Back to Practice

You rub your head, the pounding from last night killing you. The bed is messy next to you, you remember coming back to your room with Cindy last night, but there’s no sign of her now. You check your phone, she evidently left this morning to get ready in her room, she’ll see you at practice.

Ugh, practice. You instinctively groan as you sit up on the edge of your bed. But as you sit there you realize the aches and pains that have become an everyday part of your life aren’t there. In fact besides the hangover pounding in your head, you feel great.

You jump in the shower, you reek of sweat and sex, your skin feels crusty and you remember the warm slimy feeling of Cindy’s tentacles. Once you’re dressed you rush to the training arena.

It feels amazing to be on Rapidash’s back for the game practice. Cindy’s Zebstrika was amazingly trained, but it doesn’t match the feeling of riding your own partner around the field. Although she’s obviously still learning the point of the game, but that’s what practice is for.

The flames of Rapidash’s mane harmlessly flick over your skin, just a slight warmth rather than a burning pain. The added warmth does have the unfortunate side effect of making you sweat even more.

The aches and pains have returned after a long day of working out and practice. You’re surprised when Cindy doesn’t suggest doing something after practice. She had told you earlier that you’d talk later, but she leaves with the other Laurels. Maybe they have some kind of meeting to attend.

So you head back to your room. A soak in the bath, maybe a heat pad while you watch something, and room service. If Cindy reaches out then so be it. So what if the two of you had sex the night before, you’re both grown women. And you have Amber, you’re not looking for anything serious with Cindy.

You dry off after the bath, feeling a little better. You used the hotel’s app to order food, that should be arriving any moment now. Dressed in your pajamas, and the heat pad in hand you head back to the bed, when something catches your eye.

A shine coming off something on the floor, barely visible from under the bed. You pick it up, a little plastic baggy that had caught the light just right. But more importantly, the black and white powder within. It must’ve fallen out of Cindy’s pockets last night.

You remember the feelings of ecstasy from the night before. How all your pain had washed away. And how the heat pad and ice packs had helped but not completely alleviated the aches.

You feel as if you shouldn’t. You should flush it, or return it to Cindy. But instead you’re dumping a small pile onto the side table, doing your best to emulate how Cindy had prepared it at the club. With the small pile formed into a much thinner line than Cindy had made, you hesitate for a moment before snorting up the powder.

You sniffle and cough, expecting the burn this time. The pains wash away, and your soles tingle with each step against the rough carpet. The breeze from the hotel room’s air conditioning sends goosebumps over every inch of skin. You drop the heating pad and your towel in the nearby chair and fetched your vibrator from the night stand.

You turn the toy on, and the vibrations nearly set off a climax in your palm. You drop it, overwhelmed by the sensation. You tentatively turn it off to stop it from buzzing on the floor. Instead you dig around for a dildo, the cool glass of the toy felt amazing in your hands.

You drag it over your body, ecstasy building along your ribs where it touches. You circle your nipples, they erect themselves at the sensation, you moan in pleasure. The soft silk of the sheets make you arch your back where you touch, your shoulders, down your arms, your ass. You gasp, on the verge of cumming, when— knock, knock, knock. “Room service!”

Shit, you jump out of bed. The impact sends waves of pleasure up your calves. You grab a robe on your way to the door. The soft plush fabric prickles against your sensitive skin.

The bellhop is a decent looking guy, part of you, the part that is on the edge of cumming, urges you to pull him in by the tie and use him. With a ton of restraint you reach out taking the tray of food. The warmth is almost too much, and when your fingers brush against his, it is too much.

The domino of orgasms start where his fingers touched the back of your hand. Your whole hand clenches in pleasure, nearly dropping the food. Luckily he is still there and catches your dinner. It rolls up your arm, your shoulder quaking in its own orgasm. Every where you’d touched yourself spasms, as you’re sent into a full body orgasm right in front of the confused looking bellhop.

“Are you okay, miss?” he asks, as you drop to your knees moaning in pleasure.

“Mmmhhmmmm,” you do your best to stifle any further outbursts. And rise back to your feet and gingerly take the food from the bellhop.

You sit down to eat, each bite teasing as it pushes around your mouth, and down your throat. The heat of the food resting in your stomach makes you feel amazing from the inside out. You pace yourself, not wanting to cum from eating a plate of lasagna and garlic bread, the side salad’s crunch tingling your mouth. Even the cool drinks of water felt ecstatic.

You moan at the vibrations, as your phone buzzes a few feet away on the bed. Cindy. Your heart beats a little faster, imagining her coming over and making you cum again, and again, and again. “Hey,” you say, your voice shaky.

“DON’T YOU DARE MAKE ANY POSTS! I MEAN IT JACK. DON’T SAY AN ARCEUS-DAMNED WORD!” you pull the phone away before Cindy sets off an orgasm in your ear from the loud vibrations of her screaming. That’s not exactly what you imagined when you thought of Cindy making you cum.

“What are you talking about? Cindy, calm down. What’s going on?”

“THE ARCEUS-DAMNED SIRENS JUST ANNOUNCED SUPPORT FOR YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND.”