Locked In: A COVID Wedding Night

The drive to the hotel was a blur of nervous energy and insistent anticipation. Five years of longing, of stolen glances and whispered promises, had culminated in this moment, this trip. My COVID honeymoon, as we’d jokingly dubbed it, was meant to be an escape, a plunge into the depths of our pent-up desires, but all I felt was a potent cocktail of excitement and dread. The hair on my arms prickled with a feverish heat, my palms slick with sweat, and my throat felt as dry as the desert. The cliches were overwhelming, every romantic notion I’d ever entertained suddenly sharpened into a terrifying, exhilarating reality.

We finally arrived, pulling into the opulent parking garage of the Grand Vista. The hotel was breathtaking, a monument to luxury and indulgence, and as we stepped inside, the air hung thick with the scent of expensive perfume and hushed conversations. Checking in was swift and efficient, the clerk barely glancing up as we flashed our room key. The elevator ride was excruciatingly slow, each floor a monumental step closer to the moment we’d both been anticipating. The mirrored walls of the elevator seemed to magnify every nervous twitch, every bead of perspiration on my forehead. I noticed her eyes locked on me, a silent acknowledgment of the raw energy crackling between us. Instinctively, I turned, pressing her gently against the cool glass, pulling down our masks, the silky fabric clinging to my skin. A single, desperate kiss sealed the pact, a silent promise of the pleasure to come. My hand instinctively traced the curve of her shoulder, her body a sculpted masterpiece, and her own hand dug into my back, a playful challenge that sent shivers down my spine. The elevator doors opened onto the fifth floor, and we practically sprinted to our suite – a sprawling, king-sized sanctuary that felt both extravagant and intimate.

We tossed our bags onto the plush carpeting and dashed towards the bed, a giant, inviting expanse of crimson velvet. The possibilities seemed endless, the weight of expectation pressing down on us. I stripped off my jacket, vest, and tie, laying back on the bed, my body already tense with the anticipation of what was to come. Never had I felt so acutely, so intensely, horny in my life. The scent of her perfume, a heady blend of jasmine and musk, filled my senses, further fueling the fire within.

She moved with a seductive grace, sliding off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. I took the opportunity to shed my shoes, slacks, and shirt, sinking deeper into the mattress, my muscles coiled tight, ready to unleash the pent-up energy. As I waited, her presence sent another wave of heat through me. The door swung open, and she entered, leaning against the frame in a way that was both nonchalant and undeniably provocative. Her body, the body I had fantasized about countless times, was partially concealed by a shimmering silk leopard print teddy, a playful nod to my own expressed preference. It was perfect, a testament to her understanding of my desires. Rising to my knees, I stretched out my hand, yearning for her touch. She approached, her movements fluid and graceful, and I helped her onto the bed, next to me, side-by-side. We lay there, suspended in a silent tableau of anticipation, our eyes locked, our hearts pounding in unison.

A long, slow, passionate kiss followed, a desperate merging of lips and breath, a primal exchange of longing. After a moment, I moved to her neck, my hand cradling her delicate skin, my fingers tracing the curve of her spine. My other hand began to cup her breasts, feeling the swell of her curves beneath the thin fabric. Her one hand playfully danced with my hair, while the other gently squeezed my shoulder, a tantalizing tease that intensified my arousal. Looking into her eyes, I saw a reflection of my own desire, a shared understanding of the need to be consumed, to be taken.

“Are you ready?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, a breathless plea.

“You have no idea,” she replied, her voice husky with anticipation. “I’ve been ready.”

I slipped the silk straps from her shoulders, pulling the cups beneath her breasts, my gaze tracing the exquisite perfection of her form. I licked my lips, savoring the anticipation, and she pulled my mouth to her nipple, a silent invitation. My tongue traced her aerial, exploring every curve and crevice, while she responded with a subtle, insistent pressure. Then, with a flick of my tongue, I created an "X" pattern across her nipple, teasing and intensifying her pleasure. My attention shifted to her other breast, my lips wrapping around her nipple, sucking deeply, feeling the rise and fall of her breath as she reached the brink. As I continued, she let out a small gasp, a sound that sent a jolt of pure excitement through me.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire.

Without hesitation, I slipped her silk straps from her shoulders and positioned myself for penetration. It was the most exquisite sensation, more intense and fulfilling than any movie scene or song had ever promised. I moved my hips back and forth slowly, nearly pulling out before gliding back in, prolonging the moment, savoring the pleasure. Her hands wrapped around my chest, feeling the rise and fall of her breasts, her body responding to every movement, every pulse. After a few moments, I was nearing the point of no return, the pressure building within me, threatening to explode.

“Where do you want me to cum?” I asked, my voice strained with anticipation.

“Inside me! I want to feel you fill my body,” she replied, her voice breathless.

Five more powerful pumps followed, each one a surge of pleasure that sent shivers through her body. As I completed, she arched her back, letting out a sigh of pure satisfaction, her body trembling with release. Her hands each took hold of my hair, pulling my lips to her, their grip firm and possessive. As I pulled out, she arched her back again, letting out another sigh, this one deeper, more profound.

We lay there in the aftermath of our passion, entangled in the soft folds of the comforter, our bodies still humming with pleasure. She cupped my face, her thumbs tracing the contours of my cheekbones, and asked, “Was it as good as you hoped it would be?”

I kissed her, whispering, “It was better than in my dreams. This time it was real.” The lingering scent of her perfume, mixed with the warmth of her skin, was intoxicating, a reminder of the incredible experience we’d just shared. The COVID honeymoon had been everything I’d hoped for, and so much more. It had unleashed a torrent of desire, a primal connection that transcended words, leaving us both breathless and utterly satisfied.

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