We had a sense of freedom, of being anonymous and that enabled us to be far more relaxed than might otherwise be the case.
My boy went out in his collar, the tag peeking through the neck of his shirt, unafraid of who might see (not many people, it was cold and we were wrapped up warmly).
In the hotel I found time to have my boy on his knees, sucking my cock, enjoying the size of it and the anticipation. Then I chose to rape my boy; with no need to be quiet he could surrender to the moment and I could use him without restraint. In return I could demand his cock and I could sing out my pleasure freely (and loudly).
Hotel rules meant that my Boy stayed naked. That he could serve me. It meant he took whatever pain and pleasure I chose and for once I delighted in giving him pleasure. Leaving him shaking and trembling with its intensity (yes, I am a smug Domme and with good reason).
We shared our freedom, our pleasure and our love. My boy, truly mine, for a few precious days.