagine living without you.”

I guess I'll take the compliment that my boobs look fucking hot in a corset. Because life is not a romance novel, but sometime's real life is hotter than fiction.

www.caseymckay.com