Here was the prompt I replied to:
There's been lots of times that I've pictured the fantasy of getting a motel room and just putting the ad on here - here's my room, I'll **** and suck anyone who shows up. It's a great fantasy, but something I'd never do because the rational mind always kicks in with 'I'd get killed/robbed/maimed' or 'my dad shows up' or 'my husband shows up with his mistress.' All of which would be an emotional bomb if they happened in real life.

Then I thought I could make it a bit of a game, and reach out on here to some of the other midnight perverts and perhaps take it one safe step further than just playing with myself reading the ads.

Here's the rules.
1. You reply to this ad, telling me a fantasy based on a setup that I'll give you below.
2. If I masturbate to your reply, I will reply and tell you so; if I really get off on your reply, I'll send you a fantasy back.
3. If we 'click' on here after a few fantasy exchanges, then we see about possibly meeting up for real. Even if it never comes to that at least we both have had a human being to share some of our dark side with and have helped with a few orgasms, which is still a really cool thing.

Guidelines and setup
1. I'm a woman of legal age. Period. I'm not saying if I'm single/attached, fat/skinny, young/old, nada. If you ask me for a pic I'll ignore it.
2. Fantasy premise - I am alone and naked in a hotel room. You have a key and come in and... action. No limits, no taboos.
3. Reply to this ad, changing the subject to 'Fantasy Game' and send me what you come up with.
3. If you aren't comfortable sending this through CL but want to play, reply with subject 'Private Email' and I will send you a gmail address where you can send to me directly.
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and my post:
I really don't know how to fantasize. I have no one to think about and I don't like thinking about my girl friends who are not active with me. It could mess with their heads and I wouldn't want to do that as a friend. When I think, things sometimes happen, so I really do try to limit what goes on in my mind, limit, but not entirely shut out. But, then, what are you? a contestant, perhaps, if that vapid label can be applied here. Over used, misleading, it might very well imply that I am something to compete with, or of you like, for. I don't know you, or you me, which makes this fun. Just reflect a moment on how everyone is great, or in this case, attractive, until you get to know them. The fun goes downhill from the moment you start making a mold for them... Am I scared that you are not real? You see, you being fake would imply only one thing that I give a damn about- me using time on a matter of fiction. I've come to realize that there is a deeper reality, but that the world of people is just a play of everyone's unique perspective, a drama of realities with unknown variations. So I am not opposed to working in this medium, the I think and somehow the ideas in another mind respond. I am not talking mind control, but thoughts do somehow matter. So, if you agree to play here, Nothing may happen, but if my mind is faced with an opportunity (namely meeting you) then it is anyway working. I might as well guide it in a way I like, and then things will find a way to work themselves out from there. All you have to do is sit back and let it unravel. Please don't try to piece together anything that comes undone. Your exposure is fuel for this dreaming, after all. Please see this : -)

This is a place that you've always been close to. The feel of the air is a humid musk, dank, the damp dirt reminding you of home. The homely inn is small and nestled into some trees. It is surrounded by a green cover and a highway about 200 yards away. The traffic would be much nosier without the forest. See how the leaves and the trunks of the trees bend and sway to the wind, the leaves almost shuttering, vibrating ever so minutely with the sound waves coming off of the road as the passer-bys move on in the familiar ruts of their lives. You know this monotony of the everyday all to well. It pursued you in middle school, where you only expression of a budding sexuality was wearing long blue socks to class, and just expecting boys to catch up on this and guess the source of its effervescence. Maybe they could have caught on to the new interest in fashion, or a festive sense, but no one would have ever walked up and coughed out "I like your mauve socks." Not in this reality, not in a million worlds. You had hoped to catch your blue bird of happiness in secondary school pursuits, but a mismatched landscape of partial successes was your banner and could only be read as experience and giving effort.

