Cheap

Cheap; Low in price, especially in relation to similar items or services; Inexpensive because of inferior quality.

This is a thought-sharing on one of the categories of 'places' I have been to a few times, and my observations and sentiments about it. This article is more of a reflection rather than a story. But if you can relate to it, it might just open up a story in your imagination. If you are seeking explicit erotica, please skip the rest. Read only if you are interested in reading observations.

It was a cheap hotel that I was taken to by a man with who I was privileged to experience physically intimate engagements. Over my visits there was an rapport that was built between the front desk and me. I am sure you have seen one or the other of the chain-hotels which run with a popular brand name which I cannot name here. You should be able to recognize which one I am referring to. I realized that they will not ask too many questions and can even skip the requirements of seeking proof of identity from either of us. It wasn't in proximity to the residence of either of us, and one, where once we exited, the staff would rapidly clean it up to let it out again. Nobody will question or wouldn't know where we came from or where we are headed. It is one where the 'management' knew the purpose of the rooms being let out, sometimes only on an hourly basis that can be rolled forward because it can be difficult at times for the patron to decide beforehand the quantum of time that he would spend indoor with me.

The room has a white tube-light. It is in that light that he would start undressing me. The double-bed (the management knew the single beds would mostly be useless in their nature of business) would be fondly inviting us and there would be a folded towel on it. We both felt a strong attraction towards the bed from the moment the main door will be locked. Upon my request the staff would let us have one more towel. The bedsheets are not exactly the cleanest, but acceptable enough to use for the brief period while we were there. They would need replacement quickly because of the drying stains from our use.

A set of rickety drawers are positioned on either side of the bed to temporarily dump his phone, watch, condoms, loose change and other stuff that we would carry with us. On top of the drawers would be a bed lamp with a zero-powered LED bulb in it. The lamp barely lets the participating members see each other distinctly. It is sufficient to provide the required light for me to see him and to appreciate and enjoy once the tube-light is switched off during the engagement. Nailed behind the main door is a series of hooks and multicoloured plastic hangers to rest our clothes when they are not being used for the duration of the engagement. To be honest, experience showed that mostly the clothes would be dumped in a heap on the floor because neither of us would have the patience to fold and place them on the hangers after we disrobed. He (and I) will both be very eager for other things than to arrange the clothes in a neat stack.

The bathroom has a shower which sprinkles just enough water required to 'remove traces' of the culmination of physical intimacy from our bodies and be 'civilized' when we would step out of the room. The windows would almost permanently be covered by the thick, dark curtains to create the ambience and provide the required privacy to the members.

The rickety wooden bed would squeak and creak to the rhythm of his active movements that it has to endure. The walls are usually not very thick, a passer-by on the outside corridor can probably hear the noise, voices and expressions of pain & pleasure, and will still not bother because he/she would be more eager to get inside their own room. I know because I have heard similar noises sometimes while on the way to our room.

The ventilation is not very adequate and despite the best use of room fresheners, there would always linger the typical smell of the rooms being used for a certain purpose by consenting adults, one that would upon entering it would remind of the purpose for which he has brought me there. Strangely enough, this smell used to be a strong aphrodisiac for both of us.

He took me there because there exists a strong socio-financial status bias. While neither he nor I cared about the bias. We knew the purpose with which I am inside the room with him, and he knew he had to make the most use of the time that he has me locked up inside that room with him and available to him. But we knew once "it" is over we would need to return to our respective neighbourhoods with no suspicions being raised. This being a very discreet, parallel lifestyle for me I could not obviously bring a patron home. His wife being a homemaker, his house was also out of bounds for us. Thus was the need for him to identify the hotel.

I knew that I was fascinated by his ruggedness and coarse behaviour. Strange as it may sound the use of his words which were 'absolutely unacceptable' in the so-called civilized society I belong to, and yet those same words instigated in me an uncontrollable desire to be his personally owned woman, to let him have his way around me. He is a bull, who selected me for his gratification. I happened to come across him and developed the urge to be together. He too felt that he wanted to experience me. For him, it was getting a high-society 'housewife' at his service for his personal use, which motivated him to spare the money on the hotel room. Once the main door would be locked, it would not take him a moment's shyness to get rid of his own clothes. In the initial days it took some cajoling and a slight exertion of force to unhook the inner fabrics off me despite our mutual knowledge that it is the very purpose that we are inside that locked room. He would ensure he gets his due return from paying for the room rentals. It came naturally to him to get on top of me and move himself. I felt a bit hesitant when he would ask me to mount on him. I felt I was being too 'exposed' to the world in that position. I felt more secured and cosier while being trapped under the weight of his huge frame. He convinced me still to get on top of him and take an active role in the movements while he would get breathing space for himself and to feel me with his hands to charge himself up. Towards the conclusion of his act, he would love to be on top to release his seeds. The diffused light of the bedside lamp would make his sweaty chest and shoulders shine making him a delight to see. The light-blue walls would be portraying the moving shadow of the twin bubbles of his hips rising and falling endlessly. At times he had to pay extra because we used the room for a while longer than he estimated initially. I suppose he liked it more than he thought he would.