Who Doesn’t Love Hotel Sex?

by Mommy Wants Vodka

hotel sex There’s almost nothing not full of The Awesome about going on vacation, especially if I can leave my cartoon watching, diaper-pooing crotch parasites anywhere that I’m, well, not. It’s not that I don’t love the little booger factories, it’s just that I don’t need to love them every moment of every day. And if that means going to see exotic places like Los Angeles, Reno, and Detroit, well, so be it. I always like a change in my incredibly dull life. Especially when it means that I get to stay in a hotel.

Now, I’m going to be straight with you here, I like the more upscale hotels, not the fleabag ones, because really, who sets out to stay in a place that has obvious jizz stains on the handle of the dresser? (don’t answer that. For the love of all that is holy DO NOT ANSWER THAT) When we travel, we stay at the middle-to-upper end places, primarily because a couple of weeks ago my husband, The Daver, and I took the first trip that we’d taken in damn near five years together. So it’s safe to say that we can spring for it at the rate in which we vacation.

I Can Has $38 Cheezburger?

So there we are, luxuriating in our $38 dollar cheeseburger that tastes remarkably like it was ordered from Denny’s, just the two of us, alone for the first time in years, and it’s like bliss. The television isn’t blaring annoying kids TV, no one wants juice or a bottle, and no one has squabbled over a toy or control of the computer in days. I can bathe alone for hours if I want to without the hot water running out, I can nap whenever I want without having to secure babysitting, I can read a freaking book, for the love of all that is holy! Not only do we get to sit and not have to do anything that we don’t want to do, we get to indulge in probably the best part about staying in a hotel: Hotel Sex.

No Kid Wandering In Mid-Hump

Sex in a hotel is almost always better than sex at home in my book. It’s not really, DIFFERENT, but it is. I mean, it’s not like I get to grow a different vagina or something, but there’s just something hot about getting to get down and dirty in a new place. It’s another bed for one, so there’s some getting used to being in a position you’re not quite accustomed to. Plus, you’re more relaxed because, well, it’s a vacation, so unless you have a cross-indexed and color-coded agenda and have every day planned down to the precise millisecond, you’ve got some time to really let go and let loose. Quickies have their time and place, but sometimes it’s awesome to not have to worry that a child is going to wander in mid-hump. NOT THAT I WOULD KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THAT.

The Dreaded Wet Spot

Probably my biggest adversary during The Sex is The Wet Spot. Don’t try and look all shy, people, because you know what I’m talking about. Love the love juice all you want because it certainly has it’s merits, aside from smelling remarkably like dishwasher detergent, but there’s very little I hate more than doing battle with it. It’s probably the only thing I enjoyed about using condoms. Because no matter where I try to swivel my hips it never seems to matter, the wet spot always manages to find it’s way onto my side of the bed. Immediately post coitus, fine, whatever, when you’re basking in the endorphin glow, I wouldn’t care if I were laying in a puddle of baby elephant poo, but three hours later, when I’m fast asleep and happen to roll over into that cold, sticky pile? You bet your ass I’m not beaming with happiness. No, I’m cursing my lack of aim, The Daver, semen, and everyone I’ve ever met. I’m not a very happy person when I’ve been rudely awakened.

But in a hotel, I’m not above using the gigantic stack of towels as sex towels, whereas at home, I’d just as soon chew my toenails off. Because those towels are MY towels at home and I’m the one who ends up washing them. Even better, at a hotel no matter what kinds of mess I make, I don’t have to clean it up! I can simply strip the bed (I’m not CRUEL, people, and I always leave cash in the room for the housekeepers) and have the housekeeper remake it with fresh sheets! There’s nothing about this that sucks!

Why Have Romance When You Can Have Meat?

When the humping ends, and eventually, it does end, a simple phone call can bring me ANOTHER overpriced cheeseburger. I know that some people equate romance with strawberries and champagne, but not The Daver and I. On our wedding day, we had a three or so hour break between the ceremony and the reception, so we went back to the hotel. They’d thoughtfully left us a plate of wilted chocolate covered strawberries and some champagne, but we quickly ordered some bacon cheeseburgers from room service. Because why have romance when you can have meat? Plus, it was lunchtime and strawberries, while full of deliciousness, don’t exactly fill you up. So cheeseburger break! IN BED. Prepared by someone who is not me.

Who Doesn’t Love The Hotel Porn?

While waiting for cheeseburgers, there’s always hotel porn to surf! Sure, it might cost you your mortgage payment, but that’s a small price to pay to be able to watch Midgets Take Manhattan or Sorority Sluts Suck Cock while laying in bed. Burgers and porn in bed is kind of my happiest of happy places, especially since it really doesn’t matter if I drip ketchup all over the sheets like the slob that I am. Nothing about this sucks. Except the sorority chicks. Heh.

Well, almost nothing. When I get the hotel bill and notice that I’ve spent $600 in burgers and $900 in pornography, then maybe that sucks a little. Which is probably why we go on vacation once every five or so years.

This week we are giving one of our lucky readers a gift courtesy of Astroglide! Leave a comment below for a chance to win a gift basket full to the brim of slippery goodness. We will choose a winner Monday February 8th at 5pm EST!

Possibly related goodness:

Why is love and sex for the disabled such a taboo subject?

About the Author

Bored by mini-vans, life in the child lane, and pot-pie recipes, Becky began to write on her blog, Mommy Wants Vodka in 2007. She was as shocked as anyone to find out that people actually wanted to read what she wrote. Instead of living a swinging life of weekends in the Congo and curing baldness while holding crack babies, she stays home with her three children. An unpaid, kept woman.

2010-02-02 09:38
71 Comments | Relationships, Sexuality

{ 71 comments… read them below or add one }

Toy With Me February 2, 2010 at 10:34 am

@Mr_Puck & I due to bad weather were stranded in a hotel a few weeks ago. I believe I was tweeting something to the effect of “I’m Going To Get Me Some HOTEL SEX Tonight! There is nothing like an unexpected stay at a hotel to unleash my inner dirty girl