Celluloid or cellulite – part 2: The Dirty Weekend

I got a little attached to our friends, Barry and Sandra and their unrealistic movie couple counterparts, Benedict and Rosetta. So they are back for a sequel.

Benedict and Rosetta have been billing and cooing in perfect harmony for some time now, in the fantasy ‘set’ of pastel walls, cream carpets and colour-co-ordinated outfits so they decide some excitement is needed. Benedict happens to have an uncle who owns a luxury country house hotel so suggests they take off in his convertible Audi on Friday afternoon.

Barry and Sandra have been bonking like rabbits in every room of each other’s homes (when Sandra gets a night off from her kids) so decide it would be good to do it somewhere different. Barry suggests a dirty weekend in a low budget hotel somewhere near the next town – “it’s got en suite, love, and there will be free custard creams and tea bags”. He’ll take them in his Toyota Starlet.

Friday arrives and Rosetta lets out a cheerleader squeal of excitement. Her ‘Benny’ pulls up in a car so shiny that it practically dazzles. Rosetta wears a floral dress, scarf and sun glasses – the glamorous way to travel in an open top car. Of course, the weather is perfect in movie land so no need to worry about wind, rain or a hair falling out of place.

Barry’s car splutters and backfires to the car park below Sandra’s third floor flat. She runs down and throws her bag on to the backseat (covered in sweet wrappers and crisp packets). Barry has to get out so she can shuffle across the driver’s seat, getting her foot stuck between the gear stick and hand brake, as the passenger door has been jammed since 1998. There is no CD player, just a tape slot and Barry has a chewed-up Chumbawamba cassette playing.

Exhilarating orchestral music plays as Benedict and Rosetta whizz along country lanes, the wind billowing through Rosetta’s silky blonde tresses. They glance lovingly into one another’s eyes for a second.

The Starlet shakes and jerks as Barry attempts to take it up a hill. He has to lean forward to put his foot down as far as it will go on the accelerator to avoid it stalling. Relief at it making it to the top fills him with a frisky urge and his hand wanders across to Sandra’s thigh. He strokes her leg gently, lifting it off for a moment to change gear, then back again and up her denim mini skirt. She sighs in arousal, then… “Shit!” They go round a bend and are shocked to find a long queue of traffic. Barry has to break suddenly, making the cassette jump and snatching his hand away from Sandra.

Our movie couple have now arrived at their country hotel – a majestic castle-like mansion with acres of fields and gardens, a dark wood-panelled reception area with huge chandeliers. They check in with the attractive receptionist as ‘Mr and Mrs Smith’ – disappointingly unoriginal. The couple dash up to their room, arranging to have their luggage ‘sent up’. It is bedecked with chintzy country cottage curtains and lamps and is dominated by a large four-poster bed half-covered with sumptuous fluffy cushions.

Barry and Sandra are late and bedraggled. The traffic jam delayed them for forty minutes and they ended up arguing over the Chumbawamba cassette which Sandra said was ‘crap’. At one point she threatened to get out of the car and walk, but then remembered the door was jammed. They drag their bags to the reception area of their budget hotel, but no one is there. Barry rings the bell four times before a grumpy woman in her 50s, with missing teeth and glasses on a chain round her neck, emerges. They can’t be bothered giving false names, as they just want to go to their room and eat biscuits.

Benedict and Rosetta are now lying in their romantic bed after making love. A bottle of champagne sits in an ice bucket and they are feeding one another strawberries. As usual they look flawless – Benedict is tanned and toned with a smooth six-pack stomach while Rosetta’s hair looks brushed and glossy, her breasts are symmetrical and her make-up just as it was six hours ago. The camera pans out as the pair embrace.

Dishevelled and thoroughly fed up, Barry and Sandra throw their bags on the floor of their room after taking a few minutes to figure out the card-key lock. The room is plain and a little cramped with barely any space between the dressing table and bed. No bed posts here – just a plain bed with white duvet and the standard four pillows and a fire evacuation plan on the wall.

They look at each other for a few seconds and the argument and traffic jam melt away. Sandra gently leans into Barry and pushes him on to the bed so she is sitting on top of him. She kisses him hurriedly at the same time as working open his zip and fly. She caresses his penis before lowering herself over it. They both throw off their clothes and have frantic, sweaty, passionate sex. Sandra orgasms loudly as Barry works his fingers in all the right places. Then as he enters her hard from behind he moans and explodes. They both roll on to the bed, coated in perspiration and sex. “Shall we have that cup of tea and custard cream, now?” Suggests Sandra.

Fancy more? Read my blog – drunkenslutmum.co.uk

 

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