For The Weekend Pt 02 Ch 08

I awake the next morning to find I have rolled over during the night, my head on Anne's shoulder, my hand on top of the sheet just below her breasts. She is on her back, left hand on my forearm and the other unaccounted for, although the slight movement of her hips gives me a good idea as to where it is. I can't feel Tim's body behind me, and I have to guess he is up and about. I consider staying quiet to see how far Anne's explorations will take her, but can't justify intruding on her privacy even though I would really love to watch her pleasure herself.

"Good morning," I say quietly, leaving my head on her shoulder. "Sleep well?"

The twitching below where my arm lies stops. "Not much at all," Anne says in a whisper. "I mean, I'm lying here in a bed—naked—with my best friend and a guy I barely know. I can't believe how well YOU slept."

"You get used to it," I say truthfully. "Are you still...y'know...OK with things?"

"Yeah, I think so. Going out for ice scared the hell out of me, but the more I thought about it while I was trying to get to sleep, the more turned on I got. I kept thinking about what would have happened if that couple had seen me."

"I would have loved to have seen their reaction," I admit.

"You wouldn't have seen anything," Anne admonishes, "closing the door on me like that. But yeah, a part of me would have liked to have seen who would have been more embarrassed—me or them. My bet would be me."

I move away from her just a little, still lying on my side next to her. She turns her head to face me, but stays on her back. From the other room, I can barely make out the sound of tapping. "Tim's texting," Anne explains. He got up about a half hour ago--popped his head in once or twice to see what we were up to. I pretended to be asleep."

"I didn't have to pretend," I tell her with a smile. "Hey, do you need some alone time? I can....uhhh...go use the bathroom or something." I rub her stomach through the sheet in a comforting manner.

"No, no that's OK," she says, blushing slightly, not letting on if she knows what I am referring to. She hesitates a moment before closing her eyes and tilting her head to mine, our lips meeting in a gentle kiss. She seems unsure, as if she is looking to see how I will react. I respond with gentleness by bringing myself closer to reassure her. Anne's nails begin to lightly stroke my forearm with a pleasant tickle. It is not long before the motion in her hips returns, and despite the sensation from her stroking, I move my arm up towards her chest with the intent of slipping it back down underneath the sheet which ends just below her chest and my neck. My position on my side presents an opening for my hand to slide through, Anne shivering a bit as I somewhat unintentionally brush her breast to find my way under the covering. My hand does not stop there though, continuing down the soft skin of her stomach towards the vee of her thighs. My fingers make contact with her wrist just above where the palm of her hand rests on her mons. She jerks it away, whether because she is embarrassed to be discovered or clearing the way for me to continue my journey southwards I can't tell. I press on and slide my middle finger over the thatch and into her valley, finding it already wet. At this, her tongue begins a tentative exploration of my lips. A small gasp escapes her as my finger brushes her clit, but her lips again quickly find their lock with mine.

A muffled knock comes from the door in the next room. Anne and I startle, our lips parting as we each consider what our next move should be. I stop my stroking but do not remove my hand from her sex as I listen for the sounds of the door opening.

"The breakfast you ordered, sir?" It's a woman's voice, undoubtedly a bellhop from downstairs. Anne and I stay frozen, each of us taking shallow breaths in the absurd hope that we do not attract attention to ourselves. It's breakfast, I say to myself. There's no reason for her to come in here with that...

"Great! You can leave it here. You must be Leanne?" Tim's voice comes through the open bedroom door.

"Yes sir. I was told to pay particular attention to your needs this weekend, and make sure you were well taken care of." Anne and I continue to stare at each other, unsure what to do. A moment later, the bellhop walks into our room carrying a stack of bath towels. She is a younger woman with close-cropped blonde hair, not much taller than Anne, but much stockier and dressed in the hotel's standard uniform. Anne and I scramble to untangle ourselves from each other and ensure we are covered as she passes the bed on the way to the bathroom with her load. She makes no attempt to avert her eyes, her head swiveling as she goes by, a grin on her face. The towels deposited, she again takes in the view of these two older women cowering under the sheets of the bed before leaving the room.

"I can see why you need the extra towels, sir," we hear as she disappears from view.

