hotel motel holiday inn

hotel motel holiday inn

One day in December.
When daylight doesn’t stand a chance and the day seems to pass automatically in evening and into the darkness of the night.
The sky shows all kinds of gray and it rains.
It is the kind of rain that seems endless.
Raging rain, skyfall.
It is also the kind of rain that no make-up can withstand.
Make-up stains.
Mascara runs out.
But it doesn’t matter.
Where I go, nobody pays attention to these kind of details.
Where I go, there is an atmosphere of cheap, whorish, dark.
And tonight, all of it is on my side baby.
I meet you in a motel, somewhere along a highway, I’ve already forgotten where.
Minor detail.
The only thing that matters is how I make my entrance.
Over there.
For you.
I wear a trenchcoat.
I’m naked underneath it.
I feel my coat sticking to my body, because it’s not completely waterproof and my skin is hot with horny excitement for what’s coming.
I wear my highest heels.
My hair is wet and hangs in strings along my face.
My eyes prick a little because of the mascara.
And yet I know I still look perfect.
In a dirty mind of way.
I knock.
You open the door.
We don’t speak words, just pure steaming body language.
That’s the real deal. The way I like it.
First my entrance.
That jacket out. Slowly, but certainly.
I feel wetness on my skin.
And wetness between my legs.
Which kind do you prefer?
Watch me get naked. In front of you.
Shoes only.
I’m preparing for what’s next. La grande finale, so to speak.
This is how I planned it.
This is how I imagined how it would be.
This is what gave me such intens orgasms lately. Just by imagining it. All.
On hands and knees. Crawl out for you.
My ass backwards.
Don’t look back.
But show you (my) everything.


All artwork by Puck Rietveld

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