Holiday Inn 2

"May I join you?" she asked after approaching my table. She was wearing an off-white bodycon dress that fit like a second skin. It was apparent she wasn't wearing a bra, not that it bothered me. She had firm, pert breasts that made pleasing bumps in the right places. She was slender and not terribly curvaceous, but she looked good in the dress. Her face was pleasant, though not what I would call beautiful. Still, she was attractive—too young and attractive to be coming on to a thirty-something me without warrant.

"Are you a hooker?" I asked.

"No!" She blushed, either from embarrassment or rage. "Why would you say such a thing?"

I raised my eyebrows in response.

"I'm not!" she insisted. "May I sit?"

I nodded. She slid into the booth across from me.

"No wedding ring," she observed out loud.

"Divorced," I replied.

"Girlfriend?"

"You interested in the position?" I knew she was after something. I just didn't know what.

"Maybe, if you're not a serial killer."

"If I was you wouldn't find out until it was too late." Her eyes sparkled in amusement.

"Okay. This didn't go the way I imagined it. Should I just go, or can this be salvaged?"

"Too late to stop now. It's just starting to get fun. Please," I encouraged her, "continue."

"I don't really have any cards to play," she sighed.

"Well, how about the truth? You obviously want something from me. You were concerned I might have other attachments that might hinder your plans. What's the deal?"

"I was hoping for dinner, at least. Maybe share a room if things go well. I need a place to stay. I'm homeless. My mom kicked me out."

"In that case, inner's on me," I answered. "You do drugs?"

"Weed sometimes. When I can get it. Nothing harder."

"What about that drink? You can't be over twenty-one."

"My ID says I am," she countered.

"Show me your

real

ID," I ordered. She dug it out of her wallet and slid it across the table. She wasn't old enough to drink in this state, but she was old enough to keep me from getting arrested on statutory rape.

"Sarah," I read aloud. "Nice name."

"Thanks. It's about the only thing my mom gave me that I like."

"She gave you some pretty good DNA from the looks of it."

"That means my chances of room sharing have gone up," she said with a grin.

"Your chances are excellent," I said. "I just need to make sure your mother isn't going to show up with the police banging on my door."

We were interrupted by the waiter coming to take our order. I noticed that

he

noticed that Sarah wasn't wearing a bra. I tried not to hold it against him. They were nice breasts, and they were pretty clearly visible, just begging to be looked at.

"You have nice breasts," I said. "The waiter liked them, too."

"I'm glad you like them." The look she gave me indicated she meant it. "They could be yours if you want them."

"I want them," I said. "I'm just not sure I can afford them."

"Don't worry. I'm not trying to con you out of anything. I just need to get out of this town. I won't be a burden. If you take me, I'll do my best to make you happy, I promise."

"But we barely know each other. How can you make such a promise?"

"You don't think I can?" She looked hurt.

"Oh, I'm sure you can. I'm just not sure why you would be willing to."

"Don't sell yourself short," she said. "You're not bad looking. You have nice eyes. Kind. You're the kind of guy who would appreciate having a sweet young thing like me. That's why I picked you."

I looked around the restaurant. The bar was to my right, it was where Sarah was perched prior to coming to my table, sitting so that the bartender could appreciate her fine breasts. There was a gray-haired old man a few seats down. He wasn't in the competition. There were a few other diners, a middle-aged couple to my left and beyond them a family with three well-behaved kids. It was early, before five on a weekday, so it was understandably sparse, but Mystic was a tourist town, so I guess I was surprised that there wasn't more traffic. I guess the Holiday Inn wasn't the happening place. Regardless, to her point, I was the only game in town, but I kept that thought to myself.

"Any guy would be a fool

not

to appreciate having you," I said. "I just think you could probably find someone closer to your own age."

"I thought about that," she said. "But they all still work at McDonalds or are going off to college. I need to get out of this town. Away from here. Away from my mother and her loathsome boyfriend." Her face darkened.

"And now we get to the drama," I muttered.

"The pig forced himself on me. He was drunk. Mom was at work. She's a nurse and has to work night shift sometimes. When I told her about it, she got furious—at me! Called me a whore and told me to pack my stuff and get the hell out. So here I am. I considered hanging out at the truck stop. I'm sure I could've picked up a ride from some lonely trucker. But I thought the odds of finding someone I would enjoy would be better if I hung out here at the Holiday Inn."