Tim chuckles. "Yup, those two get really wet. Oh, and can you do me a favor and hang those clothes over there in the bedroom closet?"

"I'd be glad to, sir." Anne and I cringe and try to burrow even further under the sheet. I briefly consider hiding under it altogether, but Leanne is back in the room before I can act. She's carrying our cheerleader outfits, slowly laying each pile at the bottom of the bed, still grinning as she takes in Anne and I staring back at her. She takes her time hanging each piece, checking us out as she retrieves the next item, until everything is hung and she again leaves the room.

"If there is nothing else, sir, I'll go make sure the afternoon's arrangements are taken care of."

"Thank you Leanne, I appreciate it. I expect we will be seeing each other all weekend; would you mind if I just gave you one big tip at the end of our stay?"

"Not at all. I understand your gratuities are very generous, but it's not necessary."

"Of course it is. Excellent work deserves reward."

"Well, thank you sir, enjoy your breakfast and don't hesitate to call or text me should you need anything else." The door opens and then gently closes again.

Tim, dressed in the white bathrobe supplied by the hotel, appears in the doorway and smiles at the sight of the tops of our heads popping out from above of the cotton sheet, four sets of knuckles firmly wrapped around the edge, holding it in place. He takes a couple of quick photos—review of them later would show two very surprised faces peering out from just above the cover—and then announces, "Ladies, breakfast is here. I'm sure you would like to "sleep" a bit more—" the raised eyebrows that accompany this statement leaves me no doubt he knows what we were doing—"but we have a busy day ahead of us and things to do. So, get up and have some coffee, and let's all get cleaned up."

Anne and I push the sheet back and cautiously come out into the living room, somehow fearing that another unexpected guest might be awaiting us. We find no visitors, just the cart that Leanne had brought, laden with a plate of cut fruit, another plate of pastry, and 2 carafes of coffee, sits by the sofa. We both pour ourselves a steaming cup of morning energy while Tim stands behind us idly caressing our bare asscheeks as we take our first sips. He allows us a few moments and a few bites while he cops a few feels. At one point Anne freezes in mid-chew as his hand snakes its way between her legs and caresses her slit.

"OK," he finally announces, "time for a shower." We follow him to the bathroom so recently stocked with extra towels and put down our cups only after he has started the flow of water in the oversized stall and pronounced it warm enough. We step in after him, the spray from 5 different heads ensuring none of us are left without hot water.

Tim, of course, makes sure he has the most central spot in the shower. "OK ladies, get to work." Anne is unsure what this means, but I have no doubts. I grab the bar of soap and begin to lather the man's shoulders and neck. Anne gets the hint, and grabs another bar to begin the process at the other end of his body, kneeling to work his feet and ankles. Tim, for his part, just stands there being the center of our attention. We both continue to work towards the middle, the size of the shower allowing us to circle around him and ensure every inch of his skin is properly washed without getting in the way of the other. Soon, I am working the small of his back and hips while Anne has reached his upper thighs.

"Anne, you'll want to make sure my cock is clean. Karen, can you take care of the other side? "

We both move to our positions and resume our lathering, our hands occasionally brushing against each other as our hands work his crotch from both sides. I eventually move to his crack while Anne gently fondles his cock and balls to spread the soap in her hands. The attention she is paying to him, along with my efforts to make sure his asshole is clean both inside and out causes his manhood to rise to half mast.

"OK, check to make sure you were thorough."

Again, from past experience I know what this means. I kneel behind him, and spreading his cheeks, begin to run my tongue down his crack, pausing to tickle his anus, the water cascading down over his back and my head as I do so. From her position, Anne cannot see everything, but the position of my head leaves her no doubt as to what I'm doing.

"Anne, how's your work?"

I can only sense she has taken his manhood in her mouth as Tim lets us work just a moment more before pronouncing himself clean. Moving off to the side, he casually tells us "you two may take care of each other, but be quick about it—we have to get going soon."

