Glossed and Split Open

The hotel mirror was a bad idea and they used it anyway.

Celine had spent twenty minutes getting the red latex dress over her hips. Forty-two. It ended high on her thighs and had no lining and no mercy. Under it, nothing. Julian, forty-five, sat on the bed in his shirt and watched the dress fight her and win.

"Zip," she said.

He zipped her. The sound was filthy. She looked at herself, tits lifted, the shine obscene, and then looked at him in the glass.

"I want you to fuck me in this. I want to see it. If you take the dress off I'll be annoyed and still horny, so don't."

"Red if you need it," he said.

"I won't. Come here and get your cock out."

He did. Celine bent over the dresser, palms on the wood, and watched him in the mirror as he lifted the hem. The latex rolled. Her cunt was already wet. Julian dragged the head of his cock through her and she told him to stop teasing like a man with manners.

He pushed in. The dress creaked. In the mirror she watched her own mouth open and his hands on the red shine, and the picture made her push back harder.

"Hold the hem up," she said. "I want to see your cock go in."

He held it. The mirror gave them everything. Red latex, her arse, the wet slide of him. Julian fucked her in deep strokes and talked to her reflection.

"Look at you. Glossed and split open. You wore this so I'd lose the plot."

"Then lose it. Harder."

He gave her harder. The dresser knocked the wall. Celine's tits shifted under the latex. She rubbed her clit and came with her eyes on the mirror, cunt gripping him, the dress squeaking every time she shook. Julian pulled out, turned her, and put her on the bed without letting the hem drop.

"Mouth," he said.

She took him in, tasting herself on him, lipstick going. He held the back of her neck and fucked her mouth until she gagged and tapped his thigh, and he eased off at once, which was why she pulled him back in.

"Again," she said, when she had air. "Then you come on the dress. I want it on the rubber."

He lasted less than he meant to. She stroked him with one shiny thigh pressed to his and he came in thick stripes across the red latex, across her stomach where the dress had ridden up. Celine looked down at the mess on the gloss and laughed.

"We're not checking out early," she said. "You're hard again before dinner or I'm wearing this downstairs and you can suffer."

Julian did not come on the dress at once. Celine would not let him. She pushed him onto the bed, climbed over his face, and made him lick her with the red latex bunched at her waist. He held the hem up because she told him to. In the mirror she watched his mouth work and the shine of the dress and her own hand in his hair.

"Don't be tidy," she said. "I wore this to be used."

He wasn't tidy. When she was close she turned, took his cock in her mouth, and sucked him until his thighs jumped, then stopped.

"In me again. Watch the mirror."

She faced the glass on her knees. He fucked her from behind with one hand on the red rubber and one on her clit. The dress squeaked. Celine came looking at herself, mouth open, and only then reached back and told him to pull out and finish on the latex. He did, thick stripes on the gloss, and she dragged two fingers through it and sucked them clean while he watched.

Julian wiped his mouth.

Dinner was a threat she kept. Celine wiped the latex with a damp cloth, not well, and made Julian kneel and lick the last streak off the red before she let him zip her properly. The dress was warm from her body. He could taste himself and her. She held his hair and watched in the mirror.

"That's enough. You're taking me downstairs in this, and if you get hard in the lift you will deal with it like an adult."

He got hard in the lift. She noticed, of course. Back in the room, before the mains had even been ordered, she had him against the door, hem up, his cock in her from behind, the red latex squeaking under his hands. She came fast, spiteful and pleased. He came on the inside of the hem because she told him the dress could wear it to the table if he was quick.

They were not quick. Room service took the blame.

"I'll suffer either way," he said. "Leave it on."

They did eat, eventually, with the dress still on under a coat she refused to button. Julian watched the latex flash when she crossed her legs and lost the thread of the menu. In the toilets she made him stand behind her and rub her through the rubber until she came with her hand over her own mouth. He licked his fingers in the corridor. She called him filthy and held his hand all the way back to the table.

Back in the room Julian unzipped her with his teeth. The red latex peeled down to her waist and no further, because she caught his wrist. He fucked her against the window, city lights on the shine, her cunt soaking his cock, the dress trapped at her hips. Celine came twice. The second time she told him to finish on the rubber again, and he did, panting, painting the gloss. She wore the marked dress to sleep. In the morning the shine was duller and neither of them suggested washing it.

Celine kept the dress. Julian found it in her wardrobe a week later and got hard before he touched it. She bent over the bed, told him to zip her, and they ruined another afternoon. The gloss took the stain. She called that a feature.