Through bleary eyes, the dishevelled hair and semen smears on blotched makeup look just the epitome of morning-after fuck-face. That girl in the mirror just shrugs; who looks pristine rubbing sleep from their eyes?

Thank God this hotel has makeup pads. They’re cleansing, well skin deep at least. Some bitter tastes aren’t about a guy’s cum.

He’s still sleeping, partly wrapped in a wrecked sheet. His chest slowly rising and falling; a professional athlete’s resting heartbeat. Still got the sport’s fabulously firm muscles; last year’s retirement hasn’t fattened those taut abs. Dissolute, decadent; so fucking gorgeous.

Inhaling, my nostrils twitch; last night’s mating stench still wafts through the room. I shiver, despite the air-con being on low. As he rolls on his back, the stained sheet slips from his waist. Morning wood juts meaningfully from his shaved crotch.

Not being a big sports fan, his fucking name hadn’t been imprinted on my mind. He did, however, enlighten me last night; Tim or Tom, something like that. Babe has had to suffice once I realized that fact had slipped far from front of mind.

One eye opens and Babe focuses on me staring. I imagine he thinks he’s reading the room. He is all confidence taking his thick cock in a firm grip. And suggestively pointing it at me. He quickly learns he’s got me bang to rights. My fucking pussy has never been a secret keeper; a strand of goo oozes from my puffy lips.

One knee on the bed, then the other, followed by hands; I’m crawling up alongside his legs. Dipping my head in phallus worship, my nose touches his balls, before I lick up the underside of that steely shaft. Mixing saliva with my fucking honey, the residue from last night that has dried on his cock.

My fingers seek my slit, as I suck his bulbous cock-head into my mouth. Scooping honey from my wet folds, I lubricate my sensitive clit. And suck his meat deeper into my mouth, almost bursting my cheeks as I coat that prodigious manhood with saliva.

The room is suddenly hotter; we’ve worked up a heady mix of combustible body fluids.

I let his wet cock pop from my mouth and paint a snail’s trail of spit up his taut abs and chest. Tongue swirling kisses, as I hover my pussy over his cock, oh so desperate to ignite our smouldering desires. Hands on his muscular chest, my pussy sinks, impaling myself full of cock-meat. The wonderful slippery filling stretch that I didn’t know I had missed so much until I re-discovered it last night.

Sliding my velvet pussy walls up and down his shaft, his hands reach for my tits. Rolling my nipples between fingers and thumbs, pleasure pulses pound my clit. Bouncing, harder, faster; now sucked into a vortex of lust. Angling my clit, maximising the tingles he draws from my needy pussy.

He meets my downward thrusts on his cock by pressing his hips up so his cock slams harder into me. We’re fucking; raw, dirty fucking. Dissolute, decadent; so fucking good.

Rutting like animals, his eyes soon roll back in his head. I squeeze my walls and milk his spurting cock. His seed triggers me and I cum in waves, gushing honey over his emptying potent balls.

And collapse on the bed, a panting satiated mess. Well temporarily, I guess, my satiation now seems to have an increasingly short half-life.

He heads to the shower, with me leaking his cum on what was the last remaining clean bit of the sheet.

The irony of how we meet isn’t lost on me. Last night, I had to speak first. “I’m Annie and I’m a sex addict,” I confessed to the support group.

I had promised my girlfriend that I would seek help. That was after she found Nancy’s explicit texts on my phone. Oh, and Jasmin’s too. Calling it an addiction gave me a patina of illness. That seemed to be a comfort for her. But of course, I have always been able to say no; just never felt the need to utter that word.

Suddenly I recall his name. Remembering he spoke next and admitted that, “I’m Tom and I too am a sex addict.”

Despite his words, I recognised a familiar glint in his eye; he was just as contrite as me. He smiled at me on finishing his confession. We sensed it was understanding at first sight, so after therapy we stopped at a nearby hotel bar.

And discovered we did indeed have much in common, as befits long term travellers on the cheating express. He’d also been tumbled because of his phone. So, he told me, having given up his phone, he had started using a site called Lush. His messages could only be seen by friends logged on there.

Sitting in bed, in a pool of congealing cum, I sign onto that site. Just as I am about to message Tom with a friend request, I get my girlfriend’s text.

‘Thanks for going to therapy, love you. Remember first Artificial Insemination meeting. Clinic at two.’

I had totally forgotten! Tears cloud my eyes; fuck, I imagine she’s thinking a baby means saying no to every passing Tom, Dick and Harriets too.

“You okay, Annie?”

I look up at Tom’s sparkling blue eyes and ripe toned body. His clean look and scent scream at me; triggering my need to defile. His cock firms as I instinctively lick my lips.

My pussy can’t help the fact that it leaks. Whose doesn’t when a hot guy’s manhood engorges for them?

“You sure about Lush?” I ask.

“Yeah babe, she’ll never know. Just don’t leave the browser open.”

“Good advice,” I say, hitting send.

Rolling onto my front, I press my face into the stained and fragrant sheet, and slide my knees under my waist. With hips in the air, I decadently offer my love holes a la carte.

“Let’s have one for the road, Babe.”