Anne reaches for her bar of soap first, telling me to "turn around and I'll do your back." I comply, water from the showerhead above and ahead of me cascading off of my breasts. Anne works the soap into my neck and shoulders, working down my arms before returning to the expanse of my back, making her way to my ass. She does not hesitate, instead making quick work of my cheeks before diving between my crack, a finger running over my rosebud several times before gently pushing in, Anne carefully avoiding a scrape with her nail. She seems to be enjoying the sensation of penetrating me this way, taking her time before finally kneeling behind me to soap my thighs and calves. She reaches my ankles, and I turn to where she is on one knee, now before me.

"My turn."

I glance at Tim, standing there under one of the heads, lightly stroking his now-fullblown erection, enjoying the show. I begin to work on her back and shoulders, following much the same path as she had on me. I eventually reach her butt and realize I am entranced by its roundness, by how it moves and bounces under my manipulations. I remind myself to keep moving, and move on to between her crack, finding her starfish as she found mine. She squeaks a soft "oh" as my finger enters her, whether from pleasure or discomfort I can't tell.

I eventually move on, down her legs to her ankles, and just as I had done, she turns to look down at my figure kneeling on the tiled floor. I stand, and she begins to soap my front. I return the favor, and all too soon I find my hands caressing those beautiful breasts, making them move under my slick hands, teasing the nipples, enjoying the feel of her massive tits. Anne is not idle; her hands are equally active on my smaller mounds, making my tips erect under her slippery palms.

She is the first to move lower, down my stomach, towards my pussy. I follow her lead, our arms bumping into each other as we try to ostensibly clean, but in reality, tease, the other. Even though our excitement is mounting and our fingers are in each other's most intimate parts, we both seem reluctant to kiss in front of this man—silly, I know, given our setting, but nonetheless...

"I think you're clean," Tim tells us, shutting off the flow of water. He steps between us, tweaking one of my nipples on the way past, and opens the stall door, grabbing a towel from a nearby rack. We reluctantly do the same. I know Anne was hoping for release after her restless night, and I too had been building towards that same expectation, but our master apparently has other ideas. He dries himself before either of us can help, and shaves and brushes his teeth while we each dry ourselves and begin our morning makeup routines. I am tempted to finish what we started once Time leaves the bathroom, but am unsure what to do in this setting. Anne seems very involved in getting her hair right, and I join Tim in the living area after finishing my morning routine, where we drink our coffee.

Anne joins us a few moments later. We stand there, 2 nude women waiting for instructions from a man in a bathrobe,. He moves over to an open area by the couch.

"Come here." We both move to where he is standing. "Karen, on your knees here—" he points to a spot at his feet, and then moves 3 steps to his left "—and Anne, you kneel here." We are obedient to his command, but curious as to the motive.

"I don't want to take a chance on you two wandering around, maybe getting into trouble while I'm getting ready," he grins, and moves out of sight into the bedroom. Anne and I look at each other, but do not move, both of us with legs tucked beneath us like the night before, hands folded in our laps. Soon we are each looking at our folded hands, lost in thought.

Tim comes out of the room ten minutes later, dressed in his customary jeans and sneakers, as well as a dark blue sweatshirt with the initials CPU emblazoned in white across the chest. "Hey Karen, look what I found in your bag," he announces as he tosses a piece of crystal in the air with his right hand. I see a flash of green and know it's my boutonierre. Tim had instructed I not wear it last night, and Rich had politely passed the instruction along. He did not tell me, however, that he had packed it. In all honesty, I am not troubled by the appearance of the "jewelry"—I have found it can actually be rather pleasant to wear, the facets of the crystal rubbing and twisting against the sensitive nerves of my anus when I move. He moves to where Anne is kneeling and hands it to her. "Know what this is?" he asks. She turns it over a couple of times and then shakes her head negatively, reaching up to hand it back to the man standing above her. He does not take it from her, instead turning to look at me. "That's Karen's buttplug," he tells her. "She is supposed to wear it whenever I ask. Karen, tell your friend how it feels when you walk down the street with this in you?"

"It feels good," I tell her simply, making brief eye contact before she again drops her eyes to look at the jewelry. She seems intrigued by it.

"How exactly does it feel good?" he prompts.

"The cuts rub against me when I move," I tell her, a little embarrassed to be discussing this with my best friend. "It tickles the nerve endings."

Tim has retrieved the camera and takes a couple of photos of each of us.

