Playing away from home

If anyone out there in media-land is considering doing a survey on what the sexiest place in the world is, I think I can save them the trouble. At first you might think somewhere like a tropical beach on a private island might top the list but I’d put money on the real answer being …

… a hotel room.
And I don’t think it’s even a 5 star luxury suite, swathed in silk sheets, candles and rose petals. No, pretty much any old hotel room will do.

You think I’m mad, Dear Reader, don’t you? But I’ve given this a lot of thought

For a start, hotels make me horny. (Ok, breathing makes me horny, but that’s not the point!) And I don’t mean I have a sexual fetish for the Holiday Inn – I don’t get hard just when I hear the wordHilton. But as soon as I walk into a hotel room I’m going to spend the night in, whether I’m alone or with a partner, I want to drain my balls. Freud may well have put this down to the first time I remember ejaculating:

I was about 14yrs old and my family were planning to relocate to a town 250 miles away. We were on the hunt for new schools and a new house and it was one of the first times my sister and I had been considered old enough to need separate hotel rooms. Despite being of such tender years, I was already masturbating on pretty much a daily basis, and although I was ignorant of such things, I’d never actually shot my load. Well, we all went to our rooms to unpack and pretty much the first thing I did was pull my cock out. I was sat on the end of the bed, trousers round my ankles, looking out the window overlooking the luxurious hotel grounds, (TV to my left, door to the corridor over my right shoulder and bathroom to my right, the walls were white, the carpet and curtains dark green – a vivid memory for one that’s the best part of 30yrs old) and I had a wank. My technique has been greatly refined since then, but I must have been doing something right as, all of a sudden, my hand was covered in sticky wetness.

I had no idea what was going on, and was genuinely concerned I’d broken myself. I had to shuffle to the bathroom with my ankles effectively bound by my underwear, desperately trying to contain all the warm goo I was mysteriously covered in, all whilst trying to rationalise the unprecedented rush of endorphins and bodily fluids. All in a hotel room.

Yes, Freud would doubtless attribute my hotel urges to such a momentus occasion.

But I’m not the only person that’s compelled to get jiggy in hotel rooms.

As I browse the glorious exhibitionists on my favourite amateur porn site, Like My Nude Body, I find there is no shortage of photos quite obviously taken in hotel rooms. (There’s quite disticnt furniture, decore and bed linen in many hotels, especialy those that belong to large chains.) What is it about these surroundings that make people strip off and expose themselves for the camera?

And in my experience, even professional porn videos are commonly shot in hotels. Or at least those at the cheaper end of the production scale and which have no pretentions of script or plot – if it’s just a stripshow or just fucking or masturbation, there’s a good chance it’s shot in a hotel.

And let’s not forget the tradition of hookers and hotel lobbies. Of concierges arranging extra-special room services for lonely, bored business men; disolusioned with their listless marriages, frustrated by fidelity, miles from home and in need a little vaginal company, with no risk of getting caught.

So what is it that makes hotels so conducive to horniness?

Removed from the normality of domestic environs, we’re not distracted by laundry piled up on the floor and uldust on the bedside table. Without the mundanity of day to day life we’re reminded of our freer days. Days when we were trying hard to impress our lovers with extravagant accommodation and sexual athleticism. Days when youthful exuberance, and a lack of a place of our own, would find us booking in to cheap hotels for a dirty weekend. Hotels were glamorous, flattering, unfettered, play grounds.

And at home, if you fuck too loudly, the neighbours will surely know, and knowledge of your forbidden lust will be reflected on their judgmental eyes as you talk to them over the garden fence. Not so in a hotel. You can scream as loud as you like. The odds of waking the occupants of the adjacent room with the sounds of whip cracks and orgasmic submission are slim, and even if you did, you could be sat next to them at breakfast without any risk to your anonymity.

Yes, the hotel room has all kinds of benefits, attractions and aphrodisiac nuances that make it sexy; maybe none of these mark it out as special, but added together, I doubt there is a sexier place in the world.

Maybe The Gideons should put condoms, handcuffs and Rampant Rabbits in the bedside drawers, rather than bibles.

3 Responses to “Playing away from home”

  1. deviantdiaries Says:

    I notice a lot of masturbation vids are made by guys who are away from home and feel the need to “drain” as you stated. Its almost like you have to make some sort of use of the room other than for slumber or its a waste of money

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