At the Ash Motel,
We are in Room #8.

My dress is on the floor,
You slip my panties off my ankles.

I close my eyes as you kiss me,
Your lips touch every part of my body.

Your lips are on mine,
I feel you cock rub my clit.

You phone vibrates on the dresser,
Text from your wife looking for you.

We ignore it kissing deeper,
My wife will miss me soon as well.

We make love at the Ash Motel,
Brown sheets musky with illicit sweat.

You call me your pretty girl,
A nibble on lipstick thickened lips.

I want to be your bride,
Our time is too short.

You fill my pussy with your seed,
I dream it could make an impossible child.

Can’t we just run away?
Do we always have to meet in Room #8?

I lay on the bed at the Ash Motel,
Watching as you put on your tie.

I wait for you to leave before dressing,
Too embarrassed for you to see me in t-shirt and jeans.

I hate hiding in secret,
Hate only being your girl at the Ash Motel.

Master_Vyle is a passionate author of crossdressing and other erotic stories. You can find his work at literotica.com as well as lushstories.com. Follow him on twitter at http://twitter.com/Master_Vyle for his latest updates on his stories and poems.