"And since we're going to be walking some today, I will give her the pleasure of wearing it. Karen, on your hands and knees, please."

I lean forward until I am on all fours, my head hanging down, unwilling to look at either Tim or Anne in this position.

"Anne, why don't you go over and put it in for her. Make sure you get the right hole." I turn my head just enough to see my friend rise to her feet and come over to stand at my side. Out of the corner of my eye I see her sink to a knee, and I wait for the first touch of the cold hard surface against my rosebud, but Tim stops her.

"I'll bet by this point she could take it dry," he says, "but better to not take the chance. Why don't you use your tongue to lube her up a little? Karen, shoulders on the floor, please. Point that cute little butt up in the air where she can get at it without breaking her neck."

I lower myself so my head is now turned to the left and resting on the carpet. From this position I can just make out Anne shuffling on her knees to a spot behind me before tentatively bending at the waist towards my upturned ass, approaching me slowly.

"Ever lick an asshole?" Tim asks, as if she is about to try a new cocktail.

"No," she replies nervously, stopping in mid bend, perhaps hoping for a reprieve.

"Very pleasurable to be on the receiving end, and not so bad for the person doing the licking either, as long as the object of your attention is clean. You did do a thorough job cleaning her, right?"

There is no verbal confirmation, and realizing he is not changing his mind, she again bends forward, her tongue making light contact midway up the cleft between my cheeks. She swabs here for a moment, then, seeming to gather courage, moves down to my opening. Her initial touch is barely noticeable, just a tickle against my puckered ring before she moves again below as far as she can go given the angle she is at before moving up again. Her tongue touches my hole again, this time with a bit more confidence, and stays there a moment, on the muscle just above my opening. Slowly, her tongue begins to circle, always on the pucker, never dipping, until it seems to slip and bullseyes my anus. It retreats quickly, again circling, but again strays to my center, staying longer this time, flicking just a bit like a snake's tail. Tim is right, the feeling of another person's tongue on my asshole is incredibly nasty and erotic at the same time, tickling the nerve endings on a part of the body I didn't realize had any this time last year. I resist the urge to reach between my legs and stroke my clit.

"That will probably do it," he tells her. "Not so bad, was it?"

I do not hear an answer, but guess she has nodded her head to his question.

"Good. You can slip her jewelry in now." It only takes a moment before I feel the end pressing against my opening encountering some resistance to the ring of muscle before sliding through with a pop. I can only imagine the view Anne now has, of my upturned ass with an emerald winking back at her.

"How's it look?"

"I never imagined jewelry for the butt...it's very sexy."

Tim laughs. "Sexy, and functional too. OK you two, time to get dressed. I've laid out your clothes for each of you on the bed."

"You went into my bag?" Anne asks, a note of surprise in her voice.

"Am I not allowed to?" he asks, lowering his voice, looking down at her as she continues to kneel behind me. The tone and the fact she is naked and on her knees leaves no doubt as to what he believes the answer to be.

"No, no I guess not," she says, "it just surprised me, that's all."

"It shouldn't" he replies, moving to stand beside me. "You, and everything you brought with you, are mine for the weekend. Everything," he adds for emphasis. "Or do I need to remind you of that right now?"

"No, I understand," her voice tinged with defeat.

"Good." The bright, confident voice again. "OK, go on in and get changed. And no fooling around in there—we've got things to do today."

We retire to the bedroom to find he has laid out jeans and turtleneck sweaters for both of us, a cream colored mock turtle for me, a white cable knit for Ann. We are both allotted bras and boots, but no panties. Luckily our jeans are loose enough so chafing will not be an issue.

"Does it really feel good?" she asks quietly as she begins work her breasts into the cups of her impressive bra.

"Does what...oh, my buttoniere?" I ask, finally understanding what she is referring to. "Yeah, I guess it does. I don't think I could wear it every day, but when he tells me to, I kinda like it. It tickles a little bit.

I'm sorry you had to...y'know...lick me there."

Anne laughs, stepping into her jeans. "It's OK. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, I just felt incredibly slutty. I never occurred to me you could do that! Did I do it right?" she asks in a quieter tone, looking for affirmation, "did it feel like when other people have done it to you?"