After 20 years of working for the company, Linda knew what to expect on a business trip. Another economy-priced room with plastic-wrapped cups. She had made enough trips over the years, to know just what to pack and what to leave. One weekend or a week, it didn't matter; she could fit all the essentials into her one travel suitcase.
The trips always went the same: catch a puddle-jumper commuter flight to one of the towns in their district: Spokane or Boise or Missoula or Wennache. The towns looked about the same. Get off the flight, get the rental car, drive to the hotel, dump the bag on the folding suitcase stand. And before she could shower or relax, leave again to get a meal with Bob, her supervisor, and hear him talk about work. The meals were often chains, Applebees or Olive Garden. She'd memorized the menus.
Travel had lost its charm years ago. It just made Linda tired and her muscles sore. At dinner, she'd look forward to heading back to the motel room. Bob always wanted to stay out, get drinks, because he had an expense account and not a per diem. Linda didn't care what Bob did. Maybe he went to bars and drank alone. Maybe he cruised for hookers in the rental car. Maybe he stayed in his motel room and dialed phone sex numbers or watched the soft-core after midnight and beat off. That wasn't Linda's concern. She had her own plans.
As soon as she and Bob returned to the motel, she said good night to Bob, see you in the morning, and locked the door of her room, deadbolt and chain.
She liked to take off her traveling clothes, and fold them neatly. She then unzipped her suitcase and took out her outfit for meetings and hung it near the shower to steam out some of the wrinkles.
At last, it was time to unpack her essential traveling item. It was her favorite discovery. A huge, flesh-colored, 15" monster dong with a suction-cup base. It was one of her essential travel accessories, same as her toothbrush, hair dryer, and suitcase. It always went with her. She was never questioned about it by airport security. The men pretended not to notice; the woman gave her a knowing look like, "Me, too."
Her toy was how she unwound from the trip so she could sleep in an uncomfortable strange bed with scratchy sheets. She took it first to the bathroom to wash off. With the suction base wetted, she looked for a smooth wall. The entry hall was perfect--narrow enough to touch her butt to one wall and brace her hands against the opposite wall.
She lubed up her dong, and turned around. Leaning her hips back, she worked the tip into her. She let this part go slowly. Even with a good coat of lube, the toy stretched her. It took several minutes until she'd worked in at least 10".
She then began leaning forward and back, letting it slowly penetrate her and then pulling away, letting it slide almost out. She couldn't explain the sensation of pumping such a big toy in and out, but she knew it was bigger than any man she'd been with. It filled her, and she liked the sensation. If she was in real need of a good fucking session, she'd try to work it into her ass.
Someone in another room turned on a TV. Maybe it was Bob. Linda didn't care; she focused on her toy. For that time in her trip, everything was up to her. She could go slow, or fast, in the front or her back, or she could stop and move to another location. In almost every motel, the largest piece of furniture was the giant TV hutch. It made a good, smooth place to plunk her toy.
Sometimes the motel would be a little nicer than most and have a tiled tub with jacuzzi lets. She'd stick her dong on the bathtub edge and lower herself. She'd ride it until she came. A good hard satisfying orgasm. Then she'd take a bath or shower, clean off her toy, and carefully repack it. She'd hang a Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and slip into the cold, scratchy sheets.
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