Miss: paint an unflattering portrait

You fetch your tablet from your carry-on, and bring up the chat room on a private browser window on it. Navigating to #show, you display the image of Kate touching herself. Holding the tablet with one hand, you undo your pants and step out of them. You place the tablet on the bed, and look at it as you unbutton your shirt and shrug it off. Now naked, you sit and then recline on the bed. You pick up the tablet again and begin to stroke yourself with your other hand, imagining her pussy as you do, wondering what it would feel like wrapped around your cock. Your cock grows hard quickly, and you stand the tablet on your legs so that you can pick up your phone to take a picture. You try to recreate the angle that Kate used - picture taken as if seeing from your own eyes. As you position the phone, the thought of Kate looking at it tonight or tomorrow pushes you over the edge, and you explode. Your body hunches up in an orgasmic jerk as you are startled by yet another unintentionally quick ejaculation, your fingers squeezing the button snapping the photo on your phone. The cum spurts past your left cheek, barely missing your phone and your face, and hits in a line stretching from the headboard stretching across part of the pillow you are laying against on to your left shoulder. You let out a startled exclamation of profanity as your balls continue to empty, pumping another pair of white ropes weakly out on to your stomach. Even before the cum stops flowing, you are looking around, at your body and the mess on the bed, in disgust.

Sighing, you get up and find the box of tissues, and wipe what you can off the headboard, and the pillowcase, and your shoulder. Oh well, you think. Time for a shower anyway. You hang up tomorrow's clothes on some of the hooks in the bathroom, then take a long, hot shower, filling the bathroom with steam and melting the tension out of your muscles. When you feel completely relaxed and a little dizzy, you shut off the water and stand for a minute in the stall, one hand steadying you on the wall. Finally, you grab a towel and walk back out into the room proper.

The notification light on your phone is flashing, and you pick it as you dry your hair. There is a text message from Rachel, asking simply travel ok? You fire back a quick reply: same old / fine. how was your day? When you first started traveling, you called home every night, to speak to Rachel and to the kids. Since then, the kids have stopped being interested in speaking to you much at all, much less on the phone, and the conversations with Rachel are routine enough that most nights you just exchange a text or two, only calling if something of particular import happened that either of you want to discuss. You put on a pair of boxers and gym shorts that are your standard "around the hotel room" / sleep wear on the road, and as you pull a shirt over your head, a counter-reply comes in: ditto same old. love you. So, no call tonight, you think, thumbing out a lyt reply.

You throw the phone back on the bed, turn on the room television to something vapid and sports-related for background noise, sit down in the office chair at the little desk in the room and pull out your prep materials for the week: lists of the people you are scheduled to meet with, information on their organizations, records of past purchases, etc etc. The more information you have committed to memory, the less you need to reference your cheatsheets, and the more personable you can be with the clients in person. You peruse the material for quite some time, long enough that you begin to feel stiff in the chair. Kicking back, you stretch broadly, and rub your eyes. It's really not that late yet, but you feel tired.

You've already covered tomorrow's material, the rest can wait. You scuttle about the room, turning off overhead lights and setting the deadbolt on the room door. At the bed, you throw the stained pillow on the floor, and move one of the others to its place by the nightstand. Laying down, you check your phone to ensure the alarm is properly set. Before setting the phone down, you open the chat room to see if there's anything new. There is a new message in the main channel, which you see has been renamed #tell.

k: you settled in yet?

The timestamp is about 10 minutes old. You reply:

s: yeah, about to go to sleep.

Your eyes drift up to the post made earlier today, the instruction / request. Right, you think, the picture. I did take a picture, didn't I? The thought of that ill-conceived manuever had not entered your mind since taking that long shower, and not even clearing the pillow off the bed knocked the memory loose in your mind. Switching over to the camera, you open up the photo, and you laugh out loud. It is one of the more awkward things you've ever seen, made only the more mortifying and ridiculous that it was you trying to be sexy. Your body is twisted into unnatural can-opener angles, one knee jerked up and the other leg sprawled out horizontally, the tablet with the photo of Kate tipping backward in mid fall, your stomach bunched up into a roll, and your pointing only slightly askew of the camera, with a thin white blur spewing out of the tip. The perspectives in the picture are all wrong, minimizing the apparent size of your dick and highlighting your less-than-perfect physique. Clearly, you do not have any experience in boudoir photography. You switch back to the chat room, and Kate has already posted again. She must be on her phone now.

k: and?

You have 3 XP, -1 Hard, +3 Hot, +1 Cool, -1 Control, Cunnilingus and Old Habits Die Hard (2). Desire levels: Kate +0, Rachel -1.

Roll +cool (+1: +1 cool) to get out of having to show her the embarassing photo