Writer's Note: This is a story for adults over eighteen years of age about adults over eighteen years of age. While the story line is true the dialog has been compressed for the sake of time and space. Safe sex was not an issue in the early seventies but should be a concern for everyone today.
*****
It was late on Friday afternoon when I checked into my hotel room in Columbus, Georgia, just outside the main gate of Fort Benning. As a thirty-six years old Army Reserve Master Sergeant my monthly drills were spent preparing for ROTC training during the summer; summer was here and I was ready to assume the job of Senior Operations Sergeant for the next eight weeks.
For a year I stayed at the same national hotel chain every month for my weekend reserve training; the hotel was convenient to the post and restaurants in the area. I had gotten to know the employees, mostly women, and they always made me feel at home; they put up with my flirting and joking around.
Julie, was a cute, thirty-something, dirty-blonde who worked as a front desk clerk; even in her ill-fitting business suit style uniform you could tell that she had a nice figure even though it was a bit heavier on the bottom than on the top. Her figure was perfect for me since I am more of a butt man than a breast man; I love sweet, round asses, always have. During my monthly stays I learned that Julie was a single mom with a much older sugar daddy; I had no doubt that one day we would wind up in the sack.
Joyce was the hotel manager; she was probably in her forties with short, curly red hair and lots of cinnamon colored freckles. Her figure was more balanced than Julie's; she was blessed with a very ample top and bottom. Judging by the imprints across her hips and the clasps on the back of her thighs I was able to discern that Joyce wore a garter belt to support her stockings; there is nothing more erotic than a woman wearing stocking and a garter belt. Julie, on the other hand, probably wore pantyhose since there were no panty lines to be seen; I hated seeing women in pantyhose with everything packed tight and distorted and they don't get the needed air to keep everything smelling fresh.
Joyce and I had the same last name; mine by birth, hers by marriage. I never hesitated to flirt with her and she seemed to like it. She was married with a couple of almost grown boys but from some of the comments she made from time to time it was not a happy union. During one stay, Joyce was alone at the front desk when I checked in. As usual, I complimented her on how pretty she looked.
She replied, "Thank you but I just feel old and not very pretty."
"Well, I'm an expert in the field of pretty women and I can attest to the fact that you are indeed a very pretty and a very sexy woman."
That got her to smile; she patted my hand, "Thank you, I needed that; It has been ages since anyone has given me a compliment like that. Who knows, flattery may get you everywhere."
Then there was Rose; she was a retired civilian employee who had worked at Fort Benning since she was a young girl. Even in her mid fifties she had a very nice figure on her five foot two inch frame; her hips were wide, her stomach was absolutely flat, and in jeans she had that little open space between her thighs when her legs were together. Rose was one of those women who had always picked the wrong man and they had sucked the life out of her and drained her bank account so she had to work after she retired. Her job at the hotel was to set up the complimentary breakfast for the guests; she was there from about five until nine seven days a week.
I always went out of my way to say "hello" and give her a compliment; I usually completed my morning run about the time she was setting up the serving line so I often helped her carry a few of the heavy pans of scrambled eggs or hot syrup from the kitchen. One Sunday morning after returning from my morning run I noticed she was complaining about the pain in her lower back. I told her I had some cream I used on my pulled muscles and that she should stop by the room after she closed the serving line.
About nine-thirty Rose knocked on my door; I answered it wearing just a pair of shorts.
"Hi, come on in. How is your back feeling?"
"It still hurts; I hope your cream will help some."
I handed her the tube and asked, "Do you want me to rub some on you."
She read the label then replied, "Please if you don't mind."
As usual Rose wore jeans and a fashion tee shirt under the white uniform top furnished by the hotel; she lifted the back of her tee shirt to show me about where the pain was then bent over and placed her hands on the low dresser where guests usually put their luggage. She shivered when the cold cream touched the skin on her lower back; my fingers kneaded the muscles just above and below the waistband of her jeans.
After several minutes of rubbing she commented, "Oh that feels good; can you go a little lower?"
"Sure but you will have to unfasten your jeans."
I moved behind her as she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. I pulled her jeans down to the elastic top of her bikini panties then used my thumbs to massage her tight muscles across her hips and along the bottom of her spine. I added more of the cream and rubbed it in as my fingers pressed into her aching tissue; I pulled her sweet ass tight against me; she moved her hips in unison with my massaging hands. As my hands covered a larger area of her hips and lower back they pushed her jeans and panties further down her firm, round cheeks.
"That feels so good I hate for you to stop, but I don't want to overwork you," she said with a chuckle.
"Don't you worry about that, I love every minute of it." I was fairly certain that she could feel my cock as it pulsed against her bare butt from time to time.
"I have always admired your sweet bottom so it's a pleasure to see it bare and to hold it in my hands."
"Then you can lower my pants more if you want to."
I pushed her panties and jeans to her knees then knelt to shower her sweet ass with kisses. I first inhaled the scent of lavender body powder until I moved my face between her cheeks where the aroma was that of pure woman. The light brown pubic hair along the sides of her vulva did little to hide the brownish, exposed, wrinkled labia which hung upside down like a wilted flower bloom. I captured them between my lips and gently tugged them; my nose pressed in to her warm, wet slit when she pushed against my face.
I slipped off her sandals and pushed her jeans and panties over her feet while she lifted her top over her head; her firm "B" cup breasts were decorated with half dollar sized, brown areola and long hard nipples. I dropped my shorts to the floor and bent Rose over the bed to continue massaging her back but this time I slipped my hard cock in to the warmth of her juicy cunt. She moaned as I pulled her hips backward impaling her with my shaft. My hands massaged her back before slipping underneath her torso to her firm breasts and hard nipples. Rose began to coo like a dove as my fingers gently pinched and rolled her hard nubbins between them.
We spent most of the day fucking and sucking. By the time she was ready to leave I had massaged every muscle in her mature body and kissed every square inch of her skin; my cock probed both her front and back orifices. Rose and I found some time for each other during every one of my training weekends for the rest of the year. No one else knew about our trysts until Julie walked in on us one morning; but that's another story.
It was late in the afternoon when I checked into the hotel; Julie had finished her shift and had left for the day. Joyce was at the front desk training a new clerk and checked me in; as usual I checked her out as she checked me in. I carefully looked to see if she was wearing a garter belt; she was, I saw the imprint of the arch it made above the cheeks of her sweet ass and the imprint of the clasps that held her stockings up. I also saw the lines of her French cut panties. Finally, she gave me the key card and I no longer had a reason to stand there and stare at her sweet ass.
Once in the room I went to the window to open the drapes and adjust the air conditioner. I noticed the carpet was wet to the point that the water pooled around my feet as I took a step; it probably came from a backed-up drain in the air conditioner unit. I called the front desk and Joyce answered with a somewhat irritated sounding voice. I explained the problem and she quickly apologized for not answering with a more pleasant tone.
"I'm sorry I thought you were a crank caller calling back." she added, "I'll be right there and move you across the hall."