Why are you thinking about schooling when you are now grown up, past the age to be haunted by such old nightmares, however grotesque you may weave them for your entertainment, you wonder. But as your sandal-ed toes press up against the canvas divider with an unusual level of flexibility and a slight, if ever present cool sensation, you're reminded of the hotel and present scene again. It is run by an Indian who has a small family, and there are 44 rooms to the place. Less rooms to rent, but if every single one of the rooms was by itself a room in that two story, beige and lark green trimmed building with its clay roof, there would be 44 rooms. You notice the air is now misty, and slowly as to be indiscernible, it is picking up to a light rain. Yes, now as you stand, it is drizzling a little, and you feel this new coolness refresh the body, just as you know your experience will later inside, whatever it may turn out to be. A deep exhale leaves your nose as you stand witness to a new forming drop on the corner of the by now quite near roof. You then think of the laundry in your hamper that you've been carrying. Perhaps because of the rain, or maybe the extended trip from your old car doors, you begin to notice its weight, pushing you into the soles of your sandals. Half a cm. down. Did I eat too much, you wonder, only somewhat vainly! Not wanting to discuss it with yourself, you leave the sandals by the wall and continue to the door which is only five feet away now. You know, you can just feel, that inside and some time distant from now, your expedited man will be there. The cold and dampness lays on your slightly sweaty arms like a sweet perfume. You think it smells good, anyway! And he better! Feel now the imprint of the doormat on your feet, the impressions made, the slight longing in your stomach, expressed as mild anxiety. Examine this quality of your gut, notice that more you think of it, it is a light feeling. Yes, you are sure of it, there is your butterfly wind tuning into a swirling array, a warm beam that is warming you up from the inside. A laugh escapes through the mouth, but he is longing for more. He wants your very bones to laugh before you turn over.
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Jingle of a key, in my pocket, whatever should I do, if I lost it? It appeared quite mysteriously, but I recognize the big outlandish key ring, made from one solid coiled cylinder of wire, smelt near the top. The top? Well, okay, really it didn't have one, but either way, it was an old work key. I have a terrible memory, but I know that when I parted ways with that nice but micromanaging Indian man that I gave him back all the stores loaned to me, except that vest! that could come in handy at some party or other social event, perhaps. It was a testament to the miserable years spent toiling around the rooms fixing this pipe or looking at that broken porch light. Enough of that! Why am I even bugging my thoughts with it again, it is not even worth thinking about. That is how my mood is now, and I wish to keep it pleasant...

Still, it is near 5:00 p.m. and I am just drawn to the place. Its yellowed walls are repulsive, but the reality quiet of the place was, what was it tucked away in the trees as it were, just sidestepped by the highway? Homely, with maybe a tinge of a reminder of my own. What, what the hell am I thinking? Nah, home was fine, but not a place to miss. I am out for whatever encounters me, be it death or a soggy ice cream cone or a small fortune. It is just, look here self, why would this key just show up? Certainly it is a person, but you know how the universe works, see this person, do that, then go on. It is just working something out, and I am caught in the currents sometimes, but I do enjoy a good bath sometimes. I am kinda sweaty and don't want to drive home right now. haha, yeah, that is what I will do. I think I'll just grab a shower at whatever this damn key opens up!
I'll bring my gym bad just in case the odd person does run in. It'd look more natural, like a receptionist mix up rather than a random *** man showering in the room just rented. I counseled myself that I've been around and not exactly working too hard before. Then again, nothing really is similar, if you go deep enough into it. This handicap handle that is as cold as the outside air temp, the bath mat in the shower that is now stimulating my feet in an oddly refreshing manner, that jet of cold then warming water, and the not-to-hot flow of it off of my calm penis, balls neither dragging or up there. But give the warm water a few more minutes and it'll look like a porno, lol!
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She moved with stealth. Not amazing, like the Cherokee that she long aspired to be like, but the guy was showering, so her movements were conducted with sufficient quiet. Opening the folding shutter doors of the closet, she quickly closed them shut again, noting that he would never notice the slight difference in position, if there was one. Imagining a drum beat in her head, she let soft footfalls lead her to the door, and went out of it. Closing it behind her, she went to the laundry room to get dressed, to change from her grubby work attire to a fine mesh cotton over-top, baggy enough to be seductive-one could move in it unlike certain other wear! It was partially open at the sleeves and with a fair cut by the neck. It hung over her breasts with a lee way room of a few inches where there was an inviting space just begging one to guess where the bottom of her chest began. A devilish trick, to draw in the inquiring mind. Then a simple sash, braided, but a belly fashion belt more than a utility wear. That might be inaccurate, she knew its function, the way that it would just barely move over her flesh as she shifted from one foot to the other. Besides, it just made her feel cool, she mused! It was like Ka-baam! check out that accent. She did a small jig in the laundry room, then put on some loose airy pants. She thought, looking at her hair, "I'll just let it be." but then realized that that was a stupid mentality. If she is to do this job, she is going to knock it down. So she did her hair, the common experience not requiring a mirror.