"I can't believe you're telling me this story with such composure. This guy raped you and your mother called

you

a whore? Why didn't you go to the police?"

"Thought about it," she said, "but the thought of having to go through the processing, the trial, and the way my mother reacted made me think better of it." She took a swig of her drink. "My mom and I never really got along. I'm the mistake she made when she was my age—and has been stuck with ever since."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I really didn't know what else to say. I didn't know how she could relay such a story—live such a story—and be so matter-of-fact about it.

"I didn't mean to be depressing. Don't feel sorry for me. I've dealt with it. It wasn't like he took my virginity. He's just an asshole.

This,

" she gestured to herself "is me taking control of my life. I am choosing my destiny. I know I'm throwing myself at you, and maybe that's not fair of me, but I really will do my best to make you happy."

"You don't even know my name."

"Details," she said dismissively. "We have nothing but time."

A server brought our salads just then, and offered to refill our drinks, to which I happily agreed.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" she asked, before taking a bite of her salad.

"Bob," I answered. "Bob Kahn."

"Well, Bob," she said after swallowing, what do you think? You take me with you on the road. I'll be your girlfriend. It's a win-win.

"What if I'm a sexual pervert?"

This time

she

raised her eyebrows. "Bob, everyone's a pervert."

"A sweet, innocent, thing such as yourself?"

"You're really not a very good judge of character, are you?"

"Nope. I'm probably just the gullible mark you're looking for."

"Bob, I'm not conning you. Yes, I'm using you, but I'm giving myself to you in return. I think that's more than fair. And, I'm being completely honest and up-front."

"When you say it like that it makes it sound like a simple business transaction. I was hoping for something more."

"More?"

"You did say you'd be my girlfriend."

"Ah! You're right! I did say that. I thought I was clear about satisfying your every sexual desire."

"Being a girlfriend is more than just sex." I countered. "It's caring about the other person's wellbeing. Loving them."

"You're a tough negotiator, Bob. I think I see what you're getting at. You don't just want me to claim to be your girlfriend, you want me to actually

be

your girlfriend, with all the trappings, not just the sex."

"Right," I agreed. "Call me sentimental, but I will fall in love with you in probably an hour or two, and then I'll be devastated when I realize it's all just an act to get what you want from me."

Sarah didn't respond right away. She seemed to be thinking while she chewed her salad. At least I

hoped

she was thinking. I didn't mind the idea of sharing a night or six with her and helping her on to whatever she had in mind to do. It was risky. Crazy, even, But I could relate to it. I also knew that when it came to matters of the heart, I was a pushover. After my divorce, I no longer cared to risk the hurt even for a fling with a sweet young thing like Sarah.

"I suck at relationships, Bob," she said finally. "I get where you're coming from. You want me to want you personally, because of who you are, not because of what you can do for me."

"That's right," I said, encouraged. For one so young, Sarah seemed pretty smart.

"I'm messed up, Bob," she said. "I build walls to keep out the hurt. Like when my own mother calls me a whore because her fucking molester boyfriend raped me."

"Love is hard," I said. "It means sticking with someone even when they're fucked up."

"Are you going to love me, Bob?"

"I won't be able to stop myself. Once I get you in bed, once I have you, I'll love you."

"I'm not sure that's what love is, Bob. I think you're confusing love and lust."

"Oh I understand the difference intellectually," I answered. "But they

feel

the same way. And my will responds in kind."

Sarah took another bite of salad and chewed it thoughtfully. It seemed like she grasped that her proposal was more than just a game or an adventure—at least to me. I supposed that there would be men, probably plenty of them, who would give her what she wanted just for the chance to have her in bed, but I wanted more. I wanted her in bed, to be sure, but as a friend, not as a prostitute.

The waitstaff brought us our meals and offered to refill our drinks. Again, I happily agreed. I was either going to need the drink to calm my nerves or to sooth my broken heart.

We ate in silence for a few moments. It was agonizing. I didn't know how to read Sarah. Was she already regretting approaching me? Had I blown my opportunity for gratuitous sex by overthinking everything?

