As it happens often during traveling, weather overrides schedules, causing delays and usually cancellations. On the tarmac at the Atlanta, Ga airport, our flight was cancelled due to a pending hurricane in the area. In the coach section, I deplaned after the first class section was empty.
We were bussed to a nearby Marriott Hotel for the night, surprisingly at the expense of Delta Airlines. Standing in front of me at the hotel lobby check in was a woman wearing a dark floppy hat, a dark lightweight raincoat over her long dress underneath.
When she turned around I caught a glimpse of her face. She had two huge pieces of luggage and since the hotel staff were all busy elsewhere, I offered to take them to her room. I checked in, leaving my own suitcase behind the counter and hauled hers into the elevator.
As we walked down the hall to her room, I had to tell her. "You look remarkably like Sandra Bullock," I said.
She smiled, offered a light snicker, almost a snort and replied, "Yeah, I get that a lot."
When we reached her room, I took her bags inside and retreated politely to the door; I didn't want to pose any threat to her. She took off her large hat, and I could not believe that she was NOT Sandra Bullock. She extended her hand to me.
"Thank you for your help; may I buy you a drink at the bar later?" she asked.
"You're welcome," I answered, as I shook her hand. "I don't drink but you're very kind to offer."
When I returned to the lobby for my suitcase, I asked the clerk what the name was of the woman whom I had just helped to room 422. She was registered as Belinda Sanders.
I was registered in room 425, almost right across the hall. The clerk asked me if I would do him a favor.
"We're short of staff services because of the extra guests tonight; would you mind taking this message to Ms. Sanders for me? I forgot to give it to her when she checked in."
Naturally I accepted, and minutes later I tapped on the door of room 422. "She" opened the door. She was wearing sweat pants and an NSYNC tee shirt. It was obvious she wore no bra underneath, and a towel was wrapped around her head, so she had probably just come from the shower.
"The desk clerk forgot to give you this message," I said, handing it to her. She accepted the envelope but didn't open it. Instead, she stepped back, opened the door and asked, "Would you like to come in; I have some really good water on tap?" Her smile was too inviting.
I rolled my suitcase in and left it by the door. She was barefoot and even in the casual attire, she was girl-next-door gorgeous.
"Have a seat while I see what this message is all about," she said warmly. I sat on the sofa as she opened the envelope and read the message inside. She tossed the envelope aside and sat in the chair opposite me with her legs crossed underneath her.
"I had some wine before my shower, a little more than I should actually," she said with a soft giggle. "And instead of my birth control pill I think I downed a Xanax, and I already had one on the plane, so I'm a little loose right now."
"I'm sorry; is there something I should do - call a doctor or something?"
"No, no, I'll be fine. I just decided that I might want someone here with me until it wears off and you seem like a nice guy, someone I can trust."
"Of course! Tell me anything I can do if you need any help and I'll take care of you."
"I thought you would," she said, getting up out of her chair.
"I travel a lot and it gets lonely and if you'll cooperate, I think we can help each other," she said, holding out a hand to me.
I took her hand and she led me to the master suite which was large with a huge French Provincial poster bed in the middle of the room.
"Take a shower and meet me on the bed, and don't be long because I might fall asleep.," she said sweetly.
My heart raced. No matter what she had in mind, I could not believe my good fortune, because I was certain that she really WAS Sandra Bullock. I showered, toweled off as quickly as I could and returned to the bedroom. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding several colored scarves in her hands.
"Even though you seem like a nice guy, I need a little assurance that you won't do something that I don't like, so I'd like to tie you to the bed. Is that okay?"
"As long as you don't leave me here later, naked and tied up for the maids to devour," I said, and she laughed heartily.
As I lay on my back, she carefully tied each of my wrists to a bedpost, and then my ankles. I knew that I wouldn't move or do anything to scare her anyway, but being restrained was pretty hot.
She removed her tee shirt and then shimmied out of the sweatpants. She removed the towel from her head, then picked up a brush from the nightstand and brushed her hair as i watched. Her body was perfect, and it was arousing to watch a naked woman brushing her hair. She crawled up on the bed, straddling my body and whispered in my ear, "You have a nice body and I just want to play with it for a while."
She laid down, supported by her elbows between my outstretched legs. She ran a fingertip up and down the backside of my penis and then cupped my balls in her hand. She pressed my erect penis against her cheek, closing her eyes and smiling. "It's hard and yet so soft," she whispered.
She never stroked my penis but eventually slipped her mouth over the tip. I moaned as her wet mouth slid partway down the shaft. She stopped, lifted her mouth off and smiled up at me. "Do you like that, feeling my mouth sliding up and down on it?"
"Oh, God, yes," I moaned, embarrassed to be so horny so easily.
She resumed sucking on it, slowly taking my penis deep into her mouth and humming on the tip. It was wonderful torture. I began to feel the urge to come, that euphoric feeling that excites the whole body.
She stopped, probably because she could taste my precum and knew I was close. She rose up on her feet and stepped to the head of the bed, her feet on either side of my head. She reached down and tucked a pillow under my head, then holding on to the headboard, she squatted down, resting her buttocks just below my chin.
Her vagina was shining with her arousal. Silently she eased forward, pressing her vagina against my mouth. We both knew what she wanted; words were not necessary. I was about to eat the sexiest woman I had ever seen, and she wanted me to do it. My heart pounded in my chest.
I took my time, kissing, licking, sucking at her flesh, listening to her sighs as indications of what I was doing right. I lost track of time as I lapped at her wetness, sucking it in as she secreted it. When my tongue probed her, she pressed firmly against my mouth and my penis throbbed with envy.
After what seemed like a fabulous eternity of tasting her, I attacked her clit with my lips, sucking her flesh deep into my mouth as my tongue rapidly flicked across it. She reached down to grab a fistful of my hair as she came in my mouth.
"Oh, my God, YEAHHHHH!" she moaned.
I let her enjoy her orgasm, backing off with my lips. I licked lightly on her labia, nibbled and licked up her juices.