He got out from under the shower head, and turned it off. Not too long a shower, he was feeling good, the excitement and air of doing something quick frankly weird making him feel more at home in the universe, even if it was just until he towel dried and threw on some cloths. He was in this process, fully naked, when she barged in, looking every part the tempest, but still an earnest caller. It was a certain grace that she could pull this off, mind you. He, being a sensible man, did not cover himself immediately, and subtly ignored his own nudity while going for a towel in a metered way but making it clear that her eyes were his main priority. He asked how she was, but then in a clear voice corrected to do you need any help? You know how people are when they are doing someting they don't think they should? They try to turn it so that they can be of service to the other. I am not supposed to be here, but I will do whatever service you want, just don't get a drama going here. It was that kind of attitude that our man now sported, slowly adding his clothes back to the mix. The lass explained that she was from out of town, that her car broke down and she was just near this hotel. She put a good deal of spin on this story, and it was entirely well done. In reality, she did not need saved, but an interlude, but she was a results focused woman. Her work as an accountant and book keeper made her used to tailoring the inputs to get a clean sheet for approval. Have you seen breaking bad? You know all of those dirty marking up tricks. She pulled on of these on him.

So overwhelmed she appeared that she gravitated to the base of the bed. Normally I wouldn't go into this part of the story so much, but in this setting, you can handle it right? So being such a light and airy girl in her manners, this bit of both weeping and openness was worn so prettily on her face. It was reflected in her simple manner of dress. He couldn't just see a person like this and not try to comfort them, his other plans for that night not even evaluated. He sat at the base of the bed, its end, and put a feeler out, a hand on her shoulder. It was firm, he could clearly make out her bones and the softness of her skin. He exhaled, a suppressed 'oh' as he felt the flesh for springiness. It reminded him vaguely of the slight woof and give of the outer most comforter as he sat down. His thinner pants made him so sensitive. She talked her business, and then asked for a back rub. All the driving made her shoulders sore. Her shirt was pliable enough that he didn't think he'd need to remove it. But hell, after a few quick rubs it became clear it would just chaff. So he asked her to lift it up. He asked and lifted it himself, up to around her neck, still covering her breasts up front. He put it back down and worked the higher muscles, getting his hands under the shirt through the neck opening. Trying to imagine a whole cosmos of beads in the fabric of her pulsing flesh, each bead being dissolved as his strong hands caressed it out, he worked down to her shoulder blades, and again faced the shirt dilemma, an option of under or over? He lifted it up again. She felt it move over her stomach again to awkwardly crumple around her neck. That just wasn't working. So he said "just off?" which was met by a more quiet, almost hummed consent. So off and he wanted to straighten her out. let me work more muscles that way, was his thinking. Her skin wasn't too smooth, and he liked that. No excessive use of chemical perverted lotions. He didn't keep any in his bag, and she didn't seem to have any in her purse (it was to small a thing and she would have offered, no doubt, he figured). When the skin was to worked as is, he would use his saliva. Like this he warmed up her back, which he praised for being strong. She had no bra on, so when he returned to the upper back, it was no problem. He noticed how her skin was more red up there, how there was an increased surface circulation, and imagined the completely unique network of blood vessels. So delicate, but able to withstand and even benefit from his handiwork. His hand just fell there. She said it was the best massage in her life.

"You've been sitting," he said "in your car all day, let me work your bum. She did, as as standing commenced, her breasts bare, they made eye contact. He looked briefly, but he was still of his business. How to work her muscles the best? He told her to lay down however comfy was for her. Near the edge of the crimson and blue octagon-decorated covered bed, he stood to work again. Her back had a slight bend, a slope down, and then back up. He refreshed the back muscles again, a reminder to relax and be soothed. He was feeling a little more adventurous, and started messing with her hair. A scalp massage never hurt anyone, he mused. So left hand in the roots, caressing this rim on the ear briefly, the ridge of a brow, noting the individual hairs as if they were stitches in the spacetime fabric of the night itself. He was working himself up to such a state of feeling it inside himself that he had to deviate with little caresses like that or leave the job altogether, uncompleted. the clumped her around her neck took on a new quality. She was relieved, in a way, that he did not touch the back of her head yet. All the while, her head titled to one side, his right was working the grove of her spine. up back to this worked territory, then back down, farther and farther, but with the same intensity and caring as he employed before. She let out a few heavy breaths, slightly vocalized uhmmms. Good, he thought, my massage is doing something....