"Don't bullshit me, Bob. You would seriously be willing to take me, a complete stranger, to be your girlfriend? How could you do that? You can't even begin to imagine how fucked up I am."

"Hey," I argued, "don't forget that this was

your

idea. I think I'm just making it more real than you thought it would be. And, yes, I'm willing to take the chance to love you. You look sexy as hell. You're hotter than any girl I've ever had, or even imagined having. But I don't want you to play games with me. If you're willing to give me an honest shot, that's all I ask."

Sarah looked at me appraisingly before popping a bite of steak into her mouth. "All right, Bob," she said after swallowing. "What you're asking for is pretty much what I intended all along. I probably didn't think about is as deeply as you have, but it really is what I'm after, too. I don't just want a ride out of here. I could have gotten that at the truck stop. I want a man who'll care for me. I've never had that. So, yeah, if you'll have me, I'll be your girl. Faithful and true. I promise."

I honestly wasn't expecting that answer from her. It seemed like too much to hope for. I was beyond elated. It was all I could do to avoid making a scene and shouting like a fool. I just offered her my hand. She took it and squeezed. That was how our relationship began.

Everything Sarah owned was packed into two suitcases which now sat on the luggage bench in my hotel room.

"Well," she said, "I guess it's official. I'm all yours."

"If that's true," I answered, "how come you still have all your clothes on?"

"You never mentioned that I had to be naked in your presence," she said, shrugging out of the dress that had nothing underneath and letting it drop around her ankles. "We never discussed sexual fetishes. That's probably a mistake on your part, but I did warn you that I was messed up."

"How so?" I asked, curious.

"I like things that aren't exactly normal," she answered coyly.

"Do elaborate," I coaxed.

"Well, I like to have my titties smacked—hard." She looked for my reaction, but I'm afraid I disappointed her. With her home life and never getting acceptance from her mother, I expected that she would have some sort of issues involving debasement. It wasn't that I was a psychiatrist. I had debasement issues of my own.

"I'd be happy to do that for you. Do you need your pussy spanked too?"

"How did you know?" She was genuinely surprised.

"And your ass is just ripe for spanking," I added. It was, too. She was pretty slender, but had a little extra ass for her frame—not that I was complaining. I was looking forward to burying my face between her cheeks.

"I can see now that our coming together was fate," she said smiling. She came over and started unbuttoning my shirt.

"But I have more surprises," she teased.

"Such as?"

"Such as I kind of like other girls."

I suppose years ago that revelation might have freaked me out a bit, but nowadays, it seemed more like the norm than the exception. Besides, I enjoyed watching two girls get it on. "I don't have a problem with that as long as it doesn't interfere with us."

"Really?" she said, brightening. "I was afraid you'd be upset about it."

"Nope. Not a bit," I replied. She was undoing my pants now. It was kind of surreal. When I'd stopped here earlier in the day and booked my room, I never would have imagined it would have ended up this way.

"I have a few fetishes of my own," I confessed.

"You like men?"

"No!" I answered defensively.

"You've never fantasized about sex with another man?" she pressed.

"Well, I have," I confessed, "but only in the context of being debased and humiliated."

"You mean, like, being raped in prison?"

"Or being forced to suck someone off by my mistress," I answered. My pants were down around my ankles and she was kneeling in front of me.

"Oh my gosh! We are so a match for each other!" she said with joy.

"What other surprises do you have up your sleeve?"

Since I was in the confessing mood, I answered, "I want to eat your ass in the worst way. And if you happened to piss all over me, that would be a bonus."

"Well, as your mistress, I must advise you that you are required to eat my ass in the best way. I want your tongue so far up my ass that I can feel it tickling my tonsils." Her face was stern, but soft and affectionate. "And I'll be happy to piss on you whenever and wherever you want. In fact, I might require you to piss on me sometimes too."

I couldn't believe that, not only did she not freak out, but took the ball and ran with it. Stuff like this doesn't happen in real life, does it? It was all the more unreal because she was now sucking on my cock. I'd never been big on blowjobs, preferring to spend my hardons on wet pussy, but Sarah was making me rethink my choices. She may have been young, but she was not inexperienced. I wondered if that's why her mother's boyfriend went after her. Not that I was condoning his behavior. He ought to have his cock cut off. I was only imagining that it must be difficult to live in a household with a lithe young nubile like Sarah sauntering around in revealing clothing. That, and too much alcohol could be the fatal mix. I felt for the guy. But I still thought he was a dick. Just about the time I was getting ready to put my hard cock to better use, Sarah stopped."

