"Herman smoothly pulled the Moto Guzzi onto the exit and followed a setof signs down a winding gravel road. There was simply a sign labeled"Hot Spring..." next to a driveway. As Herman turned in, he spotted ayoung woman tending to a flowerbed at the corner of a dilapidatedbuilding. Everything in the yard was green, and Herman could see steamrising from behind the building.After shutting down his motorcycle and removing his helmet, Hermanapproached the girl, who had barely seemed to take notice of. The walls are yellowing, indicating age and the doors to the rooms have rustic looking numbers nailed harshly to them. I sigh as I look at the motel in front of us, silently wishing there is a better option, but the nearest hotel is three hours away, and motels are cheaper. "Okay! Listen up!" I yell and I struggle to stand up on the couch to get everyone's attention, "Now, for however long we are staying here I am off duty of pulling girls out of your beds!" I say, crossing my arms over my. My cock was beginning to get some life back and she told me to come and sit on the couch which I did. She reached over to the table and picked up a tube of Red Lipstick and applied a heavy layer to her already wet sensuous Lips. She knelt down in front of me and expertly worked her hand up and down my shaft and massaged my balls with her other hand. Her Mouth came in contact with my cock and electric shocks went through my body. She moved her Mouth up and down leaving a thin coat of Lipstick on. I sat looking at the frozen image, myself, mouth open, eyes closed, the rubber cock buried in me all the way to those funny fake balls, and wondered if I wasn't a little bit nutty. I really needed a man in my life. In my bed. Or a gal with a strap on. Mmmm. I guess that was when I realized--had to admit, actually, like an addict confessing in a support group--that I am addicted to this lonely lovely ritual: fucking myself with rubber toys until the intense waves of sexual pleasure carry me.
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