He went to the buttocks, working the large muscle. He would go to the inner thigh, but no further. He leaned up against the bed. He wasn't exactly grabbing her, but he was fully appreciating the slopes his hands were riding. She didn't mind, which brought the unspoken communication to a new level. He couldn't help it, he became erected. her eyes were closed, and he was clothed, so he doubted it mattered. He then worked her sides where they met the mattress. He was sweating a bit now, not all from the arm movements, mind you! "and your front" was the next suggestion. Turning over, the back was a nice fit to the front. It made sense. Not huge breasted, but still present. Her nipples had about a 3/4" discoloration around them, and were not quite standing straight. they weren't hard, which made sense. She is relaxed. She thinks her date is going well. Not really expecting the massage, she figured she did need one, regardless. Her friend hadn't been practicing on her since passing her license program. Not really pretentious, she was exposed, but somehow he started at her high shoulders again just as methodically as on her dorsal. Was he just going to ignore my vulnerability? she half spoke in her mind, a rambling that was soon quieted.

He wanted to get the blood flow right. Not really knowing what he was doing, he just moved. It is physical, it is harmless was his mantra. Down the sides, he stroked, Placing one hand on the stomach, he traced a line down her front, between her breasts, ever so lightly with a finger nail. She shuddered a bit... He then went to the main part of the chest, just above her boobs, warming it up and now moving his hands under her back for a few seconds, a slight push or pull there. A hi, I can move you and am feeling something deeper inside of me. Then the breasts were hit. A silent explosion of god sauce on his half, a few mmmmhhms on hers. It was heating up.He still wanted to get her going in her stomach, so he paid attention to her face and top as well as he could while trying to move in a v from her sides to where her genitals were already starting to be activated. Now the massage was over, the game had begun.

Her **** were sapphires in his eyes, turning her on her side, he brushed the hollow of her cheek and briefly let her eyes flutter on the front of his hand- calm, he was saying, Unceremoniously he took off her pants, and didn't quite yet get the underwear going bedside, but brushed against her vaginal with his hands intermittently. They had started to kiss by now, and no doubt she knew he was sprung. He got naked before she did. No tape measure was around, but she guessed at least 6 inches of girth. He worked one hand under the blue tighties, and went back and forth across the lips of her vagina. he would cup it with one hand and then start to get the **** going. At the same time he was licking her stomach down to her crouch, where the inevitable met. Her skin was so hot by now that it started to glisten , he noticed, and he couldn't resist keeping some arm or leg or whatever form of contact going up to her breasts and neck and, hell, her wherever and all the whatevers.

Getting the **** out wasn't so bad, be worked the front end of the vaginal spot with his tongue briefly before bring a finger or two down into her slot. He wasn't going to mess around with that anymore hahaha. Just down to business, but he did pay special attention to her erection. He twisted it slightly back and forth, held it such to get some more hardness to it. Made sure the front of her was still popping and then just had some fun. She appreciated the body contact he mad along her abdomen and sides, it was reassuring, and goddamn! he is going all out with his mouth down there....He began o do something a little odd. He was worker the stomach again, and she was by now quite wet. But he was building a tension, or a grounds for release? in her whole stomach region, genitals included up to the point were her muscles attached to the rib cage. It was glorious in a way, to be exposed over such a wide region, and still he liked getting that boob action. She began biting his hand just to express the moment he was doing on her. He didn't mind, it was endearing in a way. He was literally finger ****ing her in every sense of that phrase. It was sex, and in moments the cosmos were felt on earth...

He could feel her insides show the slightest tendency to contraction, their sweat in the air, and smells from the work up ever present. God, the air was full, sounds, scents, motions, light, eye contact, but it all became a sound. Their intercourse became both their realities, and for those higher moments, two separate pictures were formed to one pitch, a resonate yell with lots of playing room, and oh, how they chose to form it. She was almost trance like, he near exhaustion, and from a hand and oral! Oh, how sweet that pot became for both of them. Him giving and her just being open to it. Her stomach did cramp in a way, not such an unpleasant way, and she soon came, the ooze dripping down her hot thighs, but not quite reaching the bed. He was overcome by a cuddling feeling, and couldn't stop himself from nestling up near her and get some falling action moments in, after cleaning her up. He then showered her, and she thought he was doing a nice and proper job of it. They conversed, but not about sex, as their bodies cooled down and their heart rates returned to normal. She left. He walked her to the door, was going to shut it until he realized that it wasn't his room after all. Figuring the room would remain vacant, he sat on the made bed again, and just reflected on what had happened. That it happened at all was stupendous to even his sharp mind. Still, he left it at that, and soon closed the door behind him. The drizzle was a rain now, and he relished in it.

The End.

Omg..

to the first post....
DUDE YOU JUST BROKE THE RECORD FOR THE LONGEST POST EVER WRITEN...
you win nothing..LOL

hahahahahahaha


You know, that was and is the ultimate starting material!

PHD- Hey pal, I am glad i could make your day! Pleasing to more than one gender, that HAS transcended my greatest hope for this piece.