"Sorry, Bob. It's time to eat my ass. If you do a good job, I'll let you fuck the shit out of me."

I could've bitched, but I saw what she was doing. She was playing the mistress card. Teasing me. I actually appreciated that she was being so accommodating—ironic as that may sound. And I did want to eat her ass, so there was nothing to complain about.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my face pressed between her ass cheeks, driving my tongue as far into her asshole as I could get it. It was gamey at first. It was an asshole, after all. But that aspect of it played toward the debasement part of my fantasies. And her asshole was luscious. It played toward the throbbing hardon I was sporting. Sarah was diddling her clit while I drove my tongue up her ass. It didn't take long before her hips began convulsing in orgasm. This wasn't an 'oh I'm cumming' kind of orgasm like in the porn films. This was a genuine, breathtaking orgasm that made her cunt spasm and her hips shudder. That made me happy.

"Bob, that may have been the best orgasm I've ever had," she said, slightly out of breath. "Now I want your cock in my pussy. Cowgirl work for you?"

I nodded. I wanted her cunt. I didn't care how I got it. She mounted me after I repositioned myself on the bed. She was beautiful. Not like a model. But like my girlfriend. I watched as she lowered herself onto my stiff pole. Just seeing that almost made me cum—almost. Turns out my cock was so hard it was almost numb. Sarah rode it for a long time—not porn video long—but still long enough to cum again. Sarah did not fake orgasms. That much was obvious. And then I came. I shot my load inside of her with such force I'm surprised it didn't come out of her mouth. And just the act of shooting my seed inside of a woman was erotic—something I hadn't done in years. I had forgotten what a joy it was to inseminate a woman.

"Baby, I want you to eat my cunt until I piss down your throat," Sarah said as she got off my wilting cock. It was not a request. I understood that. I didn't argue. I simply acquiesced.

I had never tasted my own cum until that night. It wasn't bad—but certainly not something I'd ever desired to do on my own. It made eating her cunt a little more juicy, but her cunt was plenty juicy on its own and before too long, I was only tasting her. I tasted her for probably close to twenty minutes before she finally warned me that she was about to pee.

"Baby, if you don't drink it all, you'll have to sleep on this wet pillow."

I didn't worry. I guzzled her piss like it was the nectar of the gods. I felt suitably debased and humiliated after this experience, and my cock was hard again. This time I took control.

"Get over here and lay down so I can fuck you, bitch," I ordered. "Who do you think you are, ordering me around? I'm gonna beat your ass, then I'm gonna fuck it!" I'd never done anal sex before, but it just sort of came out. Then I knew I had to follow through. Sarah didn't balk. She immediately assumed the subordinate role and climbed up on the be on all fours.

"You have a beautiful ass, you loathsome wench" I said roughly. "Too bad I'm going to have to beat it." I punctuated my sentence be leaving a clear red handprint on her ass. She yelped.

"I'm sorry master, please forgive me," she opined.

"Only after you've been suitably punished," I said.

"Yes, master," she answered.

I began spanking her in earnest. I found I only enjoyed it insofar as she did. She seemed to revel in the pain revealed in the red blush on her ass cheeks. I pushed her over on her back and fucked her missionary style while I smacked her pretty little tits. She didn't protest, but moaned in ecstasy. She did warn me that she was fucked up. I guess it's good to know one when you are one, I thought as I pumped my hard penis into her precious vagina.

I never asked her if she was on birth control. I didn't care. If I knocked her up, so be it. I dumped a second load into her vaginal canal. I felt exultant. She must have, too, because her hips began their characteristic orgasmic undulations.

"Bob, I think I love you," she said.

"Hold that thought," I answered, "forever."

"I will," she smiled. And then added, "hey, I have a confession to make."

Uh oh, I thought. "What's that?"

"I texted my girlfriend and asked me to meet me here."

I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

"Well, I am leaving her forever," she said. "I wanted to say goodbye. And you did say you were okay with me being with other girls. Besides," she added, "She wants to piss on you and make you eat